More than two dozen dairy farmers lived on Juddville Road between Meridian Road and M-13 when Dave Long was growing up in the Ovid-Elsie area. That included his folks, Gaylord and Shirley, who were milking about 65 cows 60 years ago.

Through the years, herds were dispersed until all that remained was the Long farm. That was until Aug. 17, when the last cows on that 25-mile stretch were loaded up and sent to auction.

Dave, a fourth-generation farmer, calls it a sad day. And with seven of his eight young grandchildren there, he worked hard at keeping tears at bay. But in some way, the day also brought relief.

“We went from $26 (cwt) milk to $13, and the last three years it’s been tough to make ends meet,” says Dave, who started farming full time with his dad after graduating high school in 1970. “I miss the cows, but I don’t miss the work. And I don’t miss the stress. I’m enjoying life now.”

His wife of 47 years, Sally, says you could see the relief on his face. “It was time; it was the only decision,” she says.

It was raining that day on Aug. 17. And as the two trailer loads with 40 cows left at 6:01 p.m., a rainbow appeared. “I thought, ‘We’re going to be OK,’ ” Sally recalls.

Dave started milking cows when he was 12 years old. A year before he graduated, his dad added a parlor and was milking 80 cows. His brother, Dennis, joined the operation in 1971, and within a few years they were milking 120 cows, one of the larger herds in Shiawassee County at that time.

Dave and Sally bought a 124-acre farm across the road in 1977, adding to the 500 acres Gaylord farmed. Dennis got out of the operation in 1992, and Gaylord retired in 1993.

Dave’s decision to exit the dairy business came after layers of challenges and setbacks, coupled with low market prices. It wasn’t the first time he’d sold the cows, but for different reasons.

In 2000 he got out of dairy. “I was by myself, with some help from my son Mike, but I just got burnt out,” he says. He went to work for other people, a concept foreign to Dave. “I even went to work milking cows for another guy,” he recalls. “I thought, ‘Heck, if I’m going to milk cows, I’m going to milk my own.’ ”

He got back in the dairy business in 2002, but not before he remodeled the barn to feed inside and milk 60 cows.

Unlike the first time, market prices were now a key factor. Other factors were the age of not only the equipment, but also Dave and Sally, who at 65 had no next generation waiting to take over. They have four children: Mike is a herdsman for Michigan State University’s beef farm; Brad and Travis are both teachers; and Heidi is a scheduler for a hospital.

Dave would get some high school help at night, and his boys would help in times of need. Mike takes time off from work to help with planting and harvest, and Brad also helps.

“But I never encouraged the kids to stay on the farm,” Dave says. “If they ever wanted to come back to the farm, it would be here. But I didn’t want them to go through what we have in trying to make ends meet. We haven’t had a vacation in more than 15 years. And they’ve got families that need their attention.”

Breaking point
While the anxiety of low market prices had been wearing on the family, Dave says it was at Christmastime in 2016 when the front-end assist on a loader tractor went out, a tractor engine blew up and a septic system failed that added to the stress. “But the clincher was the day before New Year’s. I walked out to the parlor, and there was 4 feet of water in the pit. A water pipe had burst,” he says. “I thought, ‘That’s it.’ ”

But he held on, even though a slew of herd health problems hit around that time and vet bills were adding up. Sally says a lot of their conversations were stressed. “It was getting so when he walked in from morning chores, I could tell by the look on his face. I didn’t even ask about it; I went for a lot of walks.”

In April 2017, he had a particularly bad day. Sally, who works a few hours each school day as a recess and cafeteria aid, says, “I come home from school, and he’s here in the house. He had the worst day, and he looked at me and said, ‘I want to sell the cows.’ ”

Sally knew he was serious this time. “I just wanted him to wait until harvest to sell them,” she says.

In May, Dave contacted auctioneer Paul Warner at United Producers Inc., who conducts a sale in Marion every third Friday of the month. “I could see, because of dairy prices, that a lot of farmers were selling cows,” Dave says. “Once I made the decision to sell, Paul advised the sooner the better.”

When Dave got back into dairy in 2002, he decided he wasn’t going to raise any replacements. “I could buy older cows cheaper, so that’s what I did,” he says. “So, by sale time, I was stuck with a bunch of old cows. If I would have sold two years earlier, I could have done better at auction. But we did well.”

Warner says the market has continued to decline and jokingly says he’s become somewhat of a dairy psychologist. “Farmers call me, and they want advice,” he says. “They’re watching their equity going backwards, and making the decision to exit the business is tough. It’s their whole lives, or so they think. But once they’ve made the decision to get out, for some, it’s a relief. They realize that things will work out and maybe for the better. There is life after cows.”

From one farmer to another
Dave’s advice to other dairy farmers struggling is not to wait too long to make the decision to get out. “It’s not going to get any better, and it doesn’t really matter what size you are,” he says. “If you’re struggling, it’s not going to get any better.”

While he may no longer be a dairyman, Dave is still farming row crops and forages.

“About a week after the cows were gone, Dave comes in the house and says, ‘I guess we’re going to be pig farmers now,’ ” Sally recalls.

Dave had gotten “a deal” on five pigs, which they fed out and butchered in early January. “I think every fall we’ll get a small litter of hogs to raise,” Dave says.
Also, about five years ago, he started raising beef heifers and now has an assortment of 20 brood cows who will calve in June. There’s also a few steers.

The farm still has cattle, but gone are the twice-a-day milkings and the dreaded 3 a.m. snow plowing.

Dave and Sally say they find great joy in their grandkids, who are ages 5 to 13. They are involved in an array of school and sporting activities. Dave says he’s “done missing out.”

Recently, two of the grandkids were in a basketball tournament. The team had been struggling all year. “They had lost on Saturday, so we thought we’ll go to this Sunday morning 9 a.m. game, and we’ll be back home by 11 a.m.,” Sally says. “Turns out they won four games that day, and the best part was we weren’t watching the clock to be home by 3 p.m. for chores. We didn’t have to leave and hurry home, and that was pretty nice.”

Despite some struggles, Dave says there’s nothing better than being your own boss and working outside in the elements. “It takes a lot of patience, determination and support,” he adds. “I was fortunate that I had that with my dad. He was a great teacher and so was my grandfather.”

His plan is to keep farming and someday turn it over to the boys. “When I’m ready to call it quits, they can do whatever they want then.”

Sally says, “Bringing up a family like we did, it’s a good life, and I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Growing up on farm is pretty awesome. I wanted our grandkids to know what it was like to grow up on a dairy farm. … I think they will remember. If not, we have the pictures of them getting their fingers suckled by the calves.”