Failure to Prepare

The worst feeling in the world is that feeling of being overwhelmed with everything that needs to be done and not knowing where to start. Yeah, you guessed it, I am at that very point right now. In a couple of days, I will leave for five days and I am leaving Jennifer with a bunch of chores and many very pregnant ewes. I have all these great ideas of how to make things easier for her while I am gone and chores that need to be done before I leave, the list is long and daunting.

I have often said that the hardest part of leaving is the week before you go, and the hardest part of any journey is while the mailbox is still in your rearview mirror. So many details to attend to and all those loose ends to tie up. It seems like the harder I go the farther I get behind. Then there are those quiet moments, usually when I should be asleep, that I think of more things to add to the growing list. It’s a good thing I don’t have to get my blood pressure checked.

I know that Jennifer is a better hand than I am and that we are generally in better shape when she is in charge, especially during lambing season. The main problem is that what makes sense to me doesn’t necessarily make sense to her. Little things like where I keep the fencing pliers and the extra insulators for the electric fence. How often to rotate and charge the batteries on the electric fences, or the better question might be why we don’t have more solar fencers.

Then there are the logistics of everything. Did I get enough feed to get her through the time I am gone? Again, I am not sure why I am so worried about such questions because Jennifer has proven time and time again that she is more capable than I am. In any case, my goal is to make her time doing chores solo as stress free as I can. Try as I might, usually I do not do such a great job.

I can plan and scheme all I want but the sad truth is that the wheels will come off something while I am gone. I am not sure any calamity will top the time I was in Washington D.C. and the cows decided to get out in the middle of the night, into the timber when it was really cold. Both kids were relatively young and in car seats. Jennifer called me while chasing cows, in the cold, dark night through the timber. It is probably a miracle I ever got to go anywhere after that.

It is a good thing I married above my talent level and that I have such a great wife. I am also lucky that she tolerates me, secretly I think she enjoys trying to solve my problems and straighten out my messes while I am gone. Deep down I think she relishes the challenge, and she would be disappointed if I had everything in order. I didn’t say it was a good theory, but it makes me feel better and I am sticking to it.

I am not sure how I will ever repay her for allowing me to be gone and do my thing while she is home putting out fires and cleaning up messes. I would say I would buy her something nice while I am gone but over the past twenty-three years, I have topped myself time and time again at being the worst gift giver ever.

For the next three days I will be checking and rechecking my ever-growing list of chores and tasks that need to be done before I leave. It seems like I add more things than I eliminate. Do I have enough medicine, syringes and needles? More importantly will Jennifer be able to find them when she needs them? All good questions and the answer are, probably not. This will spawn one of those awkward phone calls where I do my best to explain where something is in terms only, I can understand. Something like, “the penicillin is next to the vaccine that needs to be thrown out. No, not the empty bottle, the full one is next to the empty egg carton and on the shelf below the two eggs. No, I don’t know why I didn’t put the two eggs in the carton but that is where it is at.”

I guess the bottom line is that it is a good thing I married someone better than me who is tolerant enough to but up with me and stubborn enough not to give up. I am sure that I will have a whole lot I will have to make up for when I get back and that will probably last until the next time I must be gone. At which time I will once again be scrambling to get things ready. There is a special place in heaven for farm wives.

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

You know how you are at the wrong place at the wrong time occasionally? It happens to me all the time but this time it was not me who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was part of the story, but I was not the person.

Like all good stories this one starts off with us working sheep. We needed to give the ewes their pre-lambing vaccines and wormer. As always, the day was not going as planned. We did not get started in the morning like I wanted to, and I was not very organized. Why my family is upset every time we go to do something because I don’t have my ducks in a row is beyond me. Either they have faith that I will change my habits, or they have not realized that it is a terminal condition.

I had all the vaccine (although not nearly enough) I just did not have my syringes in working order. I am not sure why; the simple answer is that I had two good ones and did not think about needing a third. We have no shortage of syringes, only a shortage of working, non-leaking syringes. The chalk markers we use so no ewe gets two rounds of shots, that was on me. I thought I knew where they were, but I had not physically located them. Never mind I had four extra hours because my help did not show up before noon. In the end, I did have the paint markers and I did find them, however, the search set us back an hour.

When we had finally located all the necessary equipment, got everything in working order and had organized our process it was time to catch the ewes. We had no fewer than three ideas from the four of us on how that should go. Tatum being the smart one and staying neutral like Switzerland. My idea on how it should get was quickly voted down by a count of 3 to 1. The other two ideas were debated and finally a plan was decided upon.

To say that things did not go smoothly in the beginning is a bit of an understatement. Honestly, the working plan was not a bad one and later proved to work with some efficiency. But it did not start off on the right foot. Most of the failure was due to a problem with the facilities and that was quickly pointed out to the person in charge of the management of those very facilities. It was also pointed out that the person was grumpy and not much fun to work with. I probably did not take the criticism with the love and support that I am sure it was intended.

The mood of the crew could be summed up as a little edgy and more than a bit tense. I am quite sure that we had gone past civil discussion, right past raised voices to all out yelling. I also admit that most of it was from my hair trigger, all I wanted was to get this task done and I would finally be semi-caught up. In my head this task took a couple of hours in the morning, leaving the afternoon to cross other items off my to-do list.

That was when we bent the needle. Bending a needle when vaccinating is not an uncommon occurrence and usually not something to be alarmed about. As I said, things had gotten a bit tense. The needle was bent, and it was going to take a pair of pliers to remove it. Normally we have pliers in the box with the spare needles and such. Not today. Being senior management and therefore lowest on the chain of command it was decided by a 3 to 1 vote that I would go get the pliers. As I walked up toward a son of a friend, came walking to me.

He had hunted on our land before and is always welcome to hunt a but my caveat is that you stop and ask every time. That was what he was doing, but at the wrong time. He asked if he could hunt on my alfalfa field, which would have been fine, except I have no alfalfa field. After a series of short questions and answers it was determined to be a neighbor’s field. He asked where the neighbor lived. I am not proud of my answer, but I said, “in his house” and walked off leaving him in stunned silence.

After that the sheep working went better and we eventually finished. In a day or two the rest of my family even started talking to me again. Before we had even finished the weight of what I had done to that poor young man set in and I felt bad. That evening I made the call of shame and apologized for my terse answers and all was good. While I am not proud of what I did, I took a bit of solace knowing that it is not always me who is in the wrong place at the wrong time. At least that is what I told myself in my head.

My New Years Resolutions

Its hard to believe but 2018 is already in the rearview mirror. It was for the most part a difficult year with weather calamities, trade woes and never-ending challenges but it is now history and we survived it. I am pretty sure that it will be one of those years we talk about for many years to come and one that I don’t mind ushering out the door. Good or bad it did seem to fly by and a speed at which I find alarming. Its funny how each year goes by more quickly than the last.

In any case, 2018 is now in the history books and 2019 is a blank clean slate. The trade issues have not been fully resolved and the weather is continuing its manic mood swings, but I think I share the same outlook as many of you and that is one of optimism. Sure, things in the world of agriculture are not rosy and pretty but the sense of hope that each of us approach the new year with is what keeps us going.

I have many hopes for a better 2019, at some point we all know the ag economy will turn around and the promise of better days seems to be on the horizon. The weather is a complete unknown but last year was so extreme that it makes me thing that this year will be closer to normal, whatever that is. As I told Dad when we finished harvest in December, I hope this is one of those years I tell my grandkids about. The weather in 2019 must be better.

I have not done New Year’s Resolutions in many years, I always say that my New Year’s Resolution is to not make a resolution. However, this year and in hope of making a clean slate I think some goals are in order.  First, I resolve to be more patient. My patience has always been my Achilles heel, too many things to do and not enough time for things to not go right. I will work at having more patience with everything in my life be it animal or mechanical and especially with my family. I would guess they fully expect this one to be history on January 2^nd.

My health is my second resolution. I have not always been the most diligent when it comes to taking care of myself, I don’t even have a doctor. My excuse is that I don’t have time to get a check-up, eating right is something I will do tomorrow, and those aches and pains will go away on their own. I don’t have time to be sick. When you write it down, that all seems kind of silly and alarmingly dumb. I resolve to take better care of myself and to get acquainted with a new doctor. I would guess that my family won’t have a lot of faith in me on this resolution also, but they will give me until the end of January.

