Editorial / Opinions

From time to time, I like to look back and reflect on the many changes that have taken place in the cattle industry over the past 50 years. At times, it seems almost unrecognizable to me, as we’re now confronted with embryo transfer, sexed semen, genomic testing, DNA analysis, and EPDs for every trait imaginable, just to mention a few. Most of the advancements have benefited cattlemen immensely, but….. when I was a youngster, there was not a veterinarian on duty at the livestock auction barn.

Farmers and ranchers are like a large family made up of distant cousins who live all across the country. While the cousins might not know one another or even heard the other’s name, when one is in need they come out of the woodwork to lend a helping hand.

One of the wonderful things about farming is following the circle of life. It’s amazing how creation was planned out perfectly to live in harmony on a farm. Cattle need hay to eat and kindly drop several piles of fertilizer on a field each day. Nutritious grasses pop up after fields receive abundant rain and sunshine, ready for a hay harvest in the spring and summer. The cycle continues and MOST of the time, it all makes sense.

I have always been proud to call myself a farmer or rancher, but never more so than the last few weeks.

Farmers and ranchers are like a large family made up of distant cousins who live all across the country. While the cousins might not know one another or even heard the other’s name, when one is in need they come out of the woodwork to lend a helping hand.

I’ve always found it interesting to observe how some people will react so differently to the same situation, based solely on that person’s upbringing, life experiences and background.

March certainly rolled in like a lion across the Ozarks with high winds, hail and thunderstorms, but I hope the month will, as the old saying goes, go out like a lamb.

On the day I turned 16, I recall having a pride-wounding bicycle wreck on my way to my parents’ office. It was a foreshadowing of what type of motor vehicle driver I would evolve into. A terrible one. Driver’s education wasn’t available in our small town. I had already earned a bad-driving reputation with my family. After driving the riding mower into a fence, I don’t think either of my parents were eager to get in a vehicle with me driving. My mom eventually did. We made each other a nervous mess. Eventually I got the hang of it and they turned me loose in dad’s old blue GMC pick-up truck. I cannot say I didn’t have a few bumps and a minor crash (or two) along the way. Every time I made a mistake (one of many) my parents let me know I’d disappointed them. They always let me try again, and again and again. It was probably a happy day for them when I was no longer on their auto insurance policy.

The newcomer’s hat looked a little out of place, alongside those of the locals at the morning gathering spot. The regulars had been meeting, daily, at the rural café for many years, to enjoy a good cup of coffee, socialize and attempt to solve the world’s problems. Their sweat-stained and manure-speckled lids lined the hat rack inside the entrance to the eatery, so the newcomer’s recently purchased 10X beaver shined like a diamond in a mule’s….

March certainly rolled in like a lion across the Ozarks with high winds, hail and thunderstorms, but I hope the month will, as the old saying goes, go out like a lamb.