An old poker player once told me that, given the choice between being lucky or being good, he’d choose lucky every time. When I asked that same old poker player (who happened to be a pretty big farmer, as well) why he continued to farm well into his golden years, he stoically replied, “I love to gamble.”
I never was much of a poker player, but I usually sell my spring-born calves in October or November each year. On rare occasions, I have sold them either earlier or later, but those two months are normally my prime window of opportunity. I watch the market, listen to “experts” that I trust, and audit my feed resources to eventually pick a date before lining up the cowboys to gather, and the trucks to haul. This year, I chose a date in early October to have them shipped.
My first call was to the trucker that I’ve used forever. Yep, that date was open for him and he would make sure another truck could come, as well, so my transportation needs were solved. The next call was to the cowboys, but they had bad news for me. That date was already booked and they would not be available. They could do the following Monday, but a return call to the trucker was met with disappointment, as he was already booked for that date. Everyone was available on the date that was two weeks after my target date and the gathering was set.
On the morning that I had originally chosen for my shipping date, I opened my computer to watch cattle sell at the auction, where I would be selling mine in two weeks (yes, technology does offer some benefits). Judy was in the kitchen, cooking, when she suddenly appeared in the doorway of the office. “Are you whimpering?” she asked. Without answering, I just pointed to the computer screen.
There, I was watching calves very comparable to mine, selling at what could only be described as deplorable prices. The market had dropped about $25/cwt from the week before and I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I managed to mutter, “Better plant more turnips.”
The following Monday, upward turns for both the futures and the stock market caused the cattle market to rise slightly, but I still found great difficulty in sleeping that week. I hate it when people who have never even gotten manure on themselves, affect the prices of our products.
When the appointed day arrived, I arose before daylight and sorted one group of calves before meeting up with the cowboys at the north place. They had already gathered everything and had them mostly sorted when I exited the truck to hear Brandon say, “You can thank us now.”
A little confused, I replied, “Thanks?”
Smiling, he added, “Haven’t you heard the early market report? Calves are way up today and, because we couldn’t get to you two weeks ago, we probably made you $150 per head. You’re welcome, you lucky …..”
By the end of the day, I concluded the cowboy was correct and I heard the echoes of the old poker-playing, cattleman, “Yep, I’ll take lucky every time.”
