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Baker Dairy Farm

Iowa, 35 mm Film 1997 (Published in American Technology)

By Fritz Nordengren

It’s 5:05 am

It's 5:05 am and Kent Baker, 37, is awake at his desk in his family home. He's watching a computer screen, catching up on the latest news and information beamed to his farm each day via satellite.

"The Chicago Board of Trade has a session at night." Baker says, "the market's down because they got some rain in Brazil."

Baker is a dairy farmer on a farm just outside of Winfield, Iowa. His farm, Kent Baker Dairy, Inc., is about 25 miles from the Mississippi river in southeast Iowa. He keeps a close eye on the markets. as many farmers do, because in addition to his dairy herd. he also grows corn and soybeans.

Baker's day starts early by choice. As a dairy farmer. he needs to milk his herd twice each day. By starting early, he can finish his second milking of the day early enough to have time to enjoy the night. Time to go into town with his wife, and daughter, see an Iowa Hawkeye basketball game, or go bowling on his Wednesday league night.

Baker's herd numbers 30 head, and he keeps that census of 30 - 35 head all the time. He milks Holstein cows and he settled on that breed because of the productivity and the quality of milk it produces.

"Americans want a lower fat, higher protein count," Baker says of his customers. He reviews a computer printout from his co-op dairy on the wall. " Right now I' m averaging a 3.6 protein and a 3.2 fat content," he says proudly.

Baker is the third generation to have dairy cattle on this farm. His grandfather started milking in 1919. His father, Eugene Baker, milked the operation until seven years ago when the younger Baker took it over. Other than one year away from home after high school to attend classes at a community college. Baker has always lived on the farm. The younger Baker and the older Baker share the same thoughts about handing down a farm from generation to generation.

"About the only way to get started is to have it in the family," Eugene Baker says. Both agree that it is almost too expensive for someone to decide to go into farming today without that help.

"It costs about $2500 - $3000 per head for equipment and buildings to get started," Baker estimates. He points to the quoted prices for dairy cows at market. The range includes some attractive low-priced cows.

"I've been to auctions where there were cows on the block that had no business being in a dairy auction; they should have been sold to a processing plant." Baker continues, "I wouldn't sell anything (at auction) that I wouldn't buy myself."

Baker turns on the lights in the farmyard and around the milking parlor. As he does, most of his herd begins to walk toward the entrance.

"Most of them get up as soon as they see the lights," Baker explains.

He opens the gate and walks around to the stalls, making sure all the herd is up and moving.

The milking parlor is a building about 15 feet by 32 feet. Inside, four milking stalls are on a two-foot high concrete platform, about eight feet deep. running the length of the parlor. Each milking stall has powered gates which control traffic flow of the cows into the correct stall. At each stall, the automatic milking nozzles are connected to a vacuum pump mechanism and on each station is an electric eye which monitors the flow of milk. Inside the milking parlor, Baker begins his twice daily ritual. The cold weather lately has kept the ground frozen and, as a result, the animals cleaner. Just the same, Baker follows some stringent methods to keep his milk clean. Baker drains the milking system of any residual cleaning solution which has been in the system. Then, he connects the main milk collection pipe into the milk tank.

At each milking stall, Baker positions the teat cups and then, with the push of a button, he opens a gate in the holding area and the first four cows walk up the ramp and into the proper stalls. As each arrives, Baker closes a gate behind them which brings the animal parallel to the edge of the concrete platform.

A dairy farmer is in a particularly vulnerable position while attaching the milking pumps if a cow decides to kick or resist. Baker has adopted a humane, but effective restraint which he ties on each cow's right rear leg to prevent injury.

"I tie the new ones to break them in, " Baker explains. Then, Baker sprays each teat on the cow with a disinfectant. In muddier weather, Baker might have to wash the teat and udder to get it free of mud or manure.

Then, to each teat. Baker applies a teat cup milking nozzle which are powered by a gentle vacuum action. The inflations, the rubber part of the teat cup, pull on the teat and the milk begins to flow. It runs through the hose, past the electric eye and through the collection tube into the holding tank.

