Designer Pet Food

A couple of weeks ago one of my rams and I had a slight misunderstanding that resulted in him charging me. He didn’t really hit me that hard and didn’t stick around to finish me off. To be honest it was my fault for not paying enough attention and doing too many things at once and that is not the point of this column

When I went down I landed on my left arm wrong and did something to my shoulder. It really hurt and continues to really hurt. I need to see a doctor, but our lovely health insurance has made our deductible so high I hate to think about what it might cost. I also do not have time to be laid up, so I am being the typical farmer and dealing with the pain and limitations. If it still hurts when I get caught up I might go, see the doctor.

The worst part is at night. A couple of times each night I roll over on it and it really hurts. The only way to deal with it is to go sit in the living room for a half an hour or so until the pain goes away. While I am doing that I watch a little late-night television and sometimes that is even more painful than the shoulder.

I am just amazed at the advertising and the claims that are made. I guess consumers are a little like lemmings and really don’t take time to think things through and some of the claims made by these products. Last night I saw an ad for dog food that advertising it was made with farm raised chicken. Any ideas of where else you might raise chicken. Wild or backyard where two options that came to mind right away. The obvious insinuation was that most chicken was somehow modified by evil corporations who probably developed it in a laboratory and either manufacture it there or on an even more sinister factory farm,

This dog food had pumpkin, blueberries, spinach and, of course, farm raised chicken. I am not sure how much time these people have spent watching their dogs, but gourmet food with delicate flavors are probably not what dogs really want. They should follow my dogs around for a while and see what they pick out on their own to eat. Then we would be seeing ads for dog food made with three-day old road kill that is unidentifiable in its origin with hints of fescue grass and calf feed.  Dogs really don’t care how the meat was raised, where it came from or even how it was “harvested”.

While this may make us chuckle it is a sign of how far we have come in terms of the disconnect between farmers and consumers. All meat is farm raised. Some is raised on bigger farms, some on smaller but no matter the configuration all meat is raised on a farm. For that matter, all meat is antibiotic free too. That is another popular claim I see on tv ads. All meat that is USDA inspected is free of antibiotics but if you have never been on a farm or ranch, it is an easy trap to fall into. I would say shame on the company that makes a buck advertising these claims but it is possible that they don’t even understand the differences.

The most outlandish ad I have seen lately was for vitamins. These vitamins would cure any malady, make you live forever and improve the lives of your descendants. OK, maybe I am embellishing it a bit, but this product made claims that if you had even the most rudimentary nutrition knowledge you would know it was not true. However, the last claim made me fall out of my chair. The vitamins were advertised as GMO free. I guess it is an accurate claim since vitamins don’t have DNA, so they cannot be genetically modified. However, that makes the claim one of the dumbest, most outlandish I have ever seen.

Well, most ridiculous GMO-free claim I have seen this side of the paper plates I ate off at a motel a couple of months ago. It demonstrates the total lack of understanding of basic science and the total disregard some companies have for honesty in marketing. Anything to attract attention and sell more product. Tap into the consumers lack of knowledge and exploit it for more sales regardless of what is right.

This will continue to happen until we make a better effort to educate our consumers and show them what we are doing. Present the sound science and exhaustive studies that our products go through to prove their safety. Companies marketing products will continue to make these claims until the consumer understands the farce. Who knows maybe there is a GMO free pain killer out there that will help me sleep through these ads.

Christmas is Coming

The tree is decorated, the lights are up (and work) and there are even a couple of stations on the radio dedicated to the season. It must be Christmas. Yes, everywhere you look the signs are undeniable the Christmas Season is upon us. Of course, Wal-Mart has probably already switched over and has Valentine’s Day stuff out but everywhere else it is Christmas and I love it.

Each year I say I am going to slow down and enjoy it and each year the season goes flying past and I find myself wanting more. We get so caught up in all the hustle and bustle and everything we think we must do and we rarely stop and just enjoy the season. We race from one event to the next and the Christmas shopping never seems to be done. I think we should all slow down and simplify our lives.

Am I saying to clear your calendar and not do any Christmas shopping? No, especially if I am on your Christmas shopping list. OK, all kidding aside, no the Christmas parties, shopping and various other associated events are all important and part of what makes this year special, we just need to remember to take time to stop and take a deep breath.

One of my favorite things to do this time of the year is to brew a cup of coffee, turn the lights on the Christmas tree, sit down in my easy chair and just enjoy a few minutes of solitude. It is amazing how just a few minutes of staring at the white lights on the tree is soothing and relaxing. No music, no sound just me and the lights, that is my one of my favorite thing about the season.

I guess I am just getting old but my favorite things about the Christmas Season are the simple, uncomplicated parts of the season. I like the smell of cedar (I still cut a couple of Christmas trees out in the pasture each year, even though we have an artificial tree), Christmas sugar cookies are high on my list, I really enjoy Christmas cards from my friends, and just quiet time reflecting on why it is that we celebrate the Christmas Season.

My most cherished of all my Christmas decorations is the nativity set my mother made for Jennifer and me when we got married. My mother was an artist and specialized in clay sculpture and nativity sets were one of her most popular items and something she often gave as a wedding gift. She would let you customize the set and you could pick either painted or glazed white. Her original set, the one I grew up with, was glazed white so that is what I picked.

It is simple and understated, but it is also something I hold very close to my heart. Mom even customized our set to include our original blue healer, Cisco. Now I know that there probably were no blue healers at the nativity, but I find something comforting with her presence in my nativity set. It brings back many good memories and serves as a reminder of just why we celebrate the season.

Most of all I enjoy this time of the year because we take the time to renew old friendships, we are more likely to think of our friends and neighbors and spend time with them. I often wonder why it takes special holidays like Christmas for us to set aside time for friends and families. Maybe that ought to be something we vow to do for the next year. However, we need to take the time to enjoy our time with friends, family and neighbors, no matter what the reason.

Without a doubt my favorite part of Christmas is the Christmas Eve church service. It still gives me goose bumps to be in the Church and participate. I love the simple message of the nativity and the Christmas story. It has always been one that resonates with me. The pinnacle of the Christmas Eve service and the Christmas Season is the singing of Silent Night. Our church is like many and dims the lights, we all light candles and sing. Christmas is not complete unless I attend Christmas Eve service and sing Silent Night.

I would guess if most of us were completely honest we would all agree it is the simple, noncommercial things that mean the most to us this Christmas Season. Often all the commercial glitz, glamor with all the rush and hustle steal our attention. I wonder how much happier we would all be if we pared it back to only the simplest of traditions. My wish for each of you this Christmas is for a few moments of simple, uncluttered Christmas. So, take time to unplug, relax and enjoy the Season.

 

 

Kind of and Sort of Caught Up

It’s the middle of December, Christmas is nearly here, and I finally feel like I am sort of, kind of, caught up. I have decided in agriculture, at least my version of agriculture, sort of, kind of, caught up is about as good as it gets. I am never truly caught up, there are always projects and things that should be done, but for right now I have all the “have to” things checked off my list and that is a huge relief.

This fall was made extra challenging because we moved in August. We are finally settled and settling into our new routines at the new place and it is as good as I had hoped for. Life is so much easier without a commute between farms. Do I get more done in a day? I would like to believe so, but the truth probably is that I do not, I am just not spending as much time on the road each day and that makes my time feel more productive.

