Brigitte Ruthman is a Massachusetts dairy farmer who just received a second Cease-and-Desist order from the Massachusetts Department of Agricultural Resources. (Here is the story of her first one, received 15 months ago.) In this guest post, she seeks to interpret what has occurred, and debates whether to continue on her chosen path.

Brigitte Ruthman in her barnI milk two cows in a small town in the Berkshire mountains of Massachusetts. This, and so much more of the details of a small farm, seem to be ammunition lately to use against me by a government agency determined to protect corporate dairy interests and not small farms.

I received my second Cease-and-Desist order this week, this one specifically citing newspaper articles and my membership in a local sustainable food organization, Berkshire Grown.

Perhaps I should give up. Even a dream has limits, realistically, to survive.

But they keep coming…raw milk drinkers, that is. People who want a safe, nutrient dense food source. They want their children to know that milk doesn’t originate on a supermarket shelf, and that cows dont give milk without giving birth to a calf. These individuals are angry, defiant, and determined to preserve their food source. These are their cows.

It took decades for me to arrive at a sense of incredible pride to nurture a pasture back to life, turn it over to cows raised from calves, and collect milk. Maybe it was the magic of risking a dream for everything that nobody but me could see, but it happened. I began milking in 2010, proper legal documents in hand and a safe and efficient milking quarter complete.

The Massachusetts Department of Agricultural Resources took the liberty of interpreting its right of jurisdiction over small farms that don’t have certificates of registry or class A dairy licenses. It assumed control over a third option–a private contractual arrangement, very much like a CSA , which gives people the right to choose to own a share of a cow when they would rather not milk it in their own back yard. This controversy is currently being thrashed out in several states, most notably in California, where a formal set of standards could be developed and used throughout the country.

The question is whether small farmers should relinquish control over private contracts to state control. State and federal departments of agriculture are now poised to negotiate. Could this be because they see the tide finally turning against them? Better for them, it would seem, to harness control before milk processing plants fall silent.

Far from a whimsical attempt to thwart regulations, herd and cowshare models are based on English laws also known as agister agreements. These laws were valid in colonial America and remain valid today. Shareholders become owners. They want and understand fresh milk from a familiar source.

Who am I? I was the kid who drove a toy tractor behind my father’s lawn mower, pretending the grass clippings to be hay, the teenager who begged to work for $2 an hour picking hay bales from farmers fields, before dairies were subdivided in southern Connecticut, and the young adult who went to work as a herdsman in Morgan Center, VT, to learn skills among Ayreshires, breeders and milkmen I draw from today- traditions lost on commercial dairies.

This is not the time to recite the poetry of small scale farming, which is its engine more than profit. At issue, supposedly, is safety.

No one in Massachusetts has fallen ill after drinking raw milk- either from a licensed, registered or unregistered dairy. None. Not one, rumored or not. Three Massachusetts residents died after drinking pasteurized milk in 2007. There is no verifiable science, no proof, to support warnings that fresh milk is inherently unsafe. Even though the FDA likes to say that one per cent of the public drinks fresh milk, the CDC says the number is three percent on average.

New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof wrote that today’s industrial farms have become insipid food assembly lines, leaving us with food that lacks soul, but may contain pathogens. Far from imminent health hazards, small farms where cows have names and not numbers are far safer than industrial farms which have sickened so many Americans.

As to any concerns that there might be a groundswell of profit-seeking dairy farmers cropping up, it won’t happen. I simply don’t have enough working lifetime left to ever make back my investment. Unlike any of the certificate holders on cow farms, I began not with an existing commercial enterprise, but raw land. How to convince others to do the same before valuable farmland is lost to development?

Of the few small-scale dairy farmers left, all give priority to healthy, clean environments and their animals. They have answered a growing clamor for transparency in sustainable agriculture, a demand made by people who have a right, not a privilege, to choose their food sources.

The World Health Organization recently urged world leaders to pay heed to food inflation costs. Food, it seems, will be the next oil. 12 per cent of the American population depends on food stamps and we have lost nine out of ten of our dairy farms over the last 40 years. One in six Americans goes hungry every day.

New England, once a patchwork of quintessential farmland, has lost much of its defining agricultural landscape, and is at risk of losing its historical identity as a place where resilient independent farmers once defined community and nurtured the land to provide a local food supply. Some of what exists remains beautiful and potentially bountiful today.

In Vermont where I learned to milk, I recall being told not worry when a cow kicked the milk machine claw to the gutter where it sucked up manure and pathogens. Aghast as I was, I was assured that the milk was destined to be boiled. The allowable level of bacteria in the collection tank was therefore high. It was a running joke that city people didn’t know they were drinking sanitized manure.  Teats were simply “dipped” in an iodine solution. It wasn’t efficient to wash them as I do now, until the udder is pink squeaky clean.

And yes, happy cows are healthier cows–allowed pasture and not confinement and exposure to bacteria in the soil, roaming cows have a healthier immune system and don’t need high doses of antibiotics as a preventative measure. Healthy cows produce a healthier produce than factory cows that spend most of their lives in confining stanchions, where they more easily develop mastitis. The somatic cell count for heirloom breeds–those typically not found on factory farms,  tend to be far better than those from cows in confined spaces.

MDAR has seemed an agency confused by its own agenda and internal struggles–one official wrote that grants are available, yet I received communication from another official in the same office that none are available. The interpretation of regulations differs according to the inspector offering them- and they seem to be conflicted by an order requiring septic systems or not. MDAR eemed to have time and tax dollars to police the Internet for milk distributors and deliver cease-and-desist orders in person, but could hardly find time two years ago to send an inspector to interpret regulations.

Four states–Idaho, Tennessee, Colorado, and Alaska–specifically allow farmers to engage in private contracts with shareholders. Four specifically forbid it and the rest, including Massachusetts, are silent. It all seems so crazy to me that my cows, pastured near the state line and milked under one set of rules in Massachusetts which claims their milk is unsafe, then walked across the state line and milked in Connecticut where their milk would be defined otherwise.

Farming is difficult enough- I tell people who dream of doing what I do to imagine the hardest they are willing to work, then double it and accept that farming is an endless series of repetitive acts, things that go wrong, and a challenge against weather, finances and daylight that threaten to defeat your spirit. A fence needs mending, a water pipe freezes.

The problems here are vast, but lets begin with the “one size fits all” government mentality, and a particular agency which has failed to follow due process in its zealous effort to police instead of assist small farms.