When raising a family on a farm, the experience isn’t just challenging; it is also incredibly rewarding. But what makes raising kids on a farm so rewarding, is also what makes it the most challenging. That’s because raising children on a farm means they grow up where we work.

My husband and I are raising our family on a grain farm in western Saskatchewan. Our farm is located in the heart of a small farming community that is thriving because of the passion of our neighbours and friends. Our community works together to keep our local community centre flourishing, we fundraise for and support programs like the children’s playschool, and we never hesitate to help each other through tough times. We are thriving because we work together, building each other up and, in turn, our community.

Raising our children on the farm in this community has many advantages. Our children will learn what it feels like to be part of something bigger than themselves, and they will know the value of hard work and that nothing comes free. They will learn that dedication to something will always yield a return, even if that return is merely the respect of their family and peers.

They’ll know where our food comes from, as well as how to respect and care for the animals and land entrusted to us. They’ll understand challenges and victories. They’ll cherish their heritage, including their pioneering grandparents and great-grandparents. I want my children to realize that every choice they make will affect everyone else around them.

When we mix our home and work lives, there can be many unknowns, especially when it comes to concerns about our children and their safety. That’s why, at the end of the day, I ask myself, “Are we doing everything we reasonably can to keep our children safe?” I survived a childhood farm injury, and that experience gives me perspective because I never want my children to feel or experience what I did. So, how do we do better? I don’t have all the answers, but I do know that I cannot fail my children by being complacent and blinded by frustration.

I know our strength lies in our family. Our family is the reason my husband and I come home at night, and why we strive to be and do better. We are constantly communicating about where we are, what we are doing, and where the kids are. My children are the reason I wear proper footwear, why I wear my seatbelt, and why I try to be a good example. After all, children mimic what they see, and it’s my job to make sure they know about the importance of being safe on the farm.

There are days when I worry that I won’t be able to protect my children forever. However, I hope that I can give them the courage to ask for help, to ask questions, and to make good choices. I want them to know that my husband and I will always support and encourage them. I want them to understand that when they come to us when something breaks or they see something unsafe that we will help and guide them. Above all, I want them to know that risking their safety is never worth hurt pride or hurt feelings.

Building a safe and strong farm means more to me than just making sure we’re using the proper personal protective equipment or running the auto steer correctly. Safety includes all of these practical things, but it’s more than that – safety is also an attitude and a frame of mind.

A safe and strong farm means that my family eats supper together because we’ve made it home safe. A safe and strong farm means wildly imaginative games played in the living room. A safe and strong farm means my children can lace up their skates. A safe and strong farm means my children will never feel chronic pain and experience a facial disfigurement or struggle with a disability as I did. A safe and strong farm means the continuation and survival of our family farm. A safe and strong farm is something that my family and I choose to build – for ourselves, our community, and our future.

Bailey Kemery is a member of a multi-generation grain farm in western Saskatchewan. She speaks regularly to farm children from her perspective as a survivor of a farm accident.

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Over the past three decades, the family has expanded its Strathmore, Alta.-area operation from just over 2,800 acres to around 13,000, diversified crop production, and started a successful malting and brewing company that complements the core farm business. As well, family members have taken leadership roles in farm groups and are strong advocates in areas such as soil conservation and farm management.

But they would tell you what gives them the most pride is their farm succession plan — the one that brought young people back home. It has anchored their business and brought a fifth generation of partners and managers to the core group.

“We realized if we didn’t figure out a way to bring in new talent, it would go elsewhere,” said Spencer Hilton. “This generation does not have the philosophy of ‘Come back and we’ll figure it out.’ We need to figure out what is good for young people, and shorten the timeline to integrate them.”

Spencer and wife Lynne became full partners with his parents several decades ago, with Sterling (who is 15 years younger than Spencer) and his wife Lianna joining in the late ’90s. Most recently Spencer and Lynne’s son Dane joined the partnership and their younger son Reid is working towards partnership as well.

The Hiltons will be the first to tell you that they have had good fortune in this journey, that some things just fell into place. But while you have to be lucky to be good, you have to be good to be lucky.

Looking back, the family identifies six key factors.

A living plan

“The first thing we did was to get some good outside help,” said Spencer. “We soon realized this is a living document, that looking forward generationally really never stops. You need something that you can say to young people, ‘If you choose this path we’ll be ready.’”

Dane is quick to add, “At the same time it’s important to note that just because you are a Hilton you don’t get to come back automatically. It’s a big business but you have to bring some skills to become a shareholder. You have to bring value, make a more efficient and better company.

