The first day of spring was absolutely beautiful. The sun shone, the mud on the road got soft, we pruned the first apple tree, sap was boiled, and I saw the first crocus popping out of the dead leaves in my flower garden. The pressures of spring are on.
I was scrolling through some photos I took over the last week or so and one popped out more than the others. In front of the brand-new maple evaporator was a bucket atop a milk can. Milk cans haven’t been used to hold milk on the farm since the 1940s when my father and my Gram gave up milking cows when the world of dairy farming was changing. The necessity to turn from shipping milk in cans stamped or painted with identifiers of the farm so they could come home after being emptied at the dairy were over. Bulk tanks and refrigeration were the new necessity, and milk cans were relegated to storage or the scrap heap.
The stark contrast of the rusty old can and the shiny new stainless-steel arch in our sugarhouse made me think for a bit about all those folks that came before me. My dad made the (what must have been) agonizing decision to stop farming, sell his cows and move on in his life to join the Army and start a new life. He later returned to the farm where his mother was continuing to survive by subsistence farming to help preserve the land and the farming tradition, but with massive changes necessary to perpetuate the sale of milk, he decided to spread his wings a little bit and serve the country instead of serving hay to cows. These business decisions face farmers every single day as technology dictates newer, faster, more efficient growing and producing so that the farmer can compete with other farmers who may have newer and bigger and better tools.
At the time, finances were certainly anything but flush and free flowing for the family, and the decision was whether to borrow to finance new equipment or seek other ventures, I imagine. With the recent scare for us when our government cost-share for buying this new-fangled equipment was frozen for a bit, I certainly understand the risks and angst about sinking all of your financial assets into an unknown future. Hard work is nothing new to us farmers, but the risk of a natural disaster (storm, drought, flood, fire, disease) or financial disaster (failed crops, lost herds, economic downturns, tariffs and taxes) can overturn all that hard work in a heartbeat.
I am discouraged when I read online comments painting farmers with a brush as grifters. The misconception that we are all rich because we own (or rent or have huge payments on) big equipment or new equipment or lots of land or are living on government supports and handouts is one that is hard to overcome. Most of us small and mid-size farmers have huge mortgages, equipment payments and operating loans that need to be repaid even when there is a financial downturn or a farm disaster. We are far from rich, and the majority of us only eke out a living by working off the farm. Farming is a labor of love and passion, and without those of us willing to live on the edge to produce food, the rest of us would go hungry. Even big corporate farms are essential and are not the enemy … without them, your plate would be empty.
This spring, I ask all of you reading this to support your local farmers by buying a CSA share, visiting a farmers’ market on a regular basis, heading to a pick your own patch several times per season or visiting a farmstand once or twice a week. Local farmers’ dollars help your local economy thrive by buying products in the neighborhood, employing local people, giving you fresher and healthier food choices close to home and keeping land open, beautiful and undeveloped. Lots of farmers have stopped farming lately, and we need to make sure this trend is slowed or stopped. If you like a nice steak or salad on the table, do what you can to ensure the future of farming and ranching. Don’t let local farms become just a memory invoked by an old milk can.
Becky is the eighth generation to live and farm at Beaver Pond Farm in Newport, New Hampshire. Reach her at [email protected].
