This past weekend I made a trek out to central Wisconsin to speak at the state’s annual grazing conference, which typically draws farmers from all over the Midwest. This was the second time I’ve been invited to join these folks, and I remembered it fondly from back in 2009, when the conference center was packed, the trade show was hopping with farmers talking about livestock genetics, raw milk, grazing plans and fencing systems, and the sessions were filled with optimistic faces, eager to bring sustainable changes to their land, and good food to their communities.
Thus, I was surprised when I arrived at the conference center and saw that the number of attendees seemed to have dropped by almost half. “Where is everyone?” I asked the question repeatedly among the folks I met. The answer was consistent: “Corn is over $7 a bushel.”
Did that mean that all those farmers, eager to make sustainable changes on their farms in 2009, had abandoned ship and opted to grow corn to feed the export market, America’s junk food habit, feedlots, and the ethanol craze? Hard to say. That may have been the case for some of them. But when I called home to check-in and tell them what I was observing, Dad grabbed the latest issue of The Stockman Grass Farmer, the trade journal for grass-based farming, and read aloud to me that farmland prices were at an all-time high. I did some poking around, and learned that in Iowa, the average 2012 price of renting cropland was $235 per acre, and in some parts of Wisconsin, the 2012 prices were as high as $300 per acre. The average price to buy farmland in Illinois last year was $6800 per acre; in Wisconsin, it was well over $4000 per acre.
A modest sized farm could sell for over a million dollars for the land alone, before even figuring in the value of any buildings on the property. A farm comparable in size to Sap Bush Hollow could rent for nearly $50,000 per year. That’s more than our annual net farm income raising out, processing and direct marketing 1000 chickens, 100 turkeys, 25-50 pigs, 100-150 lambs, and 10-12 head of cattle, plus all the value-added products we produce. And that’s spread out over four adults who share the labor.
The drought this past year has been extreme all over the country, and grass-based farmers everywhere have been in need of extra farmland to cut hay to carry their livestock through the winter months. At those rental prices, I seriously doubt a lot of the Midwest graziers could justify the expenditure.
“They’re plowing up everything,” one guy who worked for the Natural Resources Conservation Service tells me, “fields that you wouldn’t dream of taking a plow to are getting turned under.” And when every piece of land is seeded to monoculture crops, drought conditions get more severe. Water splashing onto the ground of monoculture crops might provide refreshment for a day, but it quickly evaporates into the air or is lost to run-off, carrying the pesticides and chemicals used on the corn along with it, in addition to valuable topsoil. By contrast, well-managed pastures rich in organic matter and deep roots draw water into the soil, where it can re-enter the water table as it nourishes the fields.
In a time when most of us are still doing rain dances and hoping for a wetter 2013 growing season, the fact that it takes over 1000 gallons of water to produce a gallon of ethanol doesn’t sit well. For that matter, back east, farmers are cursing the blending of ethanol with petroleum, as it gunks up fuel tanks, reduces our mileage and shortens the life span of our machinery.
It’s a good time to be in farming if you like to grow corn. It’s a tough time to be in farming if you see yourself as a steward of the land.
As I sit here and ponder what these Midwestern farmers are going through, it is easy to temporarily forget the pressures in my own state, where many farmers are being presented with contracts to lease their land to the hydro-fracking industry. Everywhere in the nation, it feels as though farmers are being pushed up against a wall and told they must make a choice: will you grow food or fuel?
And here I am, attending these grazing and organic farming conferences, joining the chorus of voices asking farmers to choose food. I ask them to choose it for the sake of their land, for the health of their soils, for the benefit of their local communities. I am asking them to forgo a higher income in an economy based on extraction, and instead to allow their spirits and their land resources to be the foundation upon which a life-serving economy can be built.
