Herewith a few thoughts on farm machinery, past, present and future:

Tractors—end of an era?
No matter how much our farming friends sing the praises of their 1970s vintage Masseys and International tractors, I can not believe this equipment will remain viable for yet another generation. Either the parts will become too difficult to source or the reliability will become such that the tractors are only suitable for farm parades. By 2025, when most Boomers will be done farming, much of this equipment will be 50-60 years old.
Which raises the question, what next? If the past is any measure, some farmers will pony up for new tractors while others opt to move to a newer version of old, purchasing 1990s and early 2000 era used equipment. It is no slight to the manufacturers to question whether the lighter, sprightlier tractors manufactured in the last 20 years will hold up like the iron heavy models of 40 years ago. I guess we’ll see—but probably from the vantage of a rocking chair on the porch, not the tractor seat.

A combine for the people!
It is high time for a new, economical combine for small farms. I’m thinking of a machine that could do 2-5 acres/hr, and costs less
than $60,000, new. The equipment many of us are using now— combines of 70s, 80s and early 90s vintages can be made to run for only so long. Newer machines are both too big and, with on-board computers and digital hoo-has, virtually impossible to fix yourself and too expensive to call in dealer help. The kind of combines I’m talking about are being manufactured and used—in India and China. There are reminiscent of early Gleaners and Internationals. Not pretty but very functional. Completely serviceable for the able farmer. The trick is not getting one into Canada—that’s probably an email and a few clicks on PayPal away—it is setting up a support network to provide parts. Or, even more fanciful wish—perhaps a North American manufacturer could dust off some old blue prints and start manufacturing such a machine.

Push & pull
For some time now larger farm tractors have had the option of operating equipment on the front as well as the rear. There are tractors with three point hitches and PTO options on the front. It took a recent trip to the UK for me to realize just how useful this could be. I watched a farmer leveling a rough tilled field with a combination tine/roller on the front while (or, as the Brits would say “whilst”) drilling in winter wheat on the rear. Marvelous! I think of all the time we bump and crash around a field— pulling a disk, or harrow, or roller—and imagine the difference even a 25% gain in efficiency would make. Or how about the multiple passes making hay? It should be possible to mount a rake to the front of the tractor so the windrow goes straight into the baler. Attach a hay wagon behind the same baler and put a couple of sturdy kids on it and you’d have a model of efficiency.

In retrospect, I should have stood up to the fellow at the recent farm show in Ontario. He had marched up to the Small Farm Canada booth, stabbed a greasy finger at me, and barked, “What is a small farmer anyway?”
“By one definition, any farm that grosses up to $100,000,” I said, about to add that there were other definitions. But he had no time for details. “That’s not a farm, that’s a joke. A farm should be making half a million.” And off he stomped toward the big combines.
I get a lot of such comments — both as a small farmer and as editor of this publication. Small farms — as defined by acreage, or income, or, amazingly, by whether what the farm produces is edible or not (“Daffodils ain’t a crop!”) — seem to be on the etymological endangered list, like the traditional meaning of the words viral, or gay.
What I should have said, and what I’ve said in heated moments in the past, is something like this: “Oh, you mean subsidy farms, because small farmers don’t qualify for government handouts like the large operations.” That’s always good for fireworks. But I was tired and there were a lot of families at the show. Not the right time for a set-to.
Still, it really rankles me that farming is defined by any fiscal definition — no matter how small the threshold. I mean, a family grows their own food, raises livestock, tends a garden and orchard, and that is not considered farming? Yet a guy with an operation grossing a half million dollars, wallowing in a Greece-sized debt, essentially indentured to a multinational inputs company, and who survives on gas station sandwiches is a farmer?
Sorry, I can’t go for that.
I am willing to go along with an elasticized definition of farmer (something like easy-fit jeans) to accommodate both the urban producer furiously cycling from lot to lot, and the agri-business guy slouched in an office all day swapping futures on a zillion bushels, but I can not see money, or size, being the sole determinate of farming.
What really counts is something that can’t be quantified on a spreadsheet: affinity for land and plants and animals. By definition, affinity means a deep natural liking, or sympathy, for someone or something. I think of it as a kind of caring respect.
By this definition, a farmer is someone who, regardless of the size of the operation, respects the land, and cares for the health of the soil; who holds their livestock in regard as creatures that need tending and deserve decent treatment. It doesn’t mean that they ignore the business side of farming, but it does mean money is but one factor in many.
If this definition means that someone with one alpaca and a yard full of dahlias gets to call themselves a farmer, so be it.

