Shepherd First, Entrepreneur Second

Do you remember the age when questions around career plans begin to get thrown at you constantly?  While browsing college degrees and career paths at that time in my life, the one agricultural discipline I completely avoided was business. My youthful outlook felt by leaning towards the business side of things the experience of rearing livestock would be tainted.  Margins and marketing would steal away the charm of being a farmer.  I came up with a rotating list of dream jobs as some version of a livestock manager, agricultural educator, or consultant.  Colin is the one who convinced me we could start our own business.  Most of the pieces were there already only they were jumbled around in the box still, like a puzzle with the edge pieces mixed in.  What changed in me I don’t know but I obviously agreed to the proposition eventually and dove into the unknown.   I still claim to be a shepherd first and entrepreneur second.  I’m glad to say my feelings towards the business side of things have been reshaped. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the journey to become the latter and what personal transformations it has brought on. 

At a young age I decided I did not ever want to raise animals for the explicit purpose of producing meat. I wasn’t entirely against the idea of eating meat but couldn’t wrap my head, or if I’m being honest my heart, around the idea of taking care of young stock knowing of their terminal fate.  This is probably how I developed my distaste for “business” on the farm.  The false connotation formed in my head was of corruption and misguided intentions.  But with all aspects of life, as I experienced more of the world this perception shifted.  My knowledge about responsible livestock breeding as well as butchering expanded to the point I again felt comfortable in the role of meat-eater. The next point of awareness that I developed was around food accessibility.  I faced the fact that the privilege to raise your own food is inaccessible to many.  The privilege to raise food for others on a small scale without having to support a household from the income generated by that endeavor is also reserved for a more affluent tier of society.  We see it today in much of the small farm local food movement. It is an advantaged demographic producing food targeted to an advantaged consumer group.  Enter my broadened understanding of sustainability: to make the growing and purchasing of food in small scale systems more accessible a legitimate business model is necessary. There is more than one model and more than one way to employ it but where’s the viability in a system held up by secondary wealth?  As long as this is the trend in the system there’s no motive for these small businesses to implement renewable business models. I moved towards my final college years having learned that something I once cast in a negative light could be better than that and might even be mandatory to the economic sustainability of the agriculture I idolized.  The ethical foundation was laid at a nice thoughtful pace.  The next leg of the journey, however, was and still is my crash course in small business management.

The last time I felt so unfamiliar in a new position that a flashing neon sign reading “vulnerable” followed me around was when I first got sheep.  The kind of vulnerability that accompanies novices in their new endeavors was easy to handle at twelve years old walking around 4-H fairs. I’d even say it’s expected of a child trying something new.  I’ve looked back on those memories frequently coming to the conclusion that wearing that intense vulnerability at such an age barely resembles the same feeling when starting something new in adulthood.  I don’t have a magic fix for getting over this kind of emotional hump.  Except, if you’re truly committed to the new thing causing your vulnerability to put your goals on a pedestal and stay focused.  Own it!  Ask the dumb questions, find guidance from industry professionals, and re-ask questions when you’re still unsure.  Saying “no” more often was and still is the hardest part for me but is remarkably important. That theme of self-advocacy segues nicely to my favorite rule: know when to find help and accept that you will need it. None of us can do it all despite what it might look like on social media so give yourself the break and ask for help. Finally, believe in yourself.  I know you’ve heard it thousands of times before and so had I, but it took me far too long for it to sink in anyways.  I still forget it some days so if you’re anything like me here it comes again: believe in yourself.

Putting these reflections on paper revealed another truth.  Every one of these personal skills brought about by starting a small business carries over into the rest of my life.  My confidence in all kinds of situations has risen.  That doesn’t mean all aspects of owning a business have had a positive impact on my life.  You’ve probably heard the old adage that a farmer wears many hats; weather forecaster, mechanic, caretaker to plants and animals, and so on.  I’ve also found myself inducted into the small business owners club of the internet and seen similar remarks from that crowd.  We often serve at least partially as our own marketing directors, product managers, shipping and fulfillment, accountants…you get the idea. Combine the two multi-faceted positions and what do you get? Some ridiculous amount of very diverse hats.  Our business planning designated Colin as all shearer and part farmer, I the opposite.  This means I’m more often than not tending the farm alone, as I like it. My stubborn self-reliant streak is a topic for another day but just understand that I enjoy the independent work and am in no way complaining about Colin here.  On top of being top shepherd, I manage all of the business side of our operation.  Up until recently my jobs as farm and business manager have felt unable to exists together.  My brain and body were trapped in an exhausting mangled mess of pasture rotation schedules, product launches, and trying desperately to keep up with the bookkeeping.  Lately I’ve tried separating the jobs to approach the mounting work under each category with some sense of control.  Organization is my coping mechanism.  And I’m willing to say it’s working.   The farm can always swoop in and take off with an entire day due to the unpredictability that comes with raising livestock, but I love this hierarchy of work. The farm and animals especially will always come first.  Now, if anyone can count up how many total hats this all involves, I’d love to know how much space to make in my closet.

I never wanted to be a business owner.  I have loved sheep and sought out opportunities solely tuned into the desire for hands-on work from a young age.  But the time came when I had to find a way to support myself and a focus on sheep alone didn’t seem possible.  Colin gets the credit for showing me otherwise.  Shearing has handed me the exact experience that I found solace in years ago, working so closely with so many sheep.  And on top of it all I get to raise my flock which has since grown to our flock with a passionate vision. The flock has helped me find a new passion for creating and promoting all that they have to offer. It’s evident in the level of excitement I have for our big woolly restock next month!  The journey isn’t over, but I have begun to feel like I have a grip on small businessing now.  Even though we’ve made the commitment to it full-time and execute management accordingly, Yankee Rock Farm serves an additional purpose.  Our mission is to serve sheep, land, and community.  Never did I expect it to serve me with so much opportunity for growth.

Cheers,

Siri