We are just six years shy of becoming a Century Farm. In 2031, the farm I grew up on will be owned and operated by my family for 100 years.
This is a remarkable feat, given the pendular economic swings that have occurred just within my lifetime. I am old enough to remember the Farm Crisis of the 1980s. In fact, I can vividly recall hearing a strange noise one evening and, as the curious child I was, quietly walked around the corner to investigate. It turned out, my dad had found himself a secluded spot to sit and cry, which is something he certainly would have shielded from us kids. The sight of this, coupled by the realization of how fragile our family upbringing was, left an indelible impression on me.
The fact that our farm has survived up until now, and will survive to be a Century Farm, puts us squarely in the minority of farms. Farming simply does not pay. People do not go into farming for the salary, they go into farming for the sense of purpose and for the reward of productivity - having something to show for a hard day’s work.
Of course, life on the farm does carry other benefits, in the form of experiences that will last a lifetime. One of the tractors we owned during my childhood was a gas-powered Oliver with a narrow front end. The transmission would whine when we went up and down the road. Frequently, we would drive past a neighboring heifer pasture, and the unusual noise of the transmission always drew the attention of the cattle. When Dad drove past, the herd would raise their heads and stare at us as we drove past.
On more than one occasion I can remember Dad grinning at me, “Watch this.” He would throttle the engine way down, let the momentum push us along, and then pull the throttle wide open, flooding the carb with fuel. Every single time, the tractor let out a horrible backfire, even shooting flames out the exhaust pipe. The herd of heifers, startled by the backfire, would turn in comical unison and stampede to the far side of the pasture with their tails in the air.
It got to the point where the heifers would turn and run whenever the Oliver appeared, whether Dad pulled a backfire or not. They learned to associate the sound of that tractor’s transmission with impending terror, in a sort of rural Wisconsin Pavlov experiment.
And, there was always work to be done. So much work, that oftentimes my cousins would drop by to help out. As a kid I can remember the adults sitting around the table or talking to each other on the phone using phrases like, “It’s good for them” as plans were laid out for yet another cousin or long-lost relation to drop by and spend a few weeks on the farm.
Interestingly, this concept is exactly what is going to keep our farm going well into the future. There is a generational gap between farmers and consumers that is only getting wider. This year, 2025, marks the eighth season of hosting guests at our farmstay. Back in 2017, we recognized that traditional farming was falling by the wayside in favor of industrialized, centralized farming. Wanting none of that, we renovated the existing farmhouse as a short-term rental and opened our doors to guests from urban markets looking for authentic farm experiences.
It is easy to dismiss agricultural tourism as a fringe pursuit, but it is clear that the desire of urbanites to connect with how food is produced is part of a larger, growing trend. Unfortunately, news of farm bankruptcies and farmer suicide does not draw nearly as much collective outrage as a 50-cent increase in the price of eggs.
In what will eventually be recognized as the microcosm it is, agricultural tourism has proven that people will drive two hours or more to experience farming in its raw, essential form. And in the case of our own farm, simply connecting with consumers has made farming fun again. Well over half of our annual bookings are from repeat guests. We regularly receive feedback, everything from online reviews to Christmas cards, using phrases like, “Your farm has created family memories that will last a lifetime”, “I’ve never seen my kids spend so little time looking at screens”, “I’ve never felt so much at peace.” One guest remarked casually, “I hate my life in the city. I know you have challenges out here, but this is heaven.”
When considering agricultural tourism’s role in the future of farming, it is worthwhile reminding that pundits, spokespeople, and industry “experts” are not always right. One of my favorite anecdotes comes from an old-time farmer who was of the Great Depression generation. He explained that back in the 1930s when tractors were first being introduced, it was common to dismiss putt-putt tractors as “newfangled technology” that will soon fall by the wayside.
He laughed that a lot of people at the time looked at tractors and blew them off, saying we’ll be back to using horses in no time. “Tractors? That’ll never last.”
— Dan Wegmueller is the owner of Wegmueller Farms and his column appears regularly in the Times. His website is https://www.farmforthought.org.
