Why do you live on a farm?
This question was posed to me by a new friend recently. A reader of this blog (that makes two now!) also mentioned that some background information might be interesting. So, since I haven’t much else to say today, here goes.
I was born and raised until the age of 12 on a 300 acre dairy farm in Tigerton, WI. If you look on a map you will see that it is a very small dot comprised of about 700 people, southeast of Wausau by about 50 miles, give or take.
My paternal grandparents lived next door, also on a fairly large (for the time) dairy farm of about 500 acres.
Both farms boasted many awards for their production, the high quality of their breeding stock, the farms’ cleanliness, and the enterprising ventures taken on by my father and grandfather. In addition to cattle, the farms raised all sorts of crops - hay, oats, corn, wheat - and had large scale maple syrup operations that were conducted in the early spring of each year.
Farm kids grow up in a really different manner than most of the city kids that I later became friends with. From as early on as I can remember, I had responsibilities on the farm. When very little, my job was to help scrape manure from the barn aisle into the gutter. As I grew older I helped to feed the little calves and keep their pens clean, then I moved on to helping milk the cows, somewhere around age 8.
When hay was put up in the summer, we kids would load the bales (weighing 30-50 pounds) onto an elevator that took them from the hay wagon to the barn’s loft, as we grew older we would be responsible for taking the bales that had fallen from the elevator over to the fellows who would then stack it. It may not sound like much, but it is hot, heavy and tiring work! Anyone who wishes to give it a try is most sincerely welcome to come to our farm this summer and help to stack hay (we purchase ours, so at least we don’t have to stack the wagons too). It is not my favorite job!
In the early spring, as the sap runs, my father and grandfather would tap hundreds of maple trees. Literally hundreds, between the two farms. Each day we would collect the sap which hung from the trees in brilliant blue bags. Dad drove the huge tractor pulling a wagon which held a 300 gallon tank into which the sap was poured. We would trudge from tree to tree collecting sap which we would haul through snow sometimes past our knees to be poured into the tank. It was several hours worth of work every day just to collect the sap.
Inside of our sugar shack (where the actual syrup is made by boiling sap over a wood fire in large pans, holding hundreds of gallons of liquid, called evaporators) the sap was poured over strainers into another tank. From there, it was strained again and added little by little into the evaporators. Dad or an assistant would literally spend the nights stoking the fires, taking cooked syrup off of the evaporator and adding more sap for periods of a week or more. The magical thing about making syurp is walking into a warm, sweetly scented building like our sugar shack. Clouds of sweet steam envelop you as soon as you walk in. The pungent smell of the wood smoke, the glowing embers of the fire and the delicious scent of freshly made syrup are some I will never forget.
We also made lots of firewood on the farm. It is another task that I can remember from my earliest days. Dad would take us into our woods where he would fell and cut up trees whenever there was a spare moment of time. Manual labor was supplied by us kids and whatever friends happened to come over on a given day. We would haul truckloads of cut and stacked wood to our house where we threw it into the cellar then would start stacking it anew. I am realizing now how much stacking farm kids do! Why am I not better at Jenga??
It seems that in farm life there is no actual end of the work… but we did have fun as well!
Our farm had a 4 acre pond that was located in a valley at the foot of some big, steep hills. In the winter, Dad would plow a large section of the pond so we could ice skate. We would host parties for the Girl Scouts and 4-H clubs every year with kids sledding down the steep hill onto one section of the pond, skating on the other end, at at the far end a bonfire would be going so we could roast marshmallows and hot dogs.
In the summer we choose to enjoy the Embarass river that ran through our property. When we were small our parents would nip away to spend some time with us in the cool, shallow water. As we grew older we would spend hours sliding down the small rapids, sitting on a large rock and catching minnows in our hands, or taking inner tubes down from my grandparent’s house to our own. We would ride our ponies to the river, tie them to trees and play as long as the ponies stayed there, or our parents came looking for us. (There was one time that my pony decided to cross the river and explore a bit, which led to her somehow being in “downtown” Tigerton. We eventually found her tied to the local Policeman’s apple tree with his wife taking photos and cooing over her, but that is another tale).
