A meat processor’s first year proves they can open their doors. Years two, three, four, and five prove whether the business can endure. This is when early assumptions are tested, the learning curve settles into systems, and plants either stabilize or stall.
Nearly five years after opening their USDA-inspected facility in Wyoming, Bear Mountain Beef isn’t just operating—they’re a case study in getting established, efficient, and growing with intention.
“LET’S JUST BUILD OUR OWN”
As highlighted in their original Friesla Client Story, Bear Mountain Beef is a USDA-inspected small meat processor located in the southeast corner of Wyoming—about 20 miles from Nebraska and 60 miles from Colorado. The plant harvests and processes beef, hogs, lambs, and goats, along with the occasional bison (and, once, a water buffalo).
Like many independent processors, Bear Mountain Beef was born out of necessity. Husband and wife team Mac and Celsie Sussex were running multiple businesses, ranching, and selling their own beef directly to customers. When COVID-19 disrupted access to meat processing, they were forced to haul cattle hundreds of miles to get them butchered, then haul the finished product back home.
To add insult to injury, they couldn’t control quality, timing, or cost. The pain of that gap pushed them to act. Mac recounted coming home from work one night and saying to Celsie, “Hey, let’s just start our own meat processing facility. It doesn’t seem like it’d be that big a deal.”
IT WAS, IN FACT, A BIG DEAL
Mac and Celsie weren’t new to livestock. They’d long been involved in beef production and sales, and they partnered with neighboring families facing the same bottleneck. Adding a local meat processing facility was a logical next step. So they jumped in.
By mid-2021, they were in full planning and construction mode, collaborating with Friesla on USDA-compliant mobile and modular processing units, and moving from idea to an operating plant in roughly six months.
In the beginning, it was a lot. The duo was everywhere—on the kill floor, in the cut room, troubleshooting equipment, answering phones. “We had to be,” Mac recalled. “We didn’t have any experience in the industry. The learning curve was steep.”
“If we didn’t have each other to lean on, I don’t know that we would have continued through the beginning parts that were really tough.”
Celsie Sussex, Bear Mountain Beef
That pressure tested more than just the business. As Celsie put it, “If we didn’t have each other to lean on, I don’t know that we would have continued through the beginning parts that were really tough.”
Nearly five years in, their roles have shifted. They’re still deeply involved, but more as problem-solvers and planners than line workers. With a capable team and effective systems that drive operations forward, they’re working on the business rather than only in it.
BIGGER ISN’T ALWAYS THE GOAL
Bear Mountain Beef isn’t a high-volume commodity plant. That was never Mac and Celsie’s goal.
In 2022, their first full year of operation, they processed 876 head of beef. In 2025, they surpassed a milestone they previously considered aspirational: they processed over a thousand head of beef—1,056, to be precise.
From 2022 to 2025, Bear Mountain Beef processed roughly 3,000 head of beef and about 4,700 animals across all species.
That volume has ripple effects well beyond the numbers. Producers from across Wyoming, Colorado, and South Dakota haul cattle six, seven, or even eight hours to Bear Mountain Beef. Not just for access, but because USDA inspection gives them options they didn’t have before. For many producers, it’s the difference between selling locally and selling across state lines, and between bulk freezer beef and branded retail cuts.
“We’re not [operating a big plant like in] Amarillo or Lexington, but this is what small plants actually look like.”
Mac Sussex, Bear Mountain Beef
Mac and Celsie have watched that shift play out in real time. Producers who once sold a handful of animals a year are now building small brands, traveling to farmers’ markets, and developing consistent retail programs. Some bring four or five head of beef every month, using local processing to support businesses that simply weren’t possible in the region before.
“We’re not [operating a big plant like in] Amarillo or Lexington,” Mac said, “but this is what small plants actually look like.” They might not have the huge volume, but they do have trust—and for Bear Mountain Beef, that was the real goal.
GROWING, INTENTIONALLY
Some growth came faster than expected. Custom labeling, in particular, exploded. Bear Mountain Beef now manages approximately 130 unique labels for producers who want their own branded packaging. It’s a value-add for customers—and an operational complexity that the team had to learn to carefully manage.
Other growth was intentionally delayed. The Sussexes deliberately slowed their expansion into ready-to-eat products, choosing instead to master raw processing first.
“We wanted to get our head wrapped around what we were doing (with raw processing) before adding another layer of USDA inspection,” Mac said. “When you do ready-to-eat (smoked and cooked) products, USDA is very particular—and it should be.”
That intentional, careful mindset has defined much of their decision-making.
STABILITY TAKES TIME
Financial stability didn’t happen overnight. Mac said it took about three years before “we were finally able to breathe a little bit,” as cash flow and payroll stopped feeling tight.
