The Rancher's Signs of Spring

Spring has sprung, that thought crossed my mind as I typed April on this week’s column. Wow, we are finally loosening winter’s cold grip and walking into the warm sunlight of spring. The world is aglow in the green carpet covering the hills, flowers are starting to emerge from the soil and the trees are full of blossoms. All is new and good.

For several weeks I have watched for the signs of spring and finally I have started to see them. Was it the return of the robins that told me spring was near? No, not really. How about the buds on the fruit trees? No, in fact, I am pretty sure that brings on a freeze. Maybe it was the geese flying south. Wrong again, I live by a lake and they fly back and forth all the time. OK, what about the greening of the grass? Nope, but it is a reminder that I need to get my lawn mower fixed.

I know all of those are classical signs that spring has sprung, but the signs I am looking for are much closer to home. For instance, I know that spring is in the air when I drive by a neighbor’s house and I see their chore clothes hung out on the line to dry. No self-respecting livestock owner would dare wash their chore clothes until winter and calving season are truly over. What would happen if you washed your coveralls, they had not dried and say a winter storm blew in while a heifer was calving? Coveralls on the clothes line is the most solid sign of spring one can find in rural America.

Another sure sign of springtime in cattle country is the absence of shaving cream on grocery store shelves. Yes, warmer weather means itchy calving season beards. Haircuts and shaving is now again in vogue. As the teens would say, the shaggy, haggard, disheveled look of calving season is so last winter. This also coincides with clogged sink drains, hair on the counter and dirty looks from your wife. Shaving a beard off is tough and there is collateral damage.

Finally, the best indicator of spring in the Flint Hills is the orange glow in the evening sky and the faint (or more than faint) smell of smoke on the evening air. Nothing says spring like a good pasture burning. Evidence of this can be seen in the black landscape or the sooty four wheeler with a water tank in the back of any rancher’s pickup on main street. Seeing big cedar trees going up in flames like giant torches is one of the best signs of spring I know.

So let’s say you are in a small town in the Flint Hills and you are talking to a passing traveler at the local café. You make mention that all the signs point to the fact that winter is finally behind us and spring is surely here. They will probably guess that your statement was made because of your keen awareness of the natural world around you and the observations you have made came while communing with nature each day.

They will wonder if it is the distant gobble of the turkey, the daffodils peaking through the warm, moist soil or the robin hunting for a meal of earth worms. They might even suspect that you know this because of the sun’s position in the sky or the length of sunlight during the day. The unsuspecting city slicker might even say it is just a feeling that every farmer and rancher gets deep down in their bones and is passed along generation to generation.

Just smile and look at them sagely with a nod and a wink. After all, you know something they don’t; you are one step ahead of the game. We all know that country folks don’t rely on birds, plants or even the sun to announce the changing of the seasons. We are much savvier than that.  Little do they know that the surest sign of spring is closer than they might think.

The sign that the long cold winter is finally past and spring has arrived is closer than they might think. The surest sign of spring is a mere two tables down. It would be the farmer or rancher enjoying his ice tea, eating lunch sporting clean chore clothes, a fresh shave, and a new haircut and smelling faintly of smoke. That, is the best sign of spring I know.

Neighbora, Snow and the Superbowl

I really like watching the Superbowl; it is almost a holiday to me. I know it is not anywhere near as important as Christmas or Easter. The big game doesn’t even have the meaning that the Fourth of July or Thanksgiving have to our nation. However, after those official holidays, it is one of the days of the year that I most look forward too.

I admit that I am a football junky. I really like to watch football, even when I don’t really have a rooting interest in either team. To be honest, most often it is even more fun if you don’t really care who wins. Combine that with my affinity for food and eating and sprinkle in some good commercials, it all makes for a good evening. We carefully plan our menu and rearrange the chore schedule so we can be settled down with a plate of food at kickoff.

This year was even better (at least for my family) because Jennifer’s parents had come to visit and had gotten snowed in (as I say good for my family, I am not sure they would agree). The minor snowstorm had turned into a major storm and we spent most of the afternoon moving animals around, scooping snow and feeding critters. It was a whirlwind but we managed to make it in before the start of the game, get the food prepared, add wood to the fire and life was good.

The food was good, the game was a little boring and the commercials weren’t as funny as we had expected. At least that was the consensus after the first half. Maybe the game would pick up after halftime and maybe our expectations for the commercials were a little too high. In any case, the second half kicked off with optimism. Sure enough the both teams started moving the ball; it was going to be a game.  Then it happened.

The phone rang. On the other end was a neighbor (keep in mind I count anyone in a three or four mile radius as a neighbor), he had gotten stuck trying to help someone out of a snowdrift. Let’s set the scene, the wind was howling, it was cold and the roads were drifted. Did I want to go out? Not really, but I did not hesitate. I left after putting on the layers required for being out in the conditions that night. The tractor was plugged in and fired right up. Soon I was headed off into the snowy night.

