Dairy Farming: The Origin Story

My humble reader, June Dairy Month is nearing its end as quickly as it began. With only two weekends left to shotgun pancakes, dairy-load on cheese and chocolate milk, and not leave enough room for the applesauce, we reflect on the strong presence of the dairy industry in our local economy, recognize the cultural impact on our communities. As much as Clark and Marathon County flaunt their dairy dominance in America’s Dairyland, history tells us more; that dairy farming today owes a debt of gratitude to the past. Yes, this will be a history tale of how our dairy neighborhood came to be.

Initially the area was a thick land of timber, dominated by massive white pine trees. It was a go-between area for European trappers and priests interacting with the Ojibwe (later misinterpreted as the Chippewa). Years later the white pines were found to be more than just trees but the most valuable lumber, ever. Soon towns exploded along train tracks and spurs following the pineries, all the way to Lake Superior. Once all the trees were cut down, men and their families had little options other than to clear the landscape of stumps and cultivate a new enterprise. By 1840, Wisconsin became a dominate player in the nation’s wheat industry, and even leading the country in wheat production.

Wheat farming was never sustainable, however. Without rotations or understanding of land stewardship, wheat production faltered after a few decades. William Daniells, the professor of agriculture at the University of Wisconsin lamented in 1878 that Wisconsin wheat farming was “mere land-skimming. It was always taking out of the purse and never putting in…poor farming was the only profitable farming.” The current farming practices exhausted the soil. A depleted landscape brought marginal harvests and disappearing farms. Simply, our earliest Wisconsin farmers focused too much on the short term and lost sight of their farm’s future. With marginal ground and few natural resources remaining, it left communities clinging to existence, wondering what was to come next. The Civil War also left a slight void of able body men, as well as no viable industry to gain from the land. Lucky for them the train brought in the next big break; New York businessman and German/ Polish/Swedish immigrants (with American citizenship). It was the perfect scenario; land was cheap, farmsteads were move-in ready, tillable acres were empty, no major city development in sight, and the climate was like the western and central European homeland of the immigrants coming in. Word got out quickly that north central Wisconsin was open for business and that business was dairy.

It was a match made in heaven. Forage was easily had with cool season grasses and perennial clovers for hay and grazing. The heavy ground and northern-central climate made it ideal for growing oats, barley for feed and straw. Early dairy farmers brought in prior experience managing farms, and breeds of cows like Holsteins (from the Netherlands, producing about six lbs of milk/ day at the time). Together with access to a continuous supply of a nutrient-dense source of fertilizer from manure and a diverse rotation of cool-season perennials and annuals, dairy farms grew in quick order. By 1890, according to the Census Bureau, there were 141,899 farms in the state of Wisconsin, and 17% were dairy farms with over 90% reporting having dairy cattle.

Having immediate success in milk production and being at a geographic location far from nearby amenities to keep milk from spoiling, butter and cheese immediately became the primary end product for Clark and Marathon county. With the introduction of the refrigerated train car in 1871, more distant markets opened. Stories of legendary cheese traveled faster than the trains, and following the tracks back came more and more cheese artisans opening cheese houses and cheese factories. In 1882 a cheese artisan opened his doors to a new cheese factory to the area, and by 1885 rocked the industry with the introduction of an American cheese that helped propel our state into cheese dominance in 1910, which it has held ever since, as the largest cheese producer in the nation. The man, of course, was Joseph Steinwand, and the cheese was Colby.

History brings the convenience of the story without the physical hardship. The story of dairy farming is calloused hands that were passed on and on. The hands started feeling rough after the Civil War, got bruised and sore from the timber rush, then blistered and leather tough from plowing ground and tossing straw but then gained strength from cutting hay and milking cows. The callouses remain though, as a reminder that our area’s work is never done and will be ready for whatever is next.

THE SOIL

SOUNDOFF

BY

MATT OEHMICHEN AGRONOMIST