The Stimson Farm: A Living Legacy

Breaking from the monotony of driving on Route 2 toward western Massachusetts, it would be
hard to predict you'd shortly be winding up the dirt drive to a farm that's remained in the same
family for 271 years, 32 years before the start of the American Revolution. As a momentary
skepticism sets in, the original Westminster cracker factory directly ahead instills a confidence I
may be getting closer to my destination.
A few turns on rural roads later, the car's tires crackle up the driveway, a rusty antique tiller
greeting me along the way. Off to the left, a stone wall lined with old maple trees cordons off a
pasture holding a herd of Herefords, and a weathered but sturdy red barn lies just beyond. An
expanse of field opens up ahead, the forest in the distance just scarcely visible. To the right, a
stately white farmhouse with green shutters stands, the home of Craig and Kelly Stimson.
Back in the 1700's and 1800's, farms like the Stimson's studded the New England landscape.
Subsistence was necessary for survival, and vast pastures sectioned by stone walls signaled the
end of one field and the start of another. Today, though many of these stone walls are overgrown
by forest, the Stimson farm in Princeton, Massachusetts still maintains. The farm's survival is
testament to years of pragmatic decision making, diversification, and a family dedicated to the
land for 11 generations.
Craig, a tenth generation farmer, staggers towards the wrought iron gate barricading his pasture
of grass fed Herefords. He walks unsteadily, dragging one leg behind with the assistance of a

cane. The cancer that plagues him has weakened his gait, but his demeanor is determined and
strong, his smile gentle.
There are 16 animals in total, a herd comprised of elegant white faced heifers, an adolescent steer
and a newborn calf. As Craig's 22-year-old son Kevin enters the fence from the outside, he starts
herding the animals to the next pasture over. The older cows are more hesitant, the steer wants to
be chased around, the calf rises on wobbly legs from its kneeling position.
Herefords are beef cattle, contrary to Holsteins, which are high-producing dairy cows. Back in
the farm's heyday as a dairy operation in the 1700's and 1800's, there were 65 milk producing
Holstein heifers. Seated at the west base of Mount Wachusett, the Stimson's was the first dairy
farm in Princeton, and one of the oldest in Massachusetts. In the 1950's, there were still an
abundance of operating dairies in Massachusetts, but today the number has whittled down to a
mere 150.
Basic economies of scale have contributed to the decline in New England dairies and farms in
general, with larger more efficient farms winning out over smaller ones. Practically, farming has
always proved more efficient out west, providing larger tracts of land and better soil. In
Massachusetts specifically, if one considers the states' high land values, labor rates, cost of
living, and shorter growing season, it's easy to understand why few still operate. Additionally,
small margins on milk and unpredictable federal pricing schemes make dairy especially
precarious. In 1993, the Stimson farm ceased its dairy production. It was a difficult time, but the
family kept going.
Inside the beautifully renovated post and beam farmhouse, I am lucky enough to sit down with
three generations of the family, and their black and white tuxedo cat Taj. "I was born upstairs,"

says Craig's father Chaz, a spritely 77 year old with a radiant smile and magnificent blue eyes. "I
was the only son so right away I knew my place in life." His skin is spotted by the sun, and Craig
remarks, "He's got the hands of a farmer."
Chaz unfolds a story of growing up on the farm when the house was multigenerational, and
describing the changes that took place after he obtained his degree in agriculture at The
Stockbridge School in the 1950's. Chaz's education prompted the farm's switchover from horse to
machine, and allowed them to double the herd's average milk production. "It was a great life," he
says. Chaz is still active on the farm, mowing, raking, and baling hay nearly every day in the
summer.
Over the years, approximately half of the farm's original 200 acres were sold to keep up with
taxes, either to the town or the Audobon Society for conservation. In the 1980's, about 90 of the
remaining acres were placed in an Agricultural Preservation Restriction Program (APR), a
government initiative aimed at preserving land for farm use. This handover allowed Craig's
parents a way out of debt and the ability to pay off their mortgage. In addition, equipment was
purchased and improvements were made, including new tractors, balers, and the construction of
a silo.
In 2006, Craig and his brother Steve, a landscape architect, took ownership. Together they coown the APR land, with Craig also owning the farmhouse, barn, and equipment. Craig focuses
his efforts on making hay, also raising beef, turkeys, and growing vegetables, while Steve
cultivates a broad variety of tree species for landscape projects. Although the trees have been a
stimulating family project just now starting to take off, it's hay and beef production keeping the
farm at break even.

