This story was first published by Pt. Reyes Light and is republished here with permission.
By Sophia Grace Carter
For the past several weeks, Margarito Loza has watched cows disappear from the Spaletta Dairy by the truckload—70 head one week, 35 the next. With each departure, the future has come more sharply into focus.
“Everything is happening so fast, right in front of our eyes,” Mr. Loza said.
When the remaining 120 cows are gone, likely by the end of July, so too will be the job he has held for 34 years and the trailer he shares with his wife, Chabela Alcala, and their two youngest children, the last of six they raised in the Point Reyes National Seashore.
The Spaletta operation is one of several historic farms shutting down under a legal settlement that will phase out nearly all agriculture in the park. Financial assistance from the Nature Conservancy, which helped broker a reportedly $30 million deal to buy out the family farms, is beginning to reach some of the workers and other families who live there. It’s part of a relocation program buoyed by local organizations.
But the path forward feels uncertain for many, including ranch workers worried about severance pay and other residents unsure of the timeline for their departure.
“It hasn’t been an easy program to develop and stand up,” said Michael Bell, the protection strategy director at the Nature Conservancy. “But it’s underway, and there are resources that will be out there. Checks will be sent in the early days of this month.”
The settlement, which resolved a lawsuit brought by three environmental groups over the impacts of ranching, includes a $3.75 million relocation fund intended to help the 26 remaining households transition out of park housing. Though the Nature Conservancy has not yet met its fundraising target, it has redirected money from other projects to begin issuing payments.
The transition fund is being administered by West Marin Community Services and Associated Right of Way Services, a Walnut Creek-based real estate consultant. So far, the two groups have met with 16 households, and more meetings are scheduled, said Yareli Cervantes, who is helping coordinate relocation efforts for W.M.C.S.
Twelve families have submitted forms, providing basic information such as their address, household size and whether they prefer to be paid by check or direct deposit. Each eligible household will receive an initial installment equal to 10 percent of their total assistance, which ranges from around $70,000 to $100,000, depending on family size. The remainder will be distributed once families move out.
The payments are calculated based on 18 months of average rent in Marin County and are “intended to be used for relocation and rent,” Ms. Cervantes said. “However, they’re not tied to it being used for that. We want them to have agency over how they spend those funds.”
Still, concerns persist.
“The process with the Nature Conservancy has been really confusing,” said Jasmine Bravo, a community organizer who helped start Familias Afectadas de Rancho, or FAR, a grassroots coalition of park residents. “We’ve received legal advice to be really sure of what we’re signing. I think there’s still some skepticism, if not outright mistrust.”
Ms. Bravo lives with her mother and siblings at the former McClure Dairy, which stopped selling milk in 2021 but continues to operate as a beef ranch and provide housing. Her family has not yet enrolled in the relocation program.
“We’re holding off as a form of resistance,” she said. “FAR is pushing for an extension for families with school-age children. My family doesn’t have school-age kids, but this is a kind of solidarity. We’re waiting until we get more information.”
Carlos Porrata, board president of W.M.C.S., emphasized that participation is voluntary. “It’s not a contract, like some people think,” he said. “Some people were worried there’d be pressure from the Nature Conservancy or West Marin Community Services, but there was no pressure to sign anything. They’re just being offered an alternative. You can choose to take advantage of it or not.”
Under the terms of the settlement, all residents must leave their park housing by March 1, 2026. But with employment already winding down and schools resuming in a little over a month, many families are expected to move sooner. Mr. Bell said the transition fund was designed to accommodate staggered departures.
The settlement requires ranchers to provide severance pay to workers losing their jobs. But the terms were left vague, and the roughly 13 remaining workers—employed largely by the Nunes, Mendoza, Spaletta and Kehoe operations—must negotiate directly with their bosses.
“Technically, a rancher could pay someone a dollar and call it severance,” Ms. Bravo said.
