There are only three things that can kill a farmer: lightning

"There are only three things that can kill a farmer: lightning, rolling over in a tractor, and old age." — Bill Bryson

In these deceptively simple words, Bill Bryson speaks not just of the dangers faced by farmers, but of the larger, unspoken truth that life, in its rawest and most untamed form, is fraught with risk and uncertainty. The life of a farmer is one of relentless toil, of being bound to the land, to the cycles of nature, and to the rhythms of the seasons. Yet, Bryson’s observation brings to light the inescapable vulnerabilities that accompany this life—a life that, despite the toil and effort invested in it, remains subject to forces far beyond the control of the farmer. Lightning, the very hand of the gods themselves, comes with a sudden, unpredictable fury. The tractor, a tool of progress and labor, holds its own deadly risks. And finally, the inevitable force of old age, the great equalizer, is the one force against which even the strongest farmer has no defense.

This reflection is not just a commentary on farming; it is a universal truth about life itself. In the ancient world, Homer in his epic works often spoke of fate and the role it played in the lives of men and women. Whether it was the unstoppable force of the gods or the natural world itself, the ancient Greeks understood that life was full of unpredictable dangers, and it was the courage of individuals that allowed them to persevere despite these forces. In The Odyssey, Odysseus contends with the sea, with the gods, and with the very forces of nature, but it is his will, his wisdom, and his resourcefulness that see him through. Much like the farmer, he is a figure who must confront chaos, always aware that fate can strike at any moment.

Farmers, like Odysseus, are tied to nature, but unlike the mythic hero, they do not have the luxury of gods on their side. The weather, the machinery, and time itself are their adversaries, unpredictable and unforgiving. The story of John Deere, the founder of the now-famous agricultural equipment company, speaks to this very idea. Deere, in the 1830s, was a blacksmith who designed a steel plow that revolutionized farming by making it easier to till the tough soil of the Midwest. Yet, despite this innovation, the dangers of farming remained. John Deere's life was full of challenges, but he, like countless farmers before and after him, learned to adapt and continue the labor of the land. Still, his legacy—as with all those who toil in agriculture—reminds us that the pursuit of progress comes hand in hand with inherent risks.

Bryson’s quote can also be seen as a commentary on the stoic nature of farmers themselves. The Greek Stoics, particularly Epictetus, taught that we should focus not on what we cannot control but on how we respond to it. For the farmer, this is particularly true. There are countless risks and dangers—storms, machinery accidents, and the ravages of time—but the farmer must, like the Stoic, accept these with courage and persistence. Epictetus himself believed that while we may not control the external world, we can always control our responses. The farmer, therefore, must not be defined by the dangers he faces but by his resilience, his commitment to the land, and his ability to endure in the face of adversity.

The dangers of old age present an undeniable reality for those who dedicate their lives to hard labor. Consider the Roman Empire, where Cincinnatus, the legendary farmer and statesman, became an enduring symbol of the virtue of simplicity and duty. After serving as a general, he returned to his farm to live a life of humble labor. But even Cincinnatus, despite his legendary strength, faced the reality of age. In his later years, the work of the land grew more difficult, and his strength diminished. This reflection of age in the lives of farmers is not a tragic end but a reminder of the impermanence of all things. As Cincinnatus returned to the soil, so too does each farmer face the inevitable decay of the body, even as they remain tied to the land.

The lesson in Bryson’s words is one of acceptance and courage in the face of life’s inherent dangers. The farmer lives a life of constant vigilance—aware that the work never truly ends, but that it is a life that gives back only through sweat and sacrifice. It is a life that demands resilience, even when fate seems cruel. Old age, the greatest and most unavoidable of these dangers, is not to be feared but embraced as part of the cycle of life. Just as the farmer faces the inevitable storms, so too must he accept the eventual turning of the seasons of his own life.

Thus, the practical wisdom to be drawn from this quote is one of stoic resolve and diligence. Whether we work the land or not, we must all face the same forces—nature, time, and death. We cannot control them, but we can choose how we meet them. Let us take from the farmer’s life the lesson of perseverance, the courage to face the dangers that lie ahead, and the wisdom to accept what is beyond our control. For, like the farmer, it is in the work, in the struggle, and in the quiet dignity of endurance that we find our true strength, and it is this strength that will guide us through the unpredictable storms of life.