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At the end of August, the world lost an amazing writer and poet, Wendell Berry. His poem “The Peace of Wild Things” has grounded me and refocused me for decades. Up until recently, I had this poem posted on my wall next to my desk. I never printed one after becoming director, but that will change today.
“The Peace of Wild Things” by Wendell Berry
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
Every time I read it, I can prioritize my thoughts, reenergize my passions, file my needless worries away, and I can breathe. It is amazing how one person’s words can affect another.
Wendell Berry was born in 1934 and lived most of his life in rural Kentucky. He grew up on a tobacco farm that his family had farmed for over five generations. He studied English in college and began publishing novels, essays, and poems in 1960. He spent many years teaching creative writing at the University of Kentucky and, starting in 1965, farming 12 acres of land where he grew small grains and raised sheep.
Berry was very passionate about the environment and agrarian societies - communities or cultures whose way of life depends primarily on raising crops and livestock. Back in 1965, these two topics went hand in hand; today, they can make for odd bedfellows. Berry didn’t take on a label of liberal, conservative, or socialist. He really couldn’t be placed in one category. He believed all parties needed to be held accountable for their actions and the detriment that they caused to the environment, culture, and communities. He knew what he believed, and he unabashedly supported those views. Whether through writing about them or peaceful protest.
After hearing of his passing, I began to reread his book, “The Unsettling of America - Culture and Agriculture.” Written in 1977, I first read this book as a homework assignment in my environmental literature class at Iowa State University over 20 years ago; it was close to 30 years old. Today, it amazes me that a book nearly 50 years old remains so relevant. Sentences underlined and starred from my reading in college still hit home, as do new sections that I’m reading for a second time. As much as I love what he is saying, the problem is still the same as 50 years ago. The issues farmers, environmentalists, and rural communities faced 50 years ago are still being faced today.
A major theme of Unsettling of America was a warning against consolidating small farms into larger ones. Berry warned against the belief that “bigger is better,” expressing concern that unchecked growth would harm small family farms, weaken local economies, and sever our connection to the land. He observed a troubling shift as people left rural agricultural communities for cities, losing local bonds and becoming alienated from nature. Berry argued that American culture’s drive for profit treats the land as a commodity rather than a home to be cared for. He cautioned that the decline of small farms would accelerate soil erosion, water pollution, and chemical overuse, leading to ecological harm. Berry was also critical of our incautious use of new technologies, urging us to consider their long-term impacts on the earth, communities, and future generations.
When this book was written, Iowa had 126,000 farms. By 1986, after the farm crisis of the 1980s, Iowa had lost approximately 22,000 farms, including my grandpa’s farm. By 2004, we had lost an additional 14,300 farms, and today Iowa has 86,700 farms, according to the USDA. In 2025 alone, Iowa lost about 500 farms. Iowa State University and the Farm Bureau state these losses stem from soaring financial pressure, rising operating costs, and a shift toward larger, consolidated operations. When we lose our smaller farms, we also lose the farmers and their families. Population trends in Iowa show that most people leaving rural Iowa are under 25 and experienced workers between 45 and 64. When you lose people, you lose businesses. Without customers, businesses cannot succeed. Without business, we lose more jobs and more people. Other factors certainly matter, but Berry warned us about the future of small farms in Iowa, and it is hard to deny he was right.
Berry was also an environmentalist. He wrote in the Unsettling of America that “the land should not be destroyed for any reason, not even for any apparently good reason.” It is hard to deny that our soils are in trouble, as Iowa has lost 50% of its soil, and some estimates suggest we have only 50 more years before the rest is gone. It is hard to deny that our waters are in trouble. Currently, more than 700 segments of Iowa’s rivers, lakes, and wetlands are impaired. It is hard not to recognize that our insects, birds, and other wild creatures are in trouble. The World Wildlife Foundation has found that the average size of global wildlife populations has declined by 73% since the publication of Wendell Berry’s book in the 1970s.
But Wendell Berry also said, “We live the given life, and not the planned.” You can let the despair grow in you, or you can try to make a difference. He didn’t point out what was wrong with our world without offering solutions. Some solutions are much easier than you think, and many of you may already do them.
Start small. Make your part of the earth better, whether it’s your small yard or your 100 acres. Tend and heal the land through physical work like planting trees, be it one or 100. Take responsibility for your immediate, manageable surroundings; the earth is 36.5 billion acres. It is not an abstract amount or an abstract idea. It is an amount, and every little bit matters.
Visit your local farmers market to support small farmers and local businesses. Purchasing locally produced foods like fruits, vegetables, eggs, and meats helps farmers who are deeply connected to their land and community. Build relationships with local farmers, who often connect you to other small producers in the area. These connections help create a stronger, more resilient local food system. Backing local farmers strengthens the economy, keeps families connected to their land, reduces the fossil fuels used to transport food long distances, and makes fresher, more nutrient-rich food accessible. Most importantly, it improves food security.
Our highly concentrated food system means a single issue can impact many people. Recent outbreaks, like Cyclospora, show how large-scale production and distribution allow contamination to spread widely and quickly. By choosing diverse, local food sources, communities grow more resilient. This reduces dependence on centralized systems and provides more options when disruptions arise. Buying local isn’t just about fresher food; it's about knowing your food’s origins, connecting with producers, and helping build a healthier, stronger food system.
Grow your own food. Practice crop rotation. Compost. Fertilize with manure. Try growing your garden organically. Collect rainwater. Plant native species in your yard. Look for ways to garden that respect and support the local ecosystem.
Most importantly, reconnect with the land. Take a walk along Linn Creek or the Iowa River. Chances are you’ll see a wood drake or a great heron. Explore a new park. Heck, explore your own backyard. You don’t have to be an expert. You don’t need acres of land. Just get outside.
Finally, accept that money isn’t the limiting factor in happiness. We all, whether we mean to or not, contribute to the destruction of the Earth in some way. However, being aware of how we affect the Earth and being conscious of the damage we do is the first step in recognizing the problem. And recognizing that more money does not bring us more happiness, but it often brings more destruction to our natural world.
Wendell Berry strongly believed in local communities, especially rural communities. He believed in family and regional traditions. Sounds pretty Iowan to me. He lived on this earth for 92 years and saw significant change during that time. He did not hesitate to criticize, but he also never gave up on humans caring for the earth. If you’ve never read any of his work, I strongly encourage you to give it a chance. Because, as a wise man once said, “The Earth is what we all have in common.
Emily Herring is the Marshall County Conservation Director.