There’s something deeply satisfying about walking out your back door and knowing you can take care of yourself, your family, and your land—all without needing a trip into town. That’s what living off the land means to me. Not just surviving, but thriving with what the land gives you, while giving back to it in return.

As a forestry technician, I spend my days managing woodlands across Middle Tennessee. But when I clock out, I head back to my own patch of woods, where I live with my wife, kids, and a whole mess of chickens, garden beds, and firewood piles. Over the years, I’ve learned how to blend modern forestry science with the old-school values of homesteading—and I believe that’s a way of life worth sharing.

Learning from the Land (and the Old-Timers)

Growing up in Ashland City, I spent a lot of time around folks who lived close to the land. My granddad planted by the moon, used wood heat, and canned everything that came out of the garden. My dad, a part-time logger, taught me to swing an axe before I could drive.

But I also studied forestry in school, and now I work with maps, GPS, inventory tools, and data on a daily basis. What I’ve found is that the old ways and the new ways don’t have to clash—they can actually work together.

Take firewood, for example. The homesteader in me knows the value of heating with oak and hickory from my own property. But the forester in me knows that every cut I make should serve a purpose—thinning overcrowded trees, removing storm-damaged limbs, or clearing room for new growth. It’s not just about burning wood—it’s about managing a renewable resource.

Forestry for the Homestead

Forestry isn’t just for big timber companies or state lands. It’s a tool that every landowner can use, no matter if you’ve got 5 acres or 50.

Here are a few ways I apply forestry to my homestead:

🌲 Selective Harvesting

I never clear-cut. Instead, I harvest trees that are diseased, poorly formed, or shading out better species. This provides me with firewood or lumber while improving the health of the stand.

🪵 Sawmill Projects

I invested in a small portable sawmill a few years ago. Now I can turn my own trees into fence posts, shed siding, and even furniture. Not only does it save money, but I know the source and story behind every board.

🌱 Replanting & Natural Regeneration

When I do cut a tree, I either let nature regenerate (if the seed source is strong), or I replant with native species like white oak or shortleaf pine. This way, I’m leaving something behind for my kids.

The Garden, the Coop, and the Wild

Beyond the woods, we run a modest garden, raise chickens for eggs, and forage when the season’s right. It’s a simple life, but a rich one. Here’s how it all ties together:

• Mulch & Compost: I use leaf litter and chipped branches to mulch garden beds. Nothing goes to waste.
  
• Wildlife Management: I leave brush piles and standing snags in the forest for rabbits, birds, and beneficial insects.
  
• Water Conservation: I collect rainwater in barrels and plant native, drought-resistant species along the forest edge.
  
• Foraging: Morels in spring, chanterelles in summer, pawpaws and persimmons in fall—it’s a gift if you know when to look.
  

Some years are leaner than others. But when you live with the land, you develop patience. You learn to read the seasons like a book.

Passing It On

One of the most important things to me is teaching my kids to love and respect the land. We work in the garden together, split wood side-by-side, and walk the trails behind our house looking for tracks. They may not grow up to be foresters, but they’ll grow up knowing how to live with nature—not against it.

I also do what I can to mentor young folks in our community—whether through the high school’s CTE program or neighbors who just bought land and don’t know what to do with it. If I can help someone grow their own food, manage their woods, or start a compost pile, I consider that a good day’s work.

Lessons from The Land

In a world that’s getting louder, faster, and more complicated, I believe the answer is often getting quieter, slower, and more intentional. Living off the land doesn’t mean turning your back on modern life. It means using what you know—science, tradition, experience—to live with purpose.

Modern forestry has taught me how to look at the forest as a system. Homesteading has taught me how to see that system as home.

If you’re reading this and wondering where to begin, start small. Plant a tree. Grow a tomato. Learn one new skill this season. Over time, you’ll build a rhythm with your land. And once you’ve got that rhythm, you’ll wonder why you ever lived any other way.

Thanks for reading—and if you ever find yourself near Ashland City, I’ll be out back with a shovel, a chainsaw, or a cup of coffee. Come say hello.