๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ ๐๐จ๐ง๐๐๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐ : ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ง๐๐ฌ, ๐๐ซ๐๐๐ฆ๐ฌ, ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ข๐ฌ๐๐ฉ๐ฉ๐๐๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐
Saturday morning, I attended a field day hosted by two young men launching a drone application company. Still in college, their entrepreneurial spirit was contagious. It was inspiring to see their excitement as they demonstrated their drone and explained how they hope to support area farmers.
But as I stood there watching, another thought tugged at me.
Less than two miles from that very field, prime Allen County farmland is being swallowed upโnot by the acre, but by the square mileโfor housing developments. Itโs happening fast. The soil that once grew corn and beans is now being packed under streets and cul-de-sacs.
So I couldn't help but wonder: What is the future for these young men? Theyโre building a business to serve farmers in a region thatโs steadily losing farmland. How long will their own families be able to resist the temptation to cash in on their land? What will be left to support?
Itโs a question I find myself asking more often these daysโnot just for them, but for agriculture in general.
We say we want young people in agriculture. We talk about creating opportunities. And yes, theyโre still out there. But in some areas, those opportunities are shrinkingโeither paved over or swallowed by consolidation. The biggest keep getting bigger, and the middle is fading fast.
How do we reconcile the optimism of the next generation with the realities of what they're up against?