California Milk’s New Superlative : Dairies: The state, with its bigger, more productive herds, may supplant Wisconsin as the Dairy State. But urban encroachment could be an obstacle.
When Machado Farms & Dairy opened its barn doors for business in 1969, Fred Machado had 50 black-and-white Holsteins and milked them all himself. Every day. Twice. Today, the Fresno dairyman runs a herd of 1,000, has graduated to management and lets hired hands do the dirty work.
“It’s all a matter of economics,” Machado says. “Thirty years ago, you could milk 20 cows and make a good living. That’s not the case today. You could farm 20 to 30 acres then. You can’t do that today. You’ve got to get bigger in size and be efficient. And that’s how we stay in business.”
That’s also how California has managed to increase its milk production by 80% in the past 15 years, becoming a national dairy giant at a time during which its top competition--Wisconsin--grew by only 30%. California’s herds are bigger and its cows are more productive than those of other dairy states. And population increases have caused demand for milk and cheese to keep pace with the industry’s growth.
In short, Wisconsin had better make plans to change its license-plate motto--the one that boasts of being “America’s Dairyland.” Because right around the turn of the century, agricultural economists say, California will take over the top spot.
“By the year 2005 to 2007, California is going to pass Wisconsin in total milk production,” says Jim Grueble, chief executive for the Dairyman’s Cooperative Creamery Assn. in Tulare. “Wisconsin is going to increase some, but not dramatically.”
But there’s still a long way to go--and large obstacles to overcome--before the Golden State becomes the Dairy State. The population growth that has fueled the dairy industry’s expansion also threatens its existence as cities spread into dairy enclaves.
In 1989, California cows produced 19.287 billion pounds of milk, while Wisconsin’s herds gave a whopping 24.572 billion pounds. But the difficulties that have plagued the Midwest have barely touched California’s dairy herds; in 1989, milk production in Wisconsin dropped, while California completed a 12th consecutive year of growth.
The 1988 drought had left the Midwest with poor-quality forage and feed that lowered milk production in 1989. As a result, production dropped nationally for the first time in two years, and consumers saw milk prices rise 11%--from $1.23 for half a gallon of fresh whole milk in January to $1.37 in December.
For Wisconsin, 1989 was trouble from start to finish. The state’s milk production dropped 2% in December, capping a year in which milk output fell 3%, a decrease that agricultural economists call significant. In contrast, California’s December production rose 6% and showed the strongest monthly increase of all milk-producing states, according to a recent Agriculture Department report.
“Climate is the primary reason for California’s growth,” says Dan Hollingsworth, who ran dairy farms for 15 years in San Jacinto. “The other is the market for the milk. Population has increased a bunch. . . . Milk follows people.”
California dairies don’t have the difficulty of their competition in having to shelter their herds over winter. As a result, it’s easier to run a large and efficient operation, and it’s easier to expand. Feed also is of better quality--particularly in recent months. In California, dairymen generally buy rather than raise most of their feed. As a result, they are not as hard hit by droughts. In addition, the weather conspires to make Western-grown hay and forage more nutritious.
As a result, California’s 2,300 commercial dairies have average herds of 500 or more, says James Tillison, executive director of the Wisconsin Cheese Makers Assn. and the U.S. Cheese Makers Assn., while Wisconsin’s 34,000 dairy farms have an average herd size of about 50. Because of feed differences, Wisconsin’s average production is about 14,000 pounds of milk per cow per year, while in California, cows produce about 18,000 pounds.
But California does present some problems for its dairy business, chiefly urban encroachment. And that’s just what Wisconsin dairymen retort when asked about their state’s slipping prestige in dairy circles.
When Tillison considers California, he thinks of the competition between cities and agriculture for land and water. Californians, he says, “are already on their second or third farm in many multigenerational operations.
“They’ve had to sell their first farm for land for housing and move to their next operation,” he explained, “and then turn around and do the same thing again.”
While increased population brings greater demand for milk and milk products, subsequent development has chased dairies farther and farther from their major California markets--the Los Angeles Basin and the San Francisco Bay Area.
One reason is that while many people like to drink milk, few want to live near the sights, sounds and smells of the dairy that produces it. In addition, as development creeps closer to agricultural land, property values increase so much that it pays more to sell and move on than it does to stay and farm prime real estate.
The Artesia-Norwalk-Cerritos area, for example, was called Dairy Valley when it was one of Southern California’s first dairy enclaves.
Grace and George Hoekstra opened their first dairy there in 1949. The Hoekstras subsequently moved to Torrance, then on to Corona. In 1964, sons Edward and Louie bought their parents’ 200-cow operation. After 10 years at two sites in Corona, the small town had expanded, forcing the brothers to move to Mira Loma, not far from the dairy concentration of Chino. Today, they milk 3,000 cows at two different sites, but development is winning even there, Edward Hoekstra says.
“The encroachment of industrial parks, condominiums, housing is not really pushing us,” Hoekstra says, “but the money’s pushing us. The price of the property’s pushing us. We’re going to be faced with that decision. As of right now we haven’t decided, but we’ve talked to a lot of developers.”
Hoekstra’s neighbors have decided. One adjoining dairy has already left for Bakersfield, another is preparing to move to the high desert area of Barstow and Victorville.
“In Chino, you go from single-family houses and apartments and condominiums and cross the street and you’re in a dairy farm,” says Thomas Gossard, an agricultural economist with the State Department of Food and Agriculture.
When Gossard looks at Chino, he sees drastic change just waiting to happen. Soon development and dairying will be incompatible, and the dairies will be pushed north to Kern County.
“That way they’ll still be able to supply milk into Los Angeles,” he says. “Dairies have already moved three times in Southern California. This could be the fourth time.”
MILK PRICES
Average price for a half gallon of whole milk in 1989.
Dec., ‘89: $1.37
COWS IN CALIFORNIA
In 1987, dairy farming was beginning to feel the effects of the federal Dairy Termination Program, an effort to lower the milk surplus by paying dairy farmers to get out of the business. The state’s herds have since recouped.
Source: California Department of Food and Agriculture