Advantages of leasing:

Capital is not tied up in the land. The farm isn’t saddled with hefty mortgage payments, freeing up money to try new ventures, improve fences etc. We pay nothing for most of the leased properties and a modest amount for an 8 acre field that includes a 2 storey 10,000 sq ft barn.

Distributes risk. When dogs or cougars attack our sheep, we have the option of moving a flock right away from the area. Similarly—and even though the leased properties are quite close to each other as the crow flies—the quality of crops varies from property to property. The southeast facing slope of the Lennox field means we can take off the hay before the later maturing fields elsewhere are close to being ready.

Includes more people in farming. Several of our landlords keep an eye on our livestock and are quick to report problems. They feel very much a part of the farm and we always take time to explain to them what we are doing and why. In a community under pressure from developers, it is good to have as many farm-minded allies as possible!

Disadvantages of leasing:

Reluctance to put money into long-term improvements. Without long-term leases, we are reluctant to invest in larger scale projects like drainage. In some cases, where we feel we could lose the land at any time, we literally keep fences up with haywire and twine. Result: more escapes, more hassles.

Problem properties. Although some of our landlords are good about watching the flock, a couple wouldn’t know a dead sheep from a hot tub. Gates get left open, trimmings from the flower garden, sometimes including poisonous plants, get pitched into the paddock. More escapes, more hassles.

We drive a lot! There is less moving of livestock and equipment within the farm and more moving on roads. Higher fuel bills, more chance of an accident.

Don’t get to see the lambs frolicking. Okay, this sounds kind of feeble but. . . a part of why we farm is to enjoy the livestock. With the sheep often at pasture on leased fields we are left watching the neighbour mowing her lawn. Interesting when she hits a submerged tire iron, not bucolic.

Let’s be honest: I’d rather own than lease. But to those people who still say that ownership is a prerequisite for farming, the patchwork leasing model proves there is another option.

It was into week two of Stéphane’s tenure with us last spring when I had two tractor-seat kind of revelations. The first was that Stéphane, a young Frenchman working for us, like so many volunteer farm helpers are these days, for room and board, had solved one of my long-held dilemmas: how to run a financially viable small farm and a well-functioning one too? The answer? Unpaid farm labour!
Until Stéphane appeared at our door, we had variously had a viable but poorly run farm (chronically understaffed, machinery not maintained etc) or a well-maintained but less-than-viable farm. With unpaid labour we could have viability and quality. Money in the bank and fences fixed! I’ll never forget the feeling that day: so that’s what is missing.
We had such a good time with Stéphane that we promptly signed up with an agency to get more volunteer farm workers this year; we are currently hosting a young German woman and a young Italian man, both of whom are superbly helpful and fun to have around, and when these two leave a couple of Austrians arrive. If I have my way the farm will always be hotbunking—departing farm workers will be replaced with new workers so swiftly the beds won’t have time to cool off. I can not imagine the farm running well without this kind of help.
At the same time, and even in my elation, I had a sister thought: using volunteer farm labour has about it the whiff of exploitation.
Consider this: they work for no pay, under terms similar to that of regular employees. Their tenure is at the discretion of the host. They are as powerless as a non-unionized worker at a Burger King, only instead of a paycheque they get three meals a day and, too often, a buggy old school bus to sleep in.
If an office supply store tried the same stunt they’d rightly be hauled up for labour code violations.
However, farms are not ordinary businesses and what they have to offer workers is far beyond ordinary experience. A worker coming to a farm is immersed in the life of the farmers—often sharing meals, accommodation, spending time together during and after work. And farmers don’t get an ordinary worker—they get a slice of another life, another culture.
If you don’t think farms have something special to offer a visiting worker, read the letter on p 29 by Maurizio Corradin, a 21 year-old, who has been working on several farms in Canada. Before coming to Canada, Corradin writes, he was a nightclub kind of guy in his native city, Milan, in Italy. But on farms here, he discovered the outdoors, what it is like to be responsible for livestock, and he fell in love with a horse named Valentino. Of animals, he learned, “If you give them love you will receive from them love.”
Wow. No, let’s say that again. Wow!
There are legitmate concerns about how unpaid farm workers are treated, but if we can find a way to ensure that they have a rich and rewarding experience and that farmers get good value for the cost and effort of hosting these workers, we’ll have a wonderful arrangement.
Well-maintained fences and well-loved horses—it’s too good to be true!