Sustainable and cheap food: how does a farmer get there?

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On the path to slow food

Slow food versus cheap food conundrum for farmers

Quality food, lowered emissions, biodiversity, soil health, maximum animal welfare, cheap food. So many messages coming from consumer groups, so many implications for how we farm.

Slow Food Australia has a philosophy that resonates with me as a farmer:

“SLOW Food fosters community awareness of food that is good, clean and fair – that the food we eat tastes good and should be good for us; that it is grown and made in ways that respect animals, the environment and our health; and that the producers who grow or create it should be fairly rewarded for their endeavour.

Slow Food Australia’s website also carries a media release that says, “Almost $40 of every $100 spent by Australian households now lands in the cash registers of either Coles or Woolworths”. In light of the milk wars, this is a worrying statistic. While Coles denies the price cuts will be passed on to farmers, Woolworths admits they will. Even consumer advocate group, Choice, agrees farmers will bear the brunt. It’s hard to imagine that any company wielding that amount of market power won’t put pressure on suppliers to lower costs, which will inevitably flow on to those with the least market power – farmers.

The milk wars will have their greatest impact on farmers in states like Queensland, Western Australia and New South Wales but the story is no more rosy in my state, Victoria. According to official figures, most of the state’s dairy farms have a return on investment of 1 to 3 per cent, forcing a focus on financial survival.

Our farm is similarly affected. We want to improve the farm, so Wayne and I are both holding down second jobs. The plan is that these improvements will make the farm more profitable and sustainable. We are making progress but farm life is currently anything but sustainable from a personal point of view. You just can’t work this many hours forever.

So what’s the answer? For our family farm, in the short-term, it means no compromise on milk quality or animal welfare, while planting as many trees as we can afford. At the same time, we invest in anything that will make the farm more efficient and profitable.

In the long term, it means incorporating more and more organic principles into our farming methods and marketing our own milk directly to consumers who appreciate what we’re trying to achieve. The problem is that none of this comes cheaply and is out of the reach of most farmers (including us, right now).

If consumers really do care about sustainable food, driving prices “Down, down, down” is not the way to make it happen.

Heifers, bulls and fear

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Today, we drenched and vaccinated the most dangerous animals on the farm: heifers and bulls.

At two years old and weighing about 500kg each, the heifers are as skittish as teenagers and have no concept of their own might. They’re not used to being yarded and react quickly and unpredictably in the unfamiliar environment.

Bulls, on the other hand, are well aware of their power and are quite prepared to use it. As we rounded them up, one neatly threw a competitor over (or through) a five-foot fence with a toss of his head. A timely reminder to treat them with respect.

We used an oral rather than a pour-on drench because it’s been so much more effective for our animals this year. The warm, wet season has been ideal for worms. The 7 in 1 vaccine we used protects us from a debilitating disease called leptospirosis and the animals from a suite of nasties.

Drenching and vaccinating the lot of them in one day was really the only way to do it, even though it amounted to a rather daunting task that quite literally took two hours of blood, sweat and tears to accomplish. Still, it was worth it. They might be the most dangerous animals on the farm but they are its future.

The farmer is dead, long live the farmer: succession is rarely so easy

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Dad with the dairy under construction

Dad missed out on his dairy

The royal wedding got me thinking about succession. Nobody maps it out more clearly than the Windsors. From the moment they are born, everyone knows exactly where they stand. Not so for many Australian farming families, including ours.

Dad and I loved each other but there just wasn’t enough room for both of us on the farm: financially, emotionally or in terms of management style. Although immensely proud of his university-trained daughter, I think he felt the farm was no place for a “girl” and, besides, this was his domain.

As Dad aged and grew more tired, it was great to have his daughter on hand to milk, feed calves, fix fences, drive tractors and so on but the subject of succession planning was taboo. He would tell anyone who cared to listen that he wanted to be “found dead in the dairy at 97”.

The dairy itself ended up being a rather poignant reminder of Dad’s determination and, ultimately, frustration. The dairy farmer who prided himself on always milking alone built a new 16-aside double-up herringbone in 2005/06. Sadly, he only milked in it a few times. Prostate cancer claimed Dad, aged “just” 77, in December 2006.

His last year was difficult. Dad did not want to admit defeat, so struggled on farming for many months despite being incredibly weak. Finally, the tipping point came when he fell off a tractor and had to be rushed into hospital unconscious.

In the weeks leading up to Dad’s death, the will was able to be discussed. He had remarried only five years earlier and the assumption was made that his wife would sell the farm. I was desperate to keep the farm and it became a bitter battle. In the last two or three weeks before his death, Dad decided that if he did die, I should be given the chance to pay her out and try my hand at farming.