Their early assumptions about capacity proved optimistic, he reflected, and their business model assumed higher throughput than reality allowed in the first years. Training, repetition, and team development were how they closed that gap.
Today, the business runs on a rhythm:
- Weekly key performance indicator (KPI) reviews with managers
- A target of 3,500 pounds processed per day to cover costs
- A dedicated quality control role focused solely on daily yield, consistency, and standards
Efficiency matters, but not at the expense of product quality. “There’s a fine line,” Mac noted. “You can get too efficient and start skipping steps.”
WHAT OWNERSHIP LOOKS LIKE NOW
Mac grins while describing his role today as a “glorified troubleshooter.”
Some days that means jumping back into production when staffing falls short. Other days, it’s maintenance—when equipment breaks, someone needs to fix it. Increasingly, it’s reviewing numbers, planning capacity, and thinking about what the next two to three years should look like.
One shift in his thinking was abandoning the idea of a single plant manager. Instead, Bear Mountain Beef moved to department-level leadership—slaughter, processing, quality control, and office management—creating clearer accountability and faster problem-solving.
CULTURE AS INFRASTRUCTURE
The people side of their business remains the most challenging part for Mac and Celsie to manage, but it’s also the most valuable.
“This is the hardest industry that I’ve ever been involved in to get started,” Mac said. “Managing people will always be part of it.”
Bear Mountain Beef employs 15 full-time staff, plus part-time office support. Hiring is selective, with two-week working interviews to confirm fit. Wages and benefits are competitive for the region, and the Sussexes place heavy emphasis on character, reliability, and long-term commitment.
As Celsie explained, “We work pretty hard to try to take care of our staff and do our best to create a good environment for everybody.”
They’ve built a culture that reflects rural realities: kids in the conference room on no-school Fridays, flexibility when life intervenes, and support that sometimes goes beyond a paycheck.
“We had an employee we had to bail out of jail,” Mac shared candidly. “Since then, he’s become one of our best people. He appreciated that in his time of need, and we appreciate him being honest with us and continuing to try and get better—and working hard.”
In a small community, those choices matter. So does proximity: about 60% of their team lives within 10–15 miles of the plant.
EQUIPMENT MAKES A DIFFERENCE
Mac didn’t hesitate when asked what made the biggest difference early on.
“The two Friesla units,” he said. “We wouldn’t be where we are today without them.”
Getting operational faster than building a traditional brick-and-mortar facility was critical. Their plant layout includes a Friesla Mobile Harvest Unit as the slaughter floor, a carcass hanging room built by Mac, a Friesla Cut and Package Module, and a pair of converted refrigerated containers they self-sourced. All of it ties into a 60-by-80-foot steel building.
Reflecting on what they would size or phase differently if starting again today, Mac pointed to two items:
- They would start with a larger, fixed slaughter module (a Friesla Harvest Module) rather than a mobile unit. “Originally we were planning on being mobile, or having to slaughter mobile,” Mac said. They’ve instead remained static so the mobile unit, built in a trailer format, doesn’t need to move. In the future, they hope to make the switch to a modular slaughter floor from Friesla.
- Freezer space is their bottleneck, replacing further processing as their limiting factor. Expansion is already being explored.
That’s been their pattern: figure out what’s slowing them down, develop a solution, and then move forward.
THE BROADER IMPACT
Bear Mountain Beef is currently the only USDA-inspected meat processing plant in its county after another nearby USDA-inspected facility closed in 2025. That status has changed what is possible for local livestock producers and what is available for consumers.
Just as important is education. Much of the plant’s daily interaction with customers involves explaining yields, cuts, and expectations. That mission of reconnecting producers and consumers with what meat actually is has become a core of their business.
“If we want to be here in 10 years,” Mac said, “education is the most important job we have.”
BUILDING AN ECOSYSTEM, NOT COMPETITION
That belief led to the creation of the Bear Mountain Beef Butcher School—an unplanned extension of the business that helps aspiring processors avoid early mistakes.
Several of their students have already opened or built their own facilities. It may seem counterintuitive to help other independent processors get started, but the reverse is true: helping others succeed, Mac said, doesn’t weaken Bear Mountain Beef’s position. It strengthens the entire ecosystem.
“There’s always room for more local beef, more options for producers and processors, and more people knowing precisely where their food comes from.”
DEFINING SUCCESS
Success, for Mac and Celsie, isn’t about chasing a single number.
“As long as we’re improving and moving toward our next goals, we’re successful,” Mac said. “I want to see growth in our team, in ourselves, and in the business.”
What comes next includes ready-to-eat products, expanded training capacity, and continued refinement. Nothing radical—just staying the course and making steady progress.
In local meat processing, that might be the most sustainable outcome of all.
