By Cheryl Dorschner Article published February 9, 2005
In 1838, when 1.6 million sheep outnumbered the 292,000 Vermonters five-to-one, the Green Mountain State wore a lighter and more expansive shade of green than it bears today; at peak, 80 percent of the state was grassy pastureland.
In 2005, the number of sheep will fluctuate between 16,000 and 20,000, and the pasture/forest mix has flip-flopped. Eighty percent of Vermont is now thickly covered with the dark fringe of conifers laced with a seasonal kaleidoscope of soft- and hard-wood tree foliage, a shift mirrored throughout the Northeast.
Now Vermont’s landscape is changing once again — imperceptibly to most travelers of the predominantly north-south ribbons of roads threading through the state. But Vern Grubinger sees it. Chet Parsons sees it. Carol Delaney notices, as does Gwyneth Harris. All are University of Vermont Extension specialists who work directly with Vermont farmers. All but Parsons head projects out of UVM’s Center for Sustainable Agriculture, which was honored Feb. 3 in Montpelier for receiving a 2005 New England Board of Higher Education Excellence award.
Grass pastures — and the sheep and goats that thrive on them — are making a comeback here. Even some dairy cattle farmers are rethinking grazing as they respond to market opportunities and adopt different techniques. And university experts are there at every step, with site visits, farmer-to-farmer pasture walks, workshops, research results and publications. The result is sometimes high value-added products, lower-cost farming and an economy of scale. The side benefit is that open land that benefits not only farming, but key economic sectors like tourism.
“To the general population Vermont may not look different, but it is different,” says Grubinger, the center’s director.
While cattle dairy farms are decreasing in number and increasing in size as they consolidate operations, the overall number of farms is actually steady as farmers switch to other animals and products. And although many large-scale dairy farms’ cows rarely stroll farther than that amble between the stall and the milking parlor, grazing and pastures are still as much a Vermont duo as are Ben and Jerry.
“Rocky, hilly land, short on growing season are three characteristics that originally led farmers to let pasture land revert to forest,” says Grubinger, “but now we see Vermont as suitable for pasture because of its good climate, distribution of rainfall and temperatures and a lot of land unsuitable for tilling.”
The renewed importance of grassland to the region is attributable to many factors: growing popularity of farmstead cheeses, which has led to the increasing popularity of seasonally pasture-fed sheep and goats; more demand and higher prices for organic and grass-finished meat products; and lifestyle and value changes among consumers.
A gathering of grazers
The state’s farmers, naturally, are paying close attention to the trend and techniques. On Jan. 22, a bitterly cold day, nearly 350 farmers traveled to Randolph for the ninth annual Vermont Grazing Conference. The attraction was Rhodesian biologist and grazing guru Allan Savory. Savory has shown success in restoring ecosystems worldwide with intensive pasture management techniques, which are also called rotational grazing.
“The whole thing of the grass pasturing is to graze intensively,” explains Grubinger. “That means moving animals from one section of pasture to another, in some cases up to several times a day. More technology has made that possible — portable fences and field irrigation, for example.”
Teddy Yandow of St. Albans testified to the benefits of the approach at the conference. Twenty years ago his 184-acre farm was $780,000 in debt, he says. He credits UVM Plant and Soil Science Professor Emeritus Bill Murphy with turning his farm, his thinking and his quality of life around by telling him about rotational grazing. “I thought, I’m going to go bankrupt anyway, so I’m going to change completely. I have nothing to lose,” Yandow told the crowd gathered at the Technical College. Yandow’s farm is now a model for others, running a 100 percent grass-based dairy year round.
“Bill Murphy was a pioneer,” says Grubinger. “He became a national leader in grassland management, and UVM picked it up with SARE (Sustainable Agriculture Research and Education) and the Center for Sustainable Agriculture. Today the center, the Plant and Soil Science Department, UVM Extension, United States Department of Agriculture Natural Resources Conservation Service and the Vermont Grass Farmers Association all work in partnership to research and promote grass farming.”
Rise of the ruminants
Ironically, while it was the woolen mills lining Vermont rivers that completed the loop from pasture to product more than a century ago, most recently, wool prices have dropped so low that “people are starting to show interest in sheep that you don’t have to shear, such as Kathadin and Dorper,” says Chet Parsons, who is a UVM Extension livestock specialist in sheep. “Meat and dairy are strong, though, and Vermont’s marketing co-ops are thriving. As they become more successful, we’re going to need more good sheep.”
Carol Delaney echoes the sentiment. “There’s more demand than supply for market lamb,” says the small ruminant dairy specialist who is seeing an increase in sheep farming across the state. “Vermont farmstead cheese in demand, the start-up cost to farmers is lower for sheep than cows and sheep are more family friendly. I’ve even got dairy (cow) people who want to switch.”
Gwyneth Harris has helped many farmers make the changeover. Moving from cattle to small ruminants is much different from a start-up, says Harris, who has been UVM’s Center for Sustainable Agriculture’s pasture network coordinator for four years.
“It’s an audience that needs a lot of advanced technical knowledge. These people are experienced dairy farmers converting to organic,” she says. “Organic has become a huge market and grazing is a big part of it.”
Grubinger agrees, and he sees the results written on the landscape as he travels through the state.
“Grass farming has become an ecological choice that returns Vermont to its roots, so to speak,” he says.
