The Things About Homesteading Nobody Puts on the Internet – BLOG – 2026-Aug-29

The Things About Homesteading Nobody Puts on the Internet

In 2019, two major events changed the course of my life. I closed the winery, and my wife and I decided to go our separate ways. We sold the house, and I made the decision to renovate the old winery building into my new home. At the time, I had no idea just how much that decision would change my life. What started as a practical solution to a major transition eventually became the beginning of an entirely new journey—one that would lead me to homesteading.

When I started looking into homesteading, I did what most people probably do.

    • I went online.
    • I watched videos. I read articles. I looked at photographs of beautiful gardens, neatly stacked firewood, happy chickens wandering through green grass, perfectly organized pantries and baskets overflowing with vegetables.

It all looked wonderful.

And, to be fair, some of it really is wonderful.

What I didn’t see nearly as often were the less glamorous parts.

      • The broken equipment.
      • The muddy boots.
      • The endless cleaning.
      • The projects that take three times longer than expected.
      • The money that disappears into things I never knew I needed.
      • The vegetables that refuse to grow.
      • The animals that have their own ideas about how things should work.

And the fact that sometimes I spend an entire day working outside and, at the end of it, I’m not entirely sure what I accomplished.

That’s the part of homesteading that doesn’t always make it onto the internet.

So, after spending some time doing this myself, I thought I’d talk about it.

Not to discourage anyone from homesteading.

Quite the opposite.

I think understanding the reality makes the good parts even better.


Homesteading Is a Lot of Work

This probably shouldn’t come as a surprise, but I underestimated it anyway.

      • There is always something to do.
      • If I’m not working in the garden, something needs repairing.
      • If nothing needs repairing, there is probably something that needs cleaning.
      • If everything is clean, there are animals to feed.
      • If the animals are fed, there is probably a fence that needs attention.
      • And if everything is somehow working perfectly, I can always find another project.

That’s one of the realities of having land.

Things don’t stay finished.

      • A garden doesn’t become “done.”
      • A fence doesn’t stay perfect forever.
      • Buildings need maintenance.
      • Equipment needs attention.
      • Animals need care.

The work doesn’t end simply because I finished the project I started that morning.

I’ve learned to accept that.

The homestead is less like a list of projects and more like a living system that requires ongoing attention.


Things Break

This is another one that doesn’t photograph particularly well.

      • A piece of equipment breaks.
      • A hinge fails.
      • A board rots.
      • A water line leaks.
      • A tool stops working.
      • A gate doesn’t close properly.
      • Something that worked perfectly yesterday suddenly doesn’t.
      • And, of course, it usually happens when I need it most.

I’ve learned that maintenance is part of homesteading.

It’s not something I do only when something breaks.

I’m getting better at looking at things and asking:

“What is likely to fail next?”

This isn’t negativity, it’s just good planning.  Sometimes spending a little time fixing a small problem today prevents a much bigger problem later.

Not always.

But often enough that I’ve learned to pay attention.


The Weather Is in Charge

I can make plans.

The weather does not care.

I can decide that today is the perfect day to plant something, build something, paint something or work on a particular project.

      • Then it rains.
      • Or it gets too hot.
      • Or the wind picks up.
      • Or the temperature drops.
      • Or we get an unexpected stretch of weather that changes everything.

Gardening has made this especially obvious.

I can prepare the soil, plant carefully and do everything I think I’m supposed to do.

Then Mother Nature gets involved.

Sometimes she helps.

Sometimes she doesn’t.

I’ve learned that one of the most useful homesteading skills is being able to change plans without becoming frustrated by the fact that the original plan didn’t survive contact with reality.


A Garden Does Not Follow a Schedule

I used to think of gardening in fairly simple terms.

      • Plant.
      • Water.
      • Grow.
      • Harvest.

The reality is considerably more complicated.

      • Some things grow beautifully.
      • Some things barely grow at all.
      • Some plants produce much earlier than expected.
      • Others seem to be waiting for a completely different season.
      • Sometimes everything ripens at once.

