New Marlborough — Winter is a welcome respite for the animals at The Farm New Marlborough. And farmer Tom Brazie, resident expert on myriad subjects ranging from the mechanics of driving a stick-shift vehicle laden with several round bales of hay to prophesying the weather to come based on his cows’ coats, is on hand to usher his various herds into the first frigid, below-freezing days of the season. “Come winter, everyone comes back to the farm,” Brazie explained, where his animals enjoy enclosed shelter (when needed) and increased rations due to lack of foraging. “Farmer Tom,” as I’ve heard him called at Elihu Burrit Day and other local gatherings where he often offers hayrides, is a one man-show, unless you count the dozens upon dozens of animals — including pigs, chickens and cows — that are slowly transforming the rugged land through rotational grazing patterns, proving, in short, that many hooves make light work.
“Come spring, the pigs will be rototilling the garden,” Brazie said, gesturing off in the distance toward the dormant remnants of this season’s harvest. And he’s not kidding. Brazie is laying the foundation for this now, more than six months prior to the start of spring planting. The cows, he explained, are working their way back to the farm and will spend the winter feeding on hay in the garden plot. Water from a nearby brook will sustain them and decrease the additional load on Brazie. Meanwhile, whole corn will be broadcast over the garden area throughout the winter. “Cows don’t eat corn,” Brazie divulged, “but they do step on it, push it into the bedding (of hay) and poop on top of it.” This natural process of layering hay, manure and corn all winter long results in a depth of more than 2 feet come spring, which is when Brazie turns his pigs loose.
“They can smell the corn fermenting,” Brazie explained, which is when their natural rooting instinct kicks in: This aerates the ground, turning it into compost: “Beautiful, black, natural material” that translates to what Brazie calls “ridiculous soil,” which anyone who gardens knows is priceless and, under Brazie’s watch, happens sans machinery. “They do all the work,” he said, grinning. And grin he should: When planting time comes and the earth is sufficiently aerated, the pigs are turned out into the next phase of a rotational grazing pattern. Come summer, they work out in the woods — or farrow, as Brazie says — using their natural instincts to find food. This, as luck would have it, is mutually beneficial for the farmer, his flock and the land. Further along Tamaridge Road, a private way that bisects Brazie’s farm, evidence of the pigs’ efficiency abounds. There, in the midst of “trees that grow but struggle,” they are slowly turning unusable land into arable land. It’s a practice Brazie calls “using what’s available.” The wooded areas, deemed too wet for cows or machinery, are perfect for pigs. And in the absence of an active forest (where the trees are thriving), it’s a win for all involved.
Brazie’s pigs will spend the summer months moving through a series of half-acre pens, spending roughly one week in each, where their progress is monitored daily. Actually, it is their disturbance that is being scrutinized. The animals first eat all the above-ground food available to them: berries, nuts and other low-lying vegetation. Once that food is gone, they root into the soil and “make a mess.” They are going after the roots of plants teeming with bugs, which get the subterranean microbial colonies working. There, giant seed banks are activated, which precludes the need for planting. And then the pigs are moved on to the next plot before they strip the land, or “make it a desert.” They are extremely efficient at gleaning all the brush out and getting the grass to grow — not to mention that there are residual benefits for the understory and surrounding trees, both of which thrive due to the increased levels of available nutrients (which, in the presence of competition, dwindle). “The [pigs’] disturbance will finish off the dying trees and promote new growth,” Brazie explained.
“I am blessed to have this gymnasium,” Brazie exclaimed as I tagged along to check on the pigs, various litters in all stages, currently bunking in the former dormitory of the now defunct Kolburne School. Brazie, a lifelong resident of New Marlborough, makes his living farming several hundred acres in town, including 140 he purchased in 2017 from the former residential school when it closed. He remembers peering into the windows of the low-lying brick buildings several years ago, at the urging of Martha Bryan, and recognizing that the hallways were wide enough for wheelbarrows. Today, two and a half years into a wildly ambitious conversion project, the old cafeteria is his mechanics shop and the old gymnasium is his hay barn. “The gym is what sold me,” he explained, citing the pole barn in Mill River where he’d been storing his supply as needing to be vacated. Brazie, keen on the idea of bypassing the traditional hayloft in favor of a drive-in version, hasn’t looked back since.
Brazie, who grew up on Woodruff Mountain, is a more-than-full-time farmer. At the tender age of 40, he is two decades younger than today’s average American farmer. He began mowing lawns when he was 9 years old, and started his first company — Woodruff Mountain Landscaping — when he was 19 years old. Today, finding help is a conundrum marked by lack of training. “The hardest part of finding help on a farm is you have to have all sorts of basic skills,” Brazie said, ranging from mechanic and plumber to livestock husbandry and gardening. If Brazie had a say, he would find a way for Joel Salatin’s book “Fields of Farmers: Interning, Mentoring, Partnering, Germinating” into the curriculum of local schools. Beyond farming, he is passionate about one thing in particular: communicating that this model of farming he espouses is doable. “It’s in our blood,” he said, “and you can earn a living doing this work. But it requires the community to get on board with you. The most important part of the circle is the distribution of product; we can’t continue to raise food if no one is going to eat it.” The way he sees it, vegetables are low-risk, eggs are a no-brainer and meat is the next level of commitment; that said, locals can find Brazie’s beef, chicken and pork for sale at the Farm Store, which is open on Wednesday and Friday evenings as well as Saturday mornings.
“The industrial [farming] models are failing,” Brazie explained in a nod to the steep cost of growing industrial food as well as the huge impact on the land, the latter of which is largely hidden from view. “We are depleting our soils and depleting our environment; it’s happening. And we are in a lot of trouble,” he added, pointing out the 10 carbs of energy it currently takes to create 2 carbs for consumption, a dysfunctional ratio even to the uneducated consumer. At the end of the day, Brazie is simply employing the most basic premise of farming, which is one he learned as a young person: “You need to give back [to the land] what you take, [and] big industrial models don’t allow for this to happen.” After an 80-minute farm tour — valuable time away from work as the wind whipped and daylight dwindled — I felt fortunate to have this savvy farmer for a [sort of] neighbor. I hopped out of his blue pick-up in front of the Farm Store — the closest place to my rural home to procure local, farm-fresh food (or anything, for that matter, without driving to Great Barrington). Brazie’s price point, well above commercially raised chicken and beef that are often deemed unfit for human consumption until sprayed with bleach, reflect the true cost of raising that chicken or piece of beef. And 100% of the money he earns stays right in New Marlborough, so he can start the entire process over again come spring. “We have an entire winter’s inventory of food to start moving,” he said with a grin before shoving off to tackle the next chore. It’s a more-than-worthy investment, I’d say.