“And not everybody wants to be a machine operator. That thinking is part of our next generation of family opportunity.”

Reid finds this invigorating.

“It’s good to see we are more than going back and forth in the field,” he said. “I hope that in 10 or 20 years, the older generation will look back and say these young people have done a good job.”

Clear management structure

The second thing was to establish clear management roles and responsibilities — and not to restrict someone’s role because of their gender.

“We recognized the role of women and involved them,” said Spencer. “Lynne and Lianna are a key part of our management team with equal say. Agriculture has been tough on gender discrimination, but that is changing and we were glad to be part of it.”

Roles revolve around both individual skills and training. Spencer and Lynne both have agronomy training. Sterling trained in the financial field; accounting, planning and farm management. Dane worked in the oilpatch, gaining experience in managing crews and heavy machinery. Lianna works in the medical field. Reid is a pilot.

Focus on communication

Communication is a huge hurdle for a multi-family business, and so the family takes a structured approach.

“It takes a lot of discipline to have communications as family business partners,” said Dane. “When we go through a busy time, we know we don’t have as much as we should.

“Having a farm office really helps and setting hours (when) we are expected to show up. An office is better for business, dealing with suppliers or an employee discussion.

“We have daily morning meetings that run anywhere from 10 minutes to two hours. Then we have a more formal monthly meeting to update the entire team. Part of our role as managers is to keep people informed. A secretary is assigned to take meeting notes and action items reviewed next meeting.”

Capturing opportunity

A big part of business success is handling change.

“We have had a mindset of being prepared to capture and make good use of marketing opportunities and that has been a big part of our success,” said Sterling. “When the Canadian Wheat Board was dismantled, we were so fortunate to have had a good reputation in the malt barley sector.”

Rahr Malting introduced the Hiltons to Tony and Carissa McGee, owners of Lagunitas Brewing of Petumla, California (which became one of the largest U.S. craft brewers and is now owned by Heineken).

“Tony’s vision was linking their beer drinkers to selected farms in Alberta and Saskatchewan, and we became part of the group to supply that need,” said Sterling. “That was one of the first deals right after the board and we captured it well.”

Relationships with landlords

Hilton land management has always been a source of pride, but today is a big part of the farm brand and a major reason they are able to expand.

It’s a world of more rented acres, said Sterling.

“In the old ag world, you expanded when you could buy more land. Today people are less willing to sell because they see farmland as a good investment. If you are going to expand now, it is through rented acres.”

“In 1989, we only had 100 acres rented,” noted Spencer. “Now we are closer to half. We went from farming within a seven-mile radius to farming 13,000 acres across almost 100 miles. The rewarding thing is that most of the farm rental opportunities came to us because of (our) farming reputation.”

The family treats rented land the same as its own acres, added Dane.

“We do proper rotations, use good agronomic practices,” he said.

Open up the farm

One of the biggest impacts the Hilton farm has had is by opening up their farm to others.

“Never before has our farm had the opportunity to be so close to the end-user, and that’s fantastic,” said Spencer. “However, never before has the population been so far removed from the family farm.

“One of the biggest threats is misinformation. We are losing tools such as seed treatments which we do not have alternatives for. As farmers we know all the crop protection products we use are fully registered and regulated through Canada’s Pest Management Regulatory Agency, one of the most stringent agencies of its kind in the world.

“We have a good story to tell, but we maybe are not telling it as well as we need to.”

One major benefit of having young people coming back to the farm is they share values with other young people who aren’t farmers, said Lynne.

“We are all consumers, and young farmers can assure the public and young people out there that the food they are buying is of excellent homegrown value,” she said.

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This is a question I’ve been mulling lately, after talking with a couple of people I know whose families have decided now is the time to sell up.

It’s a reality for many of us, or will be soon enough. Just a walk around the halls at Ag Days last week demonstrated that, newly arrived young blood aside, the industry demographic still has a decidedly grey cast to it. And while the farmers I am familiar with tend to remain active, both physically and mentally, later in life, eventually we will all decide it’s time to hang up our skates.

For most people, that’s still a momentous life-changing event, but the logistics of it are well understood. File for the pension with the government, stop showing up at the office every day and start drawing down the RRSPs. It may take some trial and error to figure out a new routine and identity that doesn’t revolve around work, but much of the rest remains unchanged.

Most will continue to live in the homes they’ve long occupied, their circle of friends and neighbours will be largely unchanged, and the foundation of outside interests remains to be built on.

