By: Nora D'Antuono, Agroecology Specialist at Ecdysis Foundation
October 24, 2024
There was a dead sheep hanging between me and Dr. Jon Lundgren when he asked if this job has been what I expected. We were taking turns skinning the sheep as a part of the butchering process, preparing to feed over 100 people at our upcoming Field Day. Similar to how I wasn’t expecting to help my boss butcher a sheep, I wasn’t expecting this job to be what it has become.
My job as an agroecology specialist is to record data. I sample farms and measure agricultural factors that contribute to a robust database. We need this data to direct the improvement of our national food system.
My job also includes the rare opportunity to travel across the country, sampling farms and experiencing our food system at a broad scale. While the purpose of traveling is to collect data, I have found greater meaning within the countless moments that cannot be measured. There are aspects of Ecdysis that are not captured through a scientific lens but must be shared to understand the organization in its entirety. Similar to regenerative systems, Ecdysis is not whole without its community which lies at the heart of its mission and culture.
I wasn’t expecting this job to become an overwhelming sense of community. To find a sense of belonging between colleagues and camaraderie among the farmers we have met traveling. Before I began working at Ecdysis, I viewed regenerative agriculture strictly in regard to land stewardship. I did not understand how a way of farming could be applied beyond the field. Over the summer, I learned regenerative agriculture is the seed from which we grow.
After getting stuck in the rain sampling Alix’s farm, she met us for pizza down the road. Not only did she bring stories to share but snacks too! (Albany, New York. August 2024)
This summer was my first Ecdysis field season. We sampled 547 farms this year, drove a fleet of 9 vans across 24 states, and pounded thousands of soil probes. I don’t personally remember the number of soil probes I pounded or how many farms I sampled. I do remember a farmer in Missosuri pushing our van out of the mud in the middle of a thunderstorm. I remember driving through the vast ranges of Montana with a coworker, talking for hours about why we care about regenerative agriculture and our hopes for its future. I remember the faces of enthusiastic growers, eager to discuss their farming practices but also eager to share a meal with us. I remember midday ice cream stops, spontaneous swims, and inside jokes. I remember homemade dinners cooked with coworkers followed by late night conversations around a fire because our ten hour work day isn’t long enough to get all the stories in. I remember the hospitality of farmers in South Carolina who provided iced tea and watermelon slices on a hot day. I remember how good food tasted after digging in the dirt it grew in and meeting the people who grew it. When I reflect with my peers about what I have learned or we reminisce about what resonated with us this season, we collectively remember these moments. They speak to a greater purpose, providing deeper meaning to our research and creating stronger connections among farmers.
Our team sampling a rangeland in northwestern Missouri. (May 2024)
I think the essence of regenerative agriculture is connection. By connecting with the land and the people with whom we share it, we can foster a community that takes care of each other and our natural world. From the soil beneath our feet, to the food we eat and the community we cultivate, regenerative systems are inherently interdependent. This is what I have unexpectedly learned from a research job that evolved into a place of community. Science leads us where we are going, but community reminds us why we are here. I hope we all choose to listen to both.