And to do it, I repeatedly explain, is really simple:
You need to figure out how to live on less. You need to not just raise out your livestock, but you must contract with butchers and processors and state agencies so you can legally sell value-added products. And then you need to forget everything you learned about farming for the last 60 years, where your responsibility for the food stopped at your farm gate. You need to get yourself up before dawn, find some clothes that don’t stink like pig shit, and haul this stuff to a farmers market; or you need to run around and pick up your kids’ toys, scrub your toilet and dust your furniture and open your home and allow the market to come to you; or you need to open a shop and find a way to staff it; or you need to get on the phone and start calling stores and restaurants to sell your product. You need to squelch your inner introvert and smile, make small-talk and be friendly at all times. You need to tell people how to cook. You need to learn how to do an artful display. You need to learn to hold your head up and pretend you don’t hear when someone tch-tches your prices. You need to figure out how to give your kids a good education when you’ll never be able to afford college. If you’re taking over a family farm, you need to convince your parents or in-laws that you can do things differently and still succeed. You should probably separate your farm from your household, so it can’t be taken away if medical expenses force you into bankruptcy. You can be in the black, but the process is slow. It takes years to build good markets. You then you must figure out how to sustain them. And all the while, you need to tell yourself over and over and over again that what you do is valuable, because it is so damn easy to forget, especially when the price of corn is over $7 a bushel.
“Oh, Bob,” I called home, on the brink of tears, “I feel like I’m just selling hope.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and then asks me “Do you believe in the product?”
At that point, Saoirse interrupts on the line “Mommy! Mommy! I’m dressed up like a butterfly! We cut wings out of cardboard, and I’ve got two peacock feathers for antennae!” Her excitement breaks through my sorrow, and I find myself smiling.
“Well?” Bob prompts me for an answer to his question.
“I do. ”
My final event for the day is a book signing. I go to the table, sit down, and pick up my knitting, an effort to still my nerves and calm my thoughts. The farmers begin to cue up, and one by one, books are passed in front of me. One farmer kneels down in front of me to capture my full attention. “I liked your keynote this morning,” he says. I thank him. “I liked what you said. But there were pictures that I wanted to ask you about.”
“Yes?” I expect a question about our grazing rotations, or about our meat processing facility.
“In your house, you have a very big kitchen table.”
“I do.”
“And another one in your parent’s house.”
“Sure.”
“And there were many pictures around that table. There were so many people sitting around them. More than just your family. Who were those people?”
I thought back over the images. “Well, friends, people who have come to work with us for the day, neighbors, extended family.”
“And you always have big tables set up?”
“Well, sure, we need them.”
“And you share meals with that many people?”
“Of course. Not every day, but most days during the growing season.”
“That’s what I want.”
He didn’t want $300 an acre for rent. He didn’t want $5000 an acre to sell. He wanted a big kitchen table with good food, and people with whom he could enjoy it.
I looked around at the gathering crowd as the final session of the day ended. People stood holding drinks, talking and laughing as they made their way toward the dining room. Suddenly, their numbers seemed huge. With the price of corn over $7 per bushel, this many people still cared about the land. This many people still not pushed out. This many people still willing to do what it takes to have not a million dollar land sale, not a lucrative land lease, but a place at a big kitchen table, with others to sit beside them.
Comments
January 22, 2013 7:37 AM EST
I just finished wiping my eyes. Thank you for selling hope!
I am my farmer’s biggest customer. I love going to the farm on Saturday mornings to pick up my weekly groceries and to drink coffee and visit. I felt deeply honored that my wife and I were invited to Thanksgiving Dinner this past year. A farmer’s table is special.
– Tom Denham
January 22, 2013 7:54 AM EST
People keep telling me I won’t get rich from farming. I believe that there are different kinds of rich.
– Birke Baehr
January 22, 2013 7:55 AM EST
Bravo
– Stacey Roussel
January 22, 2013 8:14 AM EST
never have I seen a brink’s truck following a hertz. So chase dreams of substance not money
– jim stavrides
January 22, 2013 8:20 AM EST
You moved me to tears too. I live in a small Karoo town (South Africa) surrounded by farming families who face similar challenges. How do you make ends meet and give your children the best education that you can? Some of their children come to the small private school we established initially for three families and which now caters to a much wider community – with fees that are just a fraction of those of private schools in the cities – the secret is lots of retired and some still studying student teachers, all happy to work part-time! Local people support the Saturday Market and the local butcher and dairy (unpasturised milk!) – we are incredibly blessed. Thank you for the inspiration you give to so many people – all round the world!
