Pushing the Limits - Urban Sprawl on Prime Farmland

Friday, September 25, 2026

Shrinking acres raise urgent questions at Bechvale Holsteins

By Mary Loggan

Mike Bechtel’s dairy farm, Bechvale Holsteins, sits on a road that still feels like country, even as subdivisions and traffic lights creep closer at the north end of Cambridge.

For nearly 100 years, his family has milked cows and harvested crops on this strip of prime farmland that once felt safely outside the city’s reach.

Now that same band of ground is in the path of growth. Neighbouring fields have been sold for housing, and the rented acres that helped keep the operation running are disappearing.

For Bechtel, the biggest threat to the operation isn’t milk prices or weather — it’s the risk of losing the land beneath his feet to urban expansion and provincial decisions that favour development over farmland, water and the next generation’s chance to farm.

“My grandfather bought this land in 1929,” he says.

“My dad and uncle took it over, and we’ve just kept building on it from there.”

That long view shaped his own decisions.

In 2016, Bechtel invested in a new dairy barn and recommitted to the home farm.

“We built because we thought we’d be safe,” he says. “That we could invest here and plan for the future.”

That assumption hasn’t held.

Today, Bechtel farms with his parents, his wife, and their two teenage children. But the land base that once supported the operation has shrunk dramatically — not by choice, but by circumstance.

“We used to farm around 400 acres,” he says.

“Now we’re working with just over 100. That didn’t come from changing our business. That came from losing rented land.”

What remains is fragmented: the home farm, a few rented parcels, and fewer options each year.

A system driving loss

For decades, the farm relied on rented ground from neighbouring families — land that provided feed, manure capacity, and flexibility. The arrangements were informal, long-term, and built on trust.

Those arrangements began to disappear as development pressure intensified.

“When those farms stopped operating, we took over the land,” Bechtel says. “That’s how it always worked.”

But that pattern has broken down.

“Once the Province removed the countyside line and opened things up, developers moved in fast,” he says.

“They snapped up everything.”

What changed, in his view, wasn’t just the market — it was the rules governing it.

“This isn’t about one project or one subdivision,” he says. “The rules have changed across Ontario, and they all point in one direction — toward development and away from farmland protection.”

Without clear, enforceable boundaries, farmland near urban centres has become increasingly vulnerable.

“When there were limits, you at least knew where things stood. Now it feels like everything is up for grabs.” The impact on his farm is immediate and measurable.

“Three or four years ago, we had extra crop to sell. We had enough land for manure, enough to feed our herd,” he says.

“Now we’re buying feed. We’re buying grain. We don’t have anything to spare.”

That shift has financial implications as well as operational ones.

“You lose flexibility. You lose resilience,” he says. “You’re on tighter margins all the time.”

And the uncertainty continues.

“It scares me because if it can happen here, it can happen anywhere.

“Next, they’ll be coming for the home farm.

“It doesn’t feel like a level playing field when the system consistently benefits developers.”

A provincial problem

Ontario is losing farmland at an estimated rate of 319 acres per day — nearly three average-sized farms every 24 hours.

As the Ontario Farmland Trust states, “this rate of farmland loss is unsustainable and cannot be allowed to continue.

“Everyone in Ontario relies on agriculture, from the food we eat, to the jobs in our communities. Without strong protections in place for our farmland, we may not be able to provide enough food to feed our growing population.”

Much of that unsustainable loss is occurring on some of the province’s most productive land, including in regions like Waterloo.

And for Bechtel, those numbers are not abstract.

While municipal councils often appear to be the face of development decisions, Bechtel believes the real pressure — and responsibility — sits at the Provincial level.

“The Province has created a situation where local governments don’t have real control,” he says.

“If they say no, it can just get pushed through anyway. That’s not local planning — that’s Provincial direction.”

In his view, Ontario has stepped away from long-standing planning principles that once protected agricultural land.

“We should be drawing hard lines around our cities and protecting the farmland around them,” he says. “Instead, we’re doing the opposite.”

That shift, he argues, is reshaping not just individual farms, but the structure of ag in the province.

Losing more than land

Bechtel argues that what is being lost extends far beyond acreage totals.

“We’re developing the best land we have,” he says. “There’s plenty of land in Ontario that isn’t suitable for farming, but that’s not where development is going.”

Prime farmland, he notes, cannot be replaced — once it is paved over, it is effectively gone for good.

He also points to growing pressure on water systems in expanding urban areas.

“We’re already seeing strain on water, and we keep adding more development.

“Paving over farmland doesn’t recharge groundwater. It creates problems we’re going to have to deal with later.”

The contradiction is difficult to ignore.

“We talk about climate change, but what’s better — 100 acres of farmland or 100 acres of asphalt?” he asks. “It’s not even close.”

Beyond environmental concerns, he sees a direct link to food security.

“If we keep losing land like this, we’re going to be relying more and more on imports,” he says. “That’s a risky position to put yourself in.”

The pressure is forcing difficult decisions at the family level — decisions that reach beyond economics.

Bechtel’s children are interested in farming, but the shrinking land base puts their future in question.

“I’ve got two kids who love agriculture,” he says. “They want to be involved and take over the farm.”

But opportunity depends on access to land.

“If they’re going to have a real chance to farm, what do I do?” he asks.

Leaving isn’t something he wants.

“I don’t want to be anywhere else. This is home. We’ve built here, invested here, planned for the future here.”

But staying may come at a cost.

“You’re stuck choosing between 100 years of history and your kids’ opportunity. That’s not a position any farm family should be in.”

A widening disconnect

Bechtel believes the broader public doesn’t fully understand what is being lost — or how quickly it is happening.

“People in town don’t see it,” he says. “They don’t see how fast this land is disappearing or what it means.”

That disconnect, he argues, allows the trend to continue largely unchecked.

“There’s a lack of understanding about where food comes from and what farmland actually does. And without that, it’s easy to let it go.”

At the same time, the consequences will not remain confined to rural areas.

“This affects everyone. Food, water, the environment — it’s all connected.”

For Bechtel, the issue goes beyond property values or development pressure. It is about the long-term role of farmland in Ontario — and the policies shaping its future.

“We don’t hold this land because we think it’s going to be worth millions some day. We hold it because it was passed down to us — and because it produces food.”

What he wants is not complicated.

“We just want to be able to farm. To keep this land productive, to pass it on, and to keep feeding the people who depend on it.”

Without stronger Provincial protection, he warns, that future is far from guaranteed.

“If we keep going the way we are, we’re going to wake up one day and realize we can’t get this land back. And by then, it’ll be too late to fix it.

“We need protection not just for our farm, but for every farm across the province.” BF