Third, I will try to say no a little more often. Those of you who know me, know this will be the one that is the hardest to do. I don’t know what is wrong with me, I commit to too many things and struggle to get them all done. It is time that I focus on the priorities in my life and let some things go. I would guess my family will give me until January 3^rd maybe the 4^th on this one.

So, in review, I resolve to be more patient, healthier and prioritize my time. Nothing too lofty here, they should be a snap to achieve. After all, how hard could it be for me to get my life in order. The reality is that just like everyone else, life will set in and I will lose my patience with man, machine or beast and probably all three soon after the New Year starts. I will come up with all kinds of excuses to go off my diet and run out of time to go to the doctor. I am also sure that my phone will ring shortly after the first and someone will ask me to help with something and without thinking I will agree to help.

The truth about New Year’s Resolutions are that they are goals and things we need to do better. They shouldn’t be easy, and we should always be a work in process. Failure one day or one time should not be a reason to abandon them but a reminder to work harder. Of course, like making those resolutions saying we will stick with them is easy now and very difficult later.

I hope you will go into 2019 with the resolve to make your life better, that you will see the good in everything and appreciate the blessings around you. I hope your year is successful and profitable but most importantly I hope you are surrounded by family and friends. 2018 is history and 2019 is our hope, and my hope is for a great year for each of you.

The Rush Before Christmas

All I wanted for Christmas is to be caught up. I know in the world of farming and ranching that is an impossible task. I just wanted to be at a point where I didn’t feel hopelessly behind. In short, I wanted to be able to enjoy Christmas and not be like Thanksgiving where I was eating and running out the door to get as much time as I could in the combine. My number one wish was for harvest to be done by Christmas.

I am happy to report that the never-ending harvest of 2018 is in the books. For those of you who are still harvesting you have my sympathies and I feel a little guilty writing that I am done. I have to say that in my relatively short span of experience that this was the most difficult and frustrating harvest of my lifetime. We finished Saturday and I told Jennifer that I hoped this would be the harvest we tell the grandkids and great grandkids about. For years they will hear me talk about the harvest of eighteen when we were in the field nearly up to Christmas. They will probably look at me the way I looked at Dad when he remembered a corn harvest that went into February. I guess it could be worse.

We slogged through the last of the soybeans a few acres at a time. Getting out as early as I could to cut while the ground was still firm and frozen. That lasted until about mid-morning. I know many of you have suggested that I could have cut at night. That works fine if you have lights. Cutting in the dark in our fields would not be a great idea.

It came down to Saturday I had the last four acres to cut. I know, you are thinking, “why didn’t he cut them the day before?” Trust me when I say there was a very definite time when you quit or got stuck. In any case, I had four acres left but Saturday was also the day I had finally scheduled the vet to come preg check the cows. I also know that preg checking was one of those things that should have been done in October or November. However, due to the rain and not being able to get the cows out on stalks, it had to wait until the middle of December.

That left a tough dilemma. How was I going to finish cutting the last four acres of beans, put the finishing touches on the electric fences and preg check the cows all at the same time. That was when I once again learned how well I had married and that I had raised a capable cow hand. Jennifer and Isaac assured me that they could get the preg checking, sorting and hauling done with the help already had coming. In fact, they seemed to think they might be better off without me. I hate to admit it, but they are probably right.

The finish to harvest went off without a hitch. Unless you count me hitting a corner post with the header and bending up a shield a hitch. I may have been a bit distracted. We took the bent shield off and finished the patch in no time flat. Next, I hurriedly worked to get fencers working and fence up before the cows started coming. My crew was amazingly efficient, and the loads of cows started before I had the finishing touches up. Fortunately, I did get all the gates closed and all the holes plugged.

In a perfect world we would have had the electric fences up soon enough the deer could get used to them. We would have also hauled cows out a little earlier in the day, so they would have had a full three or four hours of daylight to walk the perimeter and see the fence. Usually the illusion of an electric fence is all my old cows need. If they get shocked by the first fence that usually keeps them in for a while at least.

Like I said, in a perfect world and this fall was anything but perfect. I guess you could say it was the perfect storm maybe. The last load of cows came with the last little bit of daylight, I was a bit nervous to say the least. That night I made a couple of laps to check and thankfully found no cows out of place. In fact, the next morning I found the cows just a few yards from where they were turned out, happily grazing. I guess they were as relieved as I was.

I am not sure I have ever been so happy to have harvest done and the cows on stalks. The only thing I can compare it to is getting a nasty thorn out of your thumb. The relief offsets the memory of the pain it caused earlier, to say I was relieved would be an understatement. Christmas will be the best this year, I can finally enjoy the season. Best of all, I don’t care what I get because I have had the best present of all early.

O' Christmas Tree

One of my favorite parts of Christmas is our Christmas tree. I guess in the hustle and bustle of the season it gives me a place to get away from the hurry. I enjoy sitting in front of it with a cup of coffee just relaxing, reflecting and taking in the lights. I enjoy almost everything about the Christmas Season and the tree is right up there at the top.

I remember as a kid that we would go out in the pasture and cut a cedar tree. Usually Dad had scouted several and would take us on a tour to pick out just the right one. It must have been fairly crowded in the pickup cab, there were four of us, but I don’t remember being cramped. Usually we would have to cut down two or three before we found just the right one, I am pretty sure it was one way to get rid of a few more cedar trees.

I remember the smell of the tree and to this day the smell of cedar brings back good memories of Christmas past. A time when I lived for the anticipation of what might show up under the tree while we were away at Christmas Eve Services (if you grow up the son of dairy farmers you do things differently).  Later, after my sister and I left home, Mom started a new tradition and used a fern as a Christmas Tree. I love my Mother dearly but that was one thing that was not an improvement.

When Jennifer and I started our life together we started new traditions and one of those was our Christmas tree. We tried cedar trees for a couple of years and I must say that my eye for size and space is not very good. The tree often required multiple trimmings. Then as the kids got older and busier and we started doing a better job of cedar tree control, we moved on to an artificial tree. I miss the cedar tree smell but not the mess, I think they make candles that can take the place.

Our tree reflects our lives, it is a Hodge podge of our interests and the places we have been. I guess the predominant theme would be western, but we have ornaments of varying origins and themes. Most of them come with a story and a good memory. Decorating the tree has always been a family activity, or it was until this year and the empty nest. Although it wasn’t the same without the kids around, it did take on a new twist.

Without the kids around to voice their opinions about where ornaments should go and what was the most important, Mom and Dad got to exert their opinions. Yes, the homemade ornaments from church and school found a new place in the front of the tree and were not relegated to the back and out of sight anymore. Right there front and center are the notes written in grade school penmanship and best of all are the school pictures with toothless grins and the pony tails glued onto the ornaments. That will teach them for not showing up.

Our tree skirt is one Jennifer made from denim and it has our brand front and center. While I really like our tree skirt it is not my favorite part of the tree. Instead of garland our tree has something more suited to our lifestyle and certainly more available. Our tree is circled by several rounds of rusty, or should I say vintage, barbwire. It might not have been the most kid friendly, although I can’t ever remember a problem and you probably ought to have your tetanus shot updated before you decorate the tree. Jennifer also made a cross for the top of our tree out of the same vintage barbwire. I think it looks kind of cool and it works good for hanging those heavy ornaments. I say if it is good enough for our pasture fences, it is good enough for our tree.

It is not secret that I am a pretty sentimental guy and Christmas has a way of really bringing it out in me. Nearly everything on our tree has a memory and that is a good thing. Christmas is about the birth of our Savior, but it is also about family, memories and good trips down memory lane. It’s those times in front of the tree when I think of Christmas past and the good memories of being a kid, of my mother and times at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I also think of the great Christmas memories when our kids were young and excited about the season. We all need a dose of little kid Christmas excitement.

I bet I am not alone in my memories and love for our Christmas Tree. I hope you will take some quiet time this Christmas Season to reflect and enjoy the memories hanging from the branches. Christmas is about family, memories and joy. At least in my world that is pretty much all summed up in lights and barbwire in my living room.