That’s when the fun really starts.

Suddenly I have more vegetables than I can eat, and I need to decide what I’m going to do with them.

That’s why I’ve become increasingly interested in food preservation.

Canning, freezing, dehydrating and freeze-drying aren’t just hobbies for me.

They’re ways of dealing with the reality of having a productive garden.

The goal isn’t simply to grow food.

It’s to make use of the food I grow.


More Food Can Actually Create More Work

This sounds like a strange problem to have.

It isn’t.

Imagine spending months trying to get a garden producing well.

Then it works.

Really well.

Suddenly I have tomatoes everywhere.

Or peppers.

Or herbs.

Or berries.

That’s a good problem to have, but it’s still a problem that needs solving.

Fresh food doesn’t wait for my schedule.

If I don’t preserve it, use it or give it away, eventually it becomes waste.

That’s one reason I’ve been experimenting with freeze-drying.

Freeze-drying gives me another way to preserve some of the food I grow and turn seasonal abundance into something I can store and use later.

It also led me to another opportunity: custom freeze-drying services for people who have their own garden surplus but don’t own a freeze dryer.

Sometimes one homestead project leads naturally to another.


Animals Don’t Follow My Schedule Either

I’ve also learned that animals are very good at reminding me who is actually in charge.

I can have a plan for the rabbits.

The rabbits may have a different plan.

I can build an enclosure that I think is secure.

The rabbits may immediately begin investigating how to defeat it.

I’ve learned that raising animals means paying attention.

      • They need food.
      • They need water.
      • They need clean housing.
      • They need protection.
      • They need observation.
      • And they occasionally need me to solve a problem that wasn’t on my schedule for the day.

There was also the memorable occasion when a rabbit enclosure door was left unsecured and I suddenly had rabbits exploring the property.

That was not part of the plan.

It was, however, a very effective lesson in making sure doors are actually closed.


Homesteading Costs Money

This is one of the biggest misconceptions I had to reconsider.

Homesteading can save money in some areas.

It can also cost quite a bit of money.

      • Seeds cost money.
      • Feed costs money.
      • Fencing costs money.
      • Lumber costs money.
      • Tools cost money.
      • Animal housing costs money.
      • Equipment costs money.

And then there are all the little things.

A small purchase here.

Another one there.

Before long, the “inexpensive” project has accumulated quite a bill.

I’ve learned that I need to look at homesteading as an investment rather than assuming everything I produce will automatically be cheaper than buying it.

      • Sometimes I save money.
      • Sometimes I don’t.
      • Sometimes I gain something more valuable than the difference in price.

Knowing where my food came from has value.

Learning a new skill has value.

Being able to preserve my own food has value.

Becoming more capable has value.

Those things don’t always show up on a spreadsheet.


Your Time Has Value Too

This is another one I didn’t fully appreciate at the beginning.

If I spend four hours growing, harvesting and processing something that costs very little at the grocery store, I need to be honest about what I’m actually doing.

I’m not necessarily saving money.

I’m choosing to spend my time differently.

And that’s perfectly legitimate.

The important thing is recognizing the difference.

I enjoy many of the things I do on the homestead.

That’s part of the reason I’m doing them.

But enjoying something doesn’t mean my time has no value.

I’ve become much more conscious of that as I’ve started turning some homestead activities into products for my store.

If I’m making seasoning salts, freeze-dried foods or other products, I need to understand not just the ingredient cost but also the time and effort involved.

That’s where homesteading and business start meeting each other.


You Will Buy Things You Don’t Need

I have learned this lesson more than once.

I’ll see a tool or piece of equipment and think:

“That would make things easier.”

Sometimes it does.

Sometimes it turns out to be something I rarely use.

I’ve become much more cautious about buying equipment simply because it looks useful.

Now I ask myself:

What problem does this actually solve?

If I can’t answer that question clearly, I probably don’t need it yet.

This has become particularly important because I’m trying to build Blue Gypsy Homestead without spending money simply for the sake of expanding.

