Editor’s note:  Animal activists and their proponents in Iowa often identify Nebraska as a state where livestock farming is flourishing despite intensified regulation.  CSIF Executive Director Aaron Putze traveled to southeast Nebraska earlier this year to visit with those who know – farmers and those who work with them.  What he found differs greatly from what activists are saying.  

First in a three-part series.

A stiff wind greeted Doug Baade as he stepped out the door of the Farmer’s Cooperative Elevator in Plymouth, Neb. on a warm, spring day.  The businesses bustled with activity as farmers delivered grain and placed orders for feed.  Foot traffic was brisk and one employee even fired up the grill at noon to serve some burgers to hungry workers and patrons.

While business is good (even the hamburgers sold out in less than 45 minutes), Doug and elevator’s 35 employees aren’t taking the future for granted.  They read the papers and shake their heads when animal rights groups protest in Iowa.  They visit with farmers from other states and drop their shoulders when they hear that another livestock farmer has quit the business.  And they watch the TV and grimace at what animal rights activists and increasingly complex regulations can do to farmers involved in raising livestock.

“If we can’t raise livestock here, you can’t raise it anywhere,” Doug said while traveling one of the many gravel roads that crisscross Jefferson County.  “We see a dark cloud on the horizon and that’s not a good thing.  If livestock leaves, we’re all in trouble.”

The history of livestock farming in southeast Nebraska is rich with tradition, just like in neighboring Iowa.  For generations, hogs, cattle and chicken have helped families prosper, sent children to college, paid mortgages and put food on the table.  It has sustained numerous towns in the area – towns with names like Fairbury, Wilber and Beatrice – created jobs and provided a critical market for corn and soybeans grown by area farmers.

In fact, the strong livestock industry was the reason Doug and his family relocated to Nebraska three years ago.  Doug, a native of north central Iowa, farmed near West Bend (Palo Alto County) before taking a job with Farmland in Des Moines in 1992.  He then sought a career in the feed business.  There were three interview opportunities in three states.  He chose Plymouth first.  It was the only interview he conducted. 

“I fell in love with the place,” he said and began his career as swine feed specialist at Farmer’s Cooperative in Plymouth (pop. 457) in 2002.

That was also the year that Plymouth merged with Dorchester Cooperative, a 35-branch business that includes tire centers, agronomy divisions, convenience stores, fuel stations, mechanical service and four feed mills that grind more than 100,000 tons per year.

In Plymouth, Doug serves 800 diverse customers comprised of swine, dairy, poultry and beef farmers.  He works closely with Kevin Whittler, a 15-year veteran of the cooperative. 

The land is as diverse as the customers Doug serves.  Some have 100 sows, others own more than 6,000.  Size, however, doesn’t matter.  His responsibility is to spend time with each customer, make recommendations on feeding programs and sell feed.  He also does some record keeping and budgeting.

“Farming has evolved and you can’t be all things to all people,” he said as we took a ride through the countryside.  “There’s a lot of trust in this business and that’s what I like.  I enjoy working with farmers, sitting down at the kitchen table and helping guys do what they do better. 

“If they don’t make money, I don’t exist, it’s that simple,” he added while waving at a passing motorist.  “If they quit the hog business, they don’t need me.”

As we bounced along the gravel roads, Doug pointed to one farm, then another.  He could give you the names of the people who managed each farm as quickly as recommending the proper feed ration for 35-pound feeder pigs.  He could also tell you how long the owners had been farming, what they farmed and where their children went to school.

The countryside was strikingly familiar to Iowa… in places.  Gently rolling corn and soybean fields stretched for miles, the pattern broken occasionally by a farmstead featuring a brick, ranch-style home and neatly-kept buildings.  Irrigation rigs (or “pivots,” as the locals call them) dotted the landscape.  Livestock was numerous and the county blacktops and gravel roads were well traveled.

In other places, the landscape turned hilly and was sparsely populated.  Some dairy and cow-calf farms were present – and that was about it.  A variety of crops were grown in the area including wheat, milo, corn, soybeans, alfalfa and sunflowers.

“Farmers out here want to be profitable of course, but they want to do things right,” Doug said.  “You’ll meet some of the nicest people out here that you’ll ever want to know.  Unfortunately, it’s getting tougher and tougher for the younger guys.

Kirk Holtmeier, a 31-year-old hog and crop farmer and customer of Plymouth Cooperative, is one of the “young guys.”  He wants to grow his farm but has been dealt a blow by state regulators.