Watching the Sale the Next Day

 

The day before the sale we inspected a great pen of 30 bred heifers.  They were fat and big and beautiful.  We couldn’t get over the fact that they weren’t at a special sale.  They were at a smaller barn that would be selling goats and weigh cows all day.  There was a bred cow special the following day, Thursday at a more well-known livestock exchange.  These girls wouldn’t sell until Friday