Sometimes the best tool is the one I already own.


Simple Projects Rarely Stay Simple

I’ve learned not to use the phrase “This should be easy.”

It seems to tempt fate.

I’ll start a project thinking it should take an afternoon.

Then I discover a problem.

Solving that problem creates another problem.

That requires a different solution.

And suddenly I’m looking at a project that has evolved into something completely different from what I originally imagined.

This happens frequently enough that I’ve learned to build flexibility into my plans.

I also try to remind myself that not every project needs to be completed in one day.

That’s easier said than done.

But I’m getting better at it.


Homesteading Requires Learning Constantly

There is a lot I don’t know.

That’s not a complaint; it’s actually one of the things I enjoy most.

      • Every season gives me something new to learn.
      • Every animal teaches me something.
      • Every crop teaches me something.
      • Every failed project teaches me something.

Sometimes the lesson is:

“That was not a good idea.”

That’s still useful information.

      • I’ve discovered that I don’t need to know everything before I start.
      • I need to be willing to learn as I go.
      • Research is valuable.
      • Experience is even more valuable.
      • And the combination of the two is where I seem to make the most progress.

You Have to Be Comfortable With Failure

This is probably one of the most important lessons I’ve learned.

      • Not everything works.
      • Some plants fail.
      • Some projects fail.
      • Some ideas aren’t practical.
      • Some products don’t sell.
      • Some equipment purchases aren’t as useful as I expected.

That’s part of the process.

I used to see failure as evidence that I had done something wrong.

Now I try to see it as information.

If something fails, I want to understand why.

      • Was the timing wrong?
      • Was the design wrong?
      • Did I underestimate the cost?
      • Did I misunderstand what customers wanted?
      • Did I simply get unlucky?

Once I know why something didn’t work, I can make a better decision the next time.

That’s progress.


The Homestead Is Never Going to Look Like the Pictures

This might be my favourite one.

The internet is very good at showing the best five minutes.

      • A beautiful sunrise.
      • A basket of vegetables.
      • A perfectly organized pantry.
      • A rabbit sitting peacefully in the sunshine.
      • A freshly built garden bed.

What you don’t always see is what happened immediately before the photograph.

      • The weeds.
      • The mud.
      • The broken fence.
      • The tools scattered everywhere.
      • The failed crop.
      • The animal enclosure that needs cleaning.
      • The project that is only halfway finished.

That’s my reality.

And I’ve become comfortable with it.

My homestead isn’t a magazine spread.

It’s a working property.

It’s supposed to show evidence that something is happening.


Sometimes I Don’t Accomplish as Much as I Planned

This is another reality that isn’t particularly photogenic.

There are days when I have a long list of things I want to accomplish.

Then something unexpected happens.

      • Maybe a repair takes longer than expected.
      • Maybe the weather changes.
      • Maybe an animal needs attention.
      • Maybe I discover a problem I didn’t know existed.

At the end of the day, I may have completed only one thing on my list.

It can be frustrating.

But I’ve learned that one important thing accomplished is still progress.

Homesteading isn’t a race.

The property isn’t going anywhere.

There will be another day.


You Don’t Need to Do Everything Yourself

This is something I think gets misunderstood.

Self-sufficiency doesn’t have to mean doing absolutely everything yourself.

      • I can grow food and still buy things.
      • I can raise animals and still purchase feed.
      • I can preserve food and still go to the grocery store.
      • I can build things and still buy equipment.
      • I can learn skills without pretending I have every skill.

For me, homesteading is about becoming more capable and less dependent, not about eliminating every outside resource from my life.

There is a difference.

And I think it’s a healthier way to approach the idea.


Homesteading Is Not Always Productive

Sometimes I spend time outside and simply enjoy being there.

That’s not necessarily wasted time.

There is something satisfying about walking through the garden, checking the animals, looking at what’s growing and seeing the property change with the seasons.

      • Not everything has to become a product.
      • Not every activity has to generate income.
      • Not every hour has to produce something measurable.