– Ailsa
January 22, 2013 9:02 AM EST
I come from a family of farmers, my mother parents farmed on family land on the Prairie Rhonde in SW Michigan. They raised milk cows, crops and food for them and their five children and hired hands They were the second generation to work that land. When the day came that they sold out by auction, I was age 16 and I cried. They needed the money from the land in order to retire. The farm stopped then but growing is in my blood. Today I have a large vegetable garden, chickens and buy everything else I can locally. Eating local and farmers markets is HUGE here in Allegan County, Michigan. So are farm tours via Eats and Arts and various other farm tour days. I recommend considering farm tours as another source of promotions and possible income. Keep up the good work and keep the faith!
– Donna
January 22, 2013 9:56 AM EST
I too was moved to tears after reading your comments. We struggle here in the center of Illinois surrounded by big corporate farms and wonder if this area will ever understand what we are fighting for. It is tough knowing that you do not share your neighbors and even your friends perspective on farming. We are small and trying desperately to make a living. And yes we have a big table too where many discussion have taken place about the current situation we face. Those who oppose our farming techniques refuse to give up the 60 years of agriculture practices. We love them anyway knowing they are in a tough place too. They come and sit at out table and we pray.
– Tamara Fehr
January 22, 2013 9:57 AM EST
*sniff* Beautiful post, and so inspiring!
If we want REAL food then we better support our local small farmers, otherwise the only stuff left will be from the factory farms. When people complain about the prices, I mention that if one is not buying the processed foods from the grocery store (which is not a good return of nutrition for your money), and also not spending time and money at the doctor (because you’ll be alot healthier from eating real food), then you are actually saving money. Plus you enjoy the pleasures of eating authentically, how we were meant to. After years of being vegetarian because I could not in good conscience support the cruel practices on those horrible giant farms, I love being able to eat meat and drink (raw) milk again, knowing the animal was raised in a humane and natural way. And I am so grateful to the farmers who work really hard and that make it possible. I pay their prices gladly.
– Sylvia
January 22, 2013 10:03 AM EST
I am proud of my neighbors and happy to call you one. Bob’s question is huge for us ALL, about many things in all our lives. And yes i want to see Saoirse flitter around the room while we sit at your hospitable table and give thanks for friends like you. Since this post didn’t mention them I will, “HELLO ADELE AND ULA!”
I miss you all.
– J.Ed
January 22, 2013 10:40 AM EST
Awesomely inspiring post! Shannon, you “Think Differently” about life’s journey. Keep it comin’!
– Roseanna DeMaria
January 22, 2013 11:41 AM EST
awe inspiring-enjoy all your posts.
– Annette Varady
January 22, 2013 1:04 PM EST
I was at that grazing conference, and we were so happy to have you there. The total number of attendees was actually up, but I am afraid many folks could not afford to stay in the hotel this year and pay someone else to do the chores. Indeed we had a very tight year, and may have to grow more of our own grain, but will probably stick to oats and barley. Many of us own no tillage grain drills, so do not plow the land. Did you get to hear about our Apprenticeship program? check it out! GrassWorks.org
– Wendy Galbraith
January 22, 2013 11:03 PM EST
We have to hang in there- at some point the balance will tip toward the healthier options- for the farmer, for the land and for the eaters. Thanks for standing up ant speaking out!
– Elizabeth Malayter
January 23, 2013 3:51 AM EST
I’m so cheered to read all of your comments. There is always something special that happens with the farmers out in Wisconsin each time I’ve been out there. They have this beautiful down-to-earth acceptance about them that, coupled with their honesty and experience, challenges me to dig deep and think hard. Sometimes the thinking brings up painful emotions, but it certainly helps to make sure the compass is pointed true-north.
– Shannon Hayes
January 26, 2013 6:47 PM EST
I believe in that hope…I’m selling it too through our organic veggies. I try to keep believing in it instead of worrying about how fracking could very well destroy my farm’s wonderful water and make my organic veggies not easily sellable anymore. And then the beautiful, small, sustainable life we’ve built for ourselves will disappear. That’s pretty unbelievable.
– Sunshine Vortigern
January 29, 2013 3:50 PM EST
Shannon your family provides hope. Thank you.
– Brian OHalloran