"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times …"
The starting line to one of the English language's preeminent novels and a fitting start to a conversation about the current state of agricultural markets. For those unfamiliar with Dickensian literature, the novel tells a story of the contradictory nature of an era, namely, prerevolutionary Paris (and London). In the story, different people experience both great fortune and extreme hardship, reflecting the dualities of the human condition.
The story of agricultural markets today is very similar to A Tale of Two Cities or, if you are willing to forgive the campiness, "a tale of two farm economies." Today, farmers and ranchers of different commodities are experiencing vastly different realities.
Last week, I listened to an economist walk us through a chart showing the change in inflation-adjusted net cash farm income from 2022 to 2025. On one end, a green bar representing the cattle industry with a 179% increase. On the other end, three red bars representing cotton, soybeans and corn, respectively, with decreases of 84%, 43% and 19%. A situation that left the audience in a state of sanguine uncertainty. A fitting description that captures both the elation and the distress of farmers at this moment.
However, we are a stout bunch, stoic in both our losses and our wins.
For cattle producers, this year certainly falls under “best of times.” Most ranchers have marketed their spring calves for the season, and plenty spent the summer weighing whether to sell or hold onto their heifers. With prices so strong, it was a substantial decision. The same decision that has steered the cattle cycle for more than a century.
But the story looks different across the fenceline. Earlier this year, I was with a group of Indiana corn and soy farmers on a trade mission to Colombia. As they read the farm report aloud one morning, they expressed mixed feelings of pride and dread, knowing what a record-setting crop would bring. The concern in July has come to fruition.
That’s the reality of a world where global indicators can swing U.S. commodity markets overnight. Conversations with foreign leaders or geopolitical maneuvering can feel far removed from the farm, yet they show up in the numbers that drive every marketing decision farmers make.
Take the recent discussion around importing beef from Argentina. The idea ignited concern among producers, and understandably so. But when you look at the data, Argentina simply doesn’t have the volume to meaningfully affect U.S. beef prices or grocery store coolers. So why represent the idea as a solution? Such proposals seem to have more to do with political signaling than practical impact – and agriculture ends up caught in the middle.
As Dickens wrote in the next line of the famous novel: "it was the age of wisdom and the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity."
Agriculture has always lived between those two poles, buoyed by optimism one season, humbled by the next. The cattle cycle will turn again, just as it always has. Crops will rebound, prices will correct and new challenges will take the place of old ones. Policy will evolve and election cycles will revolve.
In the meantime, producers do what they’ve always done: make the best decisions they can with the markets in front of them, steward what they have and trust that good management outlasts bad policy. If history teaches us anything, it’s that agriculture is built to endure both the best of times and the worst of times – and so are the people who carry it forward.
