THE PAS, Man. – It’s 8:30 a.m. and Margareta Markus is flying around the kitchen getting waffles and fresh strawberry jam for a sleepy haying crew.
Australian exchange student David Handley rubs his eyes and endures teasing about his first night on the baler. He put up 800 round bales.
In this northern farming region, cool nights often leave heavy dews in the morning, meaning the crew can sleep in. But Tony Markus has already checked the grass and is squirming to get out there.
Making the best of short summers is how he built Big Lake Angus Farm into one of the largest, most successful operations in the Carrot Valley.
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“You can’t say you’re going to do it next week,” he said. “You have to work long hours and use good days.”
Markus first saw the flat, stone-free soil of The Pas while working in a nearby bush camp when he first arrived in Canada in 1956. A baker by trade, he had left Hungary after his father’s farm was taken over by the government.
He spent four years baking in Regina, and sent for Margareta, whom he’d met during his escape through Austria.
They first farmed land at Swan River, but quickly realized they wouldn’t be able to expand easily. So in 1964, they went north, bought 400 acres of reclaimed marsh in the Carrot Valley, and began clearing bush. In 33 years, he has cleared 3,000 acres.
Markus started his cattle herd with 40 Angus heifers. “I never worried about what the neighbors said,” he chuckled. “I liked the black guys.”
As they saved money, they’d buy a bit more land, and a few more cows, and kept the heifers to build the herd. Markus believed in quality, and stuck to reputable breeders when buying bulls.
An article in the Sept. 1978 issue of Canadian Aberdeen Angus News recounts how a farmer from The Pas stunned the Regina bull sale by making the final bid of $5,400 for a reserve grand champion bull.
No one there heard of Tony Markus. He was forgotten in the traditional sale photo.
Today, he has 600 cows in his herd, and more than 20 purebred Angus bulls. He swears by the hearty Hereford-Angus cross, especially since mothers calve unassisted. No Markus cow has ever had a caesarian.
He backgrounds calves to 12 months, then has his own sale of 350 to 400 head 240 kilometres away at the Kelvington Auction Mart in Kelvington, Sask. in March.
In 1993, Markus was named Angus commercial breeder of the year in Saskatchewan. In 1994, he received the same honors in Manitoba. This spring, he was recognized in what he considers to be an even more meaningful way.
He was honored to have been named an honorary pallbearer at Hereford breeder Ole Vick Oddan’s funeral in May. Oddan helped Markus out in the early years, pointing him toward other good breeders.
Having always seen himself as “a little immigrant kid from the old country,” Markus said he knew he’d done well when he saw his name among those of other respected cattle producers on Oddan’s funeral program.
He regrets missing the funeral, but he had to work.
Markus is also proud of his children. They worked hard on the farm too, and got an education.
Linda teaches in Thompson, Man. Sandi is an urban planner working in China. Susan is a livestock specialist working with the Alberta government in Coronation.
And Tony Jr. was a machinist in Winnipeg before moving back to the farm that his father wants him to run one day.
It’s a lot of work, looking after the cattle and more than 8,000 acres, almost half of which are cropped.
Markus said he thinks the family has as much as it can handle, a comment that brings smiles to the faces of Tony Jr. and Margareta. They’ve heard him say this before. He just bought more land this spring.
“You gotta go bigger or get out” is another plank in the Markus philosophy. “If you think you’ve made it, you’re going backward.”
Markus said he believes in accepting challenges, but has never taken on more than he felt confident he could handle. When things were tough, he just worked harder.
“Don’t cry, do something about it.”
He finds happiness in a good crop and healthy calves. This year, he’s quite proud of the quality of the 6,000 bales he is putting up.
He cajoles a reluctant visitor to climb to the top of a granary and take a photograph of a lush field of bales, and coaches her all the way. He just wants her to see what he does: a land of opportunity.
“You just gotta bend down and pick it up. It’s there,” he said.
The isolation of living in the north? “I like it. To me, this is tailor-made. A little bit of privacy, not too crowded.”
Farmers in the area have proven themselves to the rest of the province as pioneers, he said.
“We don’t take a back seat to no one,” he said, not explaining whether he’s talking about the community or his family.
