Western Ag Reporter | August 2021

She watched behind a thick veil of tears as another stepped into the trailer. 

Some of these cows were culls- they had bad feet, bad bags, lumps, bumps, and bruises. Some were old, and could no longer produce a calf worth selling. Some were young, still in their prime, who had the odds stacked against them and sadly came up dry. 

This was the part no one talked about. It felt like the purge; having to make a list of cows to send down the road, because grass no longer exists and feed is too expensive to baby anyone along. 

The tears just kept coming, as each cow loaded into the cattle pot. Goodbye, she softly mumbled under her breath, to each of the girls that had given their best for her. Goodbye, to a herd her family had built from the ground up. Goodbye, to cattle she had worked so hard to do right by. 

Drought had ravaged her family's ranch. It took the water, the grass, the cows, and replaced life with dirt and life-ending heat. What the heat hadn't killed, the grasshoppers finished off. While it wasn't a new situation according to the old timers and her parents, she wasn't prepared for the pain of having to let go. 

The deep roar of the truck's engine came alive, and she turned back towards the corrals. What was left of their herd stood there, bawling, and her tears fell again. She couldn't bear to watch the truck leave, so she retreated to the barn, crying into her horse's neck, praying for something to change, and praying for the strength to go on. 

(Please note-this isn't about anyone in particular, but I know there are many ranch families going through this exact situation. Please say a little prayer for the producers having to sell down or sell out, as much as ranching is a business, it is still a livelihood. God bless everyone going through hard times right now.) 

Richelle

Tri State Livestock News | May 2019

She is young, she is old, she’s every age. She’s a daughter, a mother, a sister, a wife. She’s a horsewoman, a cattle woman, a plant specialist, a veterinarian. She’s a bookkeeper, housekeeper, and keeper of secrets and stories.

She makes traditions, and she bucks tradition. She cooks, she cleans, she breaks horses and breaks the dirt.

She wears high heels and cowboy boots and gym shoes. She wears slacks, dress suits, and blue jeans. She has a manicure. She has dirt under her nails. Her home smells like bread and stew and cow manure.

She spends her days tending to babies, to her fields, to her livestock, to the paperwork, and to her family. She prepares meals, prepares speeches, and prepares the machinery for more work. She isn’t afraid to get covered in dirt, in grease, or sweat, but loves being pretty and clean.

She drives a tractor, a combine, a team, an old feed pickup and an SUV. She’s every woman who is growing up ranching or farming, who is running her own operation, or who works in town to keep the dream alive. Her boots might not set foot in the field or her butt in saddle every day, but she’s agriculture, through and through.

She’s watched calves be born, lambs die, nursed colts and puppies and barn kittens back to life. She’s planted crops, waited for them to sprout, and prayed for rain. She’s prayed for sunshine, good harvests, good prices, and good health. She’s weathered the storms, and rallied.

She’s you, she’s me, she is every single woman who believes that agriculture is one of societies’ greatest pursuits. She believes in providing food for others, in taking care of her livestock and her ground, and being a steward of the land.

To all the women in agriculture, thank you for sharing your love of this lifestyle with the rest of the world. May you continue to work hard, out in front or behind the scenes. You may go unseen, but not unnoticed. Your work ethic, your heart, and your ability to persevere is inspiring to all generations.

“Agriculture is our wisest pursuit, because it will in the end contribute most to real wealth, good morals, and happiness.” Thomas Jefferson

With Love,

Richelle

Progressive Cattle | August 2017

Having grown up on a ranch, I never gave much thought about what ranch life looks like to a kid. To me, it was just life – I didn’t go to daycare as a kid, and my parents both worked on the ranch.

My mom picked up an odd job in town once in awhile during the winter for both something to do and for a little extra income, but she was always home when we got home from school. It was all we knew to have cows, to play in the dirt and to spend all our time outside.

Things are different for my kids though! Our girls have been in daycare since they were about 6 weeks old, and both my husband and I have full-time jobs off the ranch. We have lived out on the family ranch since before our girls were born, and we try to spend as much time as we can helping with all aspects of the work. But I admit that their experiences living and growing up as a ranch kid are a much different than mine were.

I knew what life was like for me at their ages, but I got to wondering, what do our kids really think of growing up on a ranch? So their dad and I sat down with them and asked them! What you are going to read is for darn sure the truth as seen through the eyes of our little girls.

(M is for my oldest, the 6-year old. She had some very interesting answers. A is for my youngest, the 4-year old. She wasn’t as willing to share her opinion of growing up on a ranch as her sister.)

What is a ranch?

M: A place where you raise a lot of cows. That place we live on. Out in the country, by grandma and grandpa.

A: (Crickets chirp as she covers her face from her dad.)

Why do we ranch?

M: Because we need money. Also, because we like to eat cows.

A: I don’t know!

What do we raise on our ranch?

M: Red Angus cows! We also have horses, dogs, ducks, kittens and Grandma’s chickens. Oh, yeah, some bulls. Maybe some hay?

A: Cows! My kitties!

(You might think the little one doesn’t like to talk. Let me just say, had this not been such a formal Q&A session, she would have told me all about the cows and bulls, and every other animal on the place, including the coyotes and the raccoons!)

Do you have a favorite job on the ranch? Why?