A cow 's body temperature is about 100 degrees and the milk holding tank cools the milk temperature to 35 degrees to help preserve it until it is collected by the co-op dairy truck. As each animal finishes, the milking nozzles automatically release and retract. Baker then again sprays the animal's teats with the disinfectant and, in some cases during colder weather, applies a frost guard cream the help prevent the udder and teat form freezing.

Baker then opens the gate at the animal's head and it then walks past the other stalls and out another gate, down the ramp, and into a fann yard. Baker then opens the entrance gate and another cow walks up the ramp to start the process again.

The herd is generally cooperative. To keep them close to the gate for efficiency, and to prevent a cow from wandering out of the holding area, a moving electronic "gate" follows the herd toward the entrance ramp. Baker can control this "gate" from the milking parlor which essentially makes his milking chore a one person operation.

The average cow in Baker's herd produces about 9 gallons or 72 pounds of milk a day (34 liters or 32 kilograms). His holding tank holds approximately 550 gallons (2085 liters), so two days of milking require the holding tank be emptied.

That task falls onto Dean Walker, the delivery driver for the Swiss Valley co-op of which Baker is a member.

''I've been hauling their milk for 20 years. There was only one day I couldn't get here," Walker boasts. "Every day, seven days a week, but I've only got it half as bad as the farmers," he says, comparing his once a day trips with twice a day milking.

Walker, and most of Baker's friends call him by his nickname, "Bake." "Sometimes Bake will take his blade and clear the road out to meet me."

Baker explains that if, due to weather or some other reason the co- op can't get to his farm to pick up his milk, they will pay him 80% of the market price if he has to dump it out.

Even with that guarantee, Walker and Baker do all they can to keep his milk going to the co-op. The milk from the Baker farm goes to a processing plant where it is made into bleu cheese. Baker says that if his farm was farther north, it would probably all be bottled for drinking. Baker finishes the milking, and as the last cow walks down the ramp out of the parlor, Baker sets the milling nozzles in hot water to clear the line and then start the clean up process. Because animals may urinate or defecate while in the parlor, there are special grates and drains at each stall and a gutter behind. This helps speed the clean up process as well as keeps the area generally sanitary for milk collection.

"A lot of guys feed in the milking parlor," Baker says of some of his col-leagues. "Feeding in the parlor slows up the process. It's quite a bit of a mess." Baker's milking time is about an hour and usually he has about another hour and a half of chores to do as well. The chores this morning include feeding the young calves on the farm, cleaning the animal stalls of manure and hauling and spreading the manure over part of his corn field.

Besides dairy, Baker's total farm ing operation includes 350 acres of corn, 350 acres of soybeans, 12 acres of summer pasture and 20 acres of hay. Baker owns some of the land, and rents or share farms the balance. Baker likes a 50% share deal best because it helps him spread his risk if a crop does poorly. In a straight rent, a farmer pays the full rent no matter how the crop performs. Often that rental price is due before the crop is planted, so the farmer may not see any return on his money for a year.

In the 50% arrangement, the landlord and the farmer each split the costs of seed 1 and chemicals and share equally in the return. calf had climbed behind some hay bales and got stuck. After laying in one position too long, the calf is hav-ing a difficult time moving and walk-ing. "It was dark when I fed yesterday, so I didn't see her," Baker explains with concern. "I counted last night and there were only three, so I got back there to look for her."

Baker bends down holds a water bucket in front of the cow to take a drink. This calf, and the others in this pen, are older, eating grain and not nursing from a bottle. Baker also piles some feed within easy reach of the calf. "I don't think she broke anything," Baker says.

Baker goes to his barn, opens a side passage door, then slides the large equipment door open. The building is filled with several large round bales of hay, and three John Deere tractors and other vehicles in different sizes and ages. Baker keeps these vehicles in running condition during cold weather by plugging in an electric engine block heater to make starting in cold temperatures easier.

After unplugging the block heater, he starts the 1955 Deere and drives to the animal yard. This tractor has a scraping blade mounted to the back and after opening and closing the gate behind him, he moves the animals away from the end he wants to clean. Baker then drops the blade and pulls the manure, sand and mud behind him. clearing the stalls and walk paths. In cold weather. like today. the smell is not strong. Summertime heat would make this chore much less pleasant. Baker currently has a few calves on the farm, and. even though sur-rounded by milk cows, he nurses the smallest of them by hand, with a bottle and some dry milk substitute mixed with water to get them stronger and on their way. On occasion, he'll hold a male calf back and raise it for meat to feed his fantily. Otherwise, he sells the males to the local county-run residence for mentally and physi-cally impaired. "The residents help care for and raise the animal. then they butcher it for food." Baker said.