Agriculture Banding Together

I don’t know about any of you, but this fall has been one of the most trying seasons of my farming career. It seems like the weather has been against us at every turn. First it was too dry to get the crop to grow, too hot for the corn and this fall it has been too wet and too snowy to get it harvested. Then we have the markets, they were soft and that was before the trade war and tariffs. I must admit, I have been down lately. Every time I have tried to get off the mat something else comes along and knocks me right back down. I also know from talking to many of you that I am not alone.

This past week I attended the Annual Meeting of the Kansas Farm Bureau. It is my chosen organization, the one that I give my time too and the place I focus much of my attention on. Is Farm Bureau better than any of the other ag organizations out there? I think so but that is not the point of my thoughts this week and I am not looking for an argument. I hope that you are involved in the ag or commodity group that you feel best fits you and your beliefs and that you get involved in it. In any case, this week was our Annual Meeting and it was the start of our 100^th anniversary celebration.

With all that is going on with my farm, I was a little down when I arrived at the meeting. Soon I ran into many friends and we compared notes about how hard this fall harvest season has been. I am not sure why it made me feel better that I was not alone in my tough fall, but it did make me feel better. Too many times I think we feel so isolated by the very nature of our business, often we are a one or two man show and it is easy to get blinders on.

The words of encouragement from my friends from around the state helped quite a bit. The kind thoughts reminded me that I am not alone and there are pulling for me. Then we started the general sessions and I was reminded of why I am in agriculture by many of the speakers. I guess it helps to hear that what we are doing is important and that people do appreciate the long hard hours we put in each day.

Maybe it was the 100^th anniversary celebration that helped too. It was a good reminder that Kansas Farm Bureau was born out of times just like we faced this fall. It was started by farmers and ranchers who looked to band together to make the world of production agriculture better. A group of professionals who saw the value in working together to make agriculture better and more secure. Sure, things are tough now, but we have weathered storms stronger than this one and come out the other side stronger and more resilient.

This was made clear to me as I watched a workshop put on by Dr. Allen Featherstone, Professor of Agriculture Economics at Kansas State University. Is the economic climate rosy, probably not, but the dark clouds on the horizon are breaking up and there may be some light at the end of the economic tunnel. While this has been a trying period, we have seen worse times and survived. I have no doubt we will make it through this storm too.

I left the day feeling much better. I don’t know much in this world, but I know the weather in Kansas will change and I need to be patient. The one thing we can’t give up is our hope and eye on the future and I have my friends to thank for that. Its funny how just when things look the darkest and times are tough how the encouragement of others in the same boat can help the most.

I guess that is why I think involvement in any of our general agriculture or commodity organizations is so important. We are such a small portion of the general population that often no one else around us understands what we do. If we are to survive, we will come together as an agriculture community to help support each other through times like this. Alone we cannot achieve as much as we can all together. That is why I am involved in Kansas Farm Bureau.

When I return home, I will have a renewed vision and excitement for the challenges farming brings me. The work will get done and the future will hold more opportunity. I can see that now with a little help from my friends. My thoughts for you are that it is much tougher to make it through hard times alone. Find a place you feel comfortable, an organization that stands for the same principals you do and get involved. I promise you will get more out of it in the long run than you put in.

All I Want for Christmas

Its beginning to look a lot like Christmas. It is festive with all the snow on the ground, decorations galore and Christmas music on the radio. I must admit that I am not feeling it. We still have crops out in the fields and cows that need those crops to be harvested so they can graze those fields. I am afraid it just isn’t going to feel much like Christmas until we get all the work done. That alone is really bumming me out because I really love everything about Christmas and the season.

Of course, those Christmas decorations really have nothing to do with the season, most of the retail stores put their Christmas displays up sometime after the Fourth of July. No, most years, the Christmas Season starts after Thanksgiving, or at lest it does for me. I like to enjoy my holidays one at a time and I refuse to move the timeline up. This year has everything discombobulated. Normally, my goal is to have the cows and the sheep in their winter resting spots by Thanksgiving. Instead I spent Thanksgiving afternoon on the combine. An interesting side note to this is that I have never felt better the evening of Thanksgiving than I did this year.

In any case I am feeling just a little bit stressed (that is an understatement) lately and the weather gives me the hives. I know we are all wishing for a white Christmas but a week of sixty-degree temperatures would be the top of my Christmas list this year. I don’t want to seem greedy but two weeks or even three would be best, but I would settle for one week of warm, dry weather. I don’t think that is too much to ask for.

It is that time of the year when I am asked for my Christmas wish list. It is also this time when I realize I have reached the point in my life where Christmas gifts just aren’t that important. Yes, I have become my parents. I remember the frustration of asking Mom and Dad what they wanted for Christmas and getting the response of “nothing”. I tell my kids that I really don’t need anything and what I want, you can’t afford. But just in case, a new tractor, pickup or combine would be at the top of my list.

I guess I have gotten to the point in my life where if I need something, I go get it and that makes my wish list to Santa Claus much more abstract. Let me give you some examples. I already shared my number one wish and that was for dry, warm weather. If anyone knows how to make that happen, I would be eternally grateful. I don’t need much, just the nice fall days I was shorted around the end of October and the beginning of November. I bet that would be a popular gift with the farmer and rancher types this year.

I would also like a decent price for my crops. I am not going all out and asking for fifteen-dollar beans and seven-dollar corn just a little something above the cost of production would be nice. If that happens, we can knock the new tractor, combine and truck off my list. If I could make a little money, I could buy them myself. Just this week I had some work done on my house, the carpenter joked that he would like to be paid like a farmer. I said, sure, you owe me a hundred bucks.

Next on my list would be things that worked like they should, started when I wanted them to and tires that held air. Really, I don’t think that is too much to ask. To go along with that I would like my animals to cooperate, little things like staying where I put them and not getting sick. Those all seem like simple things on my list to Santa Claus, hopefully the old guy can come through with them.

My Christmas wish list can be summed up by three things. I want good weather, good markets and good luck. Maybe that list with a new tractor, combine and truck doesn’t sound so daunting after all compared to the three things farmers and ranchers have absolutely no control over.  We aren’t hard to buy for, we are impossible to please.

Call me the Grinch but I will continue to sit here in the glow of our Christmas tree, drinking hot chocolate, listening to Christmas music but not really in the mood. I guess all I really want for Christmas is to be caught up. Its funny but my whole family agrees as to what they want, a father/husband who is not so whiny. Let’s hope we all get what we want.        

Anniversary Fail

To say that I have never been the romantic type is probably an understatement. I freely admit that gift giving is something that doesn’t come very easy to me and thank goodness that Jennifer is willing to overlook this minor defect in my personality. To be honest I probably used up all my romantic ideas in the first month or so of our courtship. After all I am the guy who sent her balloons and red hots for our first Valentine’s Day. I told you I was bad at the whole romantic notions’ thing.

However, this year I out did myself when it came to our anniversary. I knew it was November, I just didn’t think it was the middle of November yet. In my defense with the late harvest I have been more distracted and absent minded than usual (and that is saying something). That is why I was shocked when our daughter reminded me on Saturday that our anniversary was on Sunday.

What was I going to do? At this point I couldn’t get away to get a present or even a card, I was caught. The only thing left to do was to just man up and admit my failure. A friend once told me that the secret to a happy marriage was the phrase, “I am a man; therefore, I am wrong, and I am sorry.’ Never were more true words spoken and never have they been put to the test like they were for my anniversary.

I guess I failed to mention that not only had I not done anything for our anniversary, but I had made plans to wean calves and vaccinate them (after going to church that morning, of course). I had the help all lined up, there was no going back on it. That meant going out for dinner was out of the question and it was on Sunday so having flowers sent to her work was also not going to happen. Things were looking bad for the home team.

Sunday morning came, and Tatum wished us a Happy Anniversary and asked Jennifer what I got her. Jennifer thought about it for a minute and pointed at the three new, shiny, red feed bunks in the yard and said, “I guess that is what I am getting this year.” She went on to explain that with all the craziness of this fall and things being backed up that she had not gotten me anything for our anniversary either.

