Imagine dedicating your life to farming, yet never truly owning the land you cultivate. This is the stark reality for many young farmers in New Zealand, a country historically rooted in agriculture. But here's where it gets controversial: while dairy and meat exports remain lucrative, the path to farm ownership is becoming increasingly elusive for the next generation.
Take Cam Clayton, a 30-year-old sheep and cattle breeder south of Auckland. He works tirelessly alongside his trusted dogs, surrounded by the rolling hills and lush gullies of Waikato, a region he calls home.
"I have the best office, with the best views," Clayton reflects, his passion for the land undeniable. Yet, like many of his peers, he leases the land he works, a stark contrast to the traditional path of farm ownership.
And this is the part most people miss: New Zealand's agricultural landscape is shifting dramatically. Data reveals a 33% decline in farms between 2002 and 2022, from 70,336 to 47,250. Even more concerning, the land dedicated to farming has shrunk by 15% during the same period. While some farms have consolidated into large-scale operations, like Fonterra's recent multi-billion-dollar sale to Lactalis, young farmers are being left behind.
The traditional route to ownership, where young farmers would manage someone else's land while saving for their own, is fading. Skyrocketing land prices mean longer saving periods and the need for additional income streams.
"It's a vicious cycle," Clayton explains. "Large-scale investors buy up neighboring farms, creating portfolios that young farmers can't compete with."
Cheyne Gilooly, CEO of the Young Farmers club, a nearly century-old organization connecting young agriculturalists, echoes this concern. "The biggest challenge is helping young people finance their way into land ownership as prices soar," she says.
Cam Lowery, 27, and his partner Poppy Mitchell, 25, exemplify this struggle. Leasing Lowery's family farm near Dunedin, they juggle 2,700 sheep, cows, calves, and hoggets. Lowery, after university and shepherding across the South Island, realized the traditional path was out of reach. "Building equity off-farm is incredibly difficult," he admits. Kiwisaver, a retirement scheme, helps with home purchases but not farm acquisitions.
For now, they're fortunate to have family support. Mitchell works as a physiotherapist in Dunedin, an hour away, while Lowery handles the farm with her weekend assistance. Their days are long, starting at 7 or 8 am and often stretching until 7 pm. "It's demanding," Mitchell says, "but incredibly fulfilling."
Back in Waikato, Clayton wears many hats: assisting on his parents' dairy farm, managing a 600-hectare block, breeding and selling livestock, and taking on casual farm work wherever he can. His days are a whirlwind of milking, mustering, and even artificial insemination. A recent finalist in the Bay of Plenty-Waikato Young Farmer of the Year contest, he'll soon compete in challenges testing his knowledge of everything from horse tack to wool grading and dog handling.
"It's a diverse and demanding field," Clayton says, his enthusiasm unwavering. His long-term dream? Owning a farm with his partner, Emma. "There's so much to learn," he acknowledges, "but I love the unpredictability and richness of life on the land. I can't wait to see what each day brings."
The future of New Zealand's agriculture hinges on finding solutions for young farmers like Clayton and Lowery. Is the traditional model of farm ownership becoming obsolete? Can innovative financing models or government interventions bridge the gap? The debate is open, and the future of this vital industry hangs in the balance. What do you think?
