What is (or was) your biggest roadblock to starting a farm?

This was my first poll question of choice for you readers.

How to get enough money to start

Lack of farming know-how

The time it takes when you’re still working an off-farm job

Other answer…

Those were the options I provided for your polling pleasure.

I know that many of you saw the poll in our sidebar because, so far, 63 of you answered it.  And, of those 63, 57% said that how to get enough money to start their farm was the biggest issue.

So, now I have a question about poll etiquette.  Because, really, is it bad form to ask about someone’s challenges without at least a bit of knowledge that might help them over the hurdle??

How to get enough money to do anything is a sticking point for a lot of people and farming has a lot more ‘junk’ surrounding it than most businesses.

For one thing, there is a whole societal belief that food is cheap.  And, yes, crappy food is cheap – at the initial outlay.  The true cost of crappy food, or pseudo-food, as I like to call it, comes when you look at the health care bills it causes and the environmental damage it does.  When you’re producing good food, naturally the cost is going to be higher.

So, I guess step one to getting enough money to start a farm is to clear society of some old, mistaken beliefs about food and install some new ones.

If that’s step one, it kinda sounds like there might be a lot of steps before you get to the money part, doesn’t it?

But wait, there’s more than just cheap food ‘junk’ that makes it difficult to make a living farming.  As a fascinated observer of humanity, I have noticed that it isn’t only long time farmers who have the ‘Life is hard,  please notice me struggling’ mindset.

It seems that a lot of new farmers getting into sustainable agriculture have that same mindset and, honestly, it’s a killer.  This is the ‘Poor Dirt Farmer Junk’.

(John used to say that he was a poor dirt farmer.  But he has learned that to say this is to invoke the wrath of the wife.)

If you want to repel abundance, this is the way to do it.  Don’t get me wrong, farming is not Easy Street financially.  Yes, we struggle too.  But if you’re into farming because your identity is about struggle, well, a bucket of cash could fall on you and you’d still figure out how to make it hard.

So, do I have any new useful answers for those who are in the ‘not enough money’ category?  I’ll do my best, but it might not be what you’re expecting.

Three Financial Thoughts For Planning Your Farm:

1. Do it yourself:  Do what yourself, you ask?  All of it.
   Yes, the goal is to pay yourself a reasonable wage; $15 or $20 per hour, say.  But start where you are.  If you have little financial capital, make it up in hourly capital.
2. Sell first, then produce:  A lot of farmers (especially conventional farmers) have gotten into the habit of producing something and then trying to sell it.  Don’t do it!  Sell it – or, at very least, market it – first so you know you can sell it.If you don’t know how a C.S.A. (Community Supported Agriculture) program starts yet, find out now.
3. Know yourself:  (and your spouse/partner/family)
   Make no mistake, you will be short of cash and/or time – likely both.  Unless you save A LOT of money before starting your farm, you will have a farmer’s lifestyle for some years.

   Know what need motivates you to farm and be able to tell when enough is enough, for you and for your family.  Because, yes,  everyone can survive with nothing but second hand clothes, old cars, “No, we can’t rent a movie”, “No, you can’t play hockey”, “No, we can’t have a vacation”, without cable TV and “No, Daddy won’t be home to tuck you in”.

   But, can they thrive in the conditions you’re planning on foisting on them?

I know, number 3 doesn’t sound like a financial thought but it applies directly.  If you’re going to make hard financial choices for your family, make sure the individual personalities you’re dealing with can thrive despite them.

Even better would be to make the financial choices that help your family thrive.  But don’t ask me exactly how to do that.  When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.

In the meantime, here is an unofficial number 4:  Starting a farm is like having kids.  You’re never really going to be ready or have enough money but that shouldn’t stop you.  Follow numbers 1 through 3, then jump in.

Your options are sink or swim and, in the case of farming, neither one is likely to kill you.

Think it’s not possible?  I mean, Foie Gras.  Come on.  It’s the most inhumane foodstuff available, right? Well, it can be. Most times it is.

Take the time to watch this video and you’ll get your dose of sustainable agriculture inspiration, that’s for sure.

Almost makes me want to get some geese.

Is the organic and sustainable food movement complacent about pricing?

Over breakfast, John and I were discussing organic milk. How we got onto that topic, I don’t know. Maybe it was the carton in front of us. However it came about, our conversation hasn’t yet left me. What has caught my attention was something that John read in a newspaper he found at the bottom of our firewood box. I’m trying not to dwell on the fact that we’re still lighting morning fires in May.

This article, possibly a year or more old, left John with a sense that there was soon going to be an oversupply of organic milk in Ontario. (Having looked into it a bit, there doesn’t seem to be consensus on this.) From this jumping off point, we started to speculate what would happen to the price premium and allowance for organic dairy farms to ship more milk than other producers.