Sometimes the benefit is simply knowing that I’m building something that matters to me.


The Good Parts Are Better Than the Internet Makes Them Look

Here’s the funny thing.

After talking about all of the things nobody puts on the internet, I don’t want to give the impression that homesteading is miserable.

It isn’t.

There are moments that are genuinely wonderful.

      • Harvesting something I grew myself.
      • Eating food from my own garden.
      • Watching animals grow.
      • Opening a jar of something I preserved months earlier.
      • Taking an ingredient from the garden and turning it into a product.
      • Solving a problem I couldn’t solve before.
      • Standing outside early in the morning when everything is quiet.

Those moments are real too.

And they’re probably the reason I keep doing all the other work.


What Homesteading Has Really Taught Me

The biggest surprise for me is that homesteading isn’t really about creating a perfect life.

It’s about creating a more intentional one.

      • I’m learning to pay attention.
      • I’m learning to use what I have.
      • I’m learning to preserve abundance.
      • I’m learning to repair instead of replace when it makes sense.
      • I’m learning to accept that plans will change.
      • I’m learning that mistakes are part of the process.
      • And I’m learning that progress doesn’t always look impressive from the outside.

Sometimes progress is a new garden bed.

Sometimes it’s a repaired fence.

Sometimes it’s a successful litter of rabbits.

Sometimes it’s a jar of seasoning salt.

Sometimes it’s simply figuring out a better way to do something I’ve already done ten times.

That’s the part of homesteading I wish I had seen more often when I started.

It’s not perfect.

It’s not always efficient.

It isn’t always inexpensive.

It isn’t always easy.

But it is real.

And for me, that’s what makes it worthwhile.


🌱 Follow the Blue Gypsy Homestead Journey

I share the good, the bad, the unfinished projects and the lessons I’m learning as I continue building Blue Gypsy Homestead into a productive one-man homestead and business.

▶️ YouTube

Follow my homesteading projects, gardening, rabbit raising, food preservation, freeze-drying, product development and everyday life on the homestead.

Blue Gypsy Homestead on YouTube

🎵 TikTok

Follow me for shorter videos, quick updates, behind-the-scenes projects and the occasional homestead surprise.

Blue Gypsy Homestead on TikTok

🌱 Learn More

Learn more about my homestead, projects, services, products and the journey I’m documenting along the way.

Blue Gypsy Homestead – Learn More

🛒 Online Store

Browse the products I’m making and selling from Blue Gypsy Homestead, including freeze-dried foods, seasoning salts, smoked seasonings, spice blends, merchandise and other homestead products.

Blue Gypsy Homestead Online Store


Blue Gypsy Homestead is a 62-acre farm located approximately 35 minutes south of Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. I operate the homestead as a one-man operation focused on practical homesteading, gardening, livestock, food preservation, freeze-drying, value-added food products and rural entrepreneurship. Through my blog and social media channels, I share the realities of building a working homestead, including the ongoing maintenance, costs, unexpected problems, failed projects, gardening challenges, livestock responsibilities and lessons that are often missing from idealized online portrayals of homestead life. My goal is to document the experience honestly while sharing practical information that can help others understand what homesteading actually involves.

Some Lessons Learned by Raising Meat Rabbits – BLOG 2026-Aug-25

What Raising Meat Rabbits Has Actually Taught Me

In my life as an IT Pro, one of the things I found most important when wrapping a project was the ‘Lessons Learned” aspect.  This process was sometimes called “Postmortem”, but that term never sat well with me because it made me feel like we failed, even when the project was successful.  Also, Lessons Learned were always meant to be the first step in the next stage of a project, implying that improvement was a part of the cycle.

So, this is my ‘Lessons Learned” post.

When I first decided to raise rabbits for meat, I thought I knew what I was getting into.

Rabbits seemed practical.

They don’t require a huge amount of space. They reproduce quickly. They don’t require the infrastructure that larger livestock needs. They can turn relatively small amounts of feed into a useful source of protein.