For farm families however, this change can be far more jarring when there’s not a family member taking over the farm. We all know this instinctively, but how many of us have really stopped to think about the far-ranging impact of this transition, extending well beyond the circle of the people facing the day-to-day reality of selling the farm?

The retiring couple will, of course, feel the largest and most immediate impact. They’ll be leaving a home where they have spent much of their lives, raised their children and ushered in old age. Most will move to an urban centre where, at least initially, they’ll feel like a fish out of water. Life will suddenly seem much more tightly bounded. I recall a colleague telling me a story a few years ago about bumping into a farmer who had retired and moved into Winnipeg. They got chatting about the bitter winter and the farmer observed that he was more than a little amazed at how difficult snow clearing was on a city lot — because he kept running out of room to put it.

Along with losing their long-term home, they will have lost many other things too. Their hobbies, for example. I know a lot of farm women who are avid gardeners. I always joke they’re the only people I know who would attempt to recreate several acres of formal gardens in the middle of the Prairies, without the staff of gardeners such an endeavour usually involves. I am certain they’ll need to adjust to the prospect of limiting their efforts to a smaller yard, a balcony or perhaps even just a few houseplants.

The effect will ripple out from its epicentre. In most cases, the farm will be sold because there isn’t another generation coming along. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Most of the former farm kids I know now are happy and successful. They’re working in challenging, interesting and rewarding careers. They’re raising families and making their own plans for the future. I include myself in that group. Here and there some might pine to return to the farm, but most of them have moved on, are working in another field, or in the industry side of agriculture, and realize that’s not in the cards for them. Yet we still feel a connection. We return to the farm for holidays and we tell people we’re “going home.”

I love bringing my daughter home to the family farm. I love having her ride on the tractor with her grandpa, play in the garden with her grandma and just generally see and understand where her roots are dug into this earth. In a very real way, that feels like an important part of her history. It lets me explain her to herself.

I’m fortunate that this choice isn’t one my family is grappling with immediately. My brother continues to farm as my parents have stepped back. These days my dad is residual labour around the place, filling in when my brother and the hired employees need an extra set of hands. That allows them to stay in their home, and still gives the rest of the family a farm to call home.

But I recognize that’s not going to be forever. My brother is nearly 50. He’s already said that, while he enjoys his work, he won’t be one of those farmers who’s slugging it out well into his 70s.

Someday our farm family will simply be a family. The home place, in our family for nearly a century, will at best be another family’s home, at worst a collection of buildings slowly rotting away.

Agriculture as a sector spends a lot of time trying to figure out how to transfer a farm from one generation to the next.

Do we spend enough time thinking about what might be next?

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Rising receipts for crops and livestock have boosted incomes in recent years, due to greater demand in developing countries and a weak Canadian dollar, a report from Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada said Friday. Lower crude oil prices have also cut farmers’ expenses.

Net cash income in 2016 should fall nine per cent to $13.6 billion, from a record-high $15 billion last year. The earnings for 2016 would be 14 per cent higher than the average from 2010 to 2014.

Average net worth per Canadian farm is expected to reach $2.7 million this year, the report said, and total farm family income, which has been “rising steadily,” is expected to reach an average of $136,900 per farm family.

Livestock and crop receipts in Canada for 2015 are each expected to increase by two per cent to $26.2 billion and $30.7 billion in 2015, respectively. The report also predicts crop receipts in 2016 to slip very slightly to $30.6 billion.

U.S. farmers, who have been hurt by a strong U.S. dollar that has crimped exports, are in worse shape.

The U.S. Department of Agriculture forecast the nation’s net farm income at US$54.8 billion in 2016, down from $123.3 billion in 2013, when corn prices reached record highs.

For the near term, grain prices look likely to remain under pressure due to ample global stocks, while expansion of the U.S. livestock sector weighs on prices of cattle and hogs, the Canadian report said.

Several years of strong conditions in Canada were seen as contributing also to a decline in program payments in 2015, down to $2.1 billion.

Canada is the world’s biggest exporter of canola and second-largest shipper of wheat.

Farmers’ income is a measure of their spending power on crop inputs such as seed, fertilizer and chemicals, as well as tractors and other field equipment.

Deere and Co., the maker of John Deere tractors, cut its fiscal-year outlook and reported lower quarterly earnings on Friday as U.S. farmers’ declining income weakened demand for agricultural equipment.

— Reporting for Reuters by Rod Nickel in Winnipeg; additional reporting by Meredith Davis in Chicago. Includes files from AGCanada.com Network staff.

