Every nursery forecasts. The only question is whether it does so on purpose.
Sowing the same number as last year is a forecast — it is the prediction that next season will look like the one before it, made silently, by nobody in particular, and never checked afterwards. It has the enormous advantage of taking no time at all, and the enormous disadvantage of being wrong in exactly the ways that hurt: it repeats last year's glut and last year's shortage together, faithfully, year after year.
A real forecast is not a prophecy and nobody expects it to be right. It is simply a number you write down in advance so that you can find out how wrong you were. That is the whole trick: a written guess can be compared to an outcome, and an unwritten one can't.
Growers resist this because the horticultural year feels too uncertain to plan — the weather, the trade, the fashion for a particular genus. But uncertainty is the argument for writing it down. Nobody needs a plan for the parts they already know.