I listened to the game as I drove along and over the noise of the tractor it seemed to be getting more and more exciting. One hill away from the house I found my neighbor, pulled up behind his pickup and jumped off into a thigh high snow drift. We hooked up his chain and made the 200 yard pull without too much trouble. At the top of the hill, clear of the drifts, we stopped.

We talked for just a few minutes. The bitter cold wind had a numbing effect even on someone as chatty as I am. He thanked me and I reminded him that next time it would probably be my turn to ask him for a favor. I have lost count over the years of all the times one of our neighbors have come to my rescue. Often these crises occur at rather inopportune times and usually in inclement weather.

I guess that is what I most like about where I live. You know you can call on your neighbor, no matter what time, in any situation and they will always come lend you a hand. That is what we do. Why? Because it is the right thing to do, if they didn’t need your help they would not have asked for it. You can also be sure that when you need a hand they will drop everything to help.

I pulled into the shed that night plugged the tractor in and went to the lambing barn to check the ewes. We had a ewe lamb earlier in the night with what we thought was a single lamb. However, when I opened the barn door that night she stood there proudly with two lambs. It was a good night.

I got back into the house just in time to see the last play and to get a recap from my family on how exciting the game was. Would I have liked to have seen the game? You bet. But I also know that given the same opportunity I would do the same thing every time. I can always watch the Superbowl again next year, who knows maybe the Chiefs, will be in it.

Not the Dumbest Thing I Have Ever Done (Yet)

Yesterday I saw dark clouds building off in the western sky. Something about the threat of rain when we have been so dry puts a bounce in your step. I rushed out to do chores before the rain reached our house.  In retrospect, that may not have been the smartest thing I have ever done, in fact many meteorologists would tell you rushing to do anything outside ahead of a thunderstorm is not very smart. Then again no one ever accused me of being very smart.

So I rushed out the door, encouraged by the thought of being able to enjoy my second cup of coffee while listening to the rain pitter patter on the roof of my house. It was going to be the relaxing morning. Sure I needed to get other things done and maybe relaxing with a cup of coffee was not the smartest thing I could do but it certainly wasn’t the dumbest. As it turned out it wasn’t even the dumbest thing I would do within the next hour.

I hurriedly fed each pen of sheep, grained the horses and fed the dogs. All of this went very smoothly and soon I was done, well, almost. As I grained and fed I noticed that nearly every water tank needed filled. Part of my normal morning routine is to top off each tank, however, usually everything is OK if I can’t. This morning was different, the extreme heat had made all the critters drink a lot of water and every tank needed to be filled. I trudged back to the hydrant and that is when I started hearing the thunder.

I filled up the first couple of tanks and the thunder sounded like it was getting closer. Sure enough, it was and soon I started to watch the lightening streak across the not-nearly-far-enough sky. So there, there I was holding a water hose, leaning on a metal fence, filling a metal water tank with lightening way too close. It still was not the dumbest thing I would do that day or even that hour.

I was on the last tank, thinking about my soon to be relaxing morning when I spotted some movement on the road, west of my house. Cows, and not just any cows but my cows, the very cows that were supposed to be a mile down the road. I shut the water off, jumped in the truck and started to herd them back down the road in the direction they had just come from. All the while, the thunderstorm was bearing down on me. It started to sprinkle and the lightening got ever so much closer. However, it still was not the dumbest thing I was going to do that morning.

Soon I got the cows turned around and they slowly, begrudgingly meandered back to their assigned pasture. Mostly I could follow in the pickup but every once in a while, usually on top of a hill, one old cow would need some extra attention and I would have to get out and personally nudge her along. Finally we got back to the pasture and I let them back in. I was now soaked from standing in the rain and walking through the tall grass along the edge of the road. Did mention it was still lightening?

A quick check of the fence along the road and I knew how they had escaped. Someone had driven through the electric fence and taken a tour of my pasture. I do not know why they did or what their intentions were but I am fairly certain what I would have done if I had found them and it would have been intentional. In any case, the fence needed to be fixed or I would be herding cows later that day also.

There I was soaked to the bone, fixing an electric fence, in a thunderstorm, on top of a hill with lightening flashing all around and that, friends, was the dumbest thing I did that day and had done for a long time. Funny, how you recognize the danger after it passes. But I did recognize it and that is why this morning as I walked out the door and I heard the thunder crack, I turned back around and poured that second cup of coffee. This morning if the cows come down the road, I guess I will just have to put more coffee on and invite them in but they are going to have to wait until the storm is over.

Not So Bad Day

Today I was in line at the Driver’s License office and it was a bad day. OK, Ike was in line at the Driver’s License office and I was there as the responsible adult, but that really was when the day went bad. No, it had nothing to do with the wonderful people at the Driver’s License office or the prompt service (really they were quite nice and the line moved fairly quickly), I got” the call”.

What call was that you ask? It was the call from the Pottawatomie County Sheriff's Department saying that we had cows out on Highway 99. The dispatcher said she had tried Dad but he was not answering his phone. Most likely that was because; 1) he was shearing trees and could not hear it ring, 2) he was in a place with no signal and, most likely, 3) cell phones do not work when you really need them too. I thanked her for calling me and hung up the phone, pondering my dilemma.