M: I like to help daddy feed the horses. When I get bigger, I am gonna feed the horses all by myself. I also like to ride in the tractor with Grandpa and feed bottles to the baby calves during calving and hang out with Grandma and play with the kittens (and trust me, this list went on … and on … and on!)

A: I like to haul hay with daddy!

At this point, I asked my girls a few more questions about how they really felt about growing up between the city and the country. They both seemed to agree that they liked being home on the ranch the best, mainly because that’s where their grandparents are. (Imagine that!) When I asked my oldest what she wanted to be when she grew up, her answer was this: “Well, I want to be a rancher. Or maybe a veterinarian [like our neighbor].” She has already proven to be quite the little agvocate, from taking eartags and a colt’s wolf teeth to school for show-and-tell, to requesting cheeseburgers every time we eat out. She’s not shy about telling people her parents raise cattle and that beef is good for you.

girls on horse

Regardless of what our girls do as they grow up and find interests beyond the acres of grass and red cattle, I hope that they will always have the desire to come back home to the ranch. I love that they are growing up knowing the difference between a Hereford and a heifer, understanding the circle of life and realizing that hard work and responsibility never hurt anyone.

Most of all, our kids are learning a lesson so few people understand today – that the food we eat comes from people just like us. Ranching isn’t just a job or some romantic image found on social media. Ranching is a way of life, a passion and a great way to raise children. It isn’t about the money – we ranch because we love it, and because we love to eat beef!

Until next time.

Progressive Cattle | February 2017

I recently saw an ad on Facebook for “The Bachelor” of a bunch of very well- dressed young ladies feeding dairy calves and shoveling manure out of a cattle barn. It was kind like a train wreck- painful to watch, but I couldn’t look away! Mr. Bachelor looked mighty pleased with himself; surrounded by a bunch of girls that were literally turning green as their pretty clothes and fancy hair sucked up the “Odeur de Stockyards”. I thought, “Ain’t that romantic?” I mean, is there no better way to gauge someone’s character than seeing how well they hold up in high heels while shoveling poop? It made me thankful for my barn boots and for growing up in agriculture, and not having to try-out to marry into it.

One frigid evening after work, I was feeding horses and checking the stock tank when it occurred to me that stopping at the house to change into more appropriate attire might not have been such a bad idea. As I started to crawl through the barbed wire fence, I remembered I was wearing a brand new coat that I had just gotten from my employer as an anniversary gift, and new slacks. The problem was, though, that I had already committed myself to the situation. I was trying to push the wires apart just a little farther than was really necessary, while gingerly attempting to crawl between them without catching my new coat on a barb. I realized, right there, that this is exactly why ranchers have to keep a separate wardrobe of “town clothes” and “work clothes”… and just how quickly a favorite piece of “town clothes” can be demoted to the “work clothes” part of the closet. Thankfully I managed to get through the fence, check the tank, crawl back through a second time, and not fall into a snowdrift or tear anything.

I have learned, through many years of experience, to always have a second pair of extra shoes in my car. Manure happens. It never fails that the more expensive the boot, the chances of it landing in crap increase exponentially the closer I get to the barn. I don’t know if anyone else has the same problem, but it could be twenty degrees below zero, and everything from the stock tank to the fireplace could be frozen- and the minute I step out the barn door in a pair of “good” boots, I would land in the only pile of unfrozen manure on the entire place.

Of course Mother Nature only makes living on a ranch even less fashionable. Sometimes I find myself looking around the parking lot where I work, jealously pining for a vehicle with paint that is still visible. Then I remember that clean cars and gravel road don’t exactly go together. Anytime we help friends ride or work cows, it isn’t unusual for everyone to be wearing ball caps rather than cowboy hats… thanks to the wind that never stops here, ball caps are easier to keep track of than a cowboy hat. Weather is always unpredictable. If the back seat of every pickup on our place is an indication, I could easily switch from a tank top in July to a parka, and back to a flannel sweatshirt at a moment’s notice. If you can find it, you can wear it.

If you have a real fondness for material things, don’t live with a cowdog. Cowdogs (particularly puppies) are probably the real reason ranch families can’t have anything nice. Most cowdogs don’t get to live in the house, and quite frankly, I am pretty sure they wouldn’t want to even if they could. (Let’s clarify, though, that our cowdog does indeed live in the house with us; in fact, he sleeps in our bedroom on his own dog pillow, because he is spoiled). If you think a Lab puppy can destroy your shoes or home furnishings in a hurry, just leave your Heeler pup unattended for anything longer than a nanosecond. Chances are, you’ll be unpleasantly surprised. If they aren’t destroying something with their jaws, they probably stink from rolling in something unrecognizable; or have drug something dead into the yard and are waiting for your approval.

As for “The Bachelor”, while it was mildly entertaining, it showed the stark contrast between city life, and a life in agriculture. Life with livestock is dirty. Life with barbed wire and cow dogs is precarious, at best. Being at the mercy of greasy tractors, baling twine, loose hay, frozen water tanks, snotcicles, dirty trucks, and all the other things that come with a life in ranching doesn’t necessarily leave a lot of room for fancy clothes, manicures, or clean houses. Being a ranch wife may be messy, but at least I know there is never going to be a day when I have to clean the calving shed out in high heels and leggings!

Til next time,

Richelle