“I thought I could go on forever,” he told the Australian Dairy Conference in Geelong earlier this year.
“I had a great band of people working for me but then I hit a brick wall. I said to my wife, ‘I’m not going to be able to die here, I’m going to have to cart you off alive’.”
The answer was a sharefarming arrangement which has allowed the couple to move off their farm, 7km from Wonthaggi in south-west Gippsland, and enjoy activities which previously took a back seat.
“Thanks heavens we made that decision.”
Mabin attended Massey University in the 1950s as part of an exchange organised by Victoria’s Department of Agriculture. While his father owned a farm in Wonthaggi and he worked there for wages for a time he admitted to “very itchy feet”.
“I couldn’t see how the family could help me move along,” he said.
After he married Mary in 1963 he went sharefarming on a local dairy farm, running pigs as well as cows. A lease came up on a 70ha block which really appealed to him.
“There were 26 people who tried for it but we got it,” he said.
He was later able to buy the block with owner finance but felt locked in until he was able to buy a runoff 5km away. Other pockets of land were purchased until he owned 250ha and built a new rotary dairy, employing the labour he required.
“But I couldn’t see the wood for the trees,” he said.
For the last two and a half years he’s had a 38% sharefarming agreement with Mark Garnham, who has provided all farm labour. In the future he could buy into Mabin’s herd, which would allow him to retain more of the milk cheque as well as increase his stake in the business. There’s a good support network in place from neighbours, friends and consultants.
“I allow him free rein,” Mabin said.
“He’s very good with the cows which is a blessing because if you don’t look after the cows you’ve got nothing.”
Mabin belongs to the local Probus club as well as a local group of 20 farmers who meet every fortnight.
“We don’t need a man’s shed,” he said.
“We just talk.”
And while when he was on the farm he only had time to glance at a Reader’s Digest, he’ll now happily spend three hours reading, not able to put the book down.
“It’s almost like the farm didn’t exist to me,” he said.
“I’m amazed how time goes – maybe that’s because I sleep for half of it.”
