GUILDERLAND — Jason Graziano stands comfortably midst his small, new herd of classic Hereford cattle. He has brought the cows a bucket of grain. They cluster amiably about him as he pats their curly white heads. The red fur on their backs looks soft in the late evening light.
He wipes some mud off of one of the Hereford’s faces. "See what pretty pink noses they have," he says.

The heads of the full-grown cows come just to his waist. Graziano is one of only three farmers in the state, and the first in the region, to have the classic breed — with a lineage that goes back to the mid-1700’s in England.

Graziano grew up on Bullock Road in New Scotland, where his family raised thoroughbred horses. He wants his children to grow up with the same understanding of country life.

He looks out from the small pasture he has fenced in and points across a thickly treed area to a bridge in the distance that crosses the Black Creek.
"This all used to be farmland; it was all wide-open field," says Graziano, making a sweeping gesture with his arm that reaches from Depot Road, where his house sits, across the woods and over to the creek. He plans to reclaim the land for Patroon Farms, as he calls his place.

Graziano has an old photograph that shows the farm the way it used to be. The grand, steep-roofed Victorian house still perches by the road. But the massive barn behind it is gone. Rows of cultivated crops beside the barn are gone, too, and so is the nearby orchard and sweeping pasture.

The current farm has its quirky aspects. A 35-foot fishing boat sits in the pasture, near the cattle. Graziano is restoring the boat himself.

Newly-purchased young hens are warming in a lamp-heated coop in the barn, readying themselves for the day when they’ll lay eggs.

Family matters

Graziano’s talk is filled with family — both extended and nuclear. His father first researched the little-known Herefords. His cousin designed the farm’s website (PatroonFarms.com) so people can find out about the breed, and perhaps purchase some of their own.

Most weekday mornings, Graziano puts on a suit and tie and goes to work in Albany as an administrative aid for the State Assembly. But on weekends and evenings, he’s comfortable in overalls and work boots on his farm.

He and his wife, Marcy, purchased the 69-acre farm and its 155-year-old house with the idea of turning it back into a working farm.
"I’m an outdoors kind of guy," said Graziano.
"He’s a big hunter," said his wife.
"I wanted the kids to grow up in the farm atmosphere," said Graziano, "and learn the important lessons of life, the simple things...where a hamburger comes from; that Styrofoam is bad, that farm-fresh is good; buy American, be American.
"We like the outdoors," agrees his wife. "Not being in the city with the houses next to each other."

Marcy Graziano talks of her dreams as she holds her week-old baby, Austin, in her arms and as their three-year-old daughter, Alexis, and two-year-old son, Jason, scamper about on the hardwood floors in the parlor.

Marcy Graziano talks of plans she has for the house; the pocket doors and oak fretwork will stay.

Jason Graziano talks of plans he has for the farm. Already he has moved a small, rotting barn next to the house, back near the cattle, placing it on a solid foundation.
"When we bought the place, this barn was considered a liability," he said, describing the way it leaned towards the house. He got an estimate to have it moved, and termed it "astronomical."

So, he moved the barn himself.
"I used PVC tubes," he said matter-of-factly. He went on to explain that he took the rotted bottom foot off the barn, lowering it on to the tubes. He then used his Ford tractor to pull the barn back to the new foundation.
How did he get the idea"
He answers with a shrug, "It’s just like they did with the pyramids."

Graziano is building a solid three-rail fence around the pasture for the cattle. Most of it now is fenced with temporary stakes strung with wire that carries an electrical charge.
"I don’t want the kids to touch it," he said, noting that it doesn’t produce a severe shock. "It’s like touching a light socket with wet fingers," he said.

Classic Herefords
"This is the latest and greatest in beef," said Graziano of the classic Herefords.

But, while the heart-healthy beef is now popular with health-conscious Americans, the breed has a long history. According to a booklet complied by R. Rust Largent from Point of Rocks Ranch in Fort Davis, Texas, where the classic breed was nurtured while most of America moved towards large cattle, the breed was developed in the middle of the 18th Century in Herefordshire, England.