Its funny how often I am reminded of how lucky I am to have a wife that tolerates all my shortcomings and accepts me for who I am. I am sure that working calves and getting feed bunks were quite a way down her anniversary wish list, but she went about the day like that was exactly what she wanted and where she wanted to be. I guess the easy answer is that the life of a farm or ranch couple is like that, no matter what the calendar says, work must come first.

Maybe the fact that I realized and worried about my lack of anything special for our anniversary was enough. I guess over the past twenty plus years, Jennifer has learned that it is the thought that counts. I don’t profess to be an expert on anyone else’s marriage and I would be a terrible counselor, but I do think that I have learned a little bit. Gifts and nights out on the town are important but its not what makes a marriage strong.

Working side by side to build something, making a life together and sharing in the ups and downs are what makes our marriage work. I know I frustrate Jennifer to no end and the disappointments are many, but she takes it all in stride and for that I am the one who is blessed. While she deserves so much better than feed bunks and a date working calves, I am not sure she would have it any other way.

I intend to make it all up, when and if this harvest ever gets done and we finally get all the cows out on stalks. In the end, it probably ended up being one of the best anniversaries we have had. The weather was great, the cattle working went smooth and both kids were home to help. To top it off the feed bunks worked magnificently, and the calves loved them. Most importantly I was reminded of how lucky I am.

As a side not, whether I out did myself, however, is up for debate. I have gone on from the balloon and red-hot debacle to achieve some awesome failures when it comes to holidays and romantic moments. Feed bunks for an anniversary present is a doozy, except there was the Mother’s Day that we sheared sheep. That one is hard to top.

Thankful Thanksgiving

I guess its Thanksgiving? With crops to harvest yet and cows to get out on stocks the work end of things seems more like October but the cold and snow make it seem more like January. When I look at the calendar, it tells me that this week is Thanksgiving whether I think it is or not. I have been threatening to go out and work after we finish lunch on Thanksgiving, but I know better, that and it’s supposed to rain.

Every year I like to take a little time to reflect on my life at Thanksgiving and do exactly what the holiday was designed for, to give thanks. I am not going to lie, this year it is a little harder for those of us in agriculture to give thanks, its no secret that this has been a tough year for most of us. Between the markets and the weather, it seems as though every time we get back up, we get knocked right back down. On the surface it may not seem like we have much to be thankful for.

However, we all know better than that. Even with these tough times I feel more thankful than ever to be an agriculture producer. Tough times have a way of reminding you why you chose to farm or ranch, it makes you look at your soul and remember what makes you get up every morning and face the challenges. I have been a part of agriculture all my life, so I guess the eternal optimism is just a part of me. Sure, there are dark moments when we all question what we are doing and wonder what else is out there. Those moment are fleeting and are always replaced with a determination to keep on plowing forward no matter what.

Tough times also remind us that farming and ranching is a family affair. I am not just talking about our blood relatives but also our agriculture community. Our neighbors and friends who are always there with advice and help, ready at any moment to jump in and help. More importantly they are there to talk to, vent when things are going well and to help celebrate the good times. Friends and neighbors are one of the best parts of the lifestyle we all chose.

We do have a lot to be thankful for in agriculture, even in these tough times, I know I wouldn’t trade my life for anything else. I would like to think I could do something else and make more money, but money is not what happiness is about. Could I find a job where I would have more free time and maybe a weekend or holiday off? I am sure I could, but we all know that agriculture is not about a job, it is a way of life that most of us were born into and some of us chose.

I am truly blessed and very thankful to be farming even in this most challenging time. I grew up wanting to be just like Dad and Grandpa working the soil, tending my animals and growing food. Time and years have not done anything but increase my love for what I do. It has been tough, and I am sure there are many more tough days ahead of me too. I also am equally sure there are some good days in my future too and it is those days I will cherish. I am thankful to be able to be a part of agriculture and even if it suddenly came to a crashing halt, I would not have traded or changed a moment.

I am thankful to work with my family each day on farms that the generations before me sacrificed and paid for with their blood sweat and tears. I am thankful to look forward to the future and have the hope that I can some day pass this legacy to the next generation and with any luck I will be able watch the generation after that come aboard. I am thankful for the good and deep friendships of my neighbors and friends.

Most of all I am thankful for a God who has made me caretaker over his land and animals. It is my deep hope that I am a good and faithful servant in all that I have been entrusted with. I am not sure why I have been given what I have, and I know that I do not deserve any of it. I am only a caretaker who hopes to leave things better than the way I found them.

This year has posed challenges like no other and at times, I must admit, it has been hard to be thankful. I suppose that is an indication of how I take my life for granted but I hope that even in this most hectic of years I will take a moment to pause and reflect on how thankful I am for all the blessings I have been given and I hope each of you will be able to do the same thing.

Sunday is a Day of Rest

Let me just start off by saying I knew better. Yes, that is a statement that I can make about nearly all my mistakes. I knew better but decided to test my luck. In this case my mistake was working on a Sunday. Earlier this year Dad and I had tried to pick corn on a Sunday and broke the hydraulic cylinder that extends the unloading auger. After that mishap a friend told me, “work on Sunday, fix on Monday”. I guess I was warned but desperate times call for desperate measures.

So back to my latest Sunday experience. We are into November and still have a lot of acres of beans to cut, the weather has not been good, and the forecast looked even worse with a couple of snow chances sprinkled in. It has showered just a little on Saturday but had dried off in the afternoon and the wind picked up during the night. Jennifer and I had planned to go help Tatum celebrate her birthday but when I woke up that morning, I told her I was going to stay home and cut beans.

I had planned on going to church then harvesting but when I went outside and found out the wind was howling out of the north and everything seemed dry, I decided that the proverbial ox was in the ditch and the Good Lord probably would forgive me if I tried to get a couple more hours of harvest in. After all Jesus picked wheat on a Sabbath, so harvesting soybeans was OK, if I didn’t make a habit of it. Right?

With pangs of regret I sent Jennifer off to see Tatum and I set about servicing the combine for what I hoped would be a long day of harvest. Dad checked in with me and asked if I needed help., I told him one of us probably ought to go to church and he reminded me of what usually happened when we did something like this. Sheepishly I agreed that it probably wasn’t the best idea but we both were anxious to get something done.

By nine o’clock I was in the field. The beans may have looked ready but they were tough. The combine growled at me every chance it got, and I worked around the patches of heavy beans laying on the ground, I would come back and get them later. At least that was my plan to come back later and finish them. That moment I decided to get the lighter beans up on the sidehill where the wind was hitting. Anything was progress.

For an hour I inched my way along and gradually it seemed like things were getting better and maybe we would make some real progress. I was feeling good and while I wasn’t smug about my choice to skip a trip to see my daughter and church, I did think I had made the right decision. Then it happened. A bearing I had been babying along finally gave out and as it did there was considerable collateral damage. Enough damage that I was sure I couldn’t fix it in the field. Still I was hopeful that I could preform triage mechanics on it and keep going for the day.

I pulled into the yard and proceeded to unload the beans onto the truck. That was when the drizzle started. The weatherman had not said anything about any precipitation of any kind. In fact, the forecast was for clearing skies, wind and a near perfect day to harvest. That had aided in my decision to stay home originally. I think the exact words were zero chance of rain and a great fall day to get outside. I unloaded as fast as I could and got the truck into the shed and went out to diagnosis what was wrong with the header.

It would have been easier to describe what was right with the header. Things were in bad shape and it didn’t take very long for me to conclude that I was done for the day. Broken parts or not I was getting wet. I slogged my way back home and warmed up leftovers, did I mention our church was having a BBQ dinner that day with homemade pie. So, there I was, barely noon and the day was shot, all because of a bad decision to pick work over church and family.

Soon Dad got home and saw the combine parked by the shop and called me to see if it had gotten too wet to cut. It had but I also had to confess that I had broken down. He paused for a second and said that he figured that would happen. Now I am not sure God is all that concerned whether I harvest on a Sunday and I am pretty sure my calamity was not due to his wrath. I do know that there is a very good reason we hardly ever work on a Sunday and that church and family should always come before work. I guess I just need a refresher course occasionally because I knew better.

Ace

Twenty-three years ago, I married a horse person. Not just a horse person but a very good trainer, rider and cowhand. I am not all ashamed to admit that Jennifer is a much better hand than I am, I just feel lucky and blessed that she didn’t feel the need to find a husband who was more proficient. I tried riding a little, especially during our courtship, but I am pretty sure that whole thing about old dogs and new tricks applied to me and riding.

In any case, along with marrying a horse person comes ownership of horses. We have had several over the more than two decades of marriage. Chico was a horse Jennifer bought for me with the hope that maybe I would get better at riding. He was a short horse, which was good for an unathletic, fat guy in that he wasn’t too hard to get up in the saddle on. However, the fact that he was smaller probably didn’t bode well for carrying the afore mentioned fat guy. We traded Chico for Yeller. Yeller was a much bigger, stouter horse that suited big, fat guys better.

Yeller and I got along well, once I was in the saddle. However, soon after we got him, Isaac started riding and he got his mother’s talent. Needless to say, I had lost my horse and ended up driving the feed truck when we moved the cows. Honestly, it is a job I am better suited for. There were other horses along the line including one named Finance, but that is another story for another day. The only pearl of wisdom here is to take a second look at any animal named Finance.

The only constant in my experience as a horse owner is Ace. Ace is Jennifer’s horse, one of those once in a lifetime horses that nearly ended our marriage only months after it had begun. We were living in Anthony, I was the county extension agent and Jennifer was working for a local rancher by the name of Gerald Schmidt. Gerald hired Jennifer to help him with his cattle and to break his colts.

Soon after she started working for him, Jennifer came home very excited about a colt she was working with. He was the easiest horse she ever worked with and after just one day she could tell he was going to be a great one. Soon after that a gentleman stopped by the Extension office and mentioned that he was looking for a horse, I told him I knew of the perfect one and sent him to Gerald. That night when I got home I knew something was terribly wrong.

Jennifer was not at all pleased that I had sent someone out to look at Ace and made that abundantly clear. I may not be real smart but occasionally I do get things right. I told her that if that horse was that special we had probably ought to find a way to buy him. The next day Jennifer went to Gerald and Ace came to live with us. Since then I have been no higher than second on the organizational leadership chart for our ranch. Jennifer is first, Ace is second and I know my place.

Ace is one of those horses that anyone can ride and do anything on him. Even old, fat guys like me get along with him. With Jennifer he can move any group of cows, sort any calves and herd old grumpy bulls. Even more impressive, when we have kids visiting and they want to ride a horse we grab Ace and he allows them to kick, bounce, scream, giggle and do whatever they want while he walks along half asleep. He is truly a once in a lifetime horse and has earned a permanent place in our barn.

I guess that is why I never thought about him getting old, he was going to be here forever, always around to save the day and catch the cow. God willing, he will be around for many more years, but this fall it became apparent that Ace is no different than the rest of us and he cannot escape the reach of father time. It wasn’t anything big, a stumble here and letting a cow get past him that never would have a year ago. He went hard and put everything into it and was better than 90 percent of the horses out there but the writing on the wall was obvious.

Jennifer has started the process of finding the next great horse, it won’t be Ace, but I have faith in Jennifer’s horse sense that it will be a good one. Yes, twenty-three years ago I married a horse person and began a lifetime of horse ownership. I may not be a hand myself, but I am awfully proud of the one I married and if keeping her in good horses is what it takes for me to stick around then we better find the next Ace.

The Stages of Halloween

This week is Halloween. I must admit that Halloween is much different now as empty nesters than it was in any other phase of my life. I think the plan is to have chili and wait on the handful of neighborhood kids to come by and trick-or-treat us. Hopefully it is after a full day of harvest and I won’t scare the kids too much in my dust and grease covered clothes and face. Most of all I hope it is a good day and I am not moaning and groaning around sounding like Frankenstein when they come up to the house.

Halloween is one of those holidays that are different depending on which phase in life you are in. I remember when I was single and in college. Halloween was fun, usually there was a toga party, or a costume party of some kind and it was an excuse to have fun. Then when I was in the working world before I was married I was lucky if I remembered to pick up candy, who am I kidding, if I remembered it was Halloween I was doing good. I wasn’t quite as bad as my buddy Vaughn who gave my kids Sonic mints one year when we trick-or-treated him during his bachelor days.

Then came the time when we had kids. I remember their first Halloweens. Why you ask? Mainly because they wore the same costumes and we cared enough to take pictures.  We have pictures of both kids in a dinosaur costume that Jennifer made. I am pretty sure those pictures will surface many times over the years when we need either a cute picture or an embarrassing one. I do have to admit that the kids were cute once upon a time, then they grew up. We limited the number of stops to grandparents, aunts and uncles and close family friends. The candy gathering was limited, and it took forever to get them out of their car seats.

Soon they were old enough to ask to pick their own costumes, sort of. I remember Isaac wanting to be a rodeo clown. That was easy enough for his mother to modify some Wrangler jeans, buy a crazy wig and paint his face. He also made appearances as Geronimo, a cavalry soldier and Popeye (when one of his best friends was Olive Oil). Tatum was a witch, Indian Princess (we did recycle when we could) and Hannah Montana. Our kids learned at an early age that when your mom is handy with a sewing machine you have cool costumes and not the plastic ones you buy at Wal-Mart. This was the best time because we could hit more stops (no car seats), gather more candy and of course Dad had to make sure it was safe to eat.

The awkward teen years followed. We confronted the delicate issues every parent must face about that time. No not the Talk, but when is too old to trick-or-treat. Halloween was still somewhat of a holiday to them, but no one wants to give candy to a ghost taller than them or a witch that has a deeper voice. It was also tough because they relied on Mom and Dad for transportation. That was about the time my kids discovered the annual Halloween Haunted Hayrack ride in a neighboring town. Mom and Dad could go if we were at the other end of the wagon.

The final stage of Halloween parenthood were the high school years. This was a time we, the parents, spent an evening nervously giving out candy to cute kids all the while hoping the phone did not ring. We were pretty sure our kids would do the right thing, but it was Halloween and the temptations were there. It also made for a late night because they could drive because who was going to be able to sleep with a teenager out on the road. Those were the spookiest Halloweens ever.

Now as empty nesters with kids in college it is much more relaxing. Not because I think they are going to stay at home, but I guess maybe it is out of sight out of mind. It is probably more along the line that I know they are not going to use their one call to me for bail. I am certain my kids might have fun, but I trust them to do the right thing.

I enjoyed each phase of Halloween as a parent, but this might be my favorite. You see we buy a big bowl of candy because we want to be the cool neighbor who has great trick-or-treats (and we don’t want our house tp’ed).  Most importantly that means when the last ghost has booed, and the last cowboy has ridden off, there still should be plenty of candy for me to graze on. After all, when it all comes down to it, Halloween is nothing more than an excuse to eat candy.

Fickle Rain

Its funny how the weather goes. Most of this year we have been abnormally dry, dry enough that it really hurt our corn. Then it started raining in late July and August and the rain was timely for the beans. The corn crop was shot but the beans looked like they were going to be decent. We were still quite a few inches below normal. Then the monsoon season opened up and we got somewhere between five and six inches of rain in less than a week.

All of this came as the soybeans were just starting to dry down. I am not sure if it will hurt them yet, but the rain certainly did not help them. I find it amusing (I have to find it amusing or I will start crying) that one crop can be droughted out and the other can be rained out. Is that a sign of global warming or climate change, I forget? In any case, we are off the drought status and this year will probably show up as an average year when it is all said and done. I guess that is where we get the average, it is the middle between the two extremes.

It was kind of nice to have that break in the middle of harvest, however, after a week of break I am starting to become stir crazy. I appreciated being able to not have to rush for a couple of days and take a deep breath. I even sneaked in a nap, but now it is getting old and I am ready to go. I did get several things done that I had put off until a rainy day, but a rainy week is certainly enough. The ponds are full, subsoil moisture has been replenished, I think whoever is doing the rain dance probably could stop for a month or two right now. A long stretch of dry weather is top on my wish list right now.

We farmers and ranchers are a fickle bunch when it comes to the weather, we are never happy with the current conditions. It is either too hot, too cold, too dry or too wet. It is a good thing we are not Goldilocks. If we had been in that story we would have went through the whole bear neighborhood before we found something to eat and a place to sleep. When it comes to weather we are never “just right”.

