The Bolday Way: The longevity of an Emmett Twp. dairy farm

EMMETT TWP. — These days, dairy farmers are rather lonesome. The dairy landscape is a far cry from its heyday, especially in St. Clair County.

From 41 dairy farms within the county in 2002, just 15 remained in 2022, according to agriculture Census data.

Industry experts and commentators say low milk prices and ever-increasing input costs pushed many farmers to expand, or else call it quits.

Milk hauler routes dried up. Large-scale farms have expanded to stay profitable. Other farmers simply retired without heirs. 

The Bolday family, whose small dairy farm lies in Emmett Township, milks about 60 cows right now, with 120 head total on their property. It’s been a family operation for almost 90 years, with a trio of brothers spearheading dad’s former business, with help coming in the form of sons, sisters, and grandchildren. 

They’ve been part of the Michigan Milk Producers Association, a large dairy co-op, for decades and have supplemented their income selling grain, oats, hay, manure, feed, and corn. 

But unlike so many of their peers in the business who have disappeared, they’re still standing. So what’s their secret to longevity? 

Their answer is simple, but it’s one filled with history.

“Dedication,” brothers Pat and Jim said in unison.

They’ve been through it all. They recall the issue with PBB from the 1970s, manmade chemicals that were widely used as flame retardants in plastics and consumer products.

Some cows consumed contaminated feed that tanked selling prices for calves. 

The Boldays said they were told their type of business couldn’t make it starting in the 1990s, but they knew differently. 

“It’s got nothing to do with prices or nothing,” Pat Bolday said of the family being able to stick it out. “It’s more the lifestyle. If you want to make it, you’ll make it.”

That lifestyle includes seven-day workweeks, early mornings, long days, lack of vacation time, and the labor involved. But trudging forward in what most call a dead-end industry, they say they’ve always had each other on their common quest. 

“We’ve always got along — never fought,” said Jim. 

They talk highly of their family’s Sunday dinners and their never-wavering faith. 

They come from a frugal family. As Pat says, their mother was an expert with her money, the kind of woman who clipped coupons and taught her children to always stow away money that got into their hands. Their father could fix anything. Whatever task or project, there was always something besides farming under way at the Bolday farm.

They all specialize in their own area. Jim is a fixer, and he handles the bills. Eddie was a “calf guy,” now he’s an all-rounder, the business manager. Pat’s always thinking of something, and he’s long been a steady milker.

As a smaller farm, they say they’ve never had to consider the big-ticket purchases that the sprawling farms do. Instead, they maintain their old equipment, hardly ever having to make future-focused investments. 

The Boldays’ future may look a little different, yet still familiar. Pat’s son, Tom, is set to take over at some point, having helped out for the past 15 years. But he’s a one-man army. And he’s planning to transition into beef cattle, not dairy. 

While many in the industry are pushed with each passing year to expand their operations, taking on more and more cows to keep up, the Boldays seem to have found a sweet spot. As Pat says, they’ve made a living. 

“I feel thankful that we got this because I don’t want to drive to the city every day with the rat race,” said Pat. “And this here, if I want to sit down for a minute, I can sit down for a minute.”

Referring to the swath of morning commuters heading to the northern Detroit suburbs for work, “Capac Road will be just a steady stream of people,” said Pat. “Any of these roads going south,” added Jim.

“And they’re in a hurry, and they’re wound up,” Pat added about the return home commute. 

Every day, the Boldays say, folks will visit their farm. Whether to talk, buy something, or just visit. But one interaction stuck out in this conversation around work and life.

While Pat was selling something to a gentleman he heard, “I can’t wait till I can retire and just run the farm.”

Pat said, “Jeez, I must have the life already. I’m already farming.”

— Max Kappel is a reporter covering local government and agriculture for The Yale Expositor and is a Report for America corps member. Report for America recruits, places and supports talented journalists in local newsrooms across the United States. Make a tax-deductible donation to support his work and Report for America will match it dollar for dollar. Go to: tinyurl.com/2s372ebu.