On paper, it made a lot of sense.

Reality, as it usually does on a homestead, turned out to be considerably more complicated.

Raising meat rabbits has taught me things about animals, food, money, responsibility and myself that I wasn’t expecting.

Some lessons have been good.

Some have been frustrating.

And some have involved chasing rabbits around the yard because somebody (namely, ME) left a door open.

But that’s homesteading.

You learn.

You adapt.

And occasionally (often???) you stand in the middle of the yard wondering how the hell you got yourself into this.

Rabbits Made Sense for Our Homestead

One of the reasons we chose rabbits was simple: they fit the scale of what we’re trying to accomplish.

We’re not running a commercial livestock operation.

We’re trying to build a productive homestead while making the best use of the land, the resources and the money available to us.

      • Rabbits checked a lot of boxes.
      • They don’t need acres of pasture.
      • They can be raised in relatively compact housing.
      • They reproduce quickly.

And unlike some livestock, you can start with a relatively small breeding operation and gradually expand.

That appealed to me.

Starting small is important when you’re building something without an unlimited budget.

The Rabbits Don’t Care About Your Business Plan

This might be the first lesson I learned.

      • You can make spreadsheets.
      • You can calculate feed costs.
      • You can estimate litter sizes.
      • You can project how many kits you’ll have available at a certain age.
      • You can calculate expected meat yields.

And then the rabbits laugh at your spreadsheet.

Animals don’t read business plans.

Things happen.

      • A doe doesn’t get pregnant.
      • A litter is smaller than expected.
      • A kit doesn’t thrive.
      • A predator becomes interested in your housing.
      • Something breaks.
      • Something escapes.

And suddenly your carefully calculated production schedule isn’t worth much.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing.

It just means that livestock teaches you to leave room for reality.

Reproduction Is Not the Same as Production

One of the things that attracted me to rabbits was their ability to reproduce.

And yes, rabbits can reproduce very efficiently.

But having rabbits isn’t the same thing as producing meat.

      • You need healthy breeding stock.
      • You need successful pregnancies.
      • You need healthy kits.
      • You need adequate feed.
      • You need proper housing.
      • You need to manage breeding.
      • You need to deal with losses.

And eventually, you have to make decisions about which animals remain part of the breeding program and which don’t.

The numbers only work if all the pieces work together.

That was an important lesson.

Production is a system, not a single number.

Housing Matters More Than I Expected

A rabbit doesn’t need a mansion.

But it does need a safe, clean, secure environment.

And secure is the important word.

I’ve learned that the hard way.

My rabbit area has evolved over time because every improvement has taught us something else that needed attention.

      • Predator protection matters.
      • Ventilation matters.
      • Ease of cleaning matters.
      • Access matters.
      • Weather protection matters.
      • And perhaps most importantly: doors need to stay closed.

There was one memorable incident when a door was left open and suddenly we had rabbits wandering around the property.

Let’s just say that rounding up rabbits is considerably more difficult than putting them where you want them in the first place.

It was funny afterward.

It wasn’t particularly funny while it was happening.

Predators Are Part of the Equation

One of the less pleasant realities of raising animals is that you’re not the only creature interested in them.

We’ve had to think about predators and how to protect our animals from them.

On a rural property, that can include everything from coyotes and wolves to smaller predators that are perfectly capable of finding a weakness in an enclosure.

This has changed how I think about livestock housing.

      • A fence isn’t automatically protection.
      • A cage isn’t automatically secure.
      • A door isn’t automatically closed.

And something that looks impossible for a predator to get through may turn out to be an invitation.

You learn to look at your enclosures differently.

You start asking:

“If I were a predator, how would I get in?”

That’s actually a useful question.

Rabbits Have Made Me More Comfortable With Responsibility

There is a difference between growing tomatoes and raising animals.

If your tomato plant dies, you feel disappointed.

When an animal depends on you and something goes wrong, the feeling is different.

You are responsible for providing food, water, shelter and protection.