As Baker cleans the manure, he slowly works it to a far corner of the yard where he piles it. Then, every, few days. he loads the manure to a manure spreader and spreads it over the fields. As he feeds the calves, his atten-tion is focused on one calf kneeling in the pen. Yesterday. Baker found this Baker feeds his animals a mixture of foods. They eat alfalfa hay. silage. and a ground feed mix of roasted soy-beans, com and protein supplements.

Silage, which is the entire corn plant, cob, and corn chopped up, is stored in a tightly compressed mound on the ground. It ferments, but doesn't spoil, in part due to the lack of oxygen getting to it and in part to its quick use. It is, however. organic and the fermentation process creates some heat. As Baker dumps the silage into the trough, steam rises and the cows slowly make their way to breakfast.

The hay is stored in square and round bales. Round bales are easier to make and require less manpower, but the square bales can be handled by hand. Baker makes use of his tractor with a loader to move the round bales around the yard.

The amount of ground feed eaten by the herd is monitored and controlled electronically. The herd eats about 45 pounds of silage each day. They eat another 12 pounds of alfalfa hay. The ground feed is controlled on a per animal basis.

Each cow in Baker's herd has a necklace with a unique number. This number is read by a sensor on the bot- lorn of the ground feed trough. Each animal's amount of feed intake is monitored and this way, Baker can adjust his cow's protein intake based on the protein quantity in his milk. Currently, this feed dispensing is set up to allow the cows up to eight feedings a day. After they have had !heir quota, the dispenser will not release any more food for that cow. With the cows fed and morning chores complete. Baker heads inside the farmhouse for breakfast.

Family meals are shared around the large table in the Bakers' kitchen. Baker's wife, Teresa. and daughter. Lauren, look forward to Baker's arrival from the chores. One of the friendly. The topics include the benefits of farm living is that the family is closer together and sees each other throughout the day. Unlike. office or manufacturing jobs, where Lauren might spend part or all of her day in daycare, on the farm, Baker is able to watch her grow up and likewise, she gets to learn farm life.

With breakfast complete, Baker checks the computer screen for a review of the market prices and then backs his pickup truck out of the garage for the drive to Winfield.

"A farmer goes to town a lot in the winter," Baker says as he pulls onto the gravel road in front of his farm. "That's when he's getting all ready for the year . . . his seed orders and chemicals."

The Baker farm is about a five minute drive from Winfield, an Iowa town of about 1200 - 1300 people. As he passes the John Deere dealer he smiles and points “They get a lot of my money,” referencing to the tractor and and other vehicles in his barn. Baker says that he can' t afford to buy the newest tractors and estimates that his largest tractor is "five to six models I behind", adding that he just keeps trying to repair them as much as he can.

Baker's next stop is the Double Circle Farm Supply elevator. Grain elevators are a popular meeting spot for area farmers. Farmers store grain they intend to sell or can't store on the farm at the elevator. It's also where they buy their seed for the new crop and chemicals for fertilizing and weed and insect control.

On the road to the elevator, Baker passes a pickup truck he recognizes and gives the familiar farm wave. In rural Iowa, when farmers see and recognize each other, they gently raise two fingers from the steering wheel and nod. A subtle gesture, but afriendly one.

Baker walks into the elevator and four or five farmers are standing around, sharing coffee, fresh popcorn, and discussing the day's events. The discussion is quiet, slow paced, and friendly. The topics include the weather and everyone agrees it's nice to have the warmer temperatures of ''These extremes are tough on animals," one of the co-op employees says. Baker places his orders for some cat food for the cats that also live on the Baker dairy, some dog food, and some milk replacement powder for the remaining calves.

He pays his bills and returns to the farm. Once back inside the house, Baker again reads the computer screen. The markets are back up and Baker explains that the news on the satellite network says that the rains in Brazil weren't enough and that ana- lysts are predicting too few soybeans in the market at season's end.