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“While $22,000 seems like a large penalty, there are non-financial rewards they experience working for the family business,” Loren Tauer, professor at Cornell’s Charles H. Dyson School of Applied Economics and Management said in a release (all figures US$).

There are roughly 5,400 dairy farms in New York, large and small. “Family members like to work for the family farm, as it brings prestige and satisfaction by working with siblings, cousins and parents,” Tauer said.

“The socioemotional part is that these family members feel an attachment to the dairy farm. It’s a warm and fuzzy feeling.”

The study, “Socioemotional Wealth in the Family Farm,” by Tauer and co-author Jonathan Dressler, will be published in a forthcoming Agricultural Finance Review.

Dressler explained that socioemotional aspects of running a dairy farm “create a sense of pride and belonging, as collectively each family member is contributing an effort toward a common family goal.”

The release said Dressler and Tauer examined dairy farm income in 1999 through 2008 and showed that New York farm manager median salaries varied widely from $41,884 in 1999, to $64,466 in 2004 to $74,986 in 2005, all adjusted for inflation to 2008 dollars.

“While the family farm managers were paid on average about $22,000 less, family members were compensated in other ways, such as with equity in the family business, which includes land values and the value of the operation,” the release said.

With “sweat equity,” Tauer said, children eventually inherit farms or are given an opportunity to purchase farms at a low estimate of the farms’ value. That future ownership opportunity and the chance to work with family members offset reduced annual compensation. — AGCanada.com Network

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Andrew laid his newspaper on the table and pondered his wife’s statement for a moment.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, “but you are ignoring the terrible negative consequence of following such a plan.”

“Am I?” said Rose. “What terrible negative consequence would there be?”

“We would,” said Andrew, “be forced to GO TO IKEA!”

“Ah yes.” Rose took a sip of her coffee. “But one man’s terrible negative consequence is his wife’s totally fun shopping trip.”

“We could just hire a cabinetmaker,” said Andrew. “Get him to draw up a design for a complete new kitchen and then have him come and build it when we’re in Hawaii. No hassle, no fuss.”

“We could, I suppose,” said Rose. “However, it might be difficult to get a cabinetmaker to sign up if the only date we can give him is “whenever we win the lottery.”

Andrew scowled. “I have to admit, you have a point,” he said. “But I AM planning to win the lottery next week.”

“Of course you are,” said Rose, “but we all know how your plans generally turn out.” She took another sip of coffee. “My plans, on the other hand…,” she continued.

“You have a plan?” said Andrew.

“I do,” said Rose.

“You do realize that if your plan includes me going to Ikea,” said Andrew, “then your plan is doomed to fail.”

“Honey,” said Rose, “if I made a plan for you to go to Ikea, then you would go to Ikea. But I’m not a monster. And also I don’t need you at Ikea. I know how to use a measuring tape and I’m not colour blind.”

“I’m not colour blind either,” said Andrew, “and I could probably learn how to use a measuring tape if I put my mind to it.”

“I’m sure you could,” said Rose, “but I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Right,” said Andrew. “So let’s hear your plan.”

“My plan,” said Rose, “is for us to go to the city, on Saturday, April 4. We will take Randy and Jackie with us. Jennifer will be around so she can babysit Allison and Andy. You and Randy can drop me and Jackie off at Ikea and then you two can go watch the Jets play the Canucks at the arena. When the game is over you can come back to Ikea and join Jackie and me for a delicious meal of Swedish meatballs and fake mashed potatoes and then you and Randy can load up the 800 pounds of shelving, cabinets, and assorted kitchen decorating supplies that Jackie and I have picked out, and then we can head back home. What do you think?”

Andrew didn’t hesitate. “You had me at “watch the Jets play the Canucks,” he said. “Bribery and corruption get me every time.”

“I know,” said Rose. “I count on that.”

“How am I going to get tickets to the Jets game?” said Andrew. “Aren’t they all sold out till the year 3000 or something?”

“Already got ’em,” said Rose. “Happy birthday to you.”

Andrew sat in silence for a minute. “That’s why I married you,” he said. “Because you are a cunning and devious woman.”

“When a woman wants a better kitchen,” said Rose, “nothing will stand in her way.”

There was another pause.

“I hate to bring this up,” said Andrew. “I mean, your plan is virtually flawless. Everybody gets to have fun and Swedish meatballs and everything, but there is one tiny drawback that occurs to me.”

“There is?” said Rose.

“There is,” said Andrew. “Ikea cabinets require assembly. That requires an assembler. No such person exists in this household.”

“I’ve hired Brady for that,” said Rose. “He loves doing that stuff.”