The animal doesn’t get to choose whether you remembered something.

It doesn’t get to decide whether you’re tired.

It doesn’t care whether you had a bad day.

It still needs to be fed.

That responsibility can be inconvenient.

It can also be grounding.

You have to show up.

The Emotional Side Is Real

This is something people don’t always talk about when discussing meat animals.

You can raise an animal with the intention of putting food on the table and still care about that animal.

Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.

In fact, I think caring for the animal makes the responsibility more meaningful.

These aren’t widgets moving through a production line.

They’re living creatures.

That means there are good days and bad days.

There are births.

There are losses.

There are animals that thrive and animals that don’t.

And eventually, if the purpose is meat production, there is a final step.

I’ve found that the best way to deal with that reality is to respect the animal and be honest about why I’m raising it.

I don’t pretend otherwise.

I’m raising meat rabbits because we want to produce some of our own food.

That doesn’t mean I don’t care about them.

It means I take the responsibility seriously.

Feed Costs Change the Math

One of the biggest lessons from raising rabbits has nothing to do with rabbits.

It has to do with economics.

It is very easy to look at an animal and think:

“I’m producing my own meat, so I’m saving money.”

Maybe.

But you need to calculate everything.

      • Feed isn’t free.
      • Housing isn’t free.
      • Breeding stock isn’t free.
      • Water isn’t free.
      • Bedding isn’t free.
      • Equipment isn’t free.
      • Your time isn’t free.
      • Losses aren’t free.

And then there are all the little expenses that somehow become a significant number when you add them together.

Homesteading can reduce your dependence on the grocery store.

It doesn’t automatically make everything cheaper.

That’s an important distinction.

Rabbits Have Taught Me About Scale

Another lesson has been understanding the difference between enough and too much.

It’s easy to think that more animals automatically means more production.

But more animals also mean:

      • More feed.
      • More cleaning.
      • More housing.
      • More management.
      • More breeding decisions.
      • More potential problems.

The goal isn’t necessarily to have as many rabbits as possible.

The goal is to have the right number of rabbits for our needs and our capacity.

That’s a much more sustainable way of thinking.

The Homestead Is a System

Rabbits don’t exist in isolation.

Their manure can contribute to the garden.

The garden can produce food.

The garden can produce surplus.

That surplus can be preserved.

Food preservation can reduce waste.

The homestead can produce products that can be sold.

Revenue can help pay for feed and infrastructure.

And suddenly, the rabbit isn’t just a rabbit.

It’s part of a larger system.

That’s one of the things I find most interesting about homesteading.

The more you do it, the more interconnected everything becomes.

Rabbits Have Taught Me to Adapt

This might be the biggest lesson.

Things rarely go exactly according to plan.

So you adapt.

A housing design doesn’t work?

Change it.

A breeding approach isn’t producing what you expected?

Reconsider it.

A predator finds a weakness?

Fix it.

A product doesn’t sell?

Figure out why.

A crop fails?

Try something different.

The temptation is to think that successful homesteaders know exactly what they’re doing.

I don’t think that’s true.

I think successful homesteaders are often just better at adjusting when what they’re doing stops working.

There Is No Such Thing as a Perfect Homestead

Social media can make homesteading look beautifully simple.

      • A wooden table.
      • A basket of vegetables.
      • A few chickens wandering through the yard.
      • A rabbit sitting peacefully in the sunshine.

What you don’t see is the broken gate, the failed crop, the animal enclosure that needs repairing, the feed bill, the escaped rabbit, the predator that was spotted near the barn and the project that took three times longer than expected.

That’s the real homestead.

And honestly?

I prefer it.

Because it’s real.

Would I Do It Again?

Yes.

Would I do everything the same way?

Absolutely not.

I’ve learned too much for that.

The rabbits have become part of our ongoing experiment in figuring out how to produce more of our own food while building something sustainable.

I never stop learning.

I’m still improving the housing.

I’m still figuring out what works best for our particular property.

And I’m sure the rabbits have a few more lessons waiting for me.

