On his green, rolling spread in Grand Bay, 30-something Joseph Mason eyes his black Angus cows as they move about the meadow, grazing peacefully. He tilts his cowboy hat back a bit as his dogs, two Labrador Retrievers, come to be petted. He points to the white Lab: “This one’s name is Ranger.” He leans toward the chocolate Lab: “This one’s named Sadie.”
As they soak up the attention, Mason bends lower, scratching their ears. “This cattle farm is something I never foresaw; a few years ago, I went through a difficult divorce and suddenly wanted to make a change in my life. Then I found this little farm in Grand Bay. All at once, I was not only a most eligible bachelor but also a cattle baron.” He smiles, his green eyes twinkling. Mason was admittedly a most unlikely candidate for cattle farmer. He says he had zero background in agriculture, but raising high-quality, healthy beef suddenly became something of a mission. He squints up at the cloudless sky, watching some bluebirds swoop over the field. He is a man of big ideas, undaunted by challenges and not content with the status quo. You can say he jumps into the deep end when an idea strikes.
“I started with 30 head of cattle, and it was an immersive experience: a local river rat turned farmer. I traded flip-flops and shorts for cowboy boots and jeans.” Almost overnight.
He walks part of the wooden fence, checking for any broken places with weathered, calloused leather-gloved hands. “The biggest surprise [about raising cattle] is not one but two. The first was, after a month of having the cows, they started to give birth, and I didn’t even know any of them were pregnant.” That was baptism by fire for the animal husbandry novice.
When asked if he names the cattle, Mason shakes his head. “The people who work for me name the cattle; I try not to. But I did name one: there was a miniature Angus bull that someone was going to process. I met him, petted him, realized he was harness-broke, and so I took him home and named him Willis. I have a cat named Dang It I found on the side of the road. I am not a cat person, but I knew I had to take care of him, which is why I named him Dang It.”
He continues walking the fence-line and adds, “I have eight trademarks under the Mason Farms brand now.” An incredible feat in a short amount of time, but the dust doesn’t settle on Mason. “Now we have offerings at 17 grocery stores, including our own two retail locations.” He nods in the direction of Ranger: “That one has a dog food and dog treat line in his name. Sadie’s still jealous about that.”
And the other surprise, I probe? “How little our own state government helps farmers like me, as opposed to how other state governments help cattle farms in their states. My farm has not received any grants from the government. You have to love what you do in the farming business in Alabama.”
It’s no surprise that farming is not highly profitable, so Mason dabbles in other things to make ends meet. He says, however, the level of support from the community makes it all worthwhile.
“With the growing interest in having a healthier diet with clean protein,” Mason says as he eyes his cattle. “I think people are beginning to understand how what they eat, and where that food comes from, influences their health.”
The entrepreneur says this was something he felt God was calling him to do. Besides wanting to give people good, clean protein, he gives all his animals a healthy environment. “We want them to eat clean, like we do,” he says.
Process Oriented
Starting a farm from scratch is a daunting task, and the road has not been easy. There was a point late last year when Mason hit a wall and thought about giving it all up. His team encouraged him to get away and take a break. “I can’t plan far in advance like other people. A farm needs you all the time.” But his team held down the fort and Mason booked a last-minute flight to the UK using points. His face lights up when he describes all the new experiences, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants adventures and new friends made from that week. He came home rejuvenated and full of purpose. He says he also realized during that time away that the obstacles faced in business aren’t personal. They are just problems to be solved.
“You might say I’m a kind of Renaissance man: I love hunting, traveling, going to theaters, and also raising and processing cattle. It’s been a lot of fun, but there have been times that have been more than challenging. I have been stretched and molded in ways I didn’t even know I could be.”
Mason’s life has little of a daily routine. “I just see what the day holds. I’m really open to changing my day and being flexible. This helps me live in a not-too-regimented fashion, because that creates mediocracy. I think it helps leave me flexible to change and I find myself liking to be open to whatever life gives me.”
We leave the fence-repairs for another day and walk down a gravel road flanked by hay bales and calves— a slew of fur balls recently weaned from their mothers. Willis, the miniature Angus, babysits the youngsters through that process. Mason enumerates the challenges the farm has faced: some he has overcome and others left him scratching his head, or worse, hit the bottom line hard. But this man never met a challenge he wouldn’t face head on.
At the end of the lane sits a state-of-the-art facility that is Mason’s pride and joy — and largest investment. “I took all this a major step further,” he continues, “and built my own processing facility.”
From left to right Beautiful cuts of hormone-free meat are on display in the butcher shop at the farm. Processed animals hang in the facility for a 14-day drying process.
Now, Mason Hills Farm is the first cattle farm in the state with its own USDA-inspected, on-site processing plant. “We raise the cattle, we study the genetics and have learned how to make a great product. With on-site processing, we can control every aspect of beef and other meat production from beginning to end, including packaging and selling the meat.”
According to Mason, his farm staff is made up of people that are capable but have never been in the right environment to reach their potential. “I try and hire people that no one else wants. I want Mason Hills to be about helping people with their own battles. Because I own this piece of property, some of those battles should no longer be a part of their lives.” He points to his farm logo and says red represents the blood of Jesus. He took his faith even deeper into the business — about 3 feet deeper. “I buried a Bible in the threshold of the processer, and inside it wrote a blessing, so when the cattle walk on their way to become harvested, they are blessed. When people eat our products, He’s in there.”
Mason reflects on how his difficult divorce actually gave him a new and positive spin on his life. “When tragedy hits you,” he says, “when loss happens, more times than not, we find ourselves reverting to old ways. So the farm was a way to intentionally go the opposite way. Change isn’t easy, but going back is never an option. Burn the ships.” He smiles and adds, “The farm has been the place where ‘little Joey’ has become ‘Joseph.’”
He says life is really one huge adventure. “I want to make sure that I’m making memories, good memories for myself and others.” And good-quality beef.