My father was also quite an enterprising fellow (much to my chagrin, he continues to be). He set me up with my own business when I was 9 years old. My job? Taking care of a pasture of heilfers (young, female cows - in this case a year old or younger) that were sent to our farm by Dad’s friend. I paid my father rent for the pasture that I used, maintained the fences around the pasture at my expense, did a daily count and check of the youngsters, billed my client and came out with a profit of about $30 per month. Pretty good money, and an even better experience!
At the same time, my father decided to plant a 2 acre garden. Thinking of the sheer size of this makes me collapse! He loved pumpkins and watermelon and planted them like a madman. He also planted almost an acre of cucumbers. The reason? We kids could pick and sell our cucumbers to a local pickle factory. So, every day we were expected to go out and pick cucumbers. The smaller ones sold for a higher price as we learned the first time we took our crop in to be sold. From then on, it was a race to pick the smallest cucumbers that we could. Mom would tend to the other vegetables while we kids went crazy for cucumbers. It really taught us the lesson that enterprise pays off. The pocket money came in handy too!
As I grew a bit older and became horse obsessed, I started spending any free time that I could at a local trail riding stable, working for hours in exchange to have the opportunity to ride one of their horses through the beautiful trails with a couple of my friends. By age 11 I can remember being given the honored position of the lead rider on trail rides. We would match the city folks who came to ride up with an appropriate mount, give them a crash course in riding, and set off for a glorious hour. Fortunately, the horses were trained to simply follow one another, so the city folks didn’t actually have to do more than sit on the horse, but everyone liked the idea that they were riding, so it made for great merriment.
My grandfather passed away quietly in his recliner. My father tried in vain to work both farms. The huge farm collapse of the 80s’ was upon us, and we did not survive it. When my parents divorced, I was just about to turn 12 years old.
The four of us kids moved with Mom to Wausau. Dad never really got over the loss of the farm. He still struggles with it all of these years later. Both parents went back to school, and I came into a new environment that I still to this day do not quite understand or appreciate.
During the rest of my childhood, I pined for the farm, the horses and my old life.
I found a stable at which I could ride, but it was not the same. I no longer had a pony or even a glimmer of hope that I somday might. Finances were very tight, so going to the stable was a rare and special treat, but a bittersweet one.
When I was in college I had the opportunity to really get back into horses in a big way, and I took it. Working long hours, giving up the normal college social life, I determined that come hell of high water, I was going to someday have a career in the horse industry. I made it, working out of barns owned by others and keeping a real day job, but this still was not quite what I had in mind.
So, just over 20 years after I left the old homestead, we bought a farm.
I don’t ever intend to have cattle or the huge workload that comes with them. No big harvests of crops, just a little bit of hay for our horses. No maple syrup, no pond or river. But, it is a small farm of my very own.
anonemoose said:
This is absolutely fascinating. Thank you so much for sharing your story. It sounds like you are living your dream.
Is there any trend, to your knowledge, of people like yourself who were part of “losing the family farm” who are now back in rural settings by choice and making it work? You have returned, in a manner of speaking, to your roots. Are there others like you?
I believe very strongly in the family farm and the more I hear about factory farms the more I think they are completely wrong. Do you think the family farm will become extinct?
moose
January 6th, 2008 at 8:58 am #
Billie said:
In my experience the trend goes both ways… kids who grew up on the farm and have the opportunity often take over the farm. For those of us who have lost it at some point in our lives, few seem to go back.
Even in my case, I am not really a farmer per se. I have a farm, but it is strictly for horses, so an all together different kind of lifestyle. While it is demanding in terms of someone always needing to be here, it is not all encompassing as a dairy farm. (Thank goodness.) We also choose to let a local farmer grow crops on our land rather than actually investing in the equipment to do it ourselves. He uses the crops that he grows here on his dairy farm, and basically pays us a lease fee that covers our property taxes. It is not even slightly feasible for us to do the same.
The family farm is going extinct at a startling rate. Farmers have one of the most difficult lifestyles out there, and frankly do not make enough money to keep their heads above water. I can’t name one small farmer that does more than simply exist.
