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'The End of Our Farm as a Dairy Farm'

Local Student Gets Attention for Essay Shared on Social Media

Heather Brumbaugh, a 13-year-old eighth-grade student at Spring Cove Middle School, was given an assignment in November of 2019.

Mrs. Amanda Jones, the English and language arts teacher, gave the class a "memoir narrative writing assignment." It was to be of an event that had an impact on their lives. Among other criteria, it was to include dialogue, figurative language, vivid descriptions and sensory details.

Heather submitted "The End of our Farm as a Dairy Farm...Through the eyes of a Farmer's Daughter" and scored a 99 percent. Melissa Brumbaugh, Heather's mom, shared the essay on Facebook.

The essay tells the story of the Brumbaugh family's decision to quit dairy farming after five generations on their farm in Martinsburg. When asked why she chose such a traumatic event to write about, Heather said, "It just popped into my head. I felt it was just the right thing to write about. It was something that was really hard." Although it is still very hard to talk about after more than a year, Heather said that she liked the family who purchased the Holsteins and knew that they would take care of them. She has not yet visited Wisdom, one of her first show cows, but admitted with tears in her eyes that she would like to at some point.

The barn was not completely empty after Dec. 7, 2019, as only the milking cows were sold that day. Along with the young stock, there were still 26 calves to tend to before they were moved to the heifer barn at four months old. Heather, her older sister Faith and her younger brother Thad were in charge of the calves' care until they moved to the heifer barn. But as the calves aged out, there are no more to replace them. They still have five show cows and two calves still bottle feeding.

"The sounds and smells to milking are gone. When I go out to the barn I don't see cows that belong to us. We have more responsibilities, but my dad is around more," Heather said.

To help pay off a few remaining debts, the Brumbaughs sold a house and farm on one of their smaller farms, the house being the home of Heather's great-grandparents. A new house adjacent to the family farm was purchased and remodeled. Melissa said that during the renovation of the house Heather "was the most instrumental in remodeling that house." She could be found there daily helping with demolition, clean up and painting.

"She painted the whole house," said Melissa.

Heather still has lots to do. Along with helping with the family dry cow care business, she is involved in 4-H, plays volleyball, runs the 800m on the track team, and is consistently on the high honor roll at school. She is showing goats with the Lamb Club and dairy beef with the Dairy Club. Heather will be competing in the Dairy Bowl competition at the Junior Holstein Convention in February. She thinks that maybe someday she would like to be a nurse or an ag teacher.

At the age of 13, Heather has already learned that "things you think will be there forever may not be there forever."

The family farm is a bit smaller now (146 acres) but will remain in the family for possible future generations to farm. When asked if an upswing in the market would change their minds to go back to dairying, Melissa responded, "I don't think we'll ever milk cows again. And that is horrible to think about because we really loved what we did." Thad, however, wants to grow up "and be just like dad."

The Brumbaughs feel blessed with the outcome of their decisions. They believe that God was truly watching over them and blessings continue to this day.

The End of our Farm as a Dairy Farm ... Through the eyes of a Farmer's Daughter

Editor's Note: Heather's essay is reproduced here as posted to social media, with an opening note from her mother.

The following is an 8th Grade Narrative Essay completed by my second daughter, Heather Brumbaugh. She received a 99% on this. She was required to include 5 pieces of Figurative Language and 2 quotes. Get out your tissues ...

The changes that occurred during the year 2018 for my family, the Brumbaugh's, would forever change the path we had walked for generations. Curryview Farms, our family farm located just outside of Curryville, PA, was made up of a few smaller farms totaling 210 acres. We owned a herd of over 300 head of dairy cattle consisting of Holsteins and Jerseys. My grandfather bought our farm in 1968, and my family milked cows until 2018. After my parents got married, they moved into the farm house on the main farm. Our family farm was passed down three generations from my pappy Don, to my pap Denny, and finally to my dad, Keith. My family had grown our milking herd to be one of the top herds in Blair County through breeding and careful management of crops and cow health. We sold many animals for their genetics and had developed a name for our animals within the Pennsylvania dairy community. However, lack of milk consumption by consumers lead to low milk prices for many years in a row which caused no profitability in the entire dairy industry. The value of milk as well as dairy cattle prices dropped significantly, and did not come back to a level where we could make money. This caused our family to make the difficult decision to sell our herd of dairy cows. A bottle of water had become more valuable to the public than a gallon of milk. Small farms had started to go up for sale all over the United States and the world. My family's farm was struggling financially. After four years of very low milk prices, my parents and grandparents realized if they continued dairying another year and the prices they were being paid did not get better, they would reach the point of no return. One day in August 2018, we all sat down to discuss our options, and my dad's only words were, "I'm done." The financial and physical stress of the dairy industry had taken its toll on my dad.

