In communities across the country, farmers are navigating rapid change — economic pressures, shifting development priorities and generational transitions that leave many weighing whether to sell, adapt or preserve the way of life they’ve long known.
In Bethlehem, those same questions have taken root, where local farmers describe the work as a delicate balance and a tradition worth fighting for.
“If you’re in farming, you know what you’re in for,” surmised Nancy Mead Neff of Mead Family Farm. “I think it’s just about the flexibility to accommodate the changes in agriculture and what agriculture is going to look like in the future. If you’re allowed the flexibility and ability to make changes for the next generations, then farming will continue.”
“If you’re restricted in being able to do that or there’s not an understanding that agriculture has to change, then it’s going to be difficult for the next generation to take over,” she continued.
Over the decades, the town of Bethlehem has seen radical changes in farming. Bethlehem Revisited documents the history, noting that in 1875, there were 358 reporting farms in the community. That number declined to 259 by 1930, 214 by 1940, and only 163 by 1950.
The total acreage of farmland in Bethlehem dropped considerably from 31,549 acres in the 1800s to 14,070 acres by 1950. According to the 2022 Census of Agriculture for Albany County, only 349 farms remain in the entire county.
Heath’s Shady Lawn Dairy was once one of the core local dairies supplying the area. Operated by the Heath and Thayer family from 1920 to 1985 — until it was purchased by Barry Dance — the farm saw many changes that demonstrated its ability to adapt to the times.
“The dairy operation began with 19 cows,” said Trevor Thayer. His great-grandfather was William H. Heath, and his grandfather was Richard J. Thayer, who married William Heath’s daughter, Margaret Heath. “1922 was their first year of milk sale delivery using horse and wagon. They gave away their first load of milk to prospective customers.”
We continue
every year to try and think of better ways to engage the community with agriculture and
a local food movement.
— Nancy Mead Neff,
Mead Family Farm
With each passing decade, Heath’s worked to stay ahead. The dairy expanded into a fully staffed store, diversified its products by selling eggs and its popular chocolate milk, and began offering tours in the 1960s, hosting as many as 1,000 children per month.
In 1973, the farm introduced a garden plot rental program. In a 1978 Spotlight article, Richard J. Thayer observed that it gave residents the chance to “enjoy the peace of the earth.”
However, a 1974 Knickerbocker News article titled “A Vanishing Breed?” questioned rising inflation and maintenance costs. When asked why farmers continue despite the challenges, Thayer responded, “Well, somebody’s got to feed the world, and I guess it’s the farmers that have to do it.”
By the 1960s and ’70s, the FFA (formerly Future Farmers of America) was already in its final years in the Bethlehem Central
School District. “What does that tell you?” said Michael Waldenmaier, who was raised on Sunnybrook Farm. “That less and less people are interested in farming… You could see the handwriting on the wall.”
“Even on the Albany County Farm Bureau board, there’s some of us that aren’t active farmers anymore,” he added. “Try to find new, young farmers on it.”
He recalled running the milk route with his father, milking cows and going to the dairy seven days a week. “My dad, who passed away a long, long time ago, said, ‘Land is only worth what somebody wants to pay for it,’” said Waldenmaier, reflecting on the unpredictability of farm life.
Neff noted that developing a relationship with the community and educating them about how food is grown has helped Mead Family Farm thrive. Initially a dairy, the farm has adapted over time — first to beef cattle, then to growing fruits and vegetables, and eventually to hosting a flower business.
“Those have been fun things for us,” she said, noting how the farm-to-table dinners and weddings in their newly refurbished barns allow people to experience the beauty of farm life. “We continue every year to try and think of better ways to engage the community with agriculture and a local food movement.”
Charles Preska of Sunnyside Farm emphasized the word “lifestyle” when describing farming. Sunnyside has adapted to the times, remaining in operation since moving from East Greenbush to Delmar in the 1920s. It began by selling milk, which was kept fresh in a concrete pit filled with ice.
Over time, the farm diversified by selling hay and vegetables and boarding horses. Sunnyside later partnered with Preska’s daughter, Jennifer Duncan, to create a joint operation called Duncreek Farm. As a dairy farmer, Preska faces the additional challenge of milk pricing — a system many farmers hope to change.
“The cost to buy a tractor nowadays is astronomical,” Preska said. “We used to be able to buy a tractor for $20–30,000 back in the ’70s and ’80s, and today you’re talking $150–200,000 for that same tractor. And the milk price hasn’t changed.”
“To start up farming now, what a cost!” exclaimed Waldenmaier. “If you don’t have land that’s already in your family, how do you go out and purchase land and purchase equipment?”
Every year, farmers lobby in Albany to improve conditions. Neff often finds herself advocating for farmers across New York state — and for herself.
“I feel like we shouldn’t have to fight for agriculture,” she said. “I feel like it should be a God-given right.”
“It’s tough. It’s basically a lifestyle. It’s not a business. You love the animals, you love the farm, but if you look at it with pure business sense, anyone with a business degree is going to tell you that you’re nuts,” laughed Preska. “That’s the problem; you live from mortgage to mortgage or loan to loan… You’re dealing with weather, herd health and all kinds of things.”
One change being fought for by farmers involves tax qualification. Unlike most states, New York requires that gross sales of agricultural products average $10,000 or more, and that two-thirds of a farmer’s federal adjusted gross income comes from agriculture. To pay for health insurance, many farmers and their spouses work off the farm to maintain their lifestyle.
“We do it because it’s a lifestyle choice,” said Neff. “We choose to live off the land. To us, it’s the way we want to live. We enjoy working hard; we enjoy the rewards of working hard. We enjoy the fresh food, and we enjoy our space and being outside.”
“I don’t know what it is that drives us to be doing this foolish thing that we call farming,” she added. “But there’s definitely a love of the land and a love of the environment… Yes, it’s physically hard. Maybe in society, we have a fear of physical difficulty. We want everything to be easy. I think that is not what society is about… Farming brings that personal responsibility; you’ve got to survive.”