Another big problem (we experienced this directly when looking for our place) is development. With so many people desiring the feel of the country, developers buy up farms and put little communities of houses on them. It makes it almost impossible to purchase a parcel of farmland over 10 acres - unless of course, you are able to purchase 300+ acres.
Then the folks in the newly developed neighborhoods complain about the noise and odor from the farms that surround them, the county and state respond by over regulating farms to a degree that is almost unfathomable. Horse people like myself get the worst end of this short stick. The regulations and cost of insurance (because horses are considered an “attractive nusiance”) would make your head spin.
We looked for over a year before we could find 25 acres with a house, without a development for a neighbor. And, we had to concede defeat and move quite a bit further from Wausau than we would have liked.
Really, the factory farms are the only kind of business establishment that can survive the low milk prices, high fuel prices, cost of machinery, labor and the encroachment of the urbanites.
January 6th, 2008 at 2:35 pm #
anonemoose said:
I don’t mean to be argumentative about factory farms but I hope you are wrong and they don’t completely force the family farm out of the picture. I look at the trend toward specialty farming such as organic meats, organic vegetables and the like and I am hopeful that those who want to stay on the farm can do so by adapting. There is a growing part of me that thinks that if people knew what was going into the milk that is coming off of those factory farms there would be an exploding demand for organic milk.
It saddens me to even think of the family farm as going extinct because they have been such an integral part of the culture and landscape in this area for such a long time. Even though I did not grow up on a farm, I do understand the long, hard hours that farmers put in with little or no vacation time. It is an honorable profession.
Even though you are further from Wausau than you originally intended, I hope you enjoy your own piece of heaven. I enjoy reading about your adventures.
moose
January 12th, 2008 at 9:05 am #
Billie said:
I share your hope about factory farms, but until consumers are willing to step up and support their local cooperatives, organic farms, farmers markets and the like, in lieu of the cheap prices at WalMart and other superstores, the family farm will continue to decline.
The government has also stepped up programs (NAIS is a prime example) that help to push the family farmer out of business, while giving more breaks to the factory farm.
Milk prices are another huge factor… in Wisconsin we actually get some of the lowest prices in the county for our production (based on the Milk Board which was convened in the early part of the century if memory serves and which still regulates milk prices, the prices farmers are allowed to sell for increase exponentially as one moves further from Green Bay - or LaCrosse, I am not sure which). No wonder California farmers are doing better than we are here. Interesting that milk is the one commodity that is not allowed to be altered for shipping, but that is another tale in and of itself.
Farms and farming communities really are the backbone of our culture and landscape, you have hit the nail on the head. But with so many factors weighing against the family farm I don’t see how the lifestyle can survive, unless one spouse works outside of the home to provide a living wage and insurance. (Then the farmer would have to hire paid labor, making the meager profit disappear almost entirely).
It is really sad, but our own culture is pushing the family farm into extinction while we claim to want to preserve it. If a real movement were to develop, I am afraid that it would be too little too late.
January 13th, 2008 at 9:10 am #
Billie said:
Moose, you raised another interesting point.. organics.
The sad thing (as related by NPR just a couple of days ago) is that even WalMart is selling certified organic foods now. The reason this is sad? In the push to reduce prices, farmers are cutting corners to get contracts.
So, let’s say a pig or cow is raised outdoors, eating grass and providing meat or milk. No antibiotics, no force feeding, moving back to animals that are not genetically invented creatures, but traditional/heirloom breeds.
The problem? Farmers are feeding genetically engineered feedstuffs (corn and soy being the worst offenders) laden with chemicals, but the produce they provide to the market is still considered organic by current federal standards.
Truly organic products are expensive to produce in today’s world. Consumers demand cheap, on the whole, so the definition of organic seems to change to suit consumer fancy.
We are lucky in our part of the world. There are local folks raising feedstuff, cattle, swine and poultry which can be purchased fresh from the farm, if one cares to look around, drive a bit further than the supermarket and support these farmer’s efforts.
January 13th, 2008 at 9:23 am #