As urban populations grew in Britain, beef cattle were needed to feed the city dwellers. Before that, farm families had had multi-purpose oxen, which pulled their carts and furnished meat and milk. Benjamin Tomkins in 1742 decided to breed cattle that could efficiently produce beef from native grass pastures. By the second half of the 19th Century, Herefords were a dominant breed in England.

Henry Clay imported the first Herefords to America in 1817; by 1900, imports totaled 3,600. As America became settled, there was a growing need for beef in the big cities and ample grass in the midwest. Different bloodlines were developed among the American Herefords and, by the second half of the 20th Century, the smaller breeds fell from popularity.

The smaller classic or miniature Herefords are now again becoming more popular. A classic Hereford weighs less than 500 pounds and stands under 38 inches in height at maturity, while some of the larger modern Herefords weigh over 3,000 pounds and stand 65 inches.

The classic Herefords are not a small version of the modern-day, tall, long-legged Herefords but, rather, are similar in conformation to the early Herefords, which were short-legged and chunky.
The original Hereford was bred to be a better beef animal by being self-sufficient, using grass to the extent of becoming fat with no other nutrition. The original purpose of what are now referred to as miniature Herefords was to genetically re-establish the type of Hereford that made them the original "Royal Breed" or the "Beef Breed Supreme."

The miniature Hereford matures early, is highly fertile, and has high feed conversion.

Total nutritional intake is directly proportional to body weight. That means two 600-pound cows require no more nutrients than one 1,200-pound cow, but they’ll provide twice as many T-bones. Prime beef can be produced at 14 months with a miniature Hereford.

The cuts of meat from a classic or miniature Hereford are smaller but are more tender.

The classic Hereford is also bred to adapt to various climates, to be hardy, and to have calves easily.

Also, the little Herefords can be raised on small farms and are kept by some people as pets, in the way they would keep a dog.

Guilderland classics
"The cows are self-sustaining," said Graziano. "They eat grass and drink water....The majority are sold as pets...They use them in petting zoos.
"They’ll mow your lawn... They don’t dig it up," he said.

The rule of thumb is to allow an acre for every two cows, he said.

Graziano currently has one bull and four cows as well as the recently-born calf. Two other cows are pregnant and due to give birth soon. The Herefords have a 10-month gestation period.
"You can do this with just three or four acres," said Graziano.
A male calf, a steer, costs $500 to $1,000, he said. The heifers cost $2,500 to $3,000, "because they’ll have calves," he said.
Depending on the fluctuating price of beef, the meat from an 18-month-old steer will sell for roughly $1,000, said Graziano. The meat is in demand, he said, because it’s tender and "heart-healthy."
The meat is desirable, he said, because the cattle are fed primarily with grass rather than grain. "It’s 80 percent more efficient than other cattle," he said.
Graziano built an addition on the barn he moved to shelter the cattle, but they hardly ever use it, he said. "Only when it rains hard or in the middle of a snowstorm," he said. "They like to be outside."
While Graziano said he feels his children will be safe near the cows, the bull is "not totally predictable." He stressed, "You have to show respect for a bull."

Asked if it would be hard for the children to know animals they had grown close to were to be slaughtered, Graziano said the plan, for now, is to breed them for sale to others.
"Eventually," he said, "when we build a herd, we may send them out for beef."

The cattle they purchased came with carefully recorded lineage.
"We’ve got family trees and paperwork," said Graziano. "It’s like buying a purebred dog."

The cattle also came with names — Pebble, Silver, Nugget. The Graziano kids named the new calf Supper.
"That baby cow is wild," said Alexis. "I have to get a nice one."

Two of the cows are 14 years old; one is 15, said Graziano. The bull is three-and-a-half years old.
"The vet said she saw one live to 22," he said, when asked about the life span of the Herefords.
"They’re out to pasture; this is their retirement," he said of his cows.
Graziano points out the bull, licking one of the cows. "He’s a lover," he said, "She’s pregnant."

Graziano is eagerly awaiting the next birth.

The vet has instructed him how to dip the navel.
He missed the birth of Supper. "I was watching and waiting for days," Graziano recalled. "I went to bed late — at 12 o’clock." Still no calf.
When the next day dawned, he said, "I looked out the window, and there he was. I went out and he was already dry."
Graziano concluded, with a shake of his head, "It’s really kind of miraculous."