Farming: A-Maze-Ing

A-Maze-Ing
What you can do with a field of corn
Bob Labbance

Driving around Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom in the Fall you’re overtaken by the understated beauty of the gentle hills. Roads curve past harvested cornfields dotted with crows, through hardwood forests holding tightly to their

final leaves, around pastures filled with contented cows and across farmland laid to rest in preparation for winter. As you pass a farm tractor here and a child on a bike there, you’d never guess that hidden in the gentle folds and promontories of the landscape is a destination that has drawn 10,000 visitors in the 15 brief weeks of Vermont’s fickle autumn.

"It all started about 12 years ago, when we had five nephews from New Hampshire that came up to play on the farm," recalls Dana Boudreau. "At that point they were using all the corn for the cows, and the idea of making a maze for five kids really wasn’t going to be an option."

Boudreau is part of the fourth generation farming these rolling hills in North Danville. "My grandparents bought it 54 years ago, from their parents. It used to be the heifer farm for my grandmother. My parents are still dairy farming; part of Cabot, and Agri-Mark." The family farm now encompasses 900 acres of the Northeast Kingdom, with stunning views evident from every hilltop.

"Seven years ago we were in a situation where we were both working in physical therapy, and we knew we had to move somewhere because we were sick of traveling to see both of our families," says Dana’s husband Michael. The young couple was living in Manchester, N.H. and trying to decide if they belonged back on the farm in northern Vermont, or whether they needed to separate themselves and try something else. "Mom and dad had us go to college, even if it was for something else, and then spend two years off the farm before we could move back," says Dana. "My brother is over in Swanton working for Husky doing chemical engineering. I did physical therapy, but we came back because I’d rather raise my kids here than in Manchester. We have an eight-year-old and a six-year-old."

"Her family had the farm, so we said, ‘Look, here’s an idea that I think we can figure out how to do. We’ll keep working and commute to make it work the first year.’ So they gave us the OK in the winter of 1998," says Michael.

"Never having been to a corn maze, we made the whole thing up over the winter."

Dana’s parents set aside 10 of their acres for what, at the time, seemed like a novel, but crazy, idea, especially for a farm so far from the New England population centers. Dana and Michael believed they could build something they’d be proud of and that would also provide a great deal of pleasure to agricultural tourists, a term that had just barely entered the rural lexicon at the time.

In fact, the Boudreaus were entering practically uncharted territory. "Around 10 to 12 years ago corn mazes really weren’t a big thing," says Michael. "It turned out the first big one in America started two years before ours, in Hershey, Pa. We’d never been to one. But I got out some graph paper; she got on the computer and figured out how to do the Web site. We printed our own brochure the first year. So, she’s doing all that end of it, and I’m doing the maze end of it. We’ve still never been to one, except ours."

"The first year we didn’t know if we’d get 1,000 people," recalls Dana, but there were plenty of expenses to pay no matter how many people showed up, including liability insurance. "The first quote we got was for $10,000, before we’d even taken in a penny," say Michael. "Having been in physical therapy for 10 years, you know what can happen. Luckily, the local guy came through for us and marked that down considerably."

In the years since their first maze, business has grown steadily, and in the fall of 2004, the Great Vermont Corn Maze at the Patterson Farm was visited by nearly 10,000 people. Despite the expansion of paying guests, the business has not exactly been a boom to the farm’s economy.

"When we say 10,000 customers, people say, ‘Wow,’ and do the calculations," notes Michael. The entry fee in 2004

was $8 for 15 and over; $6 for ages 4 to 14 as well as ages 62 and older; and free for kids under four. "What they don’t think about is that schools get a discount, Porta-Potties cost money, liability insurance costs money, all that stuff. We haven’t had any problems, knock on wood, but that’s why it takes two hours to open in the morning–we’re checking on everything."

In an era when farms are having a tough time making ends meet no matter how creative and thrifty they are, some look at the Boudreau’s and think they’ve found the answer. "Four years ago an out-of-state newspaper did a story on us. The editor decided to make the title, ‘Young Couple Saves the Family Farm.’ I can assure you we’re in no position to even cover their taxes, never mind saving the family farm," says Michael. "The fact is, her grandfather was the president of Cabot Creamery for 27 years, so he knows what he’s doing. The worst part was that Time magazine picked up the article and published it and it just snowballed–it’s embarrassing. People would call us or e-mail us almost weekly asking us questions about how to do one. And you knew they were doing it because they thought it was a gold mine. Well, it’s like Christmas tree farming or pumpkin sales; it goes through cycles, but people think you’re going to make a million. If we can keep this going for a few more years and get our numbers up it might be worthwhile continuing. But I’m still working full-time physical therapy in the winter. Our parents do the farming 24/7; we’re a simple offshoot. We pay a little rent on the land. It’s a little subsidy for them, but it doesn’t touch what they need."

As with any side business, there are benefits beyond financial. "We enjoy doing it, and it’s a creative outlet for me," says Michael. "It provides a location for the local schools to come for school trips; one where they don’t have to travel out of state. We have neighbors that come up and sell jams and jellies for their charities. We’re able to work with everybody in the area, and we’re not competing with anybody."

