US election 2020: The farmer helping Mexican immigrants

Ending illegal immigration was a signature promise when Donald Trump swept to power in 2016. But on the ground it's a more complex picture - and for one farmer in Wisconsin, undocumented workers have been a lifeline. And he's going to extraordinary lengths to repay them.

The paved road suddenly ends and all the numbers and street signs disappear along with it, turning into a gravel path cutting through green and golden pastures.

On one side of the path, there are small signs with slogans that are difficult to read from the vehicle.

"It is about the climate," one seems to say. "It is about you," is written on the next one.

Soon after, there is a much larger one, hanging on a fence: "Vote November 3. Wisconsinites for Biden."

It is the first sign in several miles showing for the Democratic presidential candidate.

"My wife is the one with the signs. I used to be that kind of guy. But now I just put them up," says farmer John Rosenow amidst laughter, at his house in Waumandee.

Rosenow says he is an exception in this small community, one of the counties in Wisconsin that gave President Donald Trump his surprise victory in 2016.

Wisconsin had not voted for a Republican presidential candidate since the 1980s but it went narrowly for Trump, in part because of strong for him in rural enclaves like this one.

Rosenow's family is well known in the area for being part of a project that helped knock down barriers between the US and Mexico. They call it Puentes [bridges].

"This is Roberto driving by. You'll meet him sometime. Last night we went to play golf together. He's got the golf bug really bad… so do I," Rosenow says, pointing to a man driving a loud vehicle down the road.

Mexican immigrant Roberto Teile has worked for six years in this dairy farm.

"He's been here since 4am, feeding cows", Rosenow says at around midday. A few hours after that, Teile will still be at the farm.

On a September morning, Rosenow's business, Rosenholm Dairy, seems to be operating with clockwork-like efficiency. But the situation now is drastically different to what they experienced in the 1990s, when nobody seemed to want to work here.

"It was 1998. We could no longer hire people locally so we decided reluctantly to hire immigrants. I hired the first one through a company out of Texas," the farmer re.

"He worked for two months and he was wonderful. But he was lonely because he was the only Mexican within 100 miles, so he left".

It was the beginning of an inflow of migrants, many of them undocumented. They ended up saving Rosenow's farm and that of many others in this corner of Wisconsin, during a time of acute labour shortages.

The number of immigrants working in the dairy sector nowadays is difficult to establish. A national study, conducted five years ago for the National Milk Producers Federation, estimated they represented 51.2% of the labour force and that farms employing immigrants provided 79% of the US milk supply.

Mexicans solved a crucial problem for the farmers in Waumandee - finding workers willing to perform hard physical tasks from 4am to 5pm or even later, in temperatures that can fall below -10C (14F) in winter.

But their arrival presented a new challenge.

"I realised early on that not knowing the Spanish language or anything about the culture, it was a real negative for me. If I was going to be a good employer, I needed to know all that stuff," Rosenow re.

He and other farmers approached the local high school Spanish teacher, Shaun Duvall, for help. And she proposed that they went on an "immersion trip" to Mexico.

"It was just an eye-opening experience," he recalls.

Fifteen farmers ed on the first trip, which included classes in the morning and in the afternoon. On one of their free days, it occurred to one of the farmers that they could go meet the relatives of their Mexican workers - a visit their Latino employees can't risk.

It was just the beginning of something bigger.

Rosenow helped to raise money to help the initiative and get more people to go. Up to 200 people, mostly farmers, have made the trip now. "And I've been down there nine or 10 times," he says.

A cheerful Mercedes Falk shows up in the farm, and many of the Latino workers turn up to say hello.

"Hola! Shall we meet later at English class":[]}