|
|
| Prison Dairy Survives Despite National and Local Trends |
| By Reno Gazette-Journal |
| Published: 03/20/2003 |
|
The last dairy farm in Eagle Valley has 100 Holstein cows, one giant bull named Willy Boy, 150 Black Angus beef cattle and 500 of Nevada's wild horses, and yet most people don't even know it's there. The farm is picturesque beyond description, with the snow-capped Sierra Nevada as a sweeping backdrop to the west and calming farm scenes in almost every direction: Here, a charming 1914 farmhouse with a sagging front porch. There, bright black-and-white Holstein calves cavort together. Yonder, scruffy wild horses, some just gathered off the Comstock Range, roar and rear at each other in a dramatic, yet somehow peaceful scene that evokes the Wild West. Off to the side sits Northern Nevada Correctional Center, with denim-clad inmates milling around the outside yard. Odd as it seems, the last dairy farm in Eagle Valley is owned and operated by the Nevada Deptartment of Corrections. Although this valley wasn't the dairy capital of the world, the state, or even the region at any time, the Nevada State Prison Dairy is a success story now. 'It seems to me that the heyday of dairies in Eagle Valley was more in the 1920s, and even then, I think there were far more dairy farms in Carson Valley and Truckee Meadows,' said Guy Rocha, Nevada state archivist. 'I don't know if it had anything to do with the Great Depression, but I don't find much record of dairies, except for the prison dairy, here much past 1930.' Dairies in Carson Valley have dwindled to two, and the Truckee Meadows hasn't fared much better. There are around three dozen dairy farms in Nevada, most of them in Fallon, and nationally, small dairies are declining; from 1997 to 2001, there was a 21 percent drop in U.S. dairies. So today, the dairy farm at NNCC is a model dairy in many ways. All the milk produced there - around 200,000 gallons of 1 percent fat milk annually, and some cream - goes back to the prisons and is used to feed inmates, saving the state money. The farm itself, with beef cattle and the 15-acre wild horse holding facility, opened in May, grosses around $1 million annually and is self-sufficient. It is part of Silver State Industries, which oversees all the industrial business endeavors of the corrections department. One of the reasons for the prison farm's success in yields of milk, money and beef, is Tim Bryant, 46, manager for the last 15 years. Like any good farmer, he is serious about all the technical aspects of raising milk and beef cattle, growing alfalfa for feed and just generally running a good agricultural operation. 'We really survive because we're so diversified, with the dairy and the beef, the hay and the wild horses,' he said. 'Plus, we are always looking at ways to improve production, whether it's through breeding or feed - we work with a nutritionist - or any other things we can control.' Bryant was recently approached to travel to Turkmenistan, which borders Iran and Afghanistan, to teach diary farmers there what he has learned over the years. With increasing tensions in that part of the world, the trip has been temporarily postponed, however. 'I was asked to go by the dean of agriculture at (the University of Nevada, Reno) to help address some of the agricultural issues there, like dairy herds and breeding, production, irrigation and other related subjects,' Bryant said. 'It would have been great to go there, and we still don't know what will happen.' The Northern Nevada Correctional Center is a medium-security facility housing 240 male inmates who can work in a wide variety of Silver State Industries, from making mattresses or vinyl furniture to baking bread or working in the dairy. 'Everyone who is here does something,' said Warden Don Helling. 'They can work in one of the Silver State Industries businesses or pick up cigarette butts and trash.' Working at the dairy farm is a popular choice, with only 20 inmate positions available, he said. Farm-employed inmates earn anywhere from 60 cents to $4 per hour, depending on their experience. Joe Morales, 36, a former painter, is serving a three- to 12-year sentence for trafficking a controlled substance. He works seven days a week at the dairy as a milker and is eligible for parole next January. His reliability on the job will certainly look good on his record, officials said. 'We rely on them to be here every day and do a good job while they're here,' Bryant said. 'If they don't, the animals suffer.' Morales has been at the dairy farm only six months, but he loves his work and knows each cow, with even a few favorites. Each Holstein cow has a tag on her ear, so that becomes her name to the milkers. 'I like 631, and she always has to be in the first stall,' Morales said. 'And 424 is sweet, but watch out for 654 - she kicks.' Manuel Maldonado, one of the four salaried civilian staffers at the farm who oversee the inmates and provides consistent care for the livestock, has worked at the dairy for five years and lives in Gardnerville. He works with Morales five days a week, and agrees that every cow has her idiosyncrasies. 'This one, 454, she has to be in the front stall, and if it comes her turn to go in, she'll look ahead to see if she can have it,' he said. 'If she can't, she'll stand back until the others pass so she can be first the next time.' Asked if he'd consider working on a dairy when he is released, Morales said he sees the potential benefit. Milkers at the prison dairy work from 3 to 7:30 a.m. and 2 to 5:30 p.m. every day. 'I like the work, and I like the cows,' he said. 'And the hours would definitely keep me off the street.' |

Comments:
No comments have been posted for this article.
Login to let us know what you think