Baker says that a bushel of soybeans will change hands 33 times in its sales life from the farm to the processor. People buy and sell beans all the time, trying to guess when the market will be up or down. Baker's father says buying and selling at the right or wrong time can mean as much as a $30,000 difference to a farmer.

"You can't pick them right all the time, cause if you do, then you shouldn't be farming. You should be a trader handling other people's deals," Baker observes. With that, he walks into the kitchen for lunch.

There is a difference of activity on the farm between the seasons. During the spring planting and fall harvest, as soon as Baker finishes his milking, he is on his tractor, putting the crop in the field or taking it out. Summertime, too, has a long list of chores and projects on the farm.

Winter affords Baker the luxury of a nap in the afternoon. The brief rest makes up for some of the early mornings and long days of farming.

While he sleeps, Dean Walker arrives, collects the last two days of milk production, and takes the Baker milk to the co-op.

As Baker readies for his afternoon milking, he looks again at the Data Transmission Network to see tomorrow's forecast and the markets. The afternoon sun has warmed the air to over 40 degrees, and Baker takes the opportunity to do some more cleaning with the small tractor and blade.

Here to help with afternoon milking is Baker's father. The two talk a little about the weather and then the conversation shifts to discussion about the injured calf. As he listens to the story. the older Baker nods in agreement as Baker tells what he has done.

"I don't know what else to do." Eugene Baker says. With that the young calf shows more strength and tries to stand. Both Bakers smile and, without a word, go on with their chores.

The older Baker sets up the milking parlor and talks about his life on the farm.

"In 1939, we got electricity on the farm." Baker talks about milking by hand. Many times, in the early morning cold, Eugene says he would sit on his milking stool and lean against the side of the cow to keep warm . More than once, he says, he fell asleep. When he did. the sound of the milk in the bucket would stop and his father, Kent's grandfather, yelled at him to wake up.

The older Baker enjoys working the farm, but reflects that he is getting older. "I read obituaries of men younger than me," he says, "and you know you're starting to live on borrowed time." With that insight his eyes twinkle as he turns the subject of the conversation to the antics of his granddaughter Lauren.

The afternoon milking goes as quickly as the morning one. Baker and his father pass the time talking about the farm. They talk about the family. The cows are part of the fam- ily, too. The two Bakers recognize unique situations for many of the cows in the herd. Some are slower to mil.k than others, so Baker adjusts the milking machine from automatic to manual. Others have some frozen teats as a result of the cold, so special attention and care is paid. Sometimes the men connect only three of the four nozzles to the udder.

The milking parlor was built in 1979 and is in good shape. Buker says the milking equipment he uses should last about 10 years.

"This milking stuff is like computers," he says making a joking comparison, "if you buy something, three months later something new comes along and it’s out of date."

Baker's equipment dealers understand the special demands of dairy farming. Baker talks about the time he needed help.

"I couldn't get the vacuum pump to work one morning. The motor was bad in it." Baker said he was able to call the dealer and they brought the parts that morning. "He came and we got it fixed." Baker says the delay in milking was not a major impact on the herd and says such delays don't mat- ter if they are a one time situation.

Otherwise, Baker must milk the herd at a consistent time each day.

Baker tracks his herd by number and also follows the cow's reproduc- tive cycle on a large wheel calendar in the parlor.

"I like to calf in the fall," Baker says, "so the heat doesn't stress them." Baker is able to control the herd 's reproduction with artificial insemination. Baker likes to keep his cows for four years and likes them each to produce four calves. He keeps the cows in the herd unless they have reproduction problems or a lack of production.

As the afternoon sun begins to set the farm is bathed in a warm golden sunset. Baker and his father talk about building a desk and other activities the two have planned for the week.

"Is that the last one?" Eugene asks Kent about a cow walking into the stall.

"Have you had 121 ? What about 109?" Baker asks his father, referring to the cows by the number of their tags. He peers through a window into the holding area and sees two more cows waiting to be milked. "There's two more out there."

The father and son continue working their herd. and as they finish, Baker's father gets in his pickup truck and heads for his home in Winfield. Baker turns and walks inside, where he'll check the computer monitor before spending the evening with his family.