Area dairy farmers giving up livelihood as production costs rise
Published: October 11, 2009
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Michael J. Mullen / Staff Photographer A kitten rests in hay near a young Holstein heifer in Don and Christina Salak's barn.
Michael J. Mullen / Staff Photographer Christina Salak tosses hay inside their barn for Holstein heifers she and her husband, Don, raise. The Salaks retired from farming dairy cows for milk.
WAYMART
The bulk milk tank sits empty in the barn at Don and Christina Salak's farm after a 100-year, three-generation family tradition of dairy production.
"It's not easy to sell your herd. It hurts," Mr. Salak, 65, said as he leaned against a conveyor at the couple's 160-acre tract, where his grandfather's father milked cows before him. "You come into the barn and it's empty.
"I cried the first day. I did this all my life."
Mrs. Salak, 58, who grew up on a Ledgedale dairy farm before the couple married 35 years ago, strolled through the barn and reflected on the transition after putting in decades of 14-hour days tending, feeding and milking cows.
"The first couple days, I was lost," she said. "All of a sudden, you don't have the girls in here."
The Salaks, who live four miles east of Waymart in Wayne County, sold their 50 dairy cattle on Sept. 12 to a Susquehanna County dairy farmer. The lingering crisis in prices farmers receive for milk is accelerating the flight from dairy farming and forcing people like the Salaks out of their livelihood.
"Nobody wants to be the one who closes the door on something that's been going on for generations," said James Dunn, Ph.D., an agricultural economist at Penn State University who specializes in dairy issues. "Even the people that are still hanging in there are hanging in by their fingernails."
Dairy farming has been in decline for decades. Between 1997 and 2007, 44 percent of U.S. dairy operations ceased. In Pennsylvania, there were 8,400 dairy farms in 2007, 26 percent fewer than in 1997.
The Salaks' tale is typical of the industry distress that started last year when dairy exports nose-dived and U.S. overproduction sent milk prices plummeting. Since August 2008, Pennsylvania dairy farmers have received less than their average production costs for every 100 pounds of raw milk they ship - a standard industry measure that converts to about 11.6 gallons.
The Salaks were paid $11.15 per 100 pounds for their last shipment of milk. The couple typically shipped about 3,500 pounds of milk three to four times a week to a processor.
"I needed at least $16.50 to break even," Mr. Salak said, estimating that his milk payments this summer ran at least $3,600 a month less than he took in two years ago for the same volumes.
The Salaks aren't the only Wayne County dairy farmers to get out of the industry this year.
In May, Peter Lazorack sold the 35 dairy cows at his farm five miles south of Waymart, where milk had been produced for 85 years, going back to his grandparents.
"When a couple incomes can't keep you afloat, what are you going to do?" asked Mr. Lazorack, 59, whose wife is a nurse at Wayne Memorial Hospital in Honesdale. "You're always working at a loss."
Mr. Lazorack now raises heifer calves and beef cattle at his 90-acre property.
"I'm not trying to make up for what I lost in milk. I'm just trying to cover expenses and coast," he said. "Farmers are quitting. It's a shame to see them fall by the wayside."
State dairy farmers averaged payments of $20 per 100 pounds of milk as recently as September 2008. But the decline in payments this year was steep and swift and the effect is disastrous.
"What we keep hearing is, 'These are the worst times we've ever seen in our lives in the (dairy) industry,' " said Mark O'Neill, spokesman for the Pennsylvania Farm Bureau, a Harrisburg-based agricultural lobbying organization. "People have exhausted their resources. They are losing money every day."
The losses were too much for the Salaks, who saw no end to the spiral.
"I've used my savings for retirement to pay my bills," Mr. Salak said. "I have no steady source of income. I worry about it."
Although milk production has ceased and the cows are gone from the Salaks' Clinton Twp. farm, debt lingers. The couple still owes $11,000 for cattle feed.
"We sold our animals, but the bills are following us," Mrs. Salak said.
Exiting a lifelong agricultural vocation is distinct from changing occupational fields or retiring from a standard job, Mr. O'Neill said.
"Its not just a business, it's a lifestyle," he said. "It's a commitment to what you're doing. If you're not a dairy farmer, what are you?"
Mrs. Salak is a registered nurse and now plans to return to the field she left 33 years ago.
"I'm very rusty," she said. "I'm scared. I have to learn how to use a computer, but it will be a steady income."
Even though the Salaks aren't milking cows at 12-hour intervals and feeding the herd six to eight times daily, they are raising some heifer calves and beef cattle to maintain the farm's bovine connection.
"What I have left in the barn isn't making me any money, but I'm not losing money," Mr. Salak said as he gazed at a beef steer. "If I had an empty barn to go to, that would be a lot worse. That would really hurt."
Contact the writer: jhaggerty@timesshamrock.com
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The American Dream is Dead!