“That’s true, he does,” said Andrew. “And he’s really good with a ball peen hammer.”

“I don’t think you’d use a ball peen hammer to assemble Ikea cabinets,” said Rose.

“Oh, I definitely would,” said Andrew. “And a sledge hammer, probably.”

“And that’s why Brady will do it,” said Rose.

“OK, seriously,” said Andrew. “You actually planned this whole thing without consulting me?”

“It’s your birthday present,” said Rose. “I couldn’t very well consult you, could I?”

“True enough,” said Andrew. He paused. “And you know what you’re looking for at Ikea? And I don’t even want to ask, but you have an idea how much it’s all going to cost?”

“Fifteen hundred at the very most,” said Rose.

Andrew shook his head. “You are the only woman I know,” he said, “who could plan a great birthday surprise for her husband and come out of it with a remodelled kitchen.”

Rose grinned. “You don’t mind, do you?” she said.

“Seriously?” said Andrew. “That IS why I married you.”

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“Hey Pops,” he said.

“Top o’ the mornin’ son,” said Andrew.

Randy grinned. “What? Are we Irish suddenly?” he said.

Andrew laughed. “Four generations back on my grandmother’s side,” he said, “there was a branch of Sweeneys. So there’s not much Irish left in you laddie.”

“Or in you either,” said Randy, still grinning, “judging by the quality of your Irish accent.”

“True enough,” said Andrew. “You want breakfast?” he asked, seeing that the waitress was heading over with a cup of coffee for Randy.

“I could eat,” said Randy.

Andrew spoke to the waitress. “Could we get two orders of bacon and eggs please?” he said. “Lots of bacon and lots of eggs.”

The waitress made a note on her pad. “How would you like your eggs?” she wanted to know.

“On the sunny side,” said Andrew. “Always on the sunny side.”

“I’ll have mine over easy please,” said Randy.

“Done,” said the waitress, and headed off briskly toward the kitchen.

“So, how’s things on the farm?” said Andrew when she was gone.

“Fine,” said Randy. “The cattle are liking the weather.”

“Yeah,” said Andrew. “Not too cold, not too warm. Definitely nice considering the dire warnings the Farmer’s Almanac sent out this year.”

“I heard on the radio that there’s an unexpected El Niño that’s going to keep the polar vortex at bay,” said Randy. “Apparently the almanac didn’t see that coming. Anyway, it sure is better than last year.”

“Anything is better than last year,” said Andrew.

There was a momentary lull. Randy took a sip of coffee, staring over Andrew’s shoulder at the snow swirling outside the window, then set his cup down on the table. “So, is Gerry Ritz actually going to give away the wheat board?” he said.

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t think it’s that simple,” he said.

“No?” said Randy. “You think there’s some kind of secret plan or something?”

“It’s the Harper government,” said Andrew. “There’s always a plan and it’s always a secret. Which is too bad, because sometimes the plan isn’t that bad. The thing about secret plans is that if people can’t get answers to questions and politicians refuse to back up their statements with any kind of evidence, people start to think the politicians might not have their best interests at heart.” He paused. “A tiny little bit of transparency would go a long way. Even fake transparency might help.”

“How do you fake transparency?” said Randy.

“I don’t know,” said Andrew. “I’m not a politician.”

“You think Harper’s going to win the next election?” asked Randy.

“I don’t know,” said Andrew. “I’m not a fortune teller.”

“That may be,” said Randy, “but you are a man who ALWAYS has an opinion. So, what’s your opinion?”

“My opinion,” said Andrew, “is that somebody is going to end up with a minority government. And my other opinion is that that’s the best possible outcome under the circumstances.”

“Why is that?” Randy wanted to know.

“Because a minority keeps everybody honest,” said Andrew. “And it forces the government to co-operate with the opposition so at least there’s a little bit of representation for people who didn’t vote for the ruling party.”

“I don’t know,” said Randy. “I think it might take more than a minority to keep politicians honest.”

“It was a figure of speech,” said Andrew. “I didn’t mean that literally.”

“Do you think it makes a difference who wins?” said Randy.

“Not to us,” said Andrew. “What’s that old saying? One of six and a dozen and a half of the other?”

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other,” said Randy.

“Yeah that’s it,” said Andrew. “That’s politics, in a nutshell.”

Randy raised his coffee cup. “Here’s to politics,” he said.

Andrew followed suit. “Politics,” he said. “Where you never get what you vote for.”

After December 15, visit Rollin Penner’s new online blog at www.rollinon.me.

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