Washington Post | By Paul Glader | September 11, 2002
Dick and Phyllis King don't want to retire from ranching, but their small cattle herd in Nokesville is diminishing, and their agrarian way of life is being pushed out of Northern Virginia.
The summer's mix of low agriculture prices, oppressive heat and parched fields could be the final blow for another group of ranches and farms in the region.
"The ponds are drying up. Everything is drying up," said Dick King, 75. "This is the worst I've seen it in my life."
Pete Richardson, a farm auctioneer in Willards, on Maryland's Eastern Shore, said older farmers will begin deciding whether to sell their farms early next year, as they analyze how the drought and other factors have been affecting their livelihoods.
"Anytime there is economic stress in the ag market, whether it is drought or suppressed price, you'll have a slight reaction with a number of sales," said Richardson, who conducts a dozen farm auctions a year. "It will cause some people to rethink their position and retire."
The National Weather Service reports 19.2 inches of rainfall at Reagan National Airport this year, nearly eight inches below normal. Low rainfall along with a dry winter translates into lower water tables across the region. For farmers this year, that has meant shorter corn stalks, fewer hay bales, scrawnier beef cattle and fewer yields in such crops as alfalfa, soybeans and barley. Feeding the cattle costs more as well.
The Kings this summer ran out of graze-worthy land on their 62 acres to feed their 32 head of cattle. They didn't want to use up all their square bales for feed, so they are selling some animals early at local markets at substandard prices.
"You will see more of a sell-off during the winter," said James Pease, extension economist at Virginia Tech University. "And you will see more people getting discouraged about it and just giving up."
That is sad news for people sentimental about the decline of agriculture, especially the family cattle farm.
In Maryland, the number of farms dropped from a high of 49,000 in 1935 to 12,400 last year. Virginia had nearly 200,000 farms in 1935, and 49,000 last year.
"Once that land is gone, it's gone forever," said Jan Sickel, president of the Prince William County Farm Bureau. "Once you take it out of agricultural production, you won't get it back."
In Prince William County, where the Kings farm, 1,168 people worked in agriculture, forestry, fishing and hunting and mining in 1990, and 458 in 2000, according to the U.S. Census.
The farming culture is mostly gone from Fairfax County. In fast-growing counties such as Loudoun, Fauquier and Prince William, farmers are fighting a losing battle against urban growth. Many farmers realize their land is worth more to developers and end up making a good retirement income by selling the land to developers for housing or golf courses.
Keith Dickinson, an extension agent in Fauquier County, said some farmers have stacks of solicitations from developers.
Prince William and Loudoun saw sharp declines in agriculture in the early 1990s, while Fauquier has been losing its agriculture rapidly in recent years, as its population grows.
In 1930, 14,000 people lived in Prince William, as did about 19,000 cows, hogs and sheep. Today, there are nearly 300,000 people and about 10,000 livestock. About 1,383 farms dotted the countryside in 1935, while fewer than 300 do so today. Most of the farmers now are older than 50.
"We are in a drought," Sickel said. "Prices are low. Corn isn't worth a damn. The calf prices are down. Soybeans have been down for a couple years. If you have no feed and your water is running low, you don't have a chance."
Sickel, 55, has a small Black Angus ranch and also does welding to supplement his income, similar to many other Northern Virginia farmers who are taking second jobs to keep their farms afloat financially.
"There just gets [to be] fewer and fewer of us full-time farmers each year," Sickel said. "It just gets harder and harder to make it. And you can't afford to hire the people you need to make a dime."
He meets a group of farmers each morning at the Marshall Livestock Barn in Fauquier County, where they have coffee and gripe about the onslaught of city people in their county and the lack of rain in their fields.
"For some folks, this could be the year of the straw that breaks the camel's back," said Tony Banks, assistant director of the commodity marketing department in the Virginia Farm Bureau Federation. He points out that prices have been down for years in most agriculture categories, and that droughts off and on for five years make this "a very challenging time to be in agriculture."
Bernard Clemen, 52, sees the effects of the drought every day. His cornstalks covering 125 acres are 6 feet high, instead of 12 feet. His 81 dairy cows are giving far less milk most days, and the future of his farm is in doubt.
Clemen's three children aren't interested in farming. Chewing tobacco and wearing a seed cap with corn silage shavings stuck to it, he reflects on how long he and his dad, Kemp Clemen, 81, will keep the Tumbledown Dairy going.
If he survives the drought, he said he still faces the financial temptation from the builders of golf courses and planned communities.
"I probably will keep farming until that subdivision gets out here," he said. "It's on its way."Washington Post:
