Watching from road brings ranching appreciation

I've got new neighbors up the road from me a piece. I've yet to meet them but I'm familiar with their cattle. I usually drive past them at least six times a day.

It's not a real big place and right now there's not any pasture sewn but the guy that lived there before used to do that until he got too old and finally went to the old folks home. I bet the folks living there in the house that separates the two pastures will do something with the ground.

They started out with three Angus cows when they moved in. It surprised me. Being a small place on the edge of town I expected horses. Apparently the cows were bred when they moved onto the place, because it wasn't long before we had a pretty black calf. Soon afterward the neighborhood herd had grown to five with the addition of another frisky calf.

I'd decided the third cow wasn't bred after a couple of months passed since the first birth. But then one day it was obvious that one of those calves was a lot smaller than what we had seen the previous day, and then there were six.

I get to watch the calves nurse and learn to eat off the big round hay bales set out for them. I check closely to see where everyone is at and what they're doing every time I drive by. When they get the bales exhausted I worry what they'll eat but the next time I drive by there's new bales for them.

It's the ideal way of ranching. I get all the joy of driving by and checking on them without any of the cost or worry. In fact, I was reminded of the old nursery rhyme “The Little Red Hen.”

The Little Red Hen's neighbors are happy to watch her do the work of gathering the seed, planting the seed, harvesting the wheat, grinding the flour and baking the bread but they weren't about to get personally connected unless it was at the end when the bread was baked.

I probably won't lift a hand to raise this little herd down the road and I won't expect to get invited to a barbecue either.

I've been lucky to have had a little bit of a connection to agriculture in my life - but not much. My folks had to threaten us to get us to feed and water hogs growing up. But when I think about how unpleasant that was to take care of them every day I renew my appreciation for those who still do it on whatever level these days.

I have a freezer full of beef because my niece and her husband get out nights like we've had lately with wind chills near zero to check birthing momma cows.

I never have to get out of my vehicle as I roll past the neighborhood herd. I'm soft and my belly's full and something about that isn't quite right.

Karl Terry writes for Clovis Media Inc. Contact him at:

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