(A basic overview of the Milk Quota system: Farmers purchase units of quota that allows them to ship milk from one cow per unit of quota and be guaranteed a steady price for the milk. Quota currently costs around $30,000.00 CDN per unit. Organic farmers get to ship more milk per unit of quota than conventional, giving them more return on investment.)

Presumably, if there were no supply shortage for organic milk, the price would go down for the consumer and the premiums that the dairy farmers are getting would disappear. In theory, organic milk would cost the same as conventional milk. As someone who buys organic milk, this would seem strange in a ‘Yeah! The Grocery Bill Fairy has been here!’ kind of way. I’m not sure the organic milk producers, who spent the time and energy to struggle through a long and expensive learning curve, would feel the same.

While I don’t know if this will happen anytime soon, it did bring up the idea that organic producers in general seem to be complacent about price. If they are concerned about the future of pricing, I’ve never heard tell. I have heard some not-certified, sustainable, ethical farmers getting vocal about the true cost of food, but rarely.

And why should they worry? Organic farmers are getting a premium over conventional farmers for everything from soup to nuts. Sustainable farmers generally are, as well. And, while part of the premium they get goes into more costly production in many cases, at least some of the extra cost is a result of an unbalanced supply and demand. There isn’t enough to go around, so the price goes up.

This is precisely why we should be concerned.

To think that once supply of ‘alternative food’ (I’m lumping certified organic with sustainable ethical production under that label) catches up with demand, the prices are going to level out somewhere near to conventional produce should strike fear into the hearts of anyone affected. Sure, in the entire food industry, it doesn’t seem likely to balance out in the near (or possibly distant) future. That’s not the issue. The problem is that the current price for conventionally produced food doesn’t represent the cost of production that the farmer bears. This is why so many farmers work full time off the farm. Their full time on-farm job doesn’t make enough to pay even minimum wage.

So, if producing food alternative food is often more expensive for the farmer, you’d think there would be widespread panic at the thought of prices going down to a level that can’t sustain those who are there now. As a producer of non-certified, more organic every year, ethical food, I’m forever putting energy into educating people about the true cost of food. I’m frequently telling people that a wheat farmer makes $0.14 per loaf of bread.

Sure, alternative producers are getting a premium price compared to conventional food prices but try comparing the cost of alternative food against the cost of producing it. Suddenly, what looked like a tidy income for the farmer looks pretty meager.

And look further to the bargain basement food in our grocery stores. Somebody want to speculate on what kind of corners have to be cut to get prices that low? Anyone want to consider the health and animal welfare results of drastically cutting corners on food production? (Think about what has to happen in to production phase of cheap clothes and the level of quality that results and you’ll have a fair parallel, I’d say.)

So, yes, I’d say the alternative food producers are somewhat complacent. To be happy with prices inflated by a supply and demand discrepancy is like driving in the dark with your lights off. You might be cruising along now but you won’t see the ‘Bridge Out’ sign until you’re in the drink.

At some point, supply of good clean food will match demand. Ideally, by then, consumers will be aware that, though they thought they were paying premium will realize that what they were really doing was meeting cost of production. Including a wage for the farmer. Sounds reasonable to me.

My, how I was mistaken. The Lada of my youth was never a car in the way a BMW M3 is a car, for example. Similarly (and yet very differently), the Lada’s I have known were not cars the way, say, a ’68 Camero with gold pin striping is a car.

Why, you ask, am I bringing up painful vehicular memories from my family’s sordid car history? It may seem unrelated but to my mind these cars are relevant to the struggle of pricing what we produce here at the farm.

Lost yet? Bear with me.

Very simply put, trying to determine a selling price for our meat gives me a head ache. Any way we do the math, the delicious, healthy SOLE food we produce is a BMW. And high end vehicles cost more to produce. So does high end food. Working a living wage into the equation is the challenge.

We’re working at whittling the cost down as we progress and, not insignificantly, we don’t have to buy grain at the exorbitant prices of late because we produce our own. But, at the end of the day, J. & C. Nyman Farms lamb, for example, is still a BMW of lamb. And that’s where the head aches start.

See, people go car shopping and expect to get what they pay for. If you pay for a Lada, you know what you’re getting yourself into. Something that will be cheap to buy, easy on fuel but cost a lot to maintain and have a short road-life.

If you choose a BMW, you’re expecting – and getting – something that delivers performance, pleasure, fuel efficiency, low emissions and a long driving life ahead.

Unfortunately, when it comes to food it doesn’t matter that the produce cost a top quality dollar to produce and is truly quality food. The average consumer is conditioned to be able to pay a Lada price and believes they’re getting the BMW product. (The fact that they’re not actually getting the quality of the BMW is one of the great crimes of the big food machine, but that’s another story altogether.)