After six seasons the work has settled into a familiar routine. "We still do it on graph paper because we don’t know computers that well, and we don’t have enough time to switch over," says Michael. "My understanding is that down in Pennsylvania they use a wonderful global positioning system, which is probably a 15 to 20 thousand dollar system and quite high-tech stuff. But we’re happy with the results we get with the way we do it. We know the lay of the land. I know when people can see through the tree line to the house or the sun. I know when you’re walking south or north. I’m working all that into the design of the maze, the flow of the maze, not just the picture."

Michael also tries to make each year’s design different and unique. "We have people who come up five times a year; they’re people who do mazes. I had one family that came up and the wife said they came up four years ago, and since then they do about two a year. Her husband compares everything to this one, and they’re from California. This is the standard; everything gets measured off ours. Which is nice to hear, considering we don’t have a clue of what we’re doing."

The Boudreaus are being modest; they actually have the process down to a science. "At the end of May we do the

planting. Then we spend the month of June out there picking on our hands and knees," says Michael. "Rototilling, raking, bending the leaves, putting the bridges up–there’s always something that needs to get done."

Even when the maze eventually opens to the public, there is daily maintenance to assure a smooth operation. "It takes two hours in the morning to open the maze, with feeding the animals and checking trails," says Michael. "Sometimes I come home with a full bag of trash, then it’s in tip-top shape for when the people show up, because it’s always the first time for somebody. And even though we stop letting people in at 3 or 4 in the afternoon, depending on the month, we still don’t get out of here until 5 or 6. Then you go and do the rest of the farm work from 5 to midnight or from 5 a.m. to 8 a.m."

The Boudreaus realized that expanding their offerings from just the corn maze would entertain the whole family, thus encouraging return visits. "When we opened up we didn’t know if someone would get through in five minutes or two hours," notes Michael. "It turns out pretty much every year it takes at least an hour and a half on average. So we lucked out, but we knew we had to do more. We made a flower garden and other puzzles. We have the big red barn with 100 feet of underground gopher tunnels. The kids are popping their heads up in the gopher hole through clear bubbles walking right underneath your feet. And they just run around, most young kids probably spend more time in the tunnel than in the maze, just going nuts."

This past year they made another addition. "We used to have people finish the maze and just sit in the parking lot. They didn’t want to go. They got up to look at the view and let the kids play football, so that’s when we did the barnyard golf."

The golf idea came from years of swatting a ball around the farm, aiming at distant targets. "We’d play a par three around the sick cow, and I don’t think anyone’s ever kept score," says Michael. "Now people are whacking the plastic ball as hard as they can with a wooden cow cane. It goes about 30 to 40 feet. It’s the world’s first barnyard mini golf to the best of our knowledge; no one else has been crazy enough to do that."

They also wanted to complete the picture for visitors, showing them who ultimately enjoys the corn. "We added the barnyard nature center, and we’re still in the process of adding to it. A gentleman loaned us a black bear; and we have a coyote and turkey coming. It’s amazing to be able to show everyone the animals that eat the corn."

One sidelight has turned into a major highlight of each season. "The great haunted maze has become the be-all and

end-all of this," says Michael with a gleam in his eye. It grew out of a practical joke during a starlight maze they tried for a couple of years. "One night at the end of our starlight maze the girls went through, trying to sneak through without us knowing." But the boys planned a surprise, jumping out at them and scaring them half to death. "They came back to the booth and everyone said, ‘You’ve got to do a haunt.’"

Relying on the volunteer help of their neighbors, the couple planned an elaborate nighttime haunting on another portion of the farm, away from the corn maze. "It’s a lot of work, and you never know who will show up," says Michael. "The first night we did it we had a three-hour waiting line. The next year we did reservations, and there was still a bit of a line. This year [2004] we figured some stuff out with reservations so there was no line. You show up with a ticket you got in–we basically sold out for 10 bucks a head."

The experience starts with a magic show in the barn. "Then we put you on the hay wagon. It’s all covered so you can’t see where you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re from Danville, New York, China, France or Germany–now you’re really not sure where you’re going. We ship you off to the back woods, and send you down a half-mile path that leads to the cornfield and forest. We have 40 hard-core guys out there that love this. We had this guy flying through the sky, 10 feet off the earth out of a grave. I don’t want to give away too much [of] what we did. We’ve done a lot."

While they staff the daily corn maze with paid workers, the haunted maze brings out people who get a charge out of scaring others. "We’ve actually had hard-core hunters who have given up those four nights to be able to stay in the woods in the dark scaring people. At this point, we know of 29 people who have wet their pants, mostly adults. We also had a woman come this year and tell us, ‘I’m not wetting my pants, I’m wearing Depends this time.’"

It’s been a transition from working with cows to working with people, but thanks to their background in physical therapy and their enjoyment seeing people have fun the Boudreaus are flourishing. "You get people [who] try to drop kids off here," says Dana. "But it’s a 7-acre maze, not a playground. It’s something you need to go in as a family." There is a strict no alcohol and no smoking policy, and Michael has been forced to ask a few people to leave.

"We get 10,000 people a year, and 9,800 are wonderful people. You just have to accept that fact, no matter how you write things, how you make the directions, how you make the maze, no matter what, some people will have problems."

When the maze closes down in late October, the corn is harvested and added to the silage. "Of course they chopped everything else down two to three weeks ago. It’s more of an annoyance for them actually because they’ve done all the chopping, and here we are [and] they have to start the machinery up again. But they’ve been tolerant of us."

Bob Labbance resides in Montpelier, Vt. EMail him with your ideas and comments.