“Science and story are not interposed, but they must be made convivial,” writes Daniel Firth Griffith in the introduction to his remarkable book, Stagtine. And in his hands, they are. To be sure, there is a fair bit of science—science of nutrition, of epigenetics and plant relationships, indigenous knowledge and soil microbiology. Woven in as well are threads of history and philosophy—Celtic lore, Aristotelian thought, the cave art of Lascaux and even some lost history of Daniel Boone. But what ties it so well together is that at it’s heart is a story, a beautiful one that will have you turning the pages.
The story is simple, that of a young couple trying to find their way out of the human/non-human disconnect through regenerative agriculture, only to run right into it’s foundation—the power imbalance between humans and non humans. It’s an ancient geometry, humans deciding what lives, where, when and how, and involves therefore breeding, in this case a very large and unruly bull named Paddy. Paddy doesn’t want to be separated from his herd, forced to reproduce according to a human schedule. It isn’t until they’re on their knees in the freezing mud, having just escaped a nearly fatal mishap trying to contain him, that they stumble, or collapse, upon the key question that will guide everything ahead of them. What if we were to let go, they ask themselves, and let nature follow its nature?
So their journey moves from regenerative agriculture to what they now call “kincentric rewilding,” a journey in which land, animal and farmer “grow wild together.” The usual dynamic in farming is that the farmer is the one with the knowledge, while the plants and animals are like students, or workers, following instructions for optimal outcomes. Griffith turns that dynamic around. Here, it’s the animals and the land that do the teaching. “How,” he asks, “can animals learn to self medicate and epigenetically adapt to landscapes if they are forever told where to go, how to live and what to eat?” And how can anyone know the optimal relationship between land and animal if it’s never given the freedom to develop, if one never allows “the intergenerational play of evolution in place?”
Not everyone will appreciate Griffith’s take on regenerative agriculture, which he sees as embodying many of the traits of the conventional agricultural model it seeks to replace. But in any human undertaking, there will always be one who peers past the accepted horizon to what might be possible yet. For regenerative agriculture, Griffith seems to be that person. He is not dogmatic about it however, and acknowledges that what he and his wife have learned in the hills of Virginia may not apply to other terrains and biomes. But the basic impulse, to move toward a more natural, reciprocal relationship with the land, is one most people in regenerative agriculture should be able to understand. Griffith simply follows that impulse, studiously, with surprising results.
I’ve touched here on the substance of the book, but the style deserves mention too. From its arresting title to the final words, this book is hugely creative. The prose is in turns poetic and explicative, and the deft arrangement of the material moves you back and forth through time and space, while inching you closer and closer to the main subject, which is Life and our relationship to it. “Relationship,” says Griffith, “is responsibility’s infinity.”
Another charm of this book is the space given to the feminine. It’s his wife who, over and over, intuits the path ahead, and it was his mother whose encouragement and wisdom helped lead him out of a devasting health condition during his teens. In Stagtine, Griffith embodies the best of masculine writing, that which honors and admires the feminine.
So what does happen when a family, with four hundred acres of historically abused land on their hands, decides to let go and let the land lead the way? To find that out, you’ll have to buy the book and read it yourself, which I wholeheartedly recommend.
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Thank you my friend for sitting with these thoughts and words! It is an honor.
Best book review ever! :-)
Looking for the book now!