Where does that leave me with my calculator in one hand and my head in the other? It leaves me trying to explain (to people who are open to the idea) that they’re not actually getting the BMW for the Lada price. It leaves me needing to be informed and sincere enough to be able to show them that they’re eating Ladas. Yummy.

Realistically, I’m not going to be able to convince very many people to stop buying their bargain food and pay a lot more for our top of the line variety.

So I’m using my calculator to cut out a large part of that living wage I mentioned. And I’m selling what we produce to the customers who are willing to pay a little bit more for quality food.

And, most importantly, I’m sleeping well (possibly not as well protected as my husband John here, but well) and I’m reveling in my days.

I get to do something that is good for the Earth, my community and my family. And, I love to do it. Living wage? Who needs it!

I think I’m noticing more feathery details because I’m getting excited about finally getting some fowl back on our farm.  We’re leaning towards ordering from McMurray Hatchery as we’d like to do some of the rarer breeds.  (Anyone with experience with McMurray, please comment on your level of satisfaction.)

It’s been a few years of eating grocery store poultry for us and it just doesn’t compare. Even the ‘top of the line’ chicken isn’t as good as what we grow in our 10′x10′ ‘chicken condos’.

So, with every aspect of chicken rearing and eating right on the tip of my brain, I hesitated at the grocery store when I saw chicken legs on sale for $2.20 CDN per kilogram. (That translates to about $1 a pound, still in Canadian dollars. We’re so close to par that I’m not going to do that calculation. I’m all calculated out with the kg to lb switch!)

I hesitated for more than one reason, not the least of which was the number of chicken related posts on ChowHound‘s post called Grocery Store Items NOT to buy.

First, I looked down at those pale but large-ish chicken legs and thought of the conditions the birds must have been grown in; no sunlight and breathing in a heavy concentration of airborne ammonia. I knew, also, that their diet had not been optimal. Not the most healthy choice for our family but still chicken, at least. And bargain, at that.

My second reason for not immediately latching onto the bulk package of legs has to do with the bargain factor. I am one who stands upon my soap box (and as a public speaker on the subject, no less) and tries to drill it into farmers that we must start demanding a fair return on our investment for what we produce. Gone are the days when we produce food for only a couple of dollars an hour, I declare!

I’m also lucky enough to speak with consumers and I politely but firmly inform them that our food is artificially cheap and that, if we want to eat good food, we have to pay for it.

So, picture me having these conflicting thoughts and emotions as I look down at what could be the protein portion of 3 meals for my family for the ROCK BOTTOM SALE PRICE! of $5.35! When I have, on other occasions, seen a similar package for $20 or more, this is hard to resist.

And resist, I didn’t. Home I came with my bargain basement chicken all the while looking forward to the days when there would be a chicken feast awaiting me in my own freezer. At least it’s chicken, I reminded myself again. It’s not a fatty cut of ENTER YOUR LEAST FAVOURITE meat here. Pat on the back for choosing lower fat meats, Colleen.

Or so I thought. Here is where I started to hear my own words ringing in my head about artificially cheap food.

I decided to skin a few of the pieces and stew them. And, as I peeled away the skin, I was appalled to see how fat these birds were. It’s no wonder commercially raised chickens frequently die of heart attacks before making it to market. This guy must have been the sumo wrestling champion of the chicken feedlot!

I decided I wanted to know the extent of my bargain shopping folly and weighed the fat that I trimmed from these puppies. Not the skin, just the thick, solid, white fat.

(I thought about including a picture of the slimy little pile, but decided it would have been cruel to my fledgling blog).

Here’s how it calculated out:

For my $5.35 I got 2.432 kg or roughly 5.36 lbs.

Of those 2.432 kg, 525 g was pure fat. That’s 1.16 lbs.

So, I paid just shy of $1.16 for fat. That’s about 21.5% of the total cost of that package of chicken.

Now, a quick word about fat. Fat is good for us, we need some to survive and for healthy joints. There’s my disclaimer.

I’m not a low-fat fanatic by any means. (Butter on your toast, anyone?) But this is a little ridiculous. There is more than enough fat within the meat of a chicken leg for flavour and good health. And chicken is not usually one of a North Americans main sources of healthy fats.

So what is with this chunky chicken? Grain. That is the only reasonable explanation why a cut of poultry would have that much of the white stuff. Big chicken producers are pushing their birds to grow faster with high amounts of grain and little natural ‘chicken exercise’ like scratching and pecking the ground – in essence, foraging for their food.

It puts me in mind of a poultry version of Hansel and Gretel. And, don’t we want the chicken on the table to have actually once behaved like a chicken should?

I sure do. Don’t get me wrong, I will get in bed tonight and be grateful that my belly is full of trimmed chicken leg dinner but, you can bet I will dream of robust tasting, ammonia fog-free, lean chicken to come from our farm.

(How’s that for jumping on my soapbox for everyone? )