A barn fire destroyed their family farm. Other farmers say 'it can happen to anybody'

For nearly eight decades, generations of MacKinnons have ridden their bikes and muddied their clothes in the Buckland Holsteins barn, caring for the cows that made their family dairy business go round.

The wooden structure, spanning 48 metres, was home to 165 cows on the farm in Barnston West, in Quebec's Eastern Townships. 

Last month, Peter MacKinnon's family watched helplessly as it burned to the ground. 

The fire levelled his family barn, killed his cows and damaged three silos in what he says was a huge "sentimental loss."

"My childhood was spent in the old part of this barn," he said, standing in front of the piles of  burnt wood and hay.

"All those memories in this structure, in this area, have evaporated."

He can still picture the structure: its office, computers, milking equipment and automated feeding system — all of which were destroyed. 

"I've woken up at night wondering what it could have been and what maybe we could have done differently," said MacKinnon.

The family suspects the fire was electrical in nature and caused by a type of system malfunction that's top of mind for many of those in the agricultural industry. 

While some have turned to electric monitoring systems for added security — including the MacKinnons — fires are still affecting dairy farmers due to compounding risk factors, including types of machinery in the barns and its dusty, moist and humid environment.

Christian Kaiser, the chair of the Fédération des producteurs de lait du Québec in the Eastern Townships, says that the region sees two or three barn fires a year — an average he says is fairly consistent across other regions of Quebec.

"Somehow, fires in barns just go so quick," he said, adding that this is the case for older barns and new construction alike.

Barn went up 'like a tinderbox'

At first, MacKinnon thought he was dreaming. 

His wife woke up just before 2 a.m. to an odd sound coming from the barn located a few hundred metres away from their bedroom window, he says. 

"The sky was lit up with flames," recalled MacKinnon. "All kinds of thoughts raced through my head."

He says there was no question about trying to save any animals; the whole facade of the barn was engulfed in flames. The fire department called in reinforcements and spent hours containing the fire.

"It was a roaring, raging fire that I will never forget," he said. "There's a lot of flammable material and it just goes up like a tinderbox."

Visiting the Buckland Holsteins farm after the incident felt like a funeral, says Tim Keenan, the MacKinnons' neighbour who also runs a dairy farm in Richmond, Que., 40 kilometres northwest of Sherbrooke. 

"It's such a terrible loss," said Keenan. "We work with these cows every day." 

Barn fires are a "constant concern," he said. Even just smelling a whiff of smoke in the area can lead to panic. 

He says the structures themselves are more vulnerable to fire as barns tend to be dusty, attract mice and cows tend to produce a great deal of moisture and heat.

The risk is so significant that insurance companies often require electrical outlets, switches and fuse boxes to be sealed to prevent dust and moisture from corroding the wiring, he says.

About five years ago, Kennan installed an electric monitoring system which sends an alert to a phone when a motor, electrical light or plug doesn't function properly or overheats in the barn.

While the system costs about $10,000 and requires additional annual monitoring fees, he says it's reimbursed through the reduction on the premium from the insurance.

"You never think it can really happen to you," said James Butler, a dairy farmer in Waterville, in the Eastern Townships.

"[The MacKinnons' fire] just tells you that it can happen very quickly and it can happen to anybody." 

Butler also installed an alert system in his barn. 

There's been quite a bit of automation in the industry and he says electrical components and motors can lead to higher probability of fires. Once a fire gets going, Butler says there's not a whole lot that can be done.

"You have seconds, minutes to try and save your animals." 

Plans to rebuild for 8th generation

It's what happened to Clarence Markus in Woodstock, Ont., 12 years ago. He was alerted that his barn was on fire by a trucker who came knocking on his door at 2 a.m. 

While he was able to save some cows, the structure was a loss. He and his wife looked at it as an opportunity to start over again. 

"That's very key in all of this, that positive attitude," he said. "We didn't really want the hassle of it all, building a new facility, but then lo and behold, here we stood and right away we sensed, 'OK, all our kids wanted to be in agriculture.'" 

They rebuilt and reopened a year to the day after the fire. 

Martha MacKinnon says her family will also bounce back. She is determined to continue the MacKinnons' legacy, rebuild and be the eighth generation to take on Buckland Holsteins. 

"I don't want to be anywhere else but here," she said, standing next to her dad, Angus MacKinnon, and Peter, her uncle.

"To have that taken away so quickly with so much of my life ahead of me can be a bit hard … but I think our vision here has always been very positive." 

Starting to clean up the field, excavate, dispose of the animal carcasses and organize the demolition of a silo that was damaged in the fire, Angus says the family was fortunate to save 12 calves who were housed in calf hutches outside. 

While there's a lot of movement on the property, Angus says the community has shown up for them, mourning alongside them and encouraging them to move forward. The night of the fire, Angus said he received a text from a neighbouring farmer. It was a photo of the sunset.  

"[He] said, 'Angus, the sun is still shining,'" he recalled. "That has inspired me to look forward, not look back."