The LeBlancs of Margaree
The first thing I’m told on entering the henhouse with Miss Dee is, “Watch that rooster; he’s nasty.” Miss Dee is Denise LeBlanc, heading to collect the eggs laid overnight by her hens. She picks brown and white eggs from the sawdust-covered floor, and carefully places them in the woven basket that’s been the recipient of thousands over the years.
“Got to have both colours,” says Denise, “Some customers are fussy, so, we aim to please—always.”
Denise loves the moniker, Miss Dee. It was affectionally bestowed by a plethora of children she taught in her A to Z play school for 28 years. Forced to retire when Nova Scotia introduced the pre-primary program, she admits, “I really miss the children, but I’ve got lots to do around the farms; it’s 24/7, there’s three of them, you know.” She explains, “My husband, Leo, and I own, live, and work this one here in Fordview; it’s been in Leo’s family for four generations.” She continues, “On this unforgettable hill we’ve raised a family of four. Our eldest boy, Joe, lives in Guysborough; the other two, Ben and Peter, now have their own farms in Margaree. Our daughter, Adèle, teaches at the culinary school in Hawkesbury.”
Egg collection finished, we step into the cool-late-morning air and bump into Leo on his way from the sheep shed, followed by his two Maremmano sheep dogs, Bella and Beau, sniffing for the treats in his jacket pocket. “Coyotes don’t have a chance with these fellas around,” says Leo. “They’re native to Italy and great guard dogs.”
“They’re big, too,” I remark a bit uneasily, as I carefully back away to the safety of my car.
“Don’t go yet,” he insists; “Come and see the new lambs.” Into the barn we go and there, in separate pens, are the ewes and their newborns, some black, most white, feeding and bonding. Just across the walkway from the sheep, and beside one another in the same stall, are two huge draft horses, Leo’s pride and joy: Digger and Diamond, contentedly munching on their hay.
After an affectionate slap on each horse’s rump, Leo says, “I use them, mostly, to help spread manure. Although it’s faster to do it by tractor, I love to work them and, on this hill, we’ve got places a tractor can’t go. “And,” he adds, “Once a year, I fancy up their harnesses, hitch them to our wagon and take kids on hayrides at our annual festival, the Margaree Highland Games.” The pride in his voice is evident, particularly when he suggests—almost demands—I go talk to the boys about their farms. “And—don’t forget Adèle,” yells Miss Dee.
I give a symbolic salute and head south to Margaree Forks in search of Peter’s operation, Front Porch Farm. He’s hard to contact but eventually, we meet at his hardwood-encircled, riverside organic farm. It’s an idyllic site, where the alluvial soil and nearby-water source virtually guarantee the litany of first-rate organic produce and herbs for which he’s well known. If it can be grown in NS, it’s here.
The growing says Peter, is the easy part; done by nature with some luck thrown in. “With cash crops, it’s the cultivating through marketing that demands all my time and energy. My family helps if I’m stuck; we’re all here for one other.”
Most summer days it’s dawn to dusk for Peter, even with three helpers. Some are part of the Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms organization (WWOOF), a multinational system that links visitors with organic farmers. His biggest challenge is weather, particularly the last few years; springs are late and wet—summers hot and dry. This he blames on climate change but—whatever the reason—it required him to institute an expensive irrigation system. Pests, too, create havoc and are difficult to control. These challenges increase production costs and while some can be absorbed, most must be passed on to his customers.
“That’s the most unpleasant part of farming,” says Peter. His marketing strategy involves selling to restaurants and retail stores; at various farmers markets; roadside venues; online selling through the Cape Breton Food Hub; and participation in the local Community-Supported Agriculture system (CSA). The latter, where he has 50 customers, is a socio-economic model of agriculture and food distribution. It allows the producer and consumer to share the risks of farming. His customers pay a yearly up-front fee for their vegetables and herbs. Then, each week during the growing season, Peter delivers a box of fresh product to their door.
The up-front fee is great for everyone, says Peter. “It provides me with much needed cash at the beginning of the season, when my costs are highest, and my customers get fresh-from-the-ground product all season. It makes everyone happy and farming worth-while.”
Farming connections have certainly been fruitful for Peter’s brother, Ben. On Peter’s farm, he met Shandel, now his wife. Born in Edmonton, Alberta, Shandel has a master’s degree in environmental education. From home, which now includes one-year-old daughter, Mattie B, she practices her profession amidst the complexities of the life they love on Rural Roots Farm.
Ben takes the lead with the field work, where they raise lambs, hogs, Black Angus, Charolais and Simmental beef cattle.
Spring, although hectic, is Ben’s favourite time of year. It’s a time of birth—new calves and lambs. Calving begins mid-February and often coincides with lambing time. It’s a 24/7 period for Ben, his dad Leo and Shandel, in order to prevent casualties during the birthing process. Intervention is sometimes necessary. “With lambs, it’s relatively easy,” says Ben, “but when dealing with an eighty-pound calf, unable to leave the birth canal, it’s intense. Working together, our losses are infrequent. We’re fortunate; it tells us our adherence to healthy-herd management works.”
With the birthing cycle complete, it’s on to pasture fertilization, fence mending, readiness for haymaking and—although not as labour intensive—marketing strategies. Currently, live animals must be shipped to Pictou for processing, as there isn’t a licensed abattoir on Cape Breton Island. “That’s a huge impediment to keeping our costs and customer prices reasonable,” says Ben. Products are sold at their farm-gate, online through the Cape Breton Food Hub, to grocery stores, a health food store, restaurants and soon, on their own website. Last spring, likely due to the pandemic, meat demand increased by 20 per cent. “Keeping 10 per cent of those new customers would be wonderful for our future bottom line,” says Ben.
Meanwhile, largely from behind the scenes, marketing strategies are always buzzing in sister Adèle’s head. With a degree in tourism and hospitality management and her current position as assistant for culinary programing at a Nova Scotia Community College (NSCC) campus, she’s a great resource. Besides some teaching, she’s in daily contact with food-industry partners who are constantly searching for suppliers of good-local food.
“I’m grateful, and proud, of the opportunity to help students of all ethnicities experiment with food from many farms, including ours,” says Adèle. She adds, “the effectiveness of word-of-mouth experiences is boundless yet, often, unsung. It not only sells food, but places, as evidenced by the rising trend toward rural living.”
That’s a movement she embodies, being from a family that thrives on a labourious lifestyle. They are an inspiration to all who aspire to live the agrarian way.