Locally Grown >Feature

The Importance of Farms
By Susan Piperato . Photos by Megan McQuade

Hudson Valley residents tend toward great affection for our chosen place in the world, but it's unlikely that any of us attributes the reasons why we've come—or stayed—here to local agriculture. And yet no matter why we believe we've chosen to live here, farming is behind it—whether we've gravitated toward the Valley's varied and bucolic landscapes, rich history, strong environmentalist move-ment, deep sense of place, wealth of woodlands, multitude of water-ways and waterbodies, friendly small towns, or the arguable dearth of industrial sites (at least compared to other places).

"This landscape we're used to—what's called our 'rural areas' —have really been shaped by farmers, and what they've been growing, and how close they've been to the river," says organic fruit farmer Don Maclean of Thompson Finch Farm in Ancram, southern Columbia County. "It's the hundreds of acres of farms that are making this area look the way it looks—and that's changing.... If our agriculture is taken away, it will have an incredible impact." Les Hulcoop, agricultural educator at Cornell Cooperative Extension's Dutchess County office, warns that losing farmland destroys more than the landscape. "Agriculture is what has preserved the open spaces and vistas that we value. It also keeps the economy going, allowing us to live here. Farm money stays in the local economy and turns over two or three times. Preserving farmland actually keeps taxes down, even though people don't seem to know that. If you compare 100 acres of corn versus 100 acres containing 100 houses, the farmland is more valuable than the developed land because corn doesn't go to school, or need roads, or police, or ambulance services."

However, the more people drawn away from urban centers and the suburbs to the Hudson Valley's peace, quiet, space, and beauty, the greater the threat posed to those very same aspects that make this a desirable place to live. Likewise, the delicate balance struck between wilderness and agriculture—which is ostensibly responsible for this area's vitality and uniqueness—is also under threat from developers hoping to provide housing for the increasing population. Not surprisingly, just as the face of the Hudson Valley's population is changing, so are farmers by necessity, both in the methods they use and the way they relate to the public and each other.

"Farmers, in general, have always been hard to get into a group," says Northeast Organic Farmers Association (NOFA-NY) New York state president Alton Earnhart, an organic grain farmer at Lightning Tree Farm in Millbrook. "It's because of their lifestyle. You can't get them off the farm, and when you do, they can't agree on anything." But even though farmers' characteristic independent streak can't be denied, the many recently formed local farmers' alliances—such as NOFA-NY, the consumer-based organic certification alliance The Farmer's Pledge, the farmers-based Certified Or-ganic (founded by Huguenot Street Farm's Ron Khosla), and the sustainable (but not necessarily organic) The Food Alliance (introduced locally by Stone Ridge Orchard's Mike Biltonen)—are nothing new. According to Earnhart, much of the developments currently taking place within Hudson Valley agriculture have historical precedents.

"[The formation of alliances] goes back to the farm cooperatives of the past," he explains. "Every town across America had them, and they'd run a small business together to promote and support themselves. They traditionally have been the infrastructure of agriculture, but like the rest of the economy, they've broken down. The farm economy used to be much smaller, with products sold to local consumers. Then it changed to larger farms, selling to processors. There was no longer any rapport with the consumer. If you're selling corn to a big company like Archer Daniels Midland, you don't need to connect with the consumer. But if you've got little farmers who sell 100 pounds of corn to other farmers here and there, then you have to connect. You have to get the word out."

But what constitutes "the word" is growing more complex. Maclean and his wife, Marcie, raise blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, apples, and some vegetables organically in the Hudson watershed, not far from the Berkshires. Although they sell some cider and apples to local stores, they rely most heavily on direct sales to customers through offering pick-your-own berries and a CSA (community-supported agriculture). They consider themselves to be "fortunate," says Maclean, because they are working land that has been in Marcie's family for five generations and more than 150 years. "What's happening near us, the most profound change we've noticed, is the transfer of agricultural land to country estates and New Yorkers' second homes," he says. "That means there is land going out of agriculture completely, becoming estate land with mowed grass, and subdivisions into little lots. Also using land for horse farms is very popular right now. If a person has no property but wants to farm, it's difficult to find land. When we moved here we rented out some farmland to other farmers. One person stopped farming it, and we had five or six people come by and ask us, if he's leaving, can we come in and farm? So you have farmers looking for land, when the situation used to be the opposite, with landowners looking for farmers."

But being blessed with available land and a conducive climate doesn't guarantee a farmer's survival anymore. Besides the vicissitudes of weather, agricultural success is affected by a farmer's knowledge of niche marketing. For some, like the Macleans and Earnhart, who grows grain for feed and flour, that means going organic. For others, like Biltonen, it means letting the public know that the farm is addressing a wide range of environmental, economic, and social issues by incorporating cutting-edge sustainable growing techniques and employee participation. "There's an old axiom in farming, 'Get big or get out,'" says Maclean. "That used to apply. Now it's 'Get creative or get out.' There are lots of growers who are ripping out old orchards and replacing them with things they can sell in New York and to local restaurants. There's a push to that; it's a survival response. People realize they need to be different. Why grow Red Delicious apples for the supermarket when you can find something nobody else has? Growers need to plant new things, like gooseberries and currants."

Ultimately, though, the fate of local agriculture is in the hands of the consumer—but so is our quality of life. Hulcoop, who is working to promote his office's "Once a Day" program, which seeks to remind consumers to buy one locally grown product daily, says that supporting local agriculture means preserving environmental quality and wildlife, as well as human health. "Eating local means picking fruit ripe, so it's got a better taste and more nutrients, and it means we eat a varied, seasonal diet," he explains. "Back in the early 1900s the Hudson Valley was the bread basket of New York City. Farmers brought their food down by train or river barge. That's as far as food went. We didn't have this international transport system 100 years ago, so people had to eat local. We couldn't get raspberries from New Zealand in 48 hours. Now people expect apples and strawberries in the store 12 months of the year, and they're able to get it from overseas. But when things are shipped so far, they often lose nutrients. And people are so removed from their food, they don't even know where it comes from anymore."

For Hulcoop, there is no better teaching tool than farms, both for children and adults. "Kids are always awed, and the farm is the best way for them to get the life cycle," he says. "Adults learn to be farmer-friendly," which means not only buying local produce but halting the increasing residential complaints about the noise and smells that farms create. "I get calls on the phone all the time, people asking, 'Why do we have to smell manure?'" he says. "I try to give them the facts so they don't get into hassles with the farmers."

Earnhart agrees. "Any time you understand the shoes found on people walking on the other side of the street you'll start wearing your own better," he says. "It's only when the people who are moving in get out to see the farms, or read about them, that they know what's going on. Otherwise, they have no clue. They're wondering, what's that guy doing out there in the fields in the middle of the night with all those lights on, making such a racket? Our job is to get the word out, let people know what we're doing, what's at stake, and hopefully that way there will be enough land left in the Hudson Valley to continue to have big green spaces."