Winter comes to Bear Meadows Farm

Jeff Biddle walks with one of his cows at Bear Meadows Farm, located in central Pennsylvania, on Nov. 14, 2023.

The raw milk dairy farm was once the beef farm that Biddle grew up on — but he never enjoyed beef farming and dreamed of turning it into a dairy farm. His dad didn’t believe in the idea and wouldn’t pass the farm to him. He finally relented, in 2004. “I wish my dad would’ve let me do what I wanted earlier,” he explained. Today, Biddle is living out his dream as a dairy farmer.

Biddle leads the last, least willing, cow into a stall to be milked. Biddle explains why she doesn’t like to be milked: She is an older cow who understands the daily process, so she waits in the back of the barn hoping she won’t be noticed.

Biddle feeds one of the barn cats in the milking parlor.

The cat, one of many who roam the farm, sits on top of the water jug every morning meowing until Biddle switches the lines to fill a bowl with milk.

Harman Meyerhoff, a technician at Lancaster DHIA (Dairy Herd Improvement Association) observes Biddle as he works. “We test for fat, protein and the overall health of the cow,” Meyerhoff explains.

A milking machine is attached to a cow during the morning milking. Around 40 cows a day are milked daily out of the 130 that reside at the farm. Six milking machines are used to speed up the process. Quality control is strictly enforced. The legs and udders of the cows are cleaned before being wiped down, disinfected and each teat is checked for health before being milked.

Claudia Biddle stands in the milking barn as her husband and others work around her. She suffers from dementia and spends her time going back and forth between the farm and her shared home with Jeff on the property. While she isn't able to help out often with the cows, she enjoys taking care of the cats that roam the land.

Biddle makes sandwiches for himself and his wife, Claudia, in the kitchen of their home as kittens dance around. “My wife has dementia and it’s not getting better,” he explains. At the age of 67, Biddle finds himself busy as a dairy farmer and as the sole caretaker for his sick wife. Their children are unable to help with day-to-day tasks in the home and on the farm. His daughter is occupied with her own family. His son lives in Washington and is physically disabled after a life-or-death scare with meningitis.

Biddle sits on the couch in his living room eating lunch as a cat curls up on his lap. Biddle is the sole caretaker of his wife, Claudia, who was diagnosed with dementia. After making them both lunch, he calls out to her before sitting down to eat. He dines alone as Claudia wanders through another area of the house. Before heading back to the farm, he turns the TV on for her.

Biddle looks at the cow breeding catalog, an index of in-depth information on cows including the breed, date of birth and overall genetic merit. He has discovered that by looking at specific information on a cow, he can get a good idea of whether or not it will produce a male or female baby. As a dairy farmer, Biddle is looking for his cows to birth more females.

Biddle climbs over a gate as he goes from the trail the cows walk to the milking parlor. Biddle knows that large-scale farms have more hands on deck, have a lot more cows than him and create hundreds of gallons of milk a day. However, he is very proud of his small operation, the excellent quality of raw milk he produces daily, and he cherishes the personal relationships he has established along the way. “We do everything different. We don’t make as much milk but our quality is superior,” he brags.

Biddle kneels over a cow in labor in the barn at Bear Meadows Farm. This cow, Tequila, gave birth to a female whom Biddle named Tickled.

Biddle walks toward one of his chicken coops with a bucket of water. “There’s a lot more to it than just milking cows,” he says. Although he never expected to have as many chickens roaming the farm as he does, he is grateful for the eggs they bring in every morning and jokes with customers that he needs to get more soon. As customers drive up to the barns, the chickens greet their cars with clucks.

Biddle hands out lollipops to the sons of a customer in the milking parlor. “You’ll see that I don’t have a lot of customers, I just have a lot of friends,” he says.

Biddle is fond of the relationships he has developed with people across Centre County, citing that the seller-customer bond and quality of milk continues to bring them back.

Biddle wipes his brow as he talks to a new apprentice. “I work my butt off,” he says.

Each morning, Biddle wakes up to corral the cows in and milk them. The work on the farm is constant throughout the morning. He goes home mid-day to check on his wife, who was diagnosed with dementia. During the evenings, he sells milk, cheese, eggs and meat before working into the darkness of the night. A few people have passed through to help, but Biddle does a majority of the manual labor himself to keep the farm afloat.

On a cold winter morning, Biddle walks back to the milking parlor after feeding the chickens.

“I hope to die here,” he says.

As Biddle continues to age, his work ethic and love for farming does not decline. As a self-described strong-willed man, he aims to never give up his land or his farm. His wish is to die on the property after years of doing what he loves, surrounded by animals he loves.