They usually do.

What Raising Meat Rabbits Has Actually Taught Me

If I had to boil everything down, raising rabbits has taught me this:

Don’t confuse a simple animal with a simple system.

Rabbits may be relatively easy livestock to get started with, but doing it well requires planning, observation, work and a willingness to adapt.

      • They’ve taught me that numbers on a spreadsheet don’t always survive contact with reality.
      • They’ve taught me that livestock requires commitment.
      • They’ve taught me that food production carries responsibility.
      • They’ve taught me that mistakes are inevitable.

And they’ve reminded me that homesteading isn’t about creating a perfect little farm where everything works exactly as planned.

It’s about building something that works well enough to keep moving forward.

And sometimes, apparently, it’s also about chasing rabbits around the yard.

That’s homesteading.

And I’m okay with that.


🐇 Follow the Blue Gypsy Homestead Journey

Want to see what actually happens behind the scenes?

Follow Blue Gypsy Homestead as we continue learning about rabbits, gardening, food preservation, DIY projects, livestock and the realities of building a working homestead.

▶️ YouTube

Watch our homesteading videos, rabbit projects, food preservation experiments, farm projects and more.

Blue Gypsy Homestead on YouTube

🎵 TikTok

Follow along for quick videos, homestead updates, projects and the occasional rabbit-related disaster.

Blue Gypsy Homestead on TikTok

🌱 Learn More

Visit the Blue Gypsy Homestead website to learn more about our farm, projects, services and homesteading journey.

Blue Gypsy Homestead – Learn More

🛒 Online Store

Browse our freeze-dried foods, seasonings, merchandise and other products made or offered through Blue Gypsy Homestead.

Blue Gypsy Homestead Online Store


Blue Gypsy Homestead is a 62-acre farm located approximately 35 minutes south of Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. The homestead raises rabbits as part of its broader effort to produce food, increase self-sufficiency and develop a practical small-scale farm business. Through its blog and social media channels, Blue Gypsy Homestead shares real-world experiences with rabbit husbandry, breeding, animal housing, predator protection, food production and the challenges of raising livestock on a working homestead. The focus is on honest lessons learned through experience rather than presenting homesteading as a perfect or effortless lifestyle.

Respect, Responsibility, & Humane Animal Husbandry – BLOG 2026-Aug-20

The Hardest Part of Raising Meat Rabbits

A candid look at the emotional reality of raising meat rabbits on a Canadian homestead. Learn why humane animal husbandry, respect for livestock, and personal responsibility matter when producing your own food.

Trigger Warning

This blog discusses the harvesting of live rabbits.

There will be no images nor video accompanying this post. There are already plenty of educational videos on this topic, and I don’t plan to create one.

Part of that decision stems from the belief that the harvesting process deserves respect. While education has value, I do not believe that the most difficult part of animal husbandry should be turned into entertainment or spectacle. Unfortunately, some people find the dispatching of animals stimulating or entertaining. I find that troubling. More importantly, I believe that respect for the animal should remain the priority and that humane animal husbandry requires us to approach this process with seriousness and dignity.

A Choice I Made as a Meat-Eater

As someone who eats meat, I made the decision some time ago to take responsibility for at least some of my own food production.

For me, that means raising and processing some of the meat that I consume. It allows me to be honest with myself about where food comes from, to face my own discomfort, and to ensure that the animals under my care are treated with as much respect as possible throughout their lives.

People need to understand that harvesting an animal is, without question, the most difficult part of raising meat rabbits.

I have watched these rabbits grow from tiny kits into full-grown animals. I have fed them, watered them, protected them, and done my best to provide a healthy environment where they could thrive. Every decision I make is intended to give them the best life possible.

When the time comes, I work very hard to ensure that the dispatch process is carried out quickly, carefully, and as humanely as possible. The goal is always to minimize stress, prevent suffering, and avoid mistakes that could cause unnecessary trauma.

No Pleasure in the Process

I take no pleasure in this step.