There I sat, in the Driver’s License office, cows on the highway and no way to get home. Oh yeah, I left out another detail. Jennifer was in Frankfort, a wonderful small town, but the black hole of cell phone reception. Back to the story, the cows were out, I was stuck in Manhattan, Dad was out of communication and the cavalry was unavailable. Things were not looking good. Then I did what most of us in rural America do in similar situations, I called a neighbor.

Ron answered the phone and agreed to set out to find Dad. In the meantime, I did the only other thing I could do; I alternated between frantically trying to call Jennifer or Dad and worrying. I consoled myself by assuming it was the old cows and calves on the East side of the road that were probably out and not the replacement heifers on the West side of the road. The cows and calves would not be that hard to get back in, I told myself.

Finally, I got through to Dad and he started to make the long journey out of the wilderness back the road and to the law enforcement professional currently watching the aforementioned bovines. Then right after I made contact with Dad, Jennifer answered her phone. The connection was not good, but I have perfected the art of communication through a bad signal. OK, so Jennifer could sense the desperation in my voice even with only getting every other garbled word.

Things were getting better, or so I thought, I had Dad on the way, he had help, and Jennifer was on her way. About that time, Ike came back in from his driving test, grinning, with a newly minted farmer’s permit. In retrospect, that might end up being my bad day, but for right now, it was a good thing. Ike and I left in a cloud of dust (I was driving) to help save the day.

We, strategically, snuck around the East side of the highway to help corral the cows and calves. We found nothing but the cows standing contentedly in their pasture minding their own business. There went the day again. We crossed the highway to see the neighbor’s truck abandoned in the road and Dad’s truck creeping along the road, 200 yards to the West.

We caught up to Dad only to find out that; 1) it was in fact the replacement heifers that were out, 2) only about half of them had been found, and 3)he had no idea where the other half went to. That was why he, our neighbor, Jennifer and Tatum were looking for tracks, heifers or any sign of where they might be. Things were looking bad for the home team, because instead of fifty degrees and dry, the weather had turned to thirty and snowing. I guess that was the rock bottom right before things got better.

First we found most of the remaining heifers, leaving us only three short. Jennifer, Tatum, our neighbor Bryan and I pushed the newly found heifers back to the pen. Meanwhile, Dad and Ike continued to search for the last of the three wayward ruminants. When we had safely penned the second group with the first group, we saw Dad and Ike pushing the remaining three calves our way.

With the heifers safely back in the pen, the gate securely latched and our nerves beginning to quiet down it was time to reflect on the bad day. That was when I realized that my bad day was really a good day. The heifers were found, rounded up without incident. Most of all I was reminded that I was lucky to live in a county where the sheriff‘s office knows who to contact and when we are contacted there are neighbors who are willing to help. I guess, in the end, that makes for a pretty good day.

The Need for Rural Roots

Tonight I am sitting in the pickup watching my son’s football practice. Let me set the scene. We go to a rural school and the football field is set with a soybean field on one side and a corn field on the other. There is a Catholic Church in the background and the smell of alfalfa hangs in the air. If I close my eyes I hear the sounds of practice and the whistles of the coaches. Is this heaven, no its Kansas but in my eyes this is about as close as it gets.

This Midwestern scene is a great place for me to just relax and let the sights and the sounds take me away from the problems we all face. This is a long way from the partisan politics and fighting in D.C. This place seems light years away from the threat of a recession and the financial gloom that hangs over us now.

Sometimes I wonder if those elected officials have forgotten what it is all about. I wonder if they have forgotten (or never even gotten the chance) to spend a crisp fall evening watching football in the middle of rural America. Maybe they have never experienced the smell of fall with the roar of a combine in the background.

It makes me wonder if this is just a game for them much like the football practice directly in front of me. Do they believe in what they are fighting for or is it just another way to get re-elected. This country was built with rural America as its base. The corn and soybean fields I see are the foundation that keeps this country running.

In rural America, we understand the idea of civil discourse. We love to debate issues and ideas; we know how to disagree without being disagreeable. We understand that the greatness of this nation is because opposing views help strengthen our positions. Sure we have principles that we stand on and from those we do not back down. However, we also understand that you cannot have everything your way and that compromise is also necessary.

I think it is no coincidence that many of our great statesmen have come from rural areas and agriculture backgrounds. They understood the idea that hard work, compromise and sacrifice were needed to arrive at a good solution. They were grounded in their principles and in reality. It is that sense of farm and ranch values that we really need from our policy makers not the bickering, self-promotion we are getting now.

Do I have a solution? Other than the idea of sending them all out to spend a week (or longer) on the farm, I do not. However, as I watch the young men on the football field I do see hope for the future as they pull each other up off the ground, pat their teammates on the back and go back to work. I am confident in our ability to regain our composure and right the ship. I am also betting that leadership will come from someone with rural roots.