As profits from the farm alone would not be sufficient without full time work, Craig and Kelly,
as well as Steve and his wife Lauren, have all held full time jobs. Steve, tall and composed,
seems to epitomize the cosmopolitan farmer. Splitting his time between his house a half mile
down the road and his architecture office in Boston, he echoes Craig's sentiments in saying the
farm is more about tradition than enterprise profits.
"It's about the legacy and preservation," he says. "It's a way for our family to continue the
tradition of farming and gain some income to supplement what we do for full time jobs. The
hope is to maintain it for our family and help promote agriculture in our town. " Steve goes on to
discuss the importance of agriculture in perpetuating the cultural and aesthetic value of the
landscape, citing this as a major factor for government protection programs like APR. As the
farm is now multi-use, this diversity ensures the land is not adversely impacted by a single type
of intensive agriculture. This results in a healthier farm, with more abundant flora and fauna.
As I bring up the future of the farm, Steve confides it isn't something he and Craig have
explicitly mapped out yet, but there is a sense of duty and obligation in the family to keep it
going. "Until Craig's brother passed away and Craig got sick, we didn't think about our own
mortality," he says. "It's been a way of life and something we assumed would be there and we'd
continue to do." He talks about the next generation, to include his daughter Annie, Craig's
daughter Lauren, son Kevin, and youngest son Dylan.
Lauren, Craig's oldest at 23, is an energetic dental hygienist. She says she is content with her
brothers assuming ownership in the future since they have both expressed a strong interest. "The
boys are most interested and that's fine," she says. "I'll come hang out and help when needed and

have my kids spend time at the farm. I definitely want my children to experience everything the
farm has to offer like I did. I want them to know the value of farm work."
Steve elaborates on the importance of work ethic, something he believes many children today
lack. As a child growing up, he was expected to rise at 5 a.m. with his siblings to feed, clean, and
milk cows, and start again after returning from school in the afternoon. By the time the barn was
clean in the evening, the family often played baseball together until dark.
Dylan, an ambitious 21-year-old mechanical engineering student, says he'd like to get more beef
cows and convert the big field into a grazing pasture, while also getting a few milk cows. He
talks of starting a farm stand for the locals, observing a sizable demand for quality products the
"earthy crunchy" people are willing to pay more for. The Massachusetts Department of
Agriculture agrees, asserting direct selling for small farms (as opposed to wholesale) is a way for
them to effectively compete in today's market.
"He's more of a businessman than I am," says Craig good naturedly. Craig says they could
probably better use what they have to make the farm more profitable, explaining they are in a
transitional phase. He mentions how diversification has become necessary for many modern
farms, and agritourism (events and weddings onsite) and CSA programs are becoming
increasingly popular.
The farm won't transition generationally for another 15 to 20 years, and in the meantime, Dylan's
focus remains on his mechanical engineering degree and saving up money to maintain the farm
when his time comes. It's clear he views the farm as a way of life, and not just a hobby.
Eventually, he envisions living in a multigenerational farmhouse with Kevin, harkening back to
his grandfather Chaz's upbringing. With Kevin living and working on the farm, operation would

be much more manageable, Dylan says, mentioning also that his children may someday work
with him to fill in the gaps. "Hopefully he meets the right girl that'll fit into this kind of life,"
says Chaz.
It appears the legacy is in good hands, with no end in sight for the historic farm. Just as with
generations before, a proud heritage has been handed down, and the honor in maintaining it has
not wavered. "It's the most satisfying work I've ever done in my life," affirms Craig. As the
business of agriculture evolves in the United States and Massachusetts, the Stimson farm will
undoubtedly undergo continued transformation and change with the times. The demands of 21st
century farming are evident in government programs aimed at conservation, financial and
technical assistance. One thing is certain - the farm will be around for many years to come.