“I love arugula,” he said.

Ater is a self-proclaimed “glass half full kind of guy,” and he’s savoring some newfound moments of peace these days. This time of spring is typically a busy one for Ater — his high tunnels would be bursting with greens and his production team would be working nonstop as the growing season ramps up. But after 15 years of growing vegetables for local communities and being a North Country farmers market mainstay, Fledging Crow Vegetables has declared bankruptcy, stopped large-scale production and will no longer sell produce to the public. Ater started the bankruptcy process this past October, and he said the process was finalized over the last week.

Over the years, the farm grew dozens of varieties of vegetables on its 42 acres and maintained a presence at farmers markets in Brooklyn and Manhattan, as well as in the Adirondacks. The farm offered wholesale products and dozens of CSA shares each year, and the farm’s growing practices were certified organic by the Northeast Organic Farming Association of New York.

As Ater brewed a pot of coffee at the farm on Tuesday, he ran through a timeline of operations at the farm. He started with 2016 — eight years after he founded the farm with his former business partner, Lucas Christenson, in 2008.

Ian Ater, the owner of Fledging Crow Vegetables in Keeseville, walks through a high tunnel at the farm on Tuesday. Fledging Crow has stopped selling produce to the public after 15 years of farming after Ater declared bankruptcy this past fall. (Enterprise photo — Lauren Yates)

Things were good in 2016, Ater said — the farm was mostly offering wholesale produce in Rochester, Albany, New York City. In 2018, when Christenson left the farm for other work and family life, Ater decided to stop wholesaling and focus on CSA shares and selling produce at farmers markets locally and in New York City. He nearly shut down operations in 2019 after breaking his femur and reflecting on the farm’s future, but six employees of the farm carried operations on and Ater opted to scale down production instead of shutting down. Things got better. And when the coronavirus pandemic set in in 2020, his business’s success became “miraculous,” according to Ater.

Farmers and their employees were considered essential workers, meaning they could still sell produce in the city and had access to necessities like fuel and good seeds. Fledging Crow sold around 12 months’ worth of food in four months at markets locally and in the city at the start of the pandemic, Ater said. There was also a pandemic-related pause on certain payments, and Ater was able to pay off some of his debts. That success continued for around one and a half years — it was the best stretch of business Fledging Crow had ever seen. But then, as large swaths of New York City’s population migrated toward more rural areas with the widespread shift to remote work, business at Ater’s city markets plummeted.

Even though farmers market traffic in Keene and Saranac Lake, where Fledging Crow was a regular vendor, was booming with the influx of new homeowners and tourists, Ater’s losses in the city meant his overall business started to suffer. While most local farmers markets only run from around June to October, markets in the city operate throughout the winter, providing essential income to the farm — Ater said selling at city markets was what allowed him, and many other local farms, to sell produce locally. By January 2022, Fledging Crow’s profit from city markets dropped by “well over” 35 to 40%, according to Ater.

Meanwhile, the cost of production at the farm had nearly doubled as inflation set in, a byproduct of the pandemic and the Russian attack on Ukraine. As prices for everything from fuel to compost skyrocketed, Ater tried to subsidize the farm’s operations with loans in hopes that the downward trend in city market sales would turn around.

“I fought tooth and nail to keep going,” he said.

The sign for Fledging Crow Vegetables in Keeseville, located at the farm’s entrance, is seen here Tuesday. (Enterprise photo — Lauren Yates)

But the downward trend just kept getting worse. Ater said there wasn’t much more he could do to boost finances and save the farm — he couldn’t make any more cuts to his staff, which was already down to six people by this past fall, and inflation showed no signs of slowing down. He wasn’t able to pay back his debts. Thinking of his young daughter’s future, Ater made the call to shut down Fledging Crow.

When Fledging Crow CSA share subscriber Kathe Fox, of Lake Placid, heard that Fledging Crow had declared bankruptcy, she was shocked to learn that the farm had been in financial trouble.

“They’re just the most wonderful, wonderful group of people with fantastic produce,” she said.

Ater said a lot of people in the local community have shown him support through his bankruptcy process, lending both help on the farm and donations to help pay the bills. He repeatedly spoke of how grateful he was to the community for their understanding during an emotional time and for all of their 15 years of support.

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Ian Ater, the owner of Fledging Crow Vegetables in Keeseville, brushes dirt from a bunch of arugula he grew in a high tunnel at the farm. Fledging Crow has stopped selling produce to the public after 15 years of farming after Ater declared bankruptcy this past fall. (Enterprise photo — Lauren Yates)

Hard work

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While finances were the driving force behind the end of operations at Fledging Crow, Ater said he was also experiencing some burnout from years of large-production farming. It’s a stressful job with hard labor and long days, Ater said. Add that to the unique challenge of farming in the North Country, where growing seasons are notoriously short.

“It’s a lot,” he said. “It’s your entire life.”

He said grants for local farmers have helped them to stay afloat in the last 10 to 15 years, but the rising costs of production sometimes outweigh that assistance. Ater said he’s not the only farmer who’s struggled under the increasing burden of inflation. He said he’s visited a couple of farms over the last week where owners said they need to double their production and reduce the cost of their produce or face going out of business.

Ian Ater, the owner of Fledging Crow Vegetables in Keeseville, walks through a high tunnel at the farm on Tuesday. Fledging Crow has stopped selling produce to the public after 15 years of farming after Ater declared bankruptcy this past fall. (Enterprise photo — Lauren Yates)

And as the general population suffers its own consequences of inflation, Ater said it’s easier for most people to forgo local products and buy organic produce and meat at their local Aldi supermarket at half the price. For people on a budget who are still looking to invest in local farms, Ater said it’s best to buy directly from the farms — like Juniper Hill Farm in Wadhams or Essex Farm in Essex — through a CSA.

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A “wild reality”

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Though he’s no longer selling produce to the public, Ater still gets to do some farming without the constant pressure to churn out a high profit. The bankruptcy process meant he had to give up some farming equipment, but he got to keep the land and his high tunnels — plastic-covered structures that extend the growing season by providing more warmth and protection for plants in the colder months. He was in a high tunnel at Fledging Crow on Tuesday prepping some lush microgreens, which he’s planning to sell to neighboring farms — it’s part of the next era of operations at Fledging Crow. He’s also contracting with other farms to use his fields, doing some work at other farms, and even renting out some living space on the farm through Airbnb. The future of Fledging Crow is flexible, according to Ater.

“I’m still incredibly enthusiastic about growing food for the local community,” he said. “How that looks is a question today.”

Ater said going through bankruptcy has been a “wild reality” for him. It’s the end of an “awesome” 15-year era at the farm, he said — one that blossomed from a seed planted 19 years ago when he first started farming at the Clover Mead Farm, which is now known as North Country Creamery. At the end of it all, he wouldn’t trade riches for the happiness he’s found in growing good food for local communities.

“I’m so happy I did it,” he said. “I don’t know a lot of 40-year-olds who can look in the mirror and be like, ‘Yeah dude, you lived your dream.'”

And Ater doesn’t consider Fledging Crow’s book completely closed. It’s just the start of a new chapter.

“It’s not over ’til it’s over,” he said.