The New Farmer

Traditionally, raising cattle was considered a job without prospects. Children who don't like studying are told that they will end up taking cows out to pasture; those who have to repeat a year at school are said to be in the 'cowherd class.'

Li Ying-yao, Shih Shang-pin, and Wu Tun-yao are all 'cowherds,' that is, they've been raising dairy cattle together for twelve years, which with the support of the Council of Agriculture they have studied in the U.S. However, even studying in the States has not put a stop to the ridicule of their profession.

Twelve years ago, during his engagement, Shih Shang-pin's future mother-in-law did her best to persuade Mrs. Shih to give up "that cattle raiser" in order to avoid hardship in the future.

In the past, raising dairy cattle was just a sideline occupation for farmers to fill the slack season, but it was hard work for a small income and nobody did it willingly. Fodder was gathered on the way home from the fields and certainly wasn't bought specially. Consequently the cows gave very little milk and what bit they gave had to be milked by hand, which took hours.

Will cattle raising on Taiwan ever be a respectable job? In the last ten years or so as the standard of living has gone up, people have become more interested in nutrition and the demand for fresh milk keeps increasing. In 1971 the Council of Agriculture came up with a series of plans to develop dairy farming. In 1973 they selected seventeen farmers and sent them to the U.S. for two years of training. They included Shih Shang-pin, Li Ying-yao, and Wu Tun-yao.

On their return, the Council of Agriculture sent all seventeen off to Tunghsiao, Miaoli, and provided them with land and loans. When they arrived there they were confronted with a large area of uncultivated hills which had proved useless for close planting. Every day they would all traipse up the small road along the stream to work on the hill. They carried the tools and materials they needed themselves and bit by bit the ground was leveled and sheds built.

Since the area was so limited, they only had enough to accommodate twelve cows each, and yet they had learnt in America that cattle raising should be on a large scale. Wu Tun-yao recalls, "At the time we could only see difficulties ahead."

But what nearly put an end to their endeavors was the oil crisis of 1974 when the economy slumped. It meant that one by one people began to withdraw from what had originally been a body of seventeen 'heroes' out to open up the wilds. In the end the only remaining heroes were our three--Li Ying-yao, Shih Shang-pin, and Wu Tun-yao!

"At the time I felt that we could not turn back, we'd invested too much already and so there was nothing but to make a go of it," said Li Ying-yao. The three men made a concerted effort and very soon had machinery in common which enabled them to buy more cattle which enabled them to buy more machinery and so on until they now run Nan Ho Dairy Farm, doing everything for themselves from making and baling the hay to milking and fertilizing. Owing to complete mechanization, they have now increased to over 300 head of cattle.

For those who have studied abroad, raising cattle shouldn't be too difficult. The problems arising are geographic--land area is limited and much of it is mountainous. Would the Americans, with their vast open plains, be able to teach them how to make pastures of the hillsides for herds of cattle? They have had to grope around and find out for themselves how to proceed, taking many wrong turnings on the way.

When they first began they took the advice of water and soil conservation specialists and terraced the slopes. However, when they were at last able to introduce machinery, they found the terraces limited their use, preventing expansion and thereby wasting both time and effort. Later on, they used a large-scale tractor to divide the land into small, level squares. "But we still felt the land was in too many pieces and we could not make full use of our machines" said Li Ying-yao. So finally they took two or three of the small squares and made them into one level field. What is more commendable is that whatever methods they adopted, they kept soil conservation in mind.

In addition to finding solutions to problems themselves, they have also made use of agricultural research, including how to avoid malnutrition in their cattle. They have borrowed the research findings of others to decide which supplements should be given to the cows and in what quantities.

As a result of all these research papers, the annual milk output of the average Nan Ho Farm cow has gone from 4,000 kilos to 5,000, in the last few years.

Twelve years ago when the three 'outsiders' arrived at Tung Hsiao, nobody would have even considered following them into the hills to tend cows. But in the last few years fourteen farming households have appeared in Tunghsiao, most of whom have passed through 'field training' at Nan Ho Dairy Farm.

Now, whenever they are mentioned at Tunghsiao, it is with a thumbs up of approval from the local residents, who say that the way they put up with the hard years was worthy of the pioneering heroes that opened up the West. When their companions of the early days revisit the place where it all began, they cannot but acknowledge that the dream they all had has been realized by those three men.

Although they are three very different people, they all recognize that they could only have come as far as they have by working together, and they consider this to have been the most important factor.

Shen Tung-lin raises geese in an orchard. When I first heard this I didn't think it was anything to write home about. After all, there are plenty of people who, in addition to cultivating a paddy field, will also raise poultry either in their orchard or on the verges beside the fields. Apart from helping them be self-sufficent, it would be considered a waste to leave such land unused. But Shen Tung-lin's 'comprehensive farming'is rather more complex than that.

He began with six chia of land in which he planted pomegranate trees, but since they only bear fruit after two years, how was he to manage for money in the meantime? In the spaces between the rows, he planted papaya trees, which only take six months. Two years later he harvested his first crop of pomegranates, and chopped down the papaya trees in order to clear the space beneath the pomegranate trees for geese.

Shen Tung-lin is 34 this year. He grew up in the country in Tainan, became a businessman and ran a publishing house. Six years ago, when he decided to return home and take up farming, he borrowed funds and even rented his land from others.

At present, apart from pomegranate trees as a long-term income and geese as a mid-term income, he also raises 150 pigs for ready income.

He also attends all sorts of agricultural courses, looking for the kind of farming that suits him best. He's taken courses in pomology, chicken and pig raising, tractor operation, and horticulture. His concepts of farming come from the economics newspapers he reads every day. He's their most faithful reader, particularly of those articles dealing with visits to entrepreneurs, "Their successes and experience together with their management techniques are all worth looking into."

He's especially interested in their organization of time and feels that the production process used in factories can be adapted to agriculture.

In seeking parallels with industrial and commercial management he is also aware that "There are far more hazards in agriculture." In industry or commerce, you can work all night and day in order to make a fistful of money in the shortest possible time, but agricultural crops are living things and if the market price looks ready to plummet, there is nothing you can do to make them grow overnight.

Sitting in the living room of his newly built three-storey Western style house with his wife, son, and daughter, Shen Tung-lin talked about his plan, in addition to pig raising, to take up the highly profitable business of horticulture.

Always looking for new things to try. What will come after horticulture? At the moment he can't say. But if he ever finds the kind of farming that really suits him, then perhaps he will specialize in that in a big way.

One thing is for sure though, and that is that he hopes his business acumen will eventually provide the means for him to save time. "So that I can make the most of my family life," he says.

Having long been abundant in sugarcane and famous for its shaohing wine, Puli is now the biggest supplier of Baby's Breath and carnations. There are also seedlings grown by Lin K'un-hsiang, the young man chosen the year before last as one of the ten most outstanding young villagers.

The flower growers can either buy their seedlings from other growers or import them directly. But Juan Chin huang, a flower grower in Puli says, "I have great faith in Lin K'un-hsiang's products."

He was the horticulturalist with the highest level of education in Puli. He earned himself the title of 'scholar' which made the farmers ask, "Since agriculture has no guaranteed income, what is a university student doing here?"

When he was a senior in college, he knew from what he'd learnt that in countries with wide open spaces, such as the U.S., it was possible to make good use of machines and thereby lower costs. He also knew that Taiwan is mountainous with very little level land, and that cultivated areas were relatively few. Therefore, it was necessary to develop high-yield crops, flower seedlings for example.

After graduating, he went to Puli for practical training, following the pioneer of horticulture in Puli, Li Jui-ming, and studying techniques for propagating seedlings.

After four years he went to West Germany and Holland where he learned that horticulture, like any industrial or commercial enterprise, can use completely standardized methods.

He spent seven months in Europe, together with three other 'classmates,' studying seedling propagation in various companies. He was able to learn 'on the job' the commercial aspects of seedling production.

"The Dutch have had a well-developed horticultural industry for seventy or eighty years and with all that accumulated experience they have been able to establish the most economically viable production methods," said Lin K'un-hsiang. "Researchers in Holland have already come up with the perfect 'prescription' for every kind of flower or plant. That is, when is the best time to plant, how much fertilizer to use, in which order to use which kind of worker, differentiating between the less skilled gardeners who tidy up the plots and the highly skilled ones who cultivate the seedlings. If they follow the procedure prescribed, then they are sure not to lose."

Of course, although he took in these various concepts, when he returned to Taiwan there were other conditions to contend with, such as a different climate, different soil, and different facilities: "Here I have to work out my own 'prescription.' For example, which month crop production is best in, what concentration of fertilizer to apply, how much, and for how long? To find these things out we have to keep on experimenting. In addition we have to have the ability to tackle any eventuality." And because Taiwan's hothouses are not yet automated, if winter comes on earlier than expected, or rain is too heavy, they have to find solutions as the need arises.

Improvements in techniques, management, and facilities mean that now the survival rate of Lin K'un-hsiang's Baby's Breath seedlings has risen from 60% to 80%, giving him an edge on imported Baby's Breath seedlings.

Another change in Lin K'un-hsiang since returning from abroad is that he feels it is due to the help he received from the Council of Agriculture that he has been able to make such progress in his understanding of horticulture, and so he has become more than willing to set an example for others and to pass on his new ideas to flower growers; hence his seedling farm offers a comprehensive 'after-sale service' from the treatment of disease and insect pests, to concepts of farming, to the supply of market information--everything a customer could possibly need. "He isn't only a friend of the horticulture business, he's also a skilled and patient teacher," says Li Chin-lung.

With his new and enthusiastic ideas Lin K'un-hsiang has won the respect of the flower growers of Puli. "Since I first came to Puli, the seedling farm has increased and the cultivation of short-term seedlings provides an annual income of about NT$2.5 million. When I was voted the year before last as one of the ten most outstanding young people, I was invited all over the place to give talks and so on, but what makes me the happiest is still the trust placed in me by the flower growers."

[Picture Caption]

The setting sun at the Nan Ho Dairy Farm. It's hard to believe that ten years ago this was a desolate mountain.

Li Ying-yao tends the sick cow day and night.

Wu Tun-yao (left), Li Ying-yao (center), and Shih Shang-pin hold hands. They've gone through both good and bad times together over the past twelve years.

Wu Tun-yao enjoys a cup of tea with his wife.

Shen Tung-lin chose collective farming in order to diminish risks.

Shen Tung-lin takes a group photo with his family in front of their new home.

Lin K'un-hsiang, who grew up in the city, has formed a good relationship with his customers of Puli.

After spending seven months in Europe, Lin K'un-hsiang gained a lot of experience in the commercial aspects of seedling production.

Li Ying-yao tends the sick cow day and night.

Wu Tun-yao （left）, Li Ying-yao （center）, and Shih Shang-pin hold hands. They've gone through both good and bad times together over the past twelve years.

Wu Tun-yao enjoys a cup of tea with his wife.

Shen Tung-lin chose collective farming in order to diminish risks.

Shen Tung-lin takes a group photo with his family in front of their new home.

Lin K'un-hsiang, who grew up in the city, has formed a good relationship with his customers of Puli.

After spending seven months in Europe, Lin K'un-hsiang gained a lot of experience in the commercial aspects of seedling production.