Tilling a Small Regenerative Farm (And Why I’m Doing It Anyway)
“You’re not supposed to till a regenerative farm.”
That’s the rule.
And in this episode, I break it.
I’m doing something that might surprise you: I’m tilling this land. Not because I don’t believe in regenerative agriculture—but because I do.
And I believe this land needs help.
Today’s Mission
In this episode, I’m walking you through three things:
-
My definition of a regenerative farm
-
Why I made the tough decision to till this field
-
And some pretty cool tillage equipment in action
This isn’t about tradition or dogma. It’s about listening to the land and responding honestly.
Let’s get to work.
What Does “Regenerative” Really Mean?
According to the Oxford Dictionary, regenerative means “to tend to regenerate.”
In plain terms: to restart the cycles of nature.
That’s it.
Regenerative farming isn’t about never touching the soil. It’s about restoring function—air, water, roots, biology. Sometimes that means restraint. And sometimes, it means intervention.
Before making any decisions, I needed data.
Measuring the Problem: Soil Compaction
This field has reportedly been no-till for decades. Since at least 1989, over 35 years ago.
So why does it feel dead underfoot?
To find out, I used a penetrometer (also called a soil compaction meter). It measures soil resistance in PSI (pounds per square inch) and tells us how hard it is for plant roots to grow.
-
0–200 PSI (Green): Roots grow easily
-
200–300 PSI (Yellow): Compaction is starting
-
300+ PSI (Red): Roots struggle or fail
I used the small tip, which is meant for highly compacted soils.
And the results were eye-opening.
In multiple spots across the field, we hit 300 PSI at just 1–1.5 inches deep.
That’s not soil.
A Comparison That Changed Everything
To be sure this wasn’t a fluke, I tested another along the fence line —ground that had seen tillage decades ago.
Same tool. Same process.
This time, we didn’t hit 300 PSI until nearly 20 inches down.
That difference told the whole story.
Despite being “no-till,” this field had become severely compacted. Water couldn’t infiltrate. Roots couldn’t penetrate. Biology couldn’t thrive.
Doing nothing wasn’t regenerative.
The Decision: One Pass, On Purpose
So I made a hard call.
I brought out the chisel plow.
This wasn’t about flipping soil or resetting the farm every year. This was about breaking compaction once—strategically, intentionally, and never again.
I call it turning dirt back into soil.
The John Deere 5090E handled the chisel plow with ease. Slow, steady passes. No rushing. This mission deserved patience.
I promised myself—and the land—this would be the only time.
Watching the Land Wake Up
As I worked across the field, the compaction told its story. In some areas, the chisel points barely entered the ground. In others, especially low spots, the soil showed hints of life—darker color, better structure.
That’s potential.
That’s what we’re after.
And as the sun dropped on a late-August evening, riding in the buddy seat, listening to the tractor work, I couldn’t help but think back to childhood—playing in the dirt with toy tractors until mom called me inside.
Now I get to do the same thing.
Just a little bigger.
This Is Just the Beginning
This was Ground Zero.
The end of this mission isn’t bare soil—it’s new pasture, deeper roots, better water infiltration, and soil that can finally breathe again.
Next up, we’ll be discing what we just chisel plowed and continuing the process of restoration.
Regenerative farming isn’t about perfection.
It’s about honesty, observation, and stewardship.
Sometimes, saving the land means breaking the rules—once.