Put Out to Pasture

Disappearing Idaho Farms

Across the West, farmland is disappearing, and Idaho is no exception.

BY HEATHER HAMILTON-POST

In just five years, Idaho has lost approximately 100,000 acres of farmland. In areas of Boise, wells are drying up rapidly, a reaction to the accelerated development that cannot come close to satisfying the demand for housing throughout the Treasure Valley. Our agricultural landscape is different now, although you can still see our origins reflected in surprising places–the sun setting over a field adjacent to The Village at Meridian, a small dairy nestled amongst the houses, and a high school in once rural Kuna.

Ray Nebeker, who pauses to step down from his tractor, has been farming since he was a kid in high school–over 50 years in total. His farm is 120 acres, but he manages someone else’s 1,000-acre farm too. Between them, he says he grows “every crop under the sun,” and also raises livestock. But today’s Kuna isn’t the same city where he began his career. “It started all of a sudden in 1970. The baby boomers started buying homes and then we started getting real subdivisions. And now? The Treasure Valley is rapidly changing,” Nebeker says.

COURTESY OF BOISEOG.COM

Across the West, farmland is disappearing, and Idaho is no exception. Researchers at Boise State University specializing in urban projections speculate that the state, now 22% farmland, will be largely converted to developed land use by 2100. The makeup is changing too–in a presentation through the Idaho Humanities Council, Boise State University’s Dr. Jodi Brandt and Dr. Rebecca Som Castellano explain that there are certainly fewer farms, but they tend to be larger. “Family farms accounted for 90 percent of farms with at least a million dollars in sales in 2015 and produced 83 percent of production from million-dollar farms,” explains Som Castellano. “But the term ‘family farm’ can be somewhat misleading.” She explains that, especially now, family farms tend to be large-scale, which is largely due to necessity.

One of Nebeker’s sons farms with him now, and would probably do it forever, but uncertainty about the future of farming in the Treasure Valley has Nebeker unconvinced that his son will be able to make a living, given all the challenges farmers experience in the face of development. “A young guy can’t even afford to go into farming,” Nebeker explains.

And there are other challenges–subdivisions bring traffic and neighbors who aren’t always patient with farm equipment on the roads, occasional dust, and noise. Som Castellano echoes this, adding that studies indicate that rural areas will be more likely to suffer from a changing climate too. “We’ve found that local farmers are facing some of these challenges and are really working to figure out innovative ways of addressing these and various other pressures they face,” Som Castellano says. But innovation can be a big ask for folks sometimes struggling to make a profit, especially when they’re doing their jobs well and already providing a net benefit to the community.

“For a few days and nights, we’re a big nuisance, but then a farm is an awful good neighbor for a subdivision,” Nebeker affirms.

It is a mostly uphill battle for folks who depend on their land to fund retirement, and most farmers, from where Nebeker stands, retire too late to enjoy it anyway. “Every time we have an incident when somebody complains, that’s one more reason to be encouraged to sell. It’s very hard when you’re sitting on multiple millions of dollars worth of assets and you’re making below a poverty wage because you put everything you gain back into your operation,” he says.

Selling the ground for development, as opposed to farming, is far more lucrative. “It sells for probably ten times the value. It’s a no-brainer for anyone who owns ground and is getting older,” Nebeker explains.

For Nebeker and others who have grown up in Idaho’s sleepy rural places, seeing housing developments pop up where sprawling fields of lush Idaho crops once spread out as far as the eye could see is harrowing. The nostalgic pull of our agricultural roots reminds us that growth, in all its forms, can be difficult.

“A sense of place, the beauty of the landscape, sentimental attachment, a feeling of local heritage–these are the other reasons that preserving farmland can be really beneficial to rural communities and people from urban places near those rural communities,” Som Castellano says.

Nebeker, a lifelong farmer, agrees. “I don’t like to see it, but I’m not totally against it. You cannot argue with progress. The only thing constant is change,” he says.