Editorial / Opinions

It started, innocently enough, back on one Saturday in May of this year when my wife cheerfully asked, “Why don’t we clean out your shop building today?” 

I feel like I’ve gone a million miles since my last column. Truth be told, I haven’t gone anywhere, I’ve just been “busy.” I just love that word. Busy. We’re all so busy. August was over before I even knew it, and where did September go? My garden was mildly neglected this year and my level of helping at the farm was diminished to about zero.

Just say Texas, partner, and you have my attention.

It started, innocently enough, back on one Saturday in May of this year when my wife cheerfully asked, “Why don’t we clean out your shop building today?” 

It’s wedding season, at least for all my friends it seems. I’ve been to several weddings so far this year, and have plans for several more this fall. One was out in Lubbock, Texas, for Prairie Grove, Ark., native, Lindsay West’s wedding. (Lindsay West is, by the way, now Lindsay Kennedy.) It was a well-spent half a Saturday here recently, that I drove west through some of the most barren, desolate land I’d ever seen. We’re talking 30 miles of nothing. Nothing will make you appreciate Arkansas' green pastures like the Badlands of Texas. We passed some of the biggest ranches in the nation going southwest out of Wichita Falls on Highway 82. Four Sixes, Pitchfork, Spike Box... miles and miles of pipe corral fencing. My consolation was they just can’t run the numbers of livestock per acre, like we can here. Out there it takes thousands of acres to compare to our production levels. The more I got to thinking about it, northwest Arkansas is a strong cattle-producing region, with the top counties concentrated right here in the Ozarks. So really, those big ol’ ranches with their fancy logos and helicopter landing pads stuck in the middle of nowhere don’t have much on us, with our average farm size of 100 acres, and something like 40 head to a family’s herd. We’ve got prettier land, happier livestock and better proximity to friendly neighbors. There’s a level of pride I feel about our way of doing things; the way so many of us keep the cattle, keep the farm going. So I’d like to pat you on the back today, Ozarks livestock producer. I know Lindsay and her great new husband love it out there, but having seen those Texas ranchers’ tough environment, well, I just like our way better.

Alady from Phoenix read my bio on my web site, www.dustyrichards.com, while searching for information about what Phoenix was like prior to the big boom. She emailed me for information on the Milky Way Hereford Ranch that at one time headquartered on Camelback Road and 24th street. Now the ranch land is under a condo city, close to the gates of the famous Biltmore Resorts built by the Wrigley family of chewing gum fame.

Greg, like many of his childhood friends, grew up on a dairy farm in the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately for him, that “nowhere” became one of the fastest growing areas of the state and is now the lone farm in an area surrounded by million-dollar homes, a world-class golf course, strip malls and fast food restaurants. Greg moved away several years ago, about 45 miles west, to his own “middle-of-nowhere” farm, but his father stayed put. As the old man said, “I was here first and they can’t develop my farm ‘til they haul me away, feet first.”

It’s wedding season, at least for all my friends it seems. I’ve been to several weddings so far this year, and have plans for several more this fall. One wedding was out in Lubbock, Texas, so I spent half a Saturday here recently, driving west through some of the most barren, desolate land I’d ever seen. We’re talking 30 miles of nothing.

For the first time in my journalist life, I am sitting down with anger and disgust in my heart and voice.

Greg, like many of his childhood friends, grew up on a dairy farm in the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately for him, that “nowhere” became one of the fastest growing areas of the state and is now the lone farm in an area surrounded by million-dollar homes, a world-class golf course, strip malls and fast food restaurants. Greg moved away several years ago, about 45 miles west, to his own “middle-of-nowhere” farm, but his father stayed put. As the old man said, “I was here first and they can’t develop my farm ‘til they haul me away, feet first.”