If I am being completely honest, I often put it off longer than I should because it weighs heavily on me.

The reality is that I care about the animals under my care.

That may seem contradictory to some people, but it is the truth.

The emotional weight never completely goes away, and perhaps it shouldn’t.

I believe that taking a life should never become casual or routine. It should always carry a measure of responsibility and reflection.

Why Do It?

Some people will naturally ask:

“If it’s that difficult, why do it at all?”

The answer is simple.

I know exactly what these rabbits ate.

I know where they lived.

I know how much space they had.

I know how they were treated.

My rabbits have access to nearly 440 square feet of space in the rabbit palace and are raised in a way that prioritizes their welfare.

This is not a commercial operation.

I am not trying to maximize production or efficiency.

Because I control every aspect of the process, I can ensure that the animals receive the best care I am capable of providing.

Lessons Learned at CFIA

Many years ago, while working for the Canadian Food Inspection Agency (CFIA), I visited slaughterhouses and commercial farming operations.

What I saw left a lasting impression on me.

To be clear, there are many dedicated and professional people working in agriculture, and food safety standards in Canada are among the best in the world. However, some of the methods and realities of large-scale food production caused me to think deeply about my relationship with food.

Those experiences played a significant role in my decision to raise and process some of my own meat whenever possible.

It wasn’t about criticizing others.

It was about taking responsibility for my own choices.

Rabbits Versus Chickens

Long-time followers of Blue Gypsy Homestead may remember that I raised meat chickens for several years.

Over time, I decided to transition toward rabbits.

For my particular situation, rabbits have proven easier to manage, require less space and feed, and produce meat that is exceptionally lean and nutritious.

That doesn’t mean rabbits are the right choice for everyone.

It simply means they fit my homestead better than chickens did.

Breeders Have Names

One question I receive fairly often is whether I name my rabbits.

The answer is:

The breeders have names. The grow-outs do not.

The breeder rabbits are long-term members of the homestead and remain here for years. The grow-outs are raised specifically as food animals.

Some people may understand that distinction.

Others may not.

Either way, it is a system that helps me maintain the balance between animal husbandry and food production.

Nothing Goes to Waste

One of my goals moving forward is to tan and sell rabbit hides through the Blue Gypsy Homestead website and, if time permits, at local farmers’ markets.

If there is enough interest, I will make additional information available through the online store in the coming months.

For me, using as much of the animal as possible is another way of showing respect for the sacrifice that has been made.

Respecting Different Perspectives

I understand that this subject can generate strong emotions.

Some readers may strongly disagree with my decision to raise and harvest rabbits for meat.

I respect that.

I am not asking anyone to change their beliefs.

I only ask that others respect my decision in return.

Reasonable people can disagree while still treating one another with courtesy and respect.

Gratitude and Closure

As I finish writing this, I know what I need to do next.

I need to gather my courage and head outside.

When the work is done, I will sit quietly.

I will light a few candles.

I will pour a glass of rum.

And I will express gratitude for the rabbits—and for every animal that ultimately becomes food on my table.

Some people may view that as symbolic.

Others may view it as spiritual.

For me, it is simply a moment of reflection and closure.

It reminds me that food comes with responsibility, that life has value, and that gratitude is never misplaced.

No matter how many times I go through this process, I hope it never becomes easy.

Because if it ever does, I think I will have lost something important.


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About Blue Gypsy Homestead

Blue Gypsy Homestead is a 62-acre farm located approximately 35 minutes south of Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. The homestead is being developed into a productive sustenance and market farm focused on growing food, raising livestock, preserving harvests, building practical infrastructure, and increasing self-sufficiency.

Through articles, videos, and real-world experiences, Blue Gypsy Homestead shares the successes, failures, lessons learned, and realities of modern homestead life. Topics include gardening, livestock, food preservation, DIY projects, freeze-drying, canning, rabbit husbandry, and sustainable living.

The goal is simple: share honest experiences, practical knowledge, and the realities of producing food while treating animals, land, and resources with respect.