It was almost too late and the indescribable stress was unfair on everyone. Tragically, this scenario is not unique and gets even more complicated when siblings are involved. Don’t let it happen to your family. Get everyone involved early and take advantage of all the resources and expert advice you can find.

Would love to hear how your family has approached this sometimes tricky topic.

Where there’s mud, there’s mastitis

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The track with one fence moved in and one more to do

The track with one fence moved in and one more to do

“Where there’s mud, there’s money,” is the old farming adage but I’m a bit of a contrarian. Where there’s too much mud, there’s also lameness and mastitis.

Muddy tracks to and from the dairy hit cows with a double whammy: they soften the hoof and then coat it with the perfect breeding ground for nasty bugs. It’s heart-breaking to see a cow hobble along, so we rest lame cows and, if their hoofs become infected, treat them with antibiotics.

Mud also contributes to mastitis, a painful infection that afflicts cows and women alike. Dairy farmers have been tackling mastitis for decades from practically every angle. We can choose sires based on the resistance of their daughters to mastitis, have learned that being quiet around cows makes them less prone to infection and developed new detection and treatment techniques. We know exactly how much mastitis is in the herd: the milk processors give us daily test results as part of their stringent milk quality standards and if our milk shows evidence of too much mastitis, we are paid less.

Dairy Australia’s web site offers some great tips on combatting both lameness and mastitis. One of the recommendations is to get cow tracks in order.

Ours aren’t bad but they could be better. One 400 metre section in particular has the fences set too far back from the gravel of the track and some cows like to walk along the sides, which quickly turn to slosh. Today, we’re moving the fences in. It’s a pretty simple job that should save us a lot of grief when winter comes.

The pregnant farmer, her 4-year-old and the breech delivery

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At 5pm, Zoe and I checked the springers (cows soon to calve). Cow 535, a very strong cow in the prime of her life looked agitated. Off by herself in a corner of the paddock, 535 had her tail up and could barely decide whether to pace around or sit down. All of this is normal behaviour for a cow about to calve but I wasn’t sure. Nothing I could really put my finger on, just a sixth sense something was wrong.

Having been poked and prodded at my own 35-week exam today, perhaps I was a little paranoid?

After dinner, Zoe and I ventured out in the ute with the heater roaring. Where was 535? Still off in the far corner of the paddock, still pacing nervously, still no membranes. I’d expected some progress after two hours but I didn’t think it was a smart move to try assisting the labour myself and Wayne was in the city so we called Pete the vet.

Mother guilt kicked in. My cheerful little assistant was very keen to be involved but even as we yarded 535 it was already past Zoe’s bedtime. She’ll be tired tomorrow. On the other hand, I told myself, this type of experience helps to build resilience and she was learning lessons about taking responsibility for animals that you just can’t get in books.

It turned out that 535’s calf was trying to come out backwards but had not made it to the birth canal and her mum’s body was not getting a clear signal to push. If we hadn’t called Pete, both cow and calf might have been dead by the morning. Pete delivered the long and lanky heifer calf alive, then massaged her abdomen to help clear her lungs. We moved the pair to a dry, sheltered spot where 535 could do the all-important job of licking her calf dry and encouraging her to stand and drink. Can’t wait to see them in the morning.

Zoe was delighted and rang her Papa to relay the whole experience before falling asleep almost the moment her head touched the pillow.

Too tired to post (almost)

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Premmie calves Ella and Bella graduate

Ella and Bella, our premmie calves, soaking up the sun with friends

It’s been a normal day for a calving season but I’m just too tired to put a proper post together. Instead, here’s an update with some good news:

  • Ella and Bella are doing so well, they’ve graduated from the calf shed out into a sheltered paddock
  • Laura, the premmie twin, is always the first to hop up and say “hello” when we arrive with milk
  • The excavator finished work on the effluent pond today and we installed a new storm water pipe
  • Our maremmas, Charlie and Lola, are out and about doing their job of looking after the calves well (but have not yet roamed to scare off the kangaroos)
  • Wayne and vet Amy managed to deliver one of the largest bull calves we’ve ever seen and both mum and calf are doing well. I was sure he’d be dead and was very worried for her.
  • Milk production is up!

After feeding all the calves, mucking out stalls, sorting out cows to go in the “springer’s” (cows that are less than 3 weeks away from calving) paddock, fixing fences and a vital calf transport trailer, pouncing on sprightly newborns and doing all the normal farm stuff, the three of us are jiggered.