Mr. Bell emphasized that severance arrangements fall outside the Nature Conservancy’s purview. “Severance is an employer-to-employee discussion, and we’re not either,” he said. “We’re being careful to mind our lane.”
Tony Raimondo, the attorney representing the Nunes, Mendoza, Kehoe and McClure families, said his clients are committed to offering severance but cautioned that expectations should reflect economic realities.
“My clients do intend to provide some form of severance,” Mr. Raimondo said. “But candidly, that’s a private matter between the worker and the employer. These aren’t corporate layoffs with generous packages. These are small family farms that are losing their livelihoods. Once the cows are gone, so is the income.”
There is no severance formula in the dairy industry. Mr. Raimondo has seen some employers offer nothing and others help with a down payment on a house, but “most dairy workers will see half a month or a month’s worth of wages to help them move to their next opportunity,” he said.
His clients held off on discussing severance while the transition fund was being set up to avoid confusion between the two types of support, he added.
At the Nunes Dairy, workers were informed shortly after the settlement was signed in January that the operation would wind down sometime between June and October. But formal severance conversations have not taken place.
“Severance pay will depend on your performance as an employee,” owner William Nunes said. “We’ve got some guys that are really good guys, and we have others that are not.”
Some say power imbalances leave such negotiations fraught.
“The rancher will have his lawyer,” Mr. Porrata said. “Who’s going to be there for the worker? In my experience, I’ve seen people work for 20 or 25 years and get nothing but a goodbye.”
Ms. Bravo said tenants’ experiences vary widely. “Some ranchers are being completely transparent and honest and telling tenants they can stay until the March 2026 deadline,” she said. “Others are pressuring people and spreading misinformation.”
At the Spaletta Dairy, Mr. Loza said he and two co-workers were told in April they would have two weeks to dismantle infrastructure once the last cows were gone, and then 60 days to vacate their homes. After that, they would be both jobless and charged rent.
“Most of these employees don’t pay rent,” Mr. Raimondo said. “Housing is part of the job, and, in most cases, the employer covers the utilities. So the ranchers are still carrying the cost of maintenance and utilities. There’s a financial incentive to close down and wrap things up early.”
But tenants like Mr. Loza may have more time than they’ve been led to believe.
“The ranchers are trying to leave, and they get more money the sooner the residents are gone,” said Andrew Giacomini, an attorney representing ranch tenants in a lawsuit against the National Park Service, the Department of the Interior and the Nature Conservancy that seeks to block the eviction of ranch residents.
Mr. Loza’s family lives in a mobile home that must be cleared from the property before the Spalettas can collect their buyout. “But no one can force you out unless they serve you with an unlawful detainer. And as far as I know, that hasn’t happened,” Mr. Giacomini said.
At 58, Mr. Loza would like to remain a dairyman, but he worries his age will disqualify him from most jobs. He also wants to stay in the only community he has known since he arrived at age 24.
“The work isn’t too hard for me,” he said. “But finding a new job, that’s the hard part.”
Efforts are underway to support displaced workers beyond their relocation. In partnership with the county, the West Marin Fund is organizing systems to assist with job placement. The Small Business Development Center is tailoring a Spanish-language program to West Marin and recently held a well-attended focus group with affected families to brainstorm business ideas.
“There were ideas for everything from landscaping to hairstyling to detailing cars,” said Valaria Brabata, the director of programs and impact for the West Marin Fund, which will offer small startup grants.
The Workforce Alliance of the North Bay is also stepping in, offering wage subsidies and job training to match displaced workers with local employers. “Job seekers will map out their potential paths,” Ms. Brabata said. “It doesn’t have to be agriculture. It could be retail. It could be driving the school bus. There are many possibilities.”
This story is part of “Aquí Estamos/Here We Stand,” a collaborative reporting project of American Community Media and ethnic/community news outlets statewide tracking how current White House policies are impacting Californians, especially in rural regions, and how residents are responding.