My parents began meeting with many financial people as they made plans to exit the industry that had been the main focus of our family for over 50 years. Around Halloween, my mom sat my sister, brother and I down, and explained we were selling our cows. Her words were, "We found a buyer for our cows and they will be leaving in a few weeks." Our Jerseys were going to a wonderful farm in Maryland, and our Holsteins were going to another special farm in Mill Hall, PA. That night my tears were like rain during a thunderstorm. It was the worst feeling in the world. My family's lifestyle had always been centered around dairying and we loved our cows. December 7th was the date set for our cows to leave, and from the time I found out, I dreaded it. The night after my mom had set us down, the sadness crushed me in every way possible. Our employees left for another job on Thanksgiving and for those last few weeks it was just our family milking all our cows together. The sight of the cows in the milking parlor brought joy into my heart and I knew after it was over, I would have emptiness and sadness that would take a long time to erase.

December 7th, 2018, no one in my family was able to sleep well as we prepared to say goodbye to our cows. My siblings and I were excused from school that day; Dr. Baker excused us for a family emergency. My dad and pap always got up at 2:50a.m. every day, but on this day we all got up with my dad to help complete the final milking as a family. As the last few cows were being milked, my grandma and pap came into the milking parlor and we all stood in a circle and said a prayer. We were all crying. A little while later, my friend and her mom came, and had brought a breakfast for my family and everyone who was present to help. I was already feeling so sad and as soon as my friend hugged me, we both began to cry. Early in the morning, at six o'clock, the family who was purchasing our cows arrived. They brought two large semi trucks with livestock trailers, and the loading began. A home-made ramp had been made for the cows to board the trailers, and they backed their trucks into our barnyard to the opening where the cows would be loaded. We brought the cows out in groups to board the trucks. My mom, dad, pap, and a few family members from the family purchasing our cows helped load the cows. The trailers were two stories high and completely made of metal. "STOMP, STOMP, STOMP." The sound of hooves on the floor of the metal trailers left ringing in my ears. I remember sitting there as my mom would yell, "Come on ladies, get up, get up," as she encouraged the cows to get into the trailer. All of our cows were special to us, but there were some show cows who left our farm that day that I will never forget. Wisdom and Police were my first two show cows and I spent a lot of time with each one of them, but Wisdom was always the cow that wanted attention. When she walked out of the barn, tears began to fall down my face. Wisdom was my favorite cow, and I sat wishing she did not have to get onto the truck. As she got onto the ramp she looked at me, and the confusion in her eyes gave me the worst feeling in the world. As she walked into the trailer my heart dropped, and I knew I would never forget that moment. After all the Holsteins were loaded up, smaller trailers came to get the Jerseys to take them to the other farm in Maryland. Once all the cows were gone our family stood together not saying a word. In that moment, I could feel the deep pain and sadness that cut through each member of my family. Milking and caring for the cows we loved had been a daily part of my family's life for over 50 years and that part of our life was over. The feeling was unbearable.

The next day and for weeks afterwards, the deafening silence of the empty barns brought sickness to my stomach. I hated walking out to the barn to only see emptiness. The scent of the cow barn brought back memories, when our cows used to roam the barns. We still had our heifers to finish raising, but since we no longer had cows calving, the amount of calves who needed fed began to decrease. When I walked past the milking parlor, there were no sounds of the milkers humming, and I missed seeing the cows shadows as they walked past the windows after they finished being milked. The feeling of hurt hovered over me for weeks. One night, a few months later, when I came into the kitchen, the sadness overwhelmed me. I walked up to my mom and said, "I feel so sad," as I began to cry. We still had our farm, but it was no longer a dairy farm and this changed my family's life so much. My dad had to get a new job. He isn't home at the barn every day when we get home anymore. My parents decided to sell the house and barn on one of our smaller farms and this was where my great-grandparents lived. We bought a new house in Curryville for them to move into. Over the summer of 2019, we renovated the new house and completely changed it. Their house felt like the Ritz-Carlton after we were finished remodeling it. The day we moved them into the new house, my pappy Don said, "This is the nicest house we have ever lived in!" It brought tears to my entire family's eyes. It was the best feeling because our family worked so hard on their house and we had all been through so many transitions in the last year.

Making the decision to sell our milk cows was one of the most difficult things my family has ever been through. Our family had to adapt to a different lifestyle, and it seemed like overnight, everything changed. This incident showed me there isn't always going to be a happy outcome to everything. It has given me strength in ways I never knew and my perspective on life has changed. I am so blessed that I was able to live on a dairy farm and to love those cows. Although our family will always remember December 7th, 2018 with a deep sadness, my family has found a place of peace. My dad, for example, who worked like an ox, had always been sleep deprived and would fall asleep the minute he sat down. Now he gets a good night's rest and has more energy. Although this was a huge change for my family, God has guided my family to new and amazing opportunities we would not have been able to do if we still had to milk cows every day and He has shown us over and over that He will take care of us. I will always have an ache in my heart when I think about the beautiful cows who once roamed in our barn, and were loved and cared for by my family. I am very thankful that God brought us through this last year.

 

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