Watching grass grow really is exciting

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We’ve been preparing for this for two years now. The house paddock has been limed to manage its acidity, soil tested, fertilised to balance the nutrients, treated with effluent and deep ripped to improve its water storage capacity. Since then, we’ve had it sprayed with a biodegradeable weed-killer, disced, sown with perennial ryegrass seed and rolled. It’s a big investment, which is why I’ve been patrolling the paddock almost constantly.

And look!

The house paddock on April 25

The house paddock on April 25

Here it was on April 13, just under a fortnight ago:

The house paddock on April 13

The house paddock on April 13

Now all we need to do is watch out for ravenous creepy crawlies and apply some nitrogen once it gets a little more established.

Gasp: the cows love fescue (and I do too)

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Cows grazing Advance Tall Fescue

The cows really seem to prefer the Advance tall fescue over ryegrass

I’m beginning a clandestine (well maybe I’m coming out of the closet with this blog) love affair with fescue and cocksfoot. Our Gippsland dairy farm has always relied on a combination of ryegrass and clover, although prairie grass loves to volunteer. Because the weather patterns have changed so much, I’ve started to experiment with other pasture types.

We sowed the aptly-named swamp paddock with Advance tall fescue last year. It doesn’t mind waterlogging and produces massive volumes of feed in summer – just when the swamp paddock can withstand grazing without getting pugged. I’d had the paddock sown to an annual ryegrass which reshot and seemed to overwhelm it, so had the whole lot sprayed out with glyphosate. To my delight, the ryegrass was knocked out and the fescue has come back in force.

The cows seem to love Advance. I had them in the adjacent paddock of gorgeous perennial ryegrass but when I lifted the fence to let them into the rear of the still partially inundated swamp paddock, they rushed in and stayed there to eat the fescue.

The farming community celebrates

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Zoe's first Tarra Festival parade

Today was huge. Every Easter our local town, Yarram, celebrates the Tarra Festival and at its heart is the parade. Colourful floats representing just about every facet of community life pass by thousands gathered on the footpaths and the centre plots. This morning, Zoe sat proudly among her friends on the kindergarten float, resplendent in yellow gardening hat and apron while waving a paper sunflower regally at the crowds. It was something of a rite of passage – I still remember clumsily twirling a Calesthenics baton decades ago along the same route – and she was in awe.

At the tail of the parade came three trucks: two B-Double milk co-op trucks and one belonging to the parade sponsor. The milk trucks are part of the community too and were warmly applauded.

The co-op's milk trucks are part of Yarram

The co-op's milk trucks part of the festival parade

After face-painting, slides, marvelling at the magicians, laughing at the clowns, catching up with friends and gobbling way too much fairy floss, we headed home to round up the cows. I was very proud of my tired little girl. She walked the cows in to the yard over 1.7 kilometres while making up lots of silly songs and giving me important directions.

Madame Butterfly stops traffic at the trough

We have a rule to let the cows drink for as long as they like on their way into the yard and in the picture you’ll see Madame Butterfly giving orders to stay clear of the drinking cows. After that, we checked two groups of cows, got in two mums and their newborns, fed grain to the yearlings and the springers, shifted the rising two-year-olds into a fresh paddock and checked in on a very sleepy and well-fed Laura.

Zoe will sleep well tonight!

No more twin calves please!

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Laura the little survivor calf sleeps after a BIG feed

The good news is that our first batch of premmie twins – Ella and Bella – are absolutely thriving. The bad news is that we’ve now had four sets of twins out of 10 cows.

At first blush, you’d think I’d be overjoyed but lots of twins is not a cause for celebration on a dairy farm. Twins take their toll on the mother cow, who is more likely to have trouble calving, more likely to be sick afterwards and all this also affects her production and ability to get back in calf next season. The calves are also more likely to be unwell because they tend to be smaller and suffer more difficult births. The female twin of a male/female pair is nearly certain to be a freemartin, unable to breed.

One of our favourite cows, 771, gave birth to a small but gutsy heifer this morning and then we discovered another set of hoofs coming out. Sadly, Wayne had to give 771 help and, despite us acting immediately, the second little girl was stillborn. As I held the first little calf, Laura, while she had her first drink, I couldn’t help but feel a lump in my throat as I heard Wayne carry her dead twin away.

I wonder what’s causing this? I hope it’s just a run of bad luck but other farmers have reported increased twinning on their farms too this season. The research suggests that lots of great quality feed at breeding time might be the cause and, yes, nine months ago, the cows did have a wonderful diet. Maybe that’s the reason but it does leave a farmer scratching her head and crossing her fingers (if it’s possible to do both at once!).