Adam McLean
Markham farmer Barry Little is selling most of the cattle in his longtime family operation on the north side of Steeles Avenue.
Markham
April 17, 2008 11:00 PM
Oldest jersey herd in Canada sold off
By: Adam McLean
The first time Markham dairy farmer Barry Little milked a cow by himself was the night his parents were at a neighbouring farm watching the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II.
“I told myself that night I would last longer as a farmer than she would on the throne. That was more than 50 years ago and neither of us has budged,” said the owner of Meadow Lawn Farm on the north side of Steeles Avenue east of Hwy. 48.
Though Mr. Little hasn’t budged in his bet with Her Majesty, he has definitely blinked as yesterday, he loaded nearly all of his 75 dairy cows on to trucks bound for Wisconsin. He sold what was the oldest registered jersey herd in Canada since 1891.
The fifth-generation farmer said he is hanging up his milk bucket for the same reason many professionals seek retirement.
“Old age; mine, not the cows,” he said laughing. “I took over the farm from my dad in 1970 as the sole proprietor, which is about as long as a lot of people operate a business no matter what it may be. I’ve done this stuff since I could walk.”
As had previous generations of the Little family, when you consider the farm has been in the clan since 1834.
Mr. Little and his wife, Cathie Davies, represent the final generation at Meadow Lawn. His son and daughters pursued other options and the farm — cut off from the rest of York Region’s agricultural community — can only withstand encroaching suburban sprawl for so long.
Gone are the days when Mr. Little and neighbouring children would ride ponies to school, as are the days when his grandfather walked the herd on a two-day trek down to Toronto’s Canadian National Exhibition each summer.
“This area isn’t a farming area anymore. If we want to get our tractor fixed, to be safe, we have to get mechanics to come down, put the tractor on a float and take it away, otherwise we would have to go up Ninth line and people don’t appreciate you driving up the road to Stouffville during rush hour,” he said.
“The goods and services we need are getting further away.”
Ms Davies admits she will have to get used to a concept foreign to life on a dairy farm: free time.
“It’s going to be a huge change when we don’t have the cows here, because it is such a big part of life. It is a seven-day-a-week job,” she said. “It is a very nice lifestyle, but it can also be very restrictive. Things need constant attention.”
According to Mr. Little, each jersey cow produces between 900 and 1,000 litres of milk a day and the value of that milk is based not only on quantity, but also quality or protein and a high consistency of butter fat.
The cows’ price tag also depends on supply and demand and, with demand high at the moment, Mr. Little’s first business of operation once the cows are gone might be figuring out what to do with all his new cash.
“We are going to go out and spend it all. No, just kidding.
“One thing about being self-employed, there is no pension plan, so that is what this will be, considering we need to supply our own,” he said.
He declined to comment on how much he is receiving for the cows.
At 66, Mr. Little has no ideas of relocating and, for the future, he and Ms Davies will turn their attention to their crops — hay and corn, grown on 200 mostly rented acres — 11 horses and remaining cattle, which are used to educate children at fairs, 4H club events and are in religious ceremonies such as Christmas pageants.
When asked if he felt he may be letting his forefathers down, Mr. Little answered simply, “If they were here today, they would understand. It’s time.”