Why Farm Life and TikTok Don’t Mix (For Me, At Least!)
When people scroll through TikTok, they’re usually looking for quick laughs, dance trends, or clever hacks that make life easier. What they don’t usually see is someone knee-deep in goat feed, dodging an overly curious chicken, or trying to record a video while a donkey brays in the background. For me, farm life and TikTok just don’t always mix—and I’ll tell you why.
First, farming is messy. And not the kind of “messy” that looks quirky or aesthetic on social media. I’m talking about mud up to your knees, hay stuck in your hair, and the lingering smell of livestock that clings no matter how many showers you take. People love to see the picture-perfect clips of goats balancing on yoga mats or cows being hand-fed snacks, but what they don’t see is the hour I spent scraping muck out of stalls or chasing down a goat who figured out how to unlock the gate. Trust me, those parts aren’t trending material.
Second, farm work doesn’t run on a TikTok-friendly schedule. The app thrives on constant posting—three, four, sometimes five times a day if you really want to grow. But animals don’t care about your content calendar. They need to be fed at sunrise, watered at noon, checked at dusk, and sometimes even in the middle of the night. By the time I’ve finished with the chores, I barely have the energy to sit down, let alone film, edit, and post something entertaining. The rhythm of the farm is steady, grounding, and in its own way, sacred. It’s not designed for the bite-sized chaos of social media.
Then there’s the issue of authenticity. TikTok is a place where everything is amplified—bigger laughs, bigger stunts, bigger drama. Out here on the farm, life is slower and subtler. The beauty is in the small moments: the quiet crunch of gravel under boots, the way the goats nuzzle into your hands, or how the sky glows pink and gold at sunset. These things don’t translate into fifteen seconds of viral-worthy content. And when I try to force it, it feels fake—like I’m performing instead of just living.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried. I’ve set up my phone against a fence post, pressed record, and attempted to capture something funny or heartwarming. More often than not, though, a goat knocks the camera over, the dog barks through the whole thing, or I forget to even hit “record.” What’s hilarious in real life doesn’t always come across the same way through a screen.
And honestly? I think that’s okay. Farm life isn’t meant to be a highlight reel. It’s gritty, demanding, rewarding, and yes, sometimes very funny—but it’s also deeply personal. Sharing bits and pieces online can be fun, but turning it into constant content feels like I’d be cheapening the experience. I’d rather be present, soaking it in, than worrying about whether it’ll go viral.
So no, farm life and TikTok don’t mix—at least not for me. But maybe that’s the point. The farm gives me what TikTok can’t: a real connection to the land, the animals, and myself. And if that means I miss out on a few likes or shares, well, I think I’ll survive.