I spent most of this summer complaining about the dust and how it made the sheep cough. Now I am grumping around about the mud and how it hurts my knees to slog through it.  When it is dry we all say we will never complain about too much rain. Then when the rain comes we are the first ones to whine and gripe about it. There is no winning when it comes to farmers and ranchers and the weather.

The funny part about all of this is that there is nothing we can do about the weather. Oh, we can complain and wail about it but when it comes right down to it, we must take the hand we are dealt. That doesn’t keep us from being chronic weather watchers. I watch two different local forecasts and at least that many national long-range forecasts and how much good does it do me? Absolutely none. Usually one of the forecasts is right but it is never the same one.

I guess it is like Dad always tells me that there is no sense in worrying about the weather. That is easier said than done when one is wandering around looking at muddy fields of good soybeans, poor corn and pastures filled with calves that need to be brought home and weaned. Nothing is harder than to be staring at a mountain of work and not be able to do anything about it.

In the end, you can look at the calendar and you can even schedule things like harvest on it, but it really doesn’t do you any good. Our schedule is never our own in the world of agriculture, Mother Nature keeps our calendars and she isn’t sharing it with anyone. We knew the gig when we signed up for it but that doesn’t make waiting any easier.

I guess there was no point in all this other than to let off a little steam. I have heard it is not good to hold stress inside and I believe that complaining about the weather is healthy. I am not sure Jennifer or anyone else who has crossed paths with me in the last couple of weeks would agree with that. On the bright side, in a week or two I will probably be lamenting the lack of moisture and variety is the spice of life.

The Cost of Cheap Food

I have always been convinced that in agriculture we are our own worst enemies. We have this mindset of just doing our jobs, not worrying about what is said about us and working harder when times get tough. I agree that all of these are admirable qualities and the whole world would be better if everyone adhered to these ideas. However, we all know that is not the way of the world and something that happened last week just reinforced that for me.

Last week I came across an article comparing the price of corn in August of 2018 and the price of corn in August of 1974. Guess what? They were the same. The idea that we are getting the same price for our product that we did forty-four years ago is hard for me to get my mind around. I found this so appalling that I posted it on my Facebook page. Yes, I know social media is a double-edged sword and by sharing it I was opening myself up. That thought never crossed my mind, I thought I was revealing some great injustice.

For the most part, my post was seen as I had hoped. Most of my friends were acceptably outraged and many reposted it with comments about how wrong it was. Then one of my friends made a remark about how our production had gone from around seventy bushels per acre to one hundred and seventy and there was our profit.

I have to admit, at first I really didn’t think much of his remark, other than I had not expected that kind of reaction. That day I could not get it out of my mind, we were in corn harvest and I promise you that the yields this year were closer or even below the 1974 yields and no where near the modern expected yield. Maybe that is what made the comment hit so close to home.

More likely it was the idea that because we could produce more corn on the same acreage that we should not expect more for each bushel. Did that mean if GM is producing the same number of cars they should also be pricing them at a 1974 level. I hope so. My guess is that GM would tell you that with the increases in technology we now have a safer, more economic and much more modern car to drive. So why is it not that way in agriculture. Why, because our consumer has been spoiled by the low cost of food. They think nothing of paying thousands of dollars for the newest shiniest anything but if the cost of food goes up a few pennies it is too much.

My response to my friend was that we have gotten much better at producing the food we all rely on, but that comes at a price also. The price of the seed corn itself has gone up dramatically during that time. We are paying for the technology that allows us to produce more but unlike many other things, we cannot recoup that increase in price. The technology of producing the crop has increased dramatically in the last forty plus years and with that comes a hefty price that we are expected to absorb.

The increased cost of technology does not take into account the increases in other costs like fuel and oil, tires, taxes (I will guarantee we are paying more taxes), the cost of parts, the list goes on and on. I defy you to find a cost that is lower than it was in 1974. We all know how the price of land and rental rates have gone up much more during this time period. Sure we get a lot more bushels per acre, if mother nature cooperates but those bushels cost us significantly more than they did forty years ago.

The ability to take prices for our products that are the same as they were forty four years ago while paying for our inputs at current prices is amazing. I dare you to name another sector of our economy that could or would do that. In agriculture we take the prices we are given and consider ourselves lucky to get that much. Farmers and ranchers are the most self-less people I know. When we are thrown obstacles we take on the challenge and put our shoulders to the grindstone. We would never think of complaining or defending ourselves.

We are so blessed in this country to have a food supply that is so abundant and affordable that consumers take us for granted. What other industry would a consumer say that they should be happy with 1974 price levels because they are more efficient and productive. None other than agriculture. I am proud to be part of such a great industry but we need to start educating our consumers about our situation. Everyone who drives a car, wears clothes and eats is dependent on agriculture and our survival. Last time I checked that was everyone I knew, and after all, nothing is as expensive as cheap food when it is gone.

Hope and Agriculture

We started harvest last week and it is nothing to get excited about. The heat and drought of last summer is very evident in our corn yields. We are harvesting the fewest bushels that I can remember in the recent past, half to a third of what our normal expected yield is. Yet I feel very fortunate that we have some to harvest when many of those around us had nothing. If you want to understand what the main purpose behind crop insurance is, this is the year to look at. It is easy to get frustrated and even depressed when looking at the bottom line this year.

I was at that point. Not only are prices at lows not seen in many years, but we were hit with a drought that affected the corn yields. Then we started harvesting and the breakdowns occurred and each one took a bigger and bigger chunk out of an already small pie. I felt like a boxer who got knocked down, gathered up enough strength to stand up, only to be knocked down again. Then Sunday happened.

I was asked to be interviewed about my faith by our church’s high school class. I must admit that I was a little apprehensive at first, I have always been one with a simple faith in God. I realize there are things and events in this world that I am not going to understand and I at peace with that. I have always joked that when I get to heaven I have a list of questions I am going to ask. Things like; “what is the purpose of mosquitos?” My point is that I am ok with not having all the answers.

We talked about my faith journey and I answered questions about my life and experiences. It was a very enlightening experience and I only hope the young people in the class got as much out of it as I did. The last question I was asked kind of caught me off guard, but my answer helped heal my soul and for that I am eternally grateful. I was asked about hope and my view of it.

The concept of hope is one that I have not spent a lot of time thinking about but one that is the core of what I do and how I keep going in years like this. I would submit that every farmer and rancher is driven by hope. It is hope that keeps us planting our crops year after year, especially in times like these when we have had several years of an ag economy that is subpar at best. It takes hope when the rains don’t come, and the heat beats down on you.

Hope is waking up in the middle of the night when it is icy and bitter cold to go out and check for new babies. Hope is working with that newborn calf or lamb and urging it to get a grasp life and keep going, even when you know the odds are against it. Hope is harvesting that crop, knowing it is going to be a long winter and still looking forward to putting the next crop in the ground.

Hope is at the very core of all of us in agriculture, if it wasn’t we couldn’t get up and go to work each morning. It is the only thing that gets us through years like this and situations like many of us find ourselves in. It would be easier to pack up and find a steady income, but the hope of a better year is what keeps us coming back.

I had never realized how much hope played a role in my life until I articulated what the concept. It was just something like my faith that I accepted as part of my life and had never thought about. It is the eye toward the future and better times that keeps us pushing forward in times like this, without hope there would be no optimism.

Each year we put a crop in the ground and we welcome new calves and lambs into this world even though often the deck is stacked against us. There is so much out of our control we must hope that tomorrow will be better. Quite frankly, without hope, I am not sure how you would continue to farm or a ranch, it is at the center of what we do.

Monday was back to reality with more break downs, crop delays and bills but I found that I could face those things easier having spent time thinking about the role hope plays in my life. Maybe during this chaotic, nerve wracking time we call harvest you will take time to reflect on hope and your hope for the future. No matter how bad this year is, we can always look toward next year and the hope of better times.

Dad Knows Best

Did you ever have one of those days? Well, I am on day 2 of one of those days. We are on the eve of the eve of harvest. It seems as though this harvest has nearly been here for a month now and we have been taking the corn crop to town one coffee can at a time. However, this week it was finally determined that it was actually time to fire up the combine and kick off fall harvest 2018. That easier said than done.

For a couple of weeks Dad has been after me to check the equipment out. We needed to get the trucks out and fired up and see what the combine needed. I kept putting it off, maintenance is not one of my favorite jobs and to be fair, we had several other things that needed to be done before harvest. We spent the last week shearing trees and giving calves shots.

Its funny how no matter how old you are that you should listen to your parents. Last winter we had the combine completely checked out and fixed before we put it in the shed. In theory that should have made getting it out for fall harvest easier and quicker. In theory. I also knew that the trucks had all been working fine when we put them up and I had winterized them. I had also checked on them a couple of times during the summer to make sure no rodents had taken up residence. Starting up for fall harvest should have been a breeze. Should have been is the key theme in this story.

Last week I got the bright idea that we would take the trucks into our mechanic to have them gone through before harvest. We made the appointments and went to get the first truck. It started right up and I pointed out to Dad that my whole plan seemed to be working this was going to be easy. I pulled out of the shed and immediately remembered what I had forgotten. The brakes were a little soft. We worked through that and I got the truck into town. Upon inspection we found that one of the tires was going bad and two others probably needed replaced. A call to the tire shop revealed that it was going to take a couple of days to get this accomplished. No worries, we have two other trucks and can function for a couple of days with them.

I moved on to the next truck in line in the shed. I opened the door and immediately noticed that a rodent and probably a big rodent (pack rat) had taken up residence. This is never a good sign and really made me nervous. I have had mice run out of hiding and over my feet but a pack rat would be a whole different story. I do learn from my mistakes and tried the brakes. Nothing, absolutely nothing. A problem that might have something to do with the large rodent in residence. Well, we could function with one truck for a while, or at least we were going to have to.

To get the third and final truck out the combine was going to have to be moved. No problem, it should be field ready and fire right up. Funny thing, it seems that the guy who put it away last fall had forgotten to unhook the battery cables. The combine was deader than a doornail, it was going to be easier to charge the batteries back at the shop so I unhooked them and proceeded to drop one overboard as I moved it to the truck.

The combine became the immovable object in the way of my last hope for a running grain truck or for at least the next couple of days. I surveyed the situation and decided that I could maneuver the truck out if the other truck with no brakes could be moved. After a couple of minutes of pleading and persuading I got the truck fired up and moved it very slowly out of the way. Much to my surprise the last truck fired up easily, had brakes and seemed to be road worthy. I guess when it comes to our trucks one out of three isn’t bad.

I got the remaining truck down to the mechanic without too much trauma and the batteries spent the day at the shop alternating between the charger. Tires were ordered for the other truck and it was carefully driven to the tire shop. Meanwhile we drove past several other farmers out picking corn. Dad pointed out that they must have spent a little time preparing for harvest last week.

At this point my best laid plans were smashed to smithereens and we were on day two of pulling out of the shed and starting harvest with no acres of corn picked. I had no choice but to admit that he was right. Harvest is a marathon and not a sprint so in the end my lost days probably won’t matter, I hope. However, that is not an easy thing to tell yourself as you watch two picture perfect harvest days slip by. Especially on the eve of the eve of harvest.

Farm Birthdays

When I started a column I first put the date on the top of the page. That was when I noticed that my birthday is coming up next week. To be honest I had not thought about next week being my birthday, I guess I have reached the point in my life where birthdays just aren’t that important anymore. Don’t get me wrong, they are important from the standpoint that you want to make sure you have them, but they just don’t have much significance anymore.

When you are a farm kid and your birthday is in the fall during harvest you get used to your birthday not being a real big deal. I know, I was really abused. Sure, Mom made my favorite meal and I got a birthday cake, but I only had one party in my whole life and it ended when I accidentally ran over my buddy Gus with my bike. Of course, that would never have happened if I had gotten the new bike I asked for as a birthday present.

Its funny how things change over the years. Back when I was a kid I was upset if we were harvesting during my birthday. Now I will be thrilled if I am in the field picking corn next week, and I can’t think of a better present than a good day free of break downs. I guess it is all about perspective, that and who is paying the bills. Life and birthdays were much easier when I was a kid. I wonder why I was so excited about turning eighteen and becoming an adult.

I have gone past all the birthdays we look forward to, eighteen and twenty-one and have started into the birthdays where they are simply a reminder that I have another tally mark on the door jam of geezerhood. At least this birthday doesn’t end with a zero or five and a public reminder that I am approaching ancient.

My next anticipated birthday would be sixty-five and that is many years away and even then, I am not sure if I should be excited. I am sure that the government will move the start date for Social Security back farther. It might be a carrot on the end of a stick for me, dangling out there always just out of reach. I view retirement as a mythic concept like global peace, nice ideas that will never really happen.

When it comes to presents I guess I have reached the point where generally I have bought it if I need it. If the item is a want and not a need, then those buying my birthday presents probably can’t afford it. I also have two kids in college and I would rather they just save their money and spend it on their tuition and we all get more benefit out of it. The truth of the matter is that I am no different than anyone else and I appreciate presents and the thought behind them, it does mean someone cares.

I do look forward to my birthday meal with great anticipation. Yes, I am old and sadly enough, often the next meal is what I am looking forward to the most. That is probably why I look like I do should find other things that peak my interest. No matter why, the thing I look forward to the most about birthdays is the meal. Yes, in part because it often includes some of my favorite foods but also because it is a time that we as a family do eat together. This is the first birthday as empty nesters, so it might also be an excuse for date night, which would be good too.

No matter the circumstances, what is going on or what my plans might end up being, it will be my birthday and there is no getting around that or putting it off. It is a good time for self-reflection and being mindful of all the blessings I have in my life. Is my life perfect? No, but it is better than I deserve, and I am an awfully lucky guy.  I have two smart kids doing well in college, a great wife who puts up with me and I go to work at my dream job every day. It probably doesn’t get any better than that.

While it is true that I am at the point in my life that birthdays don’t have the same appeal as they once did, they are still important. They mean you have survived another year, enjoyed some good moments and learned from some challenges. That year was spent with family and friends and that time cannot be measured. Yes, they are a sign of getting older but there is only one way you don’t have another birthday and I am having too much fun for that. So, pass the cake and ice cream because I am old and need to make sure I have enough energy for another year.

The Art of Civility

This has been one of those weeks when I think maybe the right thing to do is to become a hermit in the mountains. After this past week I must sit back and wonder what has happened to our society, how we got here and where we are going. OK, so maybe I am being just a little over dramatic, but I really am starting to wonder about this world we live in.

Last weekend I was at the Kansas State Fair. I love the State Fair and I have been to enough other states to say that they are all very similar and always a good time. I will say that I have often made the observation that I attend the Fair every year to feel better about my place in the gene pool. If you enjoy people watching, and I do, it is a great event.

However, there are instances when we see more unseemly parts of our society and that was the case last weekend. We are in the middle of a tightly contested Governor’s race and it serves as a microcosm of what is wrong with our world today. We have five candidates, one each from the major parties, two independents and a libertarian. Last weekend a debate was held between the three candidates who have the best chance of winning and that is where my doubts about the society we live in were brought to light.

I attended this debate because I honestly have no idea of which candidate I will vote for and I want to gather as much information about the candidates as I can. I am really and truly interested where they stand on issues and not simply which party they are affiliated with or how great a sound bite they can come up with. I was interested to see each candidate head to head in the same place, or at least I thought I was.

To set the stage, literally, the three major candidates were up on stage each behind a podium. The two candidates deemed not to have a chance were not given time on the stage but instead had taken up residency on either side of the stage holding up their campaign signs. As an interesting side not, one candidate’s sign had a picture of a marijuana leaf on, that was something I had never seen before.

Each candidate on stage had a section of supporters in matching t-shirts who were there to either support their candidate or mock the other two.  The crowd was loud and rowdy many were waving signs and making noise. I applaud anyone who gets behind a candidate and becomes involved, well, I applaud them to a point.

Every time one of the candidates would attempt to answer a question they would be subject to yells and jeers from the supporters of the other two. This happened to the point that it was hard to hear what the candidate had to say. Remember I came because I wanted to get a better feeling of where the candidates stood so the yelling and jeering were quite annoying to me. To make it worse, the candidates themselves stoked the fires even more with the way they answered the questions. That was when the reporter asked me my opinion.

The question posed to me was; “What was your takeaway from the debate today?” My answer was that I was concerned about the lack of civility and the inability to have an actual debate about the issues. I went on to say that some of us had not made up our minds and the crowd made it hard for us to hear the answers to the question and that was disappointing.

When did we, as a society, break down to the point that we cannot have a civil discussion of the issues of the day? Why can we not simply lay out our ideas and opinions without the need to shout our opponent down and belittle them? Supporters of a candidate should have enough civility to cheer their candidate without resorting to booing, yelling or cat calling the opponent. In short, we all need to grow up and act like adults.

I don’t know why I am surprised, its nothing new, we saw it in the last Presidential race and we have even seen it in town hall meetings and coffees held by elected officials. It appears we have it in our heads that the only way to get our point across is to make a scene, belittle the person we don’t agree with and yell at them when they try to answer.

What’s the answer? We need to return some decorum back into our society. We need to learn how to disagree without being disagreeable. How does that happen? It starts with each of us at a personal level. We need to share ideas and debate them without trying to force our opinion on others. We need to be able to allow people to look at issues and make their own minds up based on the merits of the ideas or candidates. Then we need to demand that from our candidates. A candidate running a campaign of thoughtfulness and civility, now there’s an idea.

Ranchers Know Best

I am not sure why I watch television, I guess it is a habit. Increasingly I am finding things on the tv that irritate me or just flat out make me mad. That was the case this Sunday. I had just gotten in from doing chores and I was enjoying a cup of coffee watching the news. A puff piece came on talking about our national lands and how they preserve our disappearing natural resources.

That statement alone gives me mixed signals. I think we do a pretty good job of preserving those natural resources and it gives me a little heartburn to think of the lands being pulled off the tax rolls forever and not allowed to earn income. That is another debate for another day. I guess I am ok with the idea of unique, special places being public lands, so they can be enjoyed by all. That is if they are managed properly. However, I think we have plenty of public lands and national parks especially if they come at the cost of lands that are in private hands now.

The news piece started out showing clips from Dances with Wolves. Vast expanses of waving prairie grasses and massive herds of buffalo. They went on to talk about how this was an important part of Americana and how we were losing it rapidly. Then they cut to a map of Montana showing a large tract of federally protected grassland. The American Prairie Reserve is in the process of buying up ranches and hopes to put together over 3.5 million acres to make a national park.

Don’t get me wrong, no one else appreciates the prairie like I do, except for my fellow ranchers. We all acknowledge that the prairie ecosystem is both a very fragile one and unique. I am sure these well-meaning environmentalists do want to protect the prairie but, in my mind, they are going about it all wrong and, in the meantime, threatening a way of life and the livelihood of many ranchers who have been saving the prairie for generations.

I won’t mince words here. The American rancher is the original environmentalist, and no one is more invested in preserving the prairie than we are. Ranchers have spent generations learning to understand the land and working to make it better. Now groups with huge bank accounts are coming in and buying up those ranches at prices higher than those who must make a living on them can afford. All of this to take the land out of production.

Buying up the land will take many productive cattle and sheep ranches out of action just when a starving world needs more food. Potentially this land grab could also take many acres off the public tax roll and devastate a local economy built on ranching. The ranches in question were paying their own way and contributing to the schools, roads and protection of all in their community. Think it won’t have an effect, go check out logging towns.

The environmental groups make the contention that they will preserve and protect the grasslands. I can only hope that they will do a better job than they have with other national forests and protected lands, often after they are taken out of production the ecosystem falters and is not managed correctly, again I urge you to check out what has happened to our forests since logging has been curtailed. One only must look at some of the devastating wildfires out west, caused by years of mismanagement allowing fuel to build up.

Why should we care about an isolated piece of Montana? Well, for one thing, the ranchers affected are our neighbors and share our passion for the prairie. We are becoming a smaller and smaller community and that puts us in jeopardy of being overwhelmed by well meaning but misguided groups who think they know what is best for the land. We will be outgunned and out financed if we don’t act soon.

What should be done? It is simple, we need to tell our story. We need to show everyone who will listen that we are the original environmentalists and that no one takes as the health of the prairie as seriously as we do. We understand proper stocking rates, brush control and other management techniques that preserve the grasslands and keep them healthy. We just must be proactive and show the rest of the world how much we care. Invite groups and individuals on your land, share pictures and stories and most importantly, tell anyone who will listen.

There is nothing that beats a sunrise or sunset out on the prairie. Listening to the wind rustle through the grass and watching the cattle graze are two of my favorite things on this earth and I want to make sure that happens for many more generations. I guess in the end I understand what this group is trying to do and why they are doing it. However, I also know with all my heart that they are misguided if they think the best way to preserve the prairie is to take the cowboy from it.

Dumb Dorset

I admit it, I was in a hurry and that was probably my first mistake. In my defense it was a simple, easy task that should have only taken a few minutes. Not the two plus hours that it ended up taking. In retrospect it was really a microcosm of how my life goes most of the time. It is a wonder that I ever get anything done.

It was a simple, easy task, all I had to do was catch and haul one of the ewe lambs Tatum showed from our farm to our working pens less than a quarter of a mile from the house. After much debate on what to do with DD we finally decided to keep her and breed her to one of our rams. DD was the Dorset ewe Tatum had shown in the county fair. Her name was DD which was short for Dumb Dorset. DD was a compromise from what Tatum had wanted to call her but her original idea would not have been fit for public release.

Back to my sad story. All I had to do was catch the halter broken show ewe, load her on the trailer and haul her a quarter mile down the road. My first road block was hooking up to the trailer. We have an extended cab pickup and it is impossible to see the gooseneck ball. If you are by yourself you can get it close but getting it exactly right is a total crap shoot.

I backed the pickup up, there is seem in the flatbed that I use to get it on line right to left but depth is a problem. The worst thing that can happen is to be an inch or two off and that is exactly what happened to me. First, I was an inch too far behind the hitch, then I was an inch too far ahead, next I was back to an inch too far behind. You get the idea and I suspect many of you have been there yourselves. Finally, on about the fifteenth time out of the truck I was close enough that with the help of a pry bar I got the hitch to slip down over the ball.

That should have been the easy part of this whole operation. DD had always been a little cagey about being caught and even more stubborn about being lead. To add to the level of difficulty she was out in one of our bigger pens with three other ewe lambs. I had convinced myself that I could waltz right into the pen right up to DD and catch her in a snap. That probably would have been true for any other old show ewe, but DD was determined to live up to her name. She and her three contemporaries raced from one end of the pen to the other and I barely made it out of the middle.

Undaunted, I opened the gate and ran them into the much narrower alley way, certain that in a smaller space I could catch her more easily. I eased up on the huddled ewes in the corner only to have them bolt past me and DD jump over my outstretched arm. At this point my simple, easy task had now stretched out to an hour and I was covered in sweat and envisioning lamb chops for supper, fresh ones. Then I remembered how much I had paid for DD and decided that chocking on a fresh lamb chop would not be a good way to end the evening.

Next step was to get my handy leg catch, I would not have to get as close to the target. It was a good plan, but the execution left quite a bit to be desired. Hand/eye coordination has never been a gift of mine, however, after three attempts and three laps up and down the alley I finally made a catch. That catch lasted all of three seconds and that is when I found out she could slip right out of the hook. Finally, on the fourth attempt it held long enough for me to grab her.

I put the halter on her and triumphantly turned to lead her to the trailer. She lead about like I expected her too and she was soon dead weight. That was when the halter went slack. Yes, it came off her narrow head, a head narrow because it was not burdened by storing a brain. An hour and a half and all I had to show for it was an empty halter.

I thought about waiting for Jennifer to come home from work, but my pride kicked in. DD and her cohorts ran to the far end of the alley. This time when I walked up they stood still. I don’t know who was breathing harder me or the ewes. In any case, I caught her with relative ease and this time I made sure the halter was on good. The rest of the event was thankfully uneventful and in ten minutes she was meeting new friends. A quick, easy task, all two hours of it.