Spring should be a time of promise, but the Mulder Dairy is clouded by doom. “Pretty depressing topic to talk about so I don't really bring it up a whole lot,” Kelsey Mulder said as he milked his father’s herd of 170 Holstein cows.Mulder is counting the days until the United States of America – the only country he's ever known - forces him to leave.Eighteen years ago, Kor Mulder and his former wife brought their two sons - ages two and three - from their native Holland to the open spaces of western Minnesota to start a dairy farm.Back home, land was scarce - while regulations were many. With an E-2 Visa in hand, Mulder saw in the U.S. freedom and opportunity.He hoped that if he paid his taxes and invested in his community, a nation built by immigrants would one day open its arms to his family and grant permanent status.“Boys go to school, I don’t live on welfare, then you would think you could eventually make it work to permanent residency. That’s logical thinking,” Kor Mulder said. But Mulder’s hopes have repeatedly been thwarted by rigid immigration rules. Now Kelsey - weeks from his 21st birthday – must, according to those same rules, return to Holland.In June he’ll go back to a language he doesn't speak and a country he barely knows.“I prefer the gravel roads of western Minnesota, that's for sure,” Kelsey Mulder said.And Kelsey will not be the first Mulder to go.Garion, Kelsey's older brother, was forced off the farm and back to Holland last year.With both his boys in Europe – and unable to run the dairy alone – Kor Mulder sees only one course: liquidating his farm and returning to Holland too.