Yes, we are moved and most of the boxes are unpacked and if we were going to be totally honest we would probably get rid of the boxes that are not unpacked. If we have not used it up to this point, it is probably not important, and we probably won’t miss it. However, it is that probably that keeps me from having a mass purge. There are still several things I have not found yet. What worries me more is the possibility of several more things I am missing that I have not realized yet that I am missing. And to think that my family accuses me of being a packrat and a hoarder.

Coupled with the move was the fact that this fall seemed to be the never-ending harvest. Don’t get me wrong this was the most problem free harvest from and equipment standpoint that I have ever went through. The problem was with crops that would not dry down and weather that would not allow us to get good long days in. The day we could start before noon was rare, most of harvest was spent waiting on the dew to dry and the fog to clear.

Eventually we did push through and get everything harvested. Then it was time to bring the cows home but before we could do that I had to get my sheep pens built at the new place. I had “temporarily” moved the sheep into our cattle lots. Then came harvest and soon I realized that if I was going to bring the cows home from pasture I had to move the sheep out of their pens. Sheep pen building and cattle moving happened simultaneously. I would like to say that we coordinated things like a well-oiled machine. The reality was that it all happened despite my lack of focus and organization.

Eventually the cows all came home, and the sheep were settled into their new, shiny, better than ever pens, maybe a couple of weeks later than I would have liked, but in the end, it all got done. The next thing up was weaning calves and that was a lot closer to Thanksgiving than I would like to have admitted. Again, I guess this is one of those years I was not going for style points because in the end it got done. Not the way I would have liked it too, but it is another on the long list that was checked off.

The final barrier between being behind and sort of, kind of caught up was to get the cows out on the cornstalks. We were only a month away from “ideal” but let’s face it, ideal is one of those concepts that look better on paper and seldom happens in the real world. However, this past weekend, we opened the gate and let the cows out on the cornstalks and declared ourselves sort of, kind of caught up.

The temptation, and I often fall victim to temptation, is to take a deep breath, relax and enjoy not being behind. I have a long list of things that need to be done this winter and another long list of things I would like to get done this winter. The top of that list is to finish the sheep facility construction ahead of the impending lambing season. No sweat, I have a whole month, no wait make that two weeks, what do you mean we have lambs. Yes, this week I had my first set of lambs so after a grand total of three days of being sort of, kind of caught up, I am once again behind.

Two things occurred to me. One is that I work much more efficiently when under stress. However, the most important realization I came to about not being caught up or, heaven forbid, ahead of things, was simple. I will live forever because I don’t have time to die until I am caught up on all my work. I guess that is why farmers live forever our work is never done.

2017 a Moving Year

By the time you read this 2017 will nearly be in the books and 2018 looms on the near horizon. That does not even seem possible, it wasn’t that long ago that 2018 seemed like a lifetime away and now it is this year. It is true that the older you get the faster time goes by, that is kind of scary. In any case, 2017 is nearly in the rearview mirror.

Personally speaking, 2017 was one heck of a year. Last year I could never have imagined what kind of wild ride 2017 was going to take us on. We were comfortably settled in our “forever” house, the one the kids were going to have to move me out of when I went into the home or “home”. One thing 2017 did was to teach me to never say never. Less than a month before we bought the new place, I made fun of a friend who was moving and said I would never do that again. In less than a month I was negotiating on our house and eating crow.

It is funny how moving can change your perspective on things. Maybe it was going through everything and all the memories that stirred up. At some point this year I came to the realization that my kids were no longer children buy young adults and contributing members of society. Despite my parenting blunders they seem to have turned out just fine. I suppose there is some comfort in that, but it is disconcerting to suddenly realize that their childhood is behind them. Much like Christmas coming and going each year, I have the unsettling feeling of having missed something.

I am not sure if it is a good thing, but it is bittersweet to walk out of a house leaving it just as empty as the day you bought it and moved in. In that last pass through of the house you see all the scars on the walls evidence that life was lived, and memories were made there. The last time I was in the house I was there by myself and I swear I could hear the kids echoing through the rooms. I admit I am sentimental and this whole year has been one of difficult transitions for me. The week before the closing on the old house Tatum wanted to go back one last time for some closure. I couldn’t admit it to her at the time, but I just could not go back.

Don’t get me wrong, this year has been one of the best of my life also. Yes, moving was hard and traumatic but it was also exciting and one of the best things I have ever done. The new house feels more like home and my life is dramatically easier. There are times I miss the “alone time” I had when I commuted back and forth, but those times are very few and I enjoy the extra hour I have much more. This past week I finally got my pens done, animals situated, and I could take a deep breath, reflect and give thanks.

Yes, 2017 was one heck of a ride. We had our successes and our setbacks and, in the end, lived to tell about them. Survive and move on, that seems to be my goal each year. This was a year of the highest highs and the lowest lows but one that we will, undoubtedly remember forever. Events beyond my own farm, community and little piece of the world were exciting, entertaining, troubling, unsettling and unpredictable. The only thing I am sure of is that I am unsure of what might happen.

I do know this. Last night I walked out of the house to check the ewes and as I leaned up against the fence and observed something. I felt a comfort, a peace and a satisfaction that I had never felt before. Maybe it is just getting older and coming to the realization that I should be satisfied with my life. Could it be that I have finally learned that no matter what you have, life goes by too quick and instead of worrying about what we don’t have we should appreciate what we have been given. Life and all the things we hold near and dear are gifts and we should treat them as such, enjoying them, savoring each moment and spending less time fretting.

No, I have no idea what 2018 will bring. I really hope it is not as exciting or challenging as this past year, but I suspect it will hold its own surprises. It is probably a good thing we cannot see into the future and know what is coming. I am just glad that I had a moment of time to step back and reflect on this crazy past year before I buckled my seatbelt in anticipation of the rollercoaster up ahead. Bring on the new year, I am as ready as I will ever be.

 

 

 

2018 Predictions

Happy New Year! Yes, I have reached the point in my life when in all likelihood if I am awake at midnight on New Year’s Eve it is because I woke up. Time marches on and not that long ago 2018 sounded like a long time off in the future. As much as it feels like I was transported into 2018 and dropped off, skipping several years, I know for a fact time has just passed by that quickly.

Along with writing the wrong date on my checks (which will happen into April), putting up a new sale barn calendar and cleaning out my files the coming of the new year means one thing. It is time for my prognostications for the year. I will put my Swami hat on, channel my inner Johnny Carson and predict what 2018 will bring us. If you will remember my predictions from the past year you will recall that I had about the same accuracy as weatherman or commodity market expert. So here goes nothing (which is about my success level).

2018 is a big political year so we will start there. There will be much scandal, finger pointing, fighting and downright dirty politics this year. That will be the primaries with even more and worse scandals, finger pointing, fighting and dirty politics to follow in the general election. I am not sure what the elections will bring but I do know it will be ugly. As far as what will get done? Probably not much outside of making good material for political pundits and late-night talk show hosts.

Now on to an area that is a lot less murky and devise, the commodity markets. At times the markets will rise to the level of just being depressing and other times they will fall to the level “hide the sharp objects”. Fluctuations in the market will be caused by foreign countries, our own government (both sides), leap year, high tide, predictions made by Nostradamus or a poll of second graders. The one thing you can bank on is that none of it will make sense.

 We can’t go without making predictions about the weather in this upcoming year either. We will have record highs and usher in talk of global warming, they will be followed by record lows and discussions of the next ice age. We will have periods of extended dryness or drought followed almost immediately by monsoons and too much moisture. Neither of these periods will come at the right time and every farmer and rancher will complain about the current state of the weather. You can believe that the weather in Kansas will continue to be wild and unpredictable, that is a prediction I will take to the bank.

Now for my favorite area to predict, sports. Kansas State football will be in the playoffs next year and everyone will wonder if Coach Snyder is coming back. He will deflect all questions and decide at the end of the season. Kansas State basketball will beat Kansas for the Big 12 title or at least finish in the top 12 in the league (how is that for being a homer and stirring things up). The Kansas City Chiefs will finally win a Super Bowl. Chief’s head coach Andy Reid will continue to dress like Santa Claus because the chances of both Santa being real and this prediction coming true are about equal. The Kansas City Royals have just as much chance of winning the World Series as the KC professional basketball team has of winning the NBA title. No matter how any of our teams do, we will put far too of our own happiness into the outcome of something meant as simple entertainment.

Politics, markets, weather and sports, I think I have touched on every popular area to predict. I have spent a whopping thirty minutes or so thinking about these predictions and I will put them up against any “expert” out there. Keep track of them and let me know how I do next year, I will bet that my success rate is somewhere between zero and five percent. Or better than the average prognosticator.

In any case I want to wish each and everyone of you a Happy and Prosperous New Year. I hope this will be a year of happiness filled with family and friends. Success and prosperity are all fleeting completely subjective, while I hope those things for you also, happiness, friendship and love are far more important in the grand scheme. The truth is that I have no idea what the coming year will bring but it will be exciting. May 2018 be filled with health and happiness.

Cold and Old

I am old, yes, I have decided to go ahead and admit it, own it and not try to deny the fact that I am becoming old. This past week the bitter cold only confirmed that I am old. I think the air is colder these days than it used to be. In any case I sure seem to get colder faster and take longer to thaw out.

During the artic blast I watched as non-livestock owning friends posted on Facebook about hiding under a thick blanket, sleeping in, watching football all weekend and generally avoiding the outdoors. The thought that I was indeed crazy went through my head as I bundled up in several layers to face the frozen tundra all the while praying that we did not have any new lambs.

We are lambing, someone in management made the decision to move lambing up this year. The past couple of years late December, early January have been warm and looked like ideal lambing weather. We also have a need for earlier lamb, so the decision seemed to be an easy one to oblige the rams and kick them out a couple of weeks early. I have I ever told you about my unerring sense of timing?

To compound the situation, I had the chance to buy some heavy bred ewes that would start lambing in December. This all seemed to be a great plan early in December when the weather was unusually warm and dry. The ewes were really springing, and it looked like maybe we had predicted this whole thing right. I was smug in my management decision making.

This smug feeling came to a crashing halt when the forecasters predicted a major artic blast for the week of Christmas and New Year’s. Words like the coldest temperatures in twenty or thirty years were thrown around along with warnings about being out in the cold. I find it funny that they cannot predict precipitation with any accuracy, but they are seldom wrong about the temperature. We were told to bring our animals indoors. The new house is bigger but not that much bigger and Jennifer seemed to frown upon the idea. Even bringing them into the garage didn’t seem to be an option.

That prompted an all-out, all hands-on deck offensive to shore things up and get ready for this bitter stretch of weather. The kids just loved spending their first few days of Christmas break getting ready for the deep freeze. In any case, the barns were lined with straw and we hung every heat lamp we owned in anticipation of lots and lots of new lambs.

The ewes were sorted and resorted so those closest to lambing could be stashed away in the lambing barn where it was insulated and warmish (we managed to keep it about thirty degrees even in the coldest night). The other ewes that might lamb were placed in the open sided barn and those who were not close were given bedding and told to hunker down. It was a fast and furious week of preparation but in the end, we were well prepared or as prepared as you can be for negative twenty below.

Each time I trudged out in my many layers I asked myself how it could get so cold and why exactly I was out in it. The most perplexing thing was that the sheep did not seem to be cold at all and even seemed to enjoy watching me suffer. The worst of the whole ordeal was the afternoon Tatum and I spent chopping enough space out in the water troughs to be able to run enough water to give everything a drink. The one major flaw to my new pens were the water troughs. Frost free waters are in the next phase of the construction and not planned for this winter and running extension cords was not an option. Chopping ice is probably a pretty good post-holiday exercise program but it sure did not seem that way on that afternoon.

We managed to get through the coldest of the weather with only one set of hardy twin lambs born. They were born in the lambing barn and oblivious to the bone chilling cold outside. Mercifully all the other ewes decided to hold off (probably waiting on worse weather to come if my luck holds true). We had a couple of hydrants freeze but other than that nothing worse than my whining about being cold.

I also realize that by writing this and complaining about being old and cold I have probably just jinxed us into the coldest, worst winter in recent memory. Therefore, I am putting myself into the witness relocation program at an undisclosed tropical location. Who am I kidding, with the farm economy I can’t afford to travel to southern Kansas let alone somewhere warm. I guess I will just buy a thicker pair of gloves, more wool socks and dream of spring.

Mr. President

I have been blessed to be fortunate enough to get to do many cool things in my life. I have been given the chance and the opportunity to travel to places, attend events and meet people that I could never have imagined I would get the chance too. It is not due to any special talent I have but simply because I am lucky, and I have been in the right place at the right time. This past week I got to do something that ranks right up at the top of that list.

I had the opportunity to attend the American Farm Bureau Annual Convention in Nashville, Tennessee. If you have never been to Nashville I would highly recommend it. If you do make the trip you have to venture down to Music Row and take in the live music. I am a country music fan, so I really enjoyed the sights and sounds but that was not what made this trip exceptional. We stayed in the Opryland Hotel and that was an experience. Any hotel that has its own cell phone app to help guide you around is amazing, but that was certainly not the highlight.

We got a lot of important work done for the American Farm Bureau and there were a lot of great workshops and general sessions, but they also paled in comparison to, what I deemed, as the highlight of the convention. We were lucky enough to have the President of the United States, President Donald Trump address us.  It was an experience I will never forget.

When it was announced that President Trump would be coming to the Convention I had several acquaintances tell me that they would not attend if they were given the chance. The main reason most gave me for not wanting to attend was their disagreement with his policies or with how he approached his job as president. Let me make this clear, my decision to attend this event was not at all based on politics. It is not a statement of whether I agree or disagree with the President on policy or how he goes about doing his job. There is no elected official that I agree with totally and very few I disagree with completely.

The President was to address the Convention at around 2:30 and the session started at noon. Seating was limited so we got in line at 9:00 and waited and waited and waited. When we got in line we could not see the end of the line in either direction. Then it started moving at a snail’s pace. After about three hours the end was finally in sight. We had to pass through metal detectors and were scrutinized by the TSA. We were herded to the seats and there were no picking seats, saving places but fortunately for me we ended up close to the front and I could see the podium without the aid of the glasses I had forgotten back in my room.

The planned portion of the General Session started at noon and the highlight of that session was Reba McEntire. I must admit that she was worth all the hassle of getting into the meeting and I will never forget her talk but there was the hint of anticipation hanging in the air. Agriculture Secretary Sonny Perdue talked to us and normally he might have been the highlight, but we knew the best was yet to come.

An intermission followed and probably the greatest challenge happened during this period. There was only one area of restrooms available for 4500 people. It was the one and only time I have ever lamented my coffee habit. However, everyone was patient, and this too was resolved. The announcer asked us to return to our seats and the air buzzed with conversation. The big moment finally happened, and President Trump appeared. To be honest he didn’t say anything earth shaking but it was nice for a sitting President to acknowledge the importance of agriculture and talk about issues important to us.

I thought back to my friends who said they would not have attended the speech and I really think they missed the boat. The idea of skipping this opportunity was a bit baffling to me. I was not necessarily attending as an endorsement of President Trump but rather as an acknowledgement of the Office of President of the United States. No matter how you feel about the President’s politics there should be a certain amount of respect and admiration for the office. I would have jumped at this chance no matter who the President was.

Would I go through all the hassle, waiting and security to see a Presidential address again? The answer is a resounding yes, no matter who might be making it. I was within eyesight of the person who leads the most powerful nation in the world and that is something I will never forget or take for granted. A chance of a lifetime that I hope everyone will have someday.

Dear Glenn

Occasionally (like every 10 years) a reader will ask me for some advice. While I must admit that it is tempting to start a Dear Abby for farmers and ranchers, it really isn’t my style However, this past week I got a question from a reader that really was a cry for help and I felt compelled to answer it. I assume this reader is a novice shepherd and sees me as a sort of mentor. Her question is a very basic one and it might be of some help to everyone else, so I thought I would share my answer.

The question went something like this: Dear Mr. Brunkow, Sir; I am new the sheep business and I have often heard you say it is bad luck to wash your coveralls during lambing season. My coveralls are quite soiled, smell badly and have a rip in them. Is it OK to wash them and mend the hole? I hope so because I don’t think I can take two more months of this. My family has disowned me, and my friends are shunning me. Sincerely yours, Julie S.

Well, Julie the simple answer is no, you cannot wash your coveralls and mend them. Doing so would jeopardize your whole lambing season and maybe the future of the entire free world. OK so that last statement might be a little strong, but I assure you that my non-washing of coveralls during lambing and calving season is based on years of experience and most of that experience was bad. I am just trying to save you from the pain and heartbreak that I have suffered.

First my reasoning for not washing my coveralls is a practical one. I promise that within minutes of washing and mending your coveralls you will find yourself in an emergency that will result in your bibs being even more soiled and shredded that they were before you washed them. At that point the washing is in vain and you have wasted water. We sheep herders are an environmentally consciences bunch and wasting water is something we just don’t do. In the same line of thought, you might want to start cutting back on daily bathing also. It won’t affect you socially and it will give you an extra few minutes each day to spend with your sheep.

I do feel your pain when it comes to being a social outcast. The life of a sheep herder is one of solitude and not for the weak of spirit. Family and friends will not understand your lifestyle. When you are feeling lonely just remember God loves shepherds and he invited them to the manger first. It is a good thing God loves us because no one else does and it should be noted that the biggest social event we were ever invited too was in a stable full of animals. You will find that by the end of lambing season you really don’t mind being alone.

Let me also assure you that the smell and ragged look will eventually grow on you. No, that is not a figure of speech, your chore clothes will become a living breathing organism and start growing on you. Look on the positive side, in a couple of weeks your clothes will not be the scariest thing about your appearance. Soon the wild look in your eyes highlighted by the bags will only be offset by the tangled mess of hair above them and beard below. In short you will look like something small children have nightmares about being under their beds. Trolls will take one look at you and cross the street.

The life of a sheep rancher is not an easy one and not everyone is cut out for it. Sure, it sounds like a free and easy lifestyle complete with cute little lambs. Hollywood has glamourized our image with clean coveralls and good personal hygiene, the real world is very different from the fairytale images of Mary and Bo Peep.

I hope I have not discouraged your interest in sheep, raising them is really a very noble thing, I just wanted, you to know the whole truth and that begins with washing your coveralls during lambing season. True shepherds understand the importance of coveralls that standup on their own and come to you when you whistle. Those of us truly immersed in the sheep lifestyle value the solitude and peacefulness a life without friends and family affords us. In fact, some of my most creative moments have come after three months of muck and mud, little sleep and ill-mannered sheep.

This answer can also be applied to cattle ranchers, pig farmers, chicken producers and anyone else with livestock. I promise you that the cornerstone to success in the livestock business is not washing your coveralls. Julie, if you follow my advice (and I suspect you are) you will have a long successful career as a shepherd.

No Flu Shot Needed

We are deep into the funk and the haze of lambing season. We have been going at it for over a month now and let me assure you that the fun has worn off and the zombie state has taken over. This morning I fell asleep drinking my mid-morning cup of coffee. So much for caffeine helping you stay awake. I swear each morning as I go out to check the ewes I meet myself coming back in.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand I signed up for this and no one (especially among my so-called friends) is going to feel sorry for me. I am sure that in a month or two I will look back and realize it really wasn’t that bad, but it sure doesn’t feel that way right now. You see lambing season is bad enough, but I am just getting over the crud.

Let’s set some background information here, I never get sick and if I do it is rarely that bad. That is why in the past I have poo pooed getting a flu shot in the fall. Dad does every year as does Jennifer and both have been on my case to get one too. It is not that I have never gotten one, I got one back in 2001 or 2002 and it did me no good. Or at least that is what I had told myself. I went through all that trouble got a stick in the arm and no flu.

Its not that I am opposed to getting a flu shot, I am not one of those anti vaccination people. In fact, I am quite the opposite, my kids got every vaccination they could get. We were at the doctor’s office and if it protected them, why not. No, for me it is a matter of time. I simply do not have time to put down everything and go get a flu shot. Well, that and I am a guy. Did I mention the fact that I don’t have a doctor? My old doctor moved five maybe ten years ago and I haven’t had the need to see one yet.

In any case, last Thursday I started feeling a tickle in my throat. Nothing to be alarmed about but the longer the day went the more my nose got stuffed up. It was just a little cold, nothing I couldn’t power through. The next morning, I woke up and my head was plugged up, but I also felt tired and achy. Alarms were starting to go off in my head. I mentioned this to Dad and he said something about feeling good and getting a flu shot. He thought maybe the two went together.

As the day drug on, so did I. Each task got just a little bit harder. I swore my boots and coveralls must have weighed about eighty pounds each, every step was a major task. I know my coveralls are already bad, but they had not yet reached the point where they really did weigh a lot yet. The final moment that clinched it all for me was when I was sitting in front of my bale pile, contemplating the fact that I needed to load three small square bales of brome hay and not knowing if I could do it. That was the moment I called Dad and admitted that I was sick.

Some how he had suspected that and was already finishing chores at his place. He then came over and finished mine too as I coughed, wheezed and staggered along explaining that I really wasn’t that sick. The next day was Saturday and Jennifer was home to help. Over and over it was pointed out to me that two of the three of us had gotten the flu shot and two of the three of us were healthy enough to be of some help. I shrugged it off as a coincidence.

Sunday rolled around, and I finally started to feel like I might make it. Only a few of the joints in my body ached, I could go a few minutes without coughing and I had enough energy to walk from the house to the barn without resting. I was making progress. Things were looking up, but I was still pretty worn out by the end of the day. This flu stuff was for the birds (oh no, maybe I had the bird flu).

Monday rolled around, and I was pretty much normal, or at least as normal as I get. That morning Jennifer asked me if I had learned my lesson, was I going to do anything else different next year. What else would I want to do different? I am healthy as an ox, I don’t need a flu shot. Things like that take time and I don’t have time to give away. After all I am already three days behind from this past weekend and another couple of hours for the shot would put me further behind. That logic left her speechless.

Trade is a Two Way Street

I have always said I am a proud producer of the food that we all need. When I say the food we all need, I mean we as in a global context. I also must admit that while I have always said it, I am not sure I always had a good grasp on what that meant. To be honest, I am still not sure I have a great grasp on feeding the world, but I know it is critical to my way of life.

A couple of weeks ago I had the privilege of serving on a panel discussion of the North America Free Trade Agreement or NAFTA. I was on the panel representing farmers and ranchers along with a couple of trade experts and the Canadian Consul General from Denver. It was humbling to be on the same panel with people who live, breath and eat trade. I studied the issue and tried to bring as much knowledge as I could but to be honest, my message was simple.

Agriculture relies on trade. We have the best, most productive farms and ranches in the world and we simply produce more food and fiber than we need in the United States. That is a fact that I am very proud of. We don’t have the land mass some of our competitors do but we do possess the technology and the know how to produce more with less.

Kansas is increasingly urban, with more and more industry other than ag and that is all good. However, agriculture is still the backbone of our state. I would argue that as our farmers and ranchers go, so goes main street, even in our larger cities. I know this is true in our smaller communities. When the ag community is hurting so are the merchants on main street. Funny how international trade has a hand in how successful our local grocer or car dealer do.

I often hear people lament about world events and how they would prefer to isolate ourselves. I am here to tell you that isolation will never work. For one thing, no matter how hard we try to isolate ourselves from the rest of the world, the rest of the world will find us. Beyond that, we need trade to not only survive but to thrive economically. The rest of the world craves our beef, needs our soybeans and values our corn. No matter what you hear, agricultural products from the United States are highly valued by the rest of the world.

I know we have heard about different countries imposing trade sanctions on us because of different things or even refusing our grain because we use gmo crops. Let me assure you that what you are hearing is political noise and not grumblings about our quality. Our grains and meat are the highest quality, safest in the world. The rest of the world needs and wants what we produce, we just need to get the politicians out of the way.

We must also realize that trade is a two-way street and it needs to be beneficial for both parties. It is necessary for us to import some of our food. We all enjoy fresh fruits and vegetables in the winter and crops that cannot be grown in the United States. In other cases, other countries do have an advantage when it comes to producing a commodity or a finished product. We have become a world that is interdependent on each other and that is OK.

That is why we need to make sure that our elected officials understand just how vital trade is to our bottom line and, in the end, our survival. We simply cannot jeopardize our trade agreements to make a political point. I do think that message is beginning to get through, but we must remain vigilant and continue to voice our concerns. The one thing I took away from talking to the Canadian Consul General was that we can be replaced. The United States is their preferred trading partners and they value our relationship. However, if we think they cannot get what they need from other trading partners, we are sadly mistaken. Once those ties are broken and they establish other suppliers, it will be hard if not impossible for us to regain those markets.

I don’t mean to be doom and gloom and if you made me guess at what will happen my best guess is that we will continue our relationship with new trade agreements. We do have some leverage when it comes to a stable supply of high quality ag products. This issue is one that does require our full attention and one that should be in the forefront of every farmer and rancher’s conscience. It is time for us to let everyone we can know how important international trade is to agriculture and just how important agriculture is to the economic health of our communities, states and even our great nation. We are good at what we do, and the world needs us.

Farmer O My Valentine

As I sat down to write my column for this week, I wondered just what I was going to write about this week. I started by putting the date of publication down on the top of the page and that is when the lights and sirens went off. Much to my amazement and chagrin, the date was February 13, or the day before Valentine’s Day. Better known as the mad scramble, order roses at any cost, how did I let this day sneak up on me day.

I admit it, I am not much of a romantic. Jennifer would say that is a huge understatement, much like saying the Grand Canyon is a good example of erosion. I guess that is the advantage to a short courtship, I had her hooked before she knew the truth. However, in my defense (which there really is none) I don’t think I am much different than any other guy, especially the farmer/rancher type. Some might call it cheap, I call it rustic frugal. Here is how I see romance (make sure you remind Jennifer just how lucky she is).

Long walks on the beach are for girly men. I prefer predawn strolls down to the lambing barn or late-night checks on the heifer pen the frostier the better. What could be more romantic than checking for new lambs or calves. People pay to see that kind of cuteness (I am talking about the animals and not myself, but I can see how it might be confusing) and every lucky farmwife gets all that cuteness for free (again, I am talking about the animals).

The chariot for that romantic ride around the farm is that one-of-a-kind, feed truck. How romantic is a feed truck you ask? It encourages chivalry. Every time we are out in our feed pickup I always open and close the door for Jennifer Yes, the door handles are broken, and you must know how to shut the door but those are minor details. It also encourages snuggling. Again, I realize that is because the heater doesn’t work but we are trying to be positive here. Finally, as a farm/ranch wife you should feel good knowing that your husband feels comfortable enough not to put on airs with a clean pickup. Feel confident knowing that he can be himself when he is around you.

Speaking of that man. We farmers/ranchers see ourselves as the rugged, independent, manly types. Alone on the range, kings of all we survey what is more romantic than that. Sure, we need a haircut, beard trim, clothes washing and probably a shower but here we are in all our masculinity. We could have our hair styled, our faces shaven and our clothes pressed but where is the romance in that?

Anyone can do the same old candlelight dinner, wine, roses and jewelry. What is not romantic about a night at home with a homecooked meal. Yes, I suppose we could do the cooking, but do you really want to eat our cooking? Even I must admit that there is nothing romantic about meat and taters or eggs and pancakes. Here again, take solace in knowing that we love everything about you, even your cooking. By not going out on the town we are saving you the hassle and inconvenience of getting all made up and having to dress up. We aren’t cheap, we just love you as you are and don’t want to share you with the world.

As for gifts, I guess there isn’t anything wrong with flowers, candy or jewelry, if you are into that kind of thing (if you have been a farmer’s or rancher’s wife for very long you probably aren’t). Real love is a gift of something much more substantial like a new bull or a set of jumper cables. Nothing says I love you more than not wanting your sweetheart to be stranded with a dead battery. Yes, we ag types sure know how to lavish our sweethearts when it comes to expensive gifts, a good bull costs several thousand dollars after all.

OK, ok, ok I guess it is time to come clean and fess up. I am rotten at the whole romance thing and I am the world’s worst at gift giving. I know that comes as a shock after reading the last few paragraphs. The truth is that I am so lucky that Jennifer is a tolerant woman with low expectations. I am not sure why she puts up with my short comings, but I thank the Lord every day that she does.

Like every farmer and rancher, I am so blessed that I found someone who spends nearly every free moment working alongside of me when I know there is so much more she really wants to do. I am so lucky to have a partner who understands that we need another ram instead of something shinier and fun. I will make some lame attempt to so her just how much I love her and how much she means to me, but it will never be truly enough. In the end, I guess that is a little romantic or at least I hope so.

Normal Life

Don’t get me wrong, I love this occupation I picked out and the corresponding lifestyle that comes with it. I cannot imagine my life without agriculture, my livestock or crops in it. However, there are days that make wonder about my sanity and just exactly why I do what I do. Those days usually come during calving and lambing season. I often ask myself during one of those days what it would be like to be “normal”.

One of those days happened just this past weekend. We had hit one of those rough patches that often occur with lambing season. We had various problems that necessitated that we start chores early and made it no fun to do them. I assume everyone has had those stretches when you dread going out and seeing what has gone wrong, it was one of those times.

To make matters worse the weather had taken a turn and it was well below freezing with a gusty wind that made things even more miserable. Saturday morning, I got up early (code for I was worried about what I was going to find outside) and made a pot of coffee. I turned the tv on and watched the news. I suppose I thought somehow watching the weather and learning how bad it was outside would help when I ventured outside.

The meteorologist talked in graphic detail about how cold it was outside and that it would be better to stay indoors if possible. She then went on to say just how good a day this would be to sleep in, stay inside and watch tv. Right then and there thoughts started entering my mind of how things might be if I was a “normal” person with a “normal” job. I could ignore the bitter cold outside, sleep late, enjoy a leisurely breakfast, lounge on the couch and in general ignore the weather. Even better I could find something more fun indoors to do like a movie or a basketball game. I think this is what “normal” people with “normal” schedules do on the weekend, I told myself.

A “normal” life would mean no walking out of my nice warm house on a bitter cold day with that feeling of dread wondering what might await me out in the barns. No wrestling with frozen stuff, worrying over sick animals and enduring stinging winds. The rest of the free world gets to relax on the weekends, not me, I chose to work seven days a week.

Then I remind myself that I grew up not knowing what normal was. People talked about vacations and traveling, and I was curious about what exactly all that was, but I didn’t know any different. As I got older my friends talked about sleeping in on the weekends and being bored and I wondered if I was really “normal”.

I went off to college and soon I got a taste of what a “normal” life was like. Weekends with no plans, no commitments and no where to be. So, this is what the rest of the world is like. I didn’t have to go outside in the dark, I could wait for daylight. I could even decide not to go out if I chose to, my life was my own. For a while it was pretty awesome, I thought I could get used to a “normal” life.

However, I found out that I was not very good at sleeping in and there seemed to be something missing. I even found myself looking forward to doing chores when I came home from school on breaks. Following graduation, I found myself working a semi- “normal” job with semi- “normal” hours in Extension. For the most part I had my weekends off. All this time I had the nagging sensation that something was missing.

When Jennifer and I moved back and started our own cowherd I lost my “normal” life with my “normal” schedule. More than one time while I was working a “normal” job and running cows on the side I remember walking outside, pulling my hood up and wondering why I chose to spend my “free” time doing this.

I don’t know exactly why I chose this, maybe Mom and Dad warped me at a young age and it is all I know, maybe it is something in my DNA, but I cannot imaging a life that did not include braving the bitter cold to see if we had any new lambs or calves. I can’t imagine not accepting the challenge of dealing with frozen, balky machinery and stubborn animals. After all, what would I worry about if I wasn’t stewing over my animals? My kids would not appreciate the extra attention, it might make them more “normal”.

I am sure there will be more moments when I dream longingly for a “normal” life. Those days when things don’t go so well and the weather does not cooperate. However, deep down inside I do know that I would not be happy or content with a “normal” life with a “normal” schedule something would be missing and that would not be “normal”.

 

Winter Ag Olympics

I must admit that the past couple of weeks I have been addicted to watching the Winter Olympics. The events fascinate me, and I find myself drawn into watching sporting events I wouldn’t normally even think about like hockey. Other events like bobsled bring back memories of sledding. I like all the events except for one, figure skating. I am sorry, but I just cannot get into it, but hey, I am a guy.

The one event that really intrigues me is curling. Not because it is exciting because it is about like watching grass grow. No, curling draws my interest because I believe it is the one Olympic sport winter or summer, that I still have a shot at competing in. I am probably not athletic enough even for curling, but I can hold onto a dream.

While bobsledding, hockey, speed skating and all the various events are interesting and require crazy amounts of athletic ability, training and dedication, they do lack real world applications. Sure, I guess cross country skiing might be practical but when was the last time you had to land a ski jump with a twist in your everyday life? Never, that is why I have come up with Olympic sports that origins on the farm.

We could have timed events like baby calf working. Imagine the excited announcers screaming into the microphones as Sven from Sweden is catching and then tagging a day-old calf as its over protective mama makes her way back from the hay feeder. We could have the always exciting sprint to the gate you left open thinking pen of feeder calves wouldn’t see it. There could even be relay races like trying to put up the electric fence before the cows know they are caught.

Other events could take a mixture of speed, agility, strength and smarts like carrying two five-gallon buckets through a pen of hungry sows. I am not sure if that event would be timed or judged on technique or if you would just weigh how much feed is left in the buckets at the end. In any case, it would be fun to watch Olga from Russia compete in the women’s event. If you made them go through a pen of three hogs and one head of cattle would it be a triple sow cow (for those of you not familiar with this, that is a figure skating jump, I think)?

If you wanted something that required skill, style and finesse there could be the pickup small bale loading event where contestants got judged on how many bales they loaded on the back of a flatbed pickup. They would be given style points for load shape and ingenuity. Of course, points would also be dedicated for how many bales fell off by the end of the driveway pocked with pot holes.

One of my favorite winter ag games is the downhill lamb check. Olympians must stay upright while navigating the steep hill down to the lambing barn, at midnight, with as dim flashlight after a half inch of ice. The contest will be timed and those going off course or crashing will be eliminated. It would be kind of like the bobsled and slalom combined with maybe a pirouette or two thrown in.

Other events could include: feed sack stacking, round bale unrolling (core size at the end would matter a great deal), feed throwing and water hose connecting and draining. I would also imagine there would be team events like cow sorting or lamb vaccinations. Although with the team events the networks would probably want a healthy delay, so the cheers of the other teammates could be censored. I would guess we could all tell what is being said no matter what the language during a good cattle sorting.

So, my idea probably isn’t a very good one, but you must admit that the idea of an opening ceremony with a bunch of ag people is intriguing. I also like the idea of the serious, professional sports commentators like Dick Enberg calling calf working or sow feeding. You might hear things like “wow he had a gold medal in his grasp then out of nowhere that Duroc took his knees out.”  Or maybe the former figure skating announcer describing in hushed tones the style points of hurdling a five-wire fence. All of this would be very entertaining, or at least I think so.

I know I can dream but the reality is that curling is still probably my only path to the Olympics at this point in my life. I was all set to start training for the 2022 Winter Games and then an important realization came to me. Curling is not a good idea, I really don’t want my wife knowing that I know how to sweep. Once again, my dreams of a gold medal are dashed.

Win Some, Lose Some

I am a creature of habit and I like my routine. Each day of the week has a specific set of things that happen on them and I do not like it when my day does not go as planned. Wednesday is my column writing day. Sometime between 8:00 and 9:00 in the morning when I finish with chores I walk in the quiet house, brew a pot of coffee, find a snack and sit down with my computer. That is the way I like to write and the routine I prefer. My column is due at noon on Wednesday and in six years of writing I have had to ask for forgiveness and an extension three or four times. This week was one of those times.

Apparently, ewe 1601 and cow 56 did not know about my routine or how important it was to me. Really, I suspect they did and this was all a conspiracy to disrupt my day and cause as much pain as possible. The day started gray with a hint of mist in the air but warm. It was the perfect day to write my column and I was anxious to get chores done but not in a rush. We are coming to the tail end of lambing and just getting a good start on calving, so this is the time things can get hectic. However, nothing from the night before had indicated that might be the case.

I walked out the door right as it was starting to get light and made my way down to the lambing barn. Earlier the day before I had moved all the ewes with lambs into the bigger pen so when I saw a baby lamb wobbling around I knew the morning was not going to be routine. As I got closer I saw that the lamb belonged to ewe 1601. She was an old show ewe, and this was her first lamb, while not exactly in my schedule it was kind of exciting. About that time, I noticed the lump in the corner, another lamb and this one was not as ambulatory as the first. In fact, this lamb appeared to be lifeless.

With a sinking feeling I hopped over the fence and started toward the lamb. Just as I reached down it twitched and I could see that it was still alive. I quickly scooped it up and took it to the heated office. It was cold and weak, so I made it some colostrum and Dad helped me tube it. The effects were almost instantaneous. It started to bawl and hold its head up. While all of this was well and good it did put us behind.

Dad and I decided not to do the rest of the chores at my house, choosing instead to go and check cows next. For some reason I decided to lock 1601 and her other baby up and to tube the stronger twin also. Occasionally I make the right decision, and this was one of those rare times. Since I had tubed both lambs with colostrum I would not have to worry about them for at least a couple of hours.

Cow checking went fine, we had a heifer with a new calf. Mother and baby were doing very well, and she did not even mind our short intrusion on her day to tag her baby. Life was good. I was still going to be writing my column and drinking my coffee by shortly after 9:00. We had one more place to check and they were our older, usually more problem free cows. I guess no one told cow 56 that we were on a schedule.

I found cow 56 on a hillside in a grove of trees. As soon as I saw her I knew things were not good and we were going to need help. She was obviously in labor but had fallen down the hill with her legs out behind her. A call was made to the vet immediately and we went to work pulling the calf. We got the calf pulled and unfortunately this was not one that ended well. The calf was big, and we were not able to save it. That brought our focus on cow 56. With help from our vet we got her feet under her, gave her some iv fluids and left her alone, hoping for the best.

Chores were finished at about the time I had hoped to be wrapping my column up. Luckily, I did not fall feeding the ewes because I am quite sure all anyone would have found of me would have been the metal handle of the feed buckets. I checked on my twin lambs who seemed to be doing well with their very proud first-time mama. It was with a twinge of sadness because cow 56 was one of my favorite cows. The morning reminded me of two absolutes in agriculture. First, you win some and lose some and in many cases all in the same day. Finally, schedules and routines are nice in theory but they are just that, a theory.

Squeaky the Lamb

I don’t often do this but this week I felt like I really should do a follow up on last week’s column. I ended up last week saying that sometimes you win one and sometimes you lose one and often in the same day. Well, I guess sometimes you lose the whole shooting match and never should have gotten out of bed. In retrospect, that was the day I might have been better off pulling the covers over my head and trying to forget I had any responsibilities. In the end, it would have turned out the same and I would have gotten more sleep.

The cow who was down appeared to be making progress and even gave us hope that she would stand up. Then one morning we found her dead. I never like losing any animal and certainly one that I have put that much time and effort into. However, it all goes back to the fact that there are circumstances where there is nothing you can do and all you can take comfort in is knowing that you did everything you could. This was certainly one of those cases.

The twin lambs that I had thought were in good shape and had counted on as a win also did not have a happy ending. Once the smoke had cleared from that morning and I could spend a little more time with them I noticed that something just wasn’t right about them. It is hard to describe but something was off about their appearance, they were a bit frailer than normal and somewhat weaker. One of the twins even had what appeared to be hair instead of wool.

I consulted with my vet, whom I seem to have on speed dial this winter and have even joked that maybe it would be cheaper to just make a weekly retainer payment too. His thought was that the lambs had genetic defect. The problem was easy to take care of, the ram that was the father of the lambs had been culled this fall. However, we still had the lambs to deal with.

The weaker of the two lambs, the one I had found outside and had warmed up, died during the night. It had never really recovered from being cold and coupled with the genetic defect made it’s passing not much of a surprise. The other lamb, the one with the hair coat started off slow and weak, we bottle fed it four times a day. Slowly it seemed to build up strength and soon it was nursing its mother. The early bottle feeding did form a bond with the lamb and when we would pass by the pen he would run up and bawl at us.

Whatever his condition was made him make the oddest sound. Instead of normal lamb sounds he made more of a squeak. Therefore, we named him Squeaky. We kept reminding ourselves that no matter what we did Squeaky would probably not survive, but that did not keep us from getting somewhat attached to him. He was the oddest, goofiest looking lamb I have ever seen, hair instead of wool, long, gangly, knobby legs and eyes that seemed to bug out of his head. He continued to get stronger, grow and fill out. He would run and play with the other lambs and seemed to be progressing toward normal. Still we reminded ourselves that his life was probably not going to be long.

I suppose there are sheep producers out there who would have put Squeaky down right away and you might even be able to make the case that would be the best solution. I have a terrible time giving up hope and putting animals down, especially if they do not seem to be suffering. Squeaky certainly did not seem to be suffering. We pushed on, full steam ahead with Squeaky, each day added more hope that maybe he would beat the odds and live. The ewe he was out of was a first-time mother and she was very protective and very motherly.

Then this morning. I went out early to check and found Squeaky, he seemed to be weak and stiff. I immediately treated him even though in the back of my head I knew it was not good and there was probably nothing I could do. When I returned from the rest of my chores Squeaky was down and near death. Soon after Squeaky died.

Again, any animal I lose hurts. They are put in my care and I agonize after each one that I lose. We knew Squeaky did not have a very good chance of surviving but our whole family took great pride in him. In a way he was an example of how we care for our animals. Each day, no matter what the conditions, no matter what is going on we attend to our animals to the best of our abilities to make sure they are taken care of and that they are comfortable. Yes, sometimes in the world of animal agriculture you win and sometimes you lose. Then there are cases like Squeaky, where even loses are fulfilling.

Make it Rain

I don’t know if you have noticed but we have been going through a little bit of a dry spell. In fact, I would call it a drought except I know people in Western Kansas and what we have had is a dry spell and not a drought. My friends who have hung on out west through multiple years of drought have my complete, everlasting admiration for surviving as long as they have. Those people are tough as nails and resourceful as all get out.

Over the past couple of months, I have been asked about the lack of rain several times and my response are always the same. This is the best time of the year to have a drought. We aren’t growing anything, and mud is bad when you are feeding or have animals having babies. Sure, the ponds could use the water and it would be nice to have sub-soil moisture but let’s face it any precipitation in November, December, January and February is more of a hassle than a help. The lone exception being a White Christmas and that can easily be overdone.

No, I didn’t worry, the rain would come, it always does and soon we would be wishing for dry weather. We ag people are a fickle bunch and seldom happy with the status quo. I thought March would arrive and along with it mud and standing water. Well folks, it’s the middle of March and we have had a grand total of zero, zip, nadda for rainfall. I am officially concerned, it may never rain again, and we will live in the middle of the Great American Dessert.

OK, so I am being a little melodramatic, but the recent weather pattern is a cause for concern. It is hard for me to wish for rain when we are still having new lambs and calves. The dry weather and dry ground have made it much easier to where lambing and calving are concerned. My mud boots have gotten minimal use this year and that is hard to complain about. However, I have seen signs that concern me.

Just last week I left the windows down on not one, but both of my pickups and it was even cloudy that night. The next morning, I woke up in a panic and rushed outside as soon as I remembered only to find a both interiors to be bone dry. I even had one with the open window to the west and one with the open window to the south and nothing, not a drop.

To make matters worse I had left a whole pallet of protein tubs on the back of one of the pickups and that always causes rain, even when it is not predicted. During this dry spell I have put off feeding hay until morning when rain is predicted that night. I have left the tractor in places that would be hard to get to if it rained and it remained dry. The kicker was when I put off working the garden even though Jennifer asked me too because rain was predicted for the weekend and still it remained dry.

This dry spell has me worried and I wonder how much longer it will be until we are in a drought instead of “abnormally dry”. I am not sure what normal is in Kansas and I am not sure that abnormal might be normal. It isn’t like rain has been lacking from the forecasts. There is a chance for rain every three days or so. The weatherman predicts it to be a good chance a week out and shrinks that good chance as the system gets closer. Drizzle is about as heavy as the rain gets. It has gotten so bad I only watch one weather forecast a night and I am thinking of going cold turkey. I just can’t handle anymore disappointment.

So, I am going for broke. I know that is not a stretch, I make my living from farming and ranching so in a sense I am always going for broke. This weekend I am leaving home with ewes and cows to lamb and calve yet. I am going to wean a set of lambs before I leave. I am not going to try to have any chores done ahead because it has been so dry, chores are not that bad. I am not going to leave fuel in anything or move any of the bunks closer to hard ground. After all, it’s never going to be muddy again. Before I leave I have several things I must get done that can’t be done if it is wet.

The ultimate is to write a whiny column about how it doesn’t rain a week ahead of time. If this was the usual pattern it would rain during that week and make me look stupid. But sense it isn’t ever going to rain again, what is the risk? I don’t always believe in reverse phycology, but desperate times call for desperate measures. You can all thank me next week.

The Farmer and the Uber

This week I am in Washington D.C. I am in our nation’s capital on business but there is no other place that fascinates me as much. Trust me there is no way I could live here but for three or four days I really enjoy this city and all the hub bub and hustle around it. This week was also spring break, so it was extra chaotic. On a side note, as a former youth development professional, I cannot imagine taking a group of kids to D.C. God Bless those who are brave enough.

As I was moving about the city one day I called an Uber. Uber has become my preferred method of travel in big cities. All I need to know is the name of the place I want to go, and the driver will take me there, charge it to my credit card I am on my way, relatively hassle free. It is a great system and I find the cars to be cleaner and the drivers to be friendlier.

For those of you who might not know, Uber is a company that has an app for your smart phone. They coordinate with private drivers to pickup riders and take them to their chosen destination. The drivers agree to have clean cars and Uber takes care of the payments. It is a simple, easy to use system and I really enjoy it.

Most Uber drivers are not full-time drivers but rather people who have full time jobs in another field. One of my favorite things to do is to ask my driver what they do for a living and often that leads to some interesting conversations. Two of my all-time favorites were the retired school maintenance director who was raising enough money to celebrate his fifty-year wedding anniversary in Las Vegas. Of course, there was also the psychiatrist who drove Uber because she liked to analyze her customers. I have always kind of wondered what she got from me. I probably don’t want to know.

My driver this day in D.C. was an event planner. He explained he liked to drive in the daytime because he didn’t have to deal with drunks and his work schedule allowed for it. We had a nice discussion about what he did and then he asked what I did for a living. I told him I was a farmer from Kansas. He pondered that for a second and responded with something I will never forget.

He said, “a farmer, well I like to eat, so I guess I am a fan of yours”. We laughed about it for a second and compared our pot bellies and mutual appreciation for food. Then we passed a McDonalds and he pointed to it and said, “there are a lot of other people who are your fans and just don’t know it.” His response kind of stunned me for a second. Very rarely do you come across someone who has no connection to ag, even remotely, who really get it.

I thanked him for his appreciation and told him that his recognition meant a lot to me. I think too often those of us in ag have this us against them mentality when it comes to our consumers. This random conversation proves something I have always suspected. Most of our customers, consumers, want to like us and still have respect for farmers and ranchers.

Too often it is the squeaky wheels that we hear, and it sometimes seems like the whole world does not understand what we do and is against our way of life. It seems like we are fighting an uphill battle and a negative public perception. While that might be true in some cases and we always need to be on guard and work to correct negative perceptions, we also need to understand that the public probably sees us in a positive light. The Uber driver I met was just one random person with absolutely no tie to agriculture in any way, except that he liked to eat and recognized where his food came from.

I am quite sure he had no idea how I did my job or how his food was grown. He didn’t seem to care, and I suspect he is more like most consumers. Those are the people we need to target, educate and make sure they understand what we do. The best thing is it is easy. He was quite happy to have a conversation with me, he trusted me instantly and believed what I had to tell him. Unfortunately, it was a short trip and I did not have much time to talk to him.

The bottom line is that we should understand that farmers and ranchers are seen favorably by most of our consumers and more importantly they want to trust us. While we need to continue to work to dispel the false information we also need to convey a positive message to the masses of people who are our supporters whether they know it or not and want to like us. Because in the end, if you ate today, you are a fan of farmers and ranchers.

New Pens and Old Legacy

This week marked a momentous occasion at our place, we had new working pens built. I was like a little kid on Christmas morning as they were built, every night going down and looking at what had sprung up during the day. We had pondered these pens for a long time and I guess the best part of procrastination is that you have a lot of time to plan and think.  I am sure we will find places we will want to tweak and change but the result will make life a lot easier and much safer.

I also must admit that the building of the pens was a bit bittersweet. As much as I worried about our current set up there was a great deal of history that went with it. The pens had been there when Dad bought the place many years ago. They had been made from some of the biggest railroad ties I have ever seen. Many of them were still in place and they were still attached well enough that they were extremely hard to pull out. However, a shocking amount also fell over when the panels were disconnected. In recent years the pens were ringed with pickups and tractors bracing the outer fences.

The fence itself was a maze and tangle of panels, gates and wire. Over the years, as holes had developed, they were patched with whatever was at hand and usually in a hurry. This led to layers of material and many, many wires interwoven amongst them. It would have been a little embarrassing, but I have seen more pens like that then anything else. We make do, make things that are less than ideal work because new facilities cost money and that is always short.

Our pens were built in two phases. We had the old part that I had just described, and we had a newer portion. The newer part was built by my Mom and Dad probably more years ago than I would like to admit too. They don’t really seem all that old but honest reflection puts them at somewhere between twenty and thirty years old. I remember when they were built, and they were a winter long project.

I remember them well because they were a huge upgrade over the way we worked cows. Their design worked well, and they made life so much easier. They were made from hedge posts and cattle panels with a working alley of portable panels (panels that were heavier than heavy) and a working chute made by our local blacksmith that is still one of the best chutes I have ever used (and is part of the new facilities). They served their purpose well and did not owe us any money. However, years of wear and tear and the odd, unruly cow had taken their toll on what had once been sturdy, rock solid allies.

When we made the decision to upgrade I jumped at the chance to tear them down, I couldn’t wait to get the old out and make way for the new. However, as I worked away the layers of old and undid the posts my parents had planted I felt a twinge of sadness. I thought about all the hours and days I had spent working cattle in those pens. All the dust, mud, sunburns, scraps and cuts I had received. I thought about the decisions we had made and just how much I enjoy working with my cattle. Most of all I thought about my parents and my mother.

Mom passed away almost thirteen years ago, and I don’t think there was ever anyone who liked working cows better than Mom. My mother had an amazing talent for remembering each cow, her mother, her sire and every calf she had ever had. We didn’t need to bring records with us to work cows, we had mom. We never had to worry about tagging a cow wrong or mixing up pairs because she remembered each cow. I truly believe you could have put mom out with a pen of ten solid black cows with no tags and she could have identified each one. That is when I realized those old pens represented a piece of my mother and a tie to her legacy.

Just as Jennifer and I were proud of our new pipe corrals, Mom and Dad were proud of theirs. Those pens were top of the line like I hope ours are now. What hit me hardest was realizing that Mom and Dad were about the same age and at the same point in life that Jennifer and I are now. That made a happy project just a little bit bittersweet.

I am sure Mom would have agreed that the pens needed the updating and I am sure she would enjoy working cows in them. But I also have to admit that it made me wonder what the future holds for us. I wonder how much will change in the next thirty years and what changes my kids will want to make. I guess change is inevitable and often necessary. It is good as long as you remember where you came from and honor those who got you there.