By Kitt Garmisch
The Gwenyn Hill Organic Dairy herd recently had a breath of new life added to it—we just welcomed thirty-one new dairy cows. These girls came from a small farm a few hours north in Chilton, Wisconsin: Badger Hill Farm. A forty-cow dairy, family-run for generations, where the cows were milked every day, twice a day, by hand and heart. But on April 1, 2025, they shut down their milking system for the last time.
Badger Hill isn’t alone. It’s one of thousands of small dairies being pushed out of the market—forced to sell their herds, close their barn doors, and walk away from a way of life that, for many, is all they’ve ever known. It’s not just sad. It’s a warning.
The Gwenyn Hill Dairy Barn was constructed in 1958 by Jerimiah Williams. At that time there were over 140,000 dairy farms in Wisconsin.
A National Crisis in Dairy
According to the 2022 Agriculture Census, the U.S. lost nearly 12,000 dairy farms between 2017 and 2022—a drop from 39,303 to just 24,082. Meanwhile, total milk production actually increased. How is that possible? Because 68% of America’s milk now comes from only 8% of its farms.
The numbers paint a clear picture: dairy is consolidating. And while consolidation might look like efficiency on a spreadsheet, on the ground it feels like loss. These large-scale operations survive only because of economy of scale—thousands of cows, hyper-efficiency, and increasingly automated systems that maximize output, often at the expense of the animals, the environment, and the rural communities that once thrived around family farms.
More Than Just Milk: The Rural Ripple Effect
Dairy farms don’t just produce milk. They power entire local economies. Every bulk tank needs a truck driver. Every parlor needs a technician. Every barn needs supplies from the local hardware store or feed mill. A small dairy farm supports a whole network of rural businesses and jobs. When those farms vanish, the ripple hits everyone—feed mills shut down, vet services consolidate, and even local schools and stores feel the impact of declining population and revenue.
And it’s not just that jobs disappear—it’s the kind of jobs that change. Many of the large-scale dairies replacing small farms are turning to automation: robotic milkers, feed-pushers, manure scrapers. These systems may be efficient, but they also reduce the need for human labor. What used to take a family and a few hired hands can now be done by one person managing screens.
These cows have great potential to improve our land and our community.
From my perspective—not just as a farmer, but as someone who truly loves animals—this shift isn’t just an economic or political issue. It’s deeply personal.
Cows are not just units of production. They have personalities. I’ve raised animals all my life, and I’ve seen it firsthand—cows with quirks, preferences, and bonds to each other and their caretakers. On large farms, that individuality gets lost. Cows are given numbers, not names. The human-animal connection is thinned to a thread, if not severed completely. It becomes about output, not stewardship.
When you scale animals like a factory line, you lose something sacred. I believe that’s part of why consumers are becoming more disconnected from agriculture—because agriculture itself is becoming disconnected from its roots.
The Path Forward?
Some small farms are adapting: turning to direct-to-consumer sales, making farmstead cheese or yogurt, or transitioning to organic or regenerative systems. But even those moves take investment, time, and energy—not something most farmers have in abundance when milk prices barely cover the cost of production.
If we want small farms to survive, let alone thrive, we need more than just lip service. We need real support—policies that level the playing field, pricing models that reflect the true cost of ethical, sustainable farming, and consumer habits that value quality over quantity.
Because at the end of the day, losing farms like Badger Hill means losing not just another business, but a lifeline of rural America—a piece of culture, community, and care that no mega-dairy can ever replace.
Kitt joined the Gwenyn Hill Land and Livestock team in November 2024 after earning a degree in agriculture from McHenry County College and working with grazing dairy cows and pastured poultry at farms in Illinois. He is responsible for the health and wellness of our organic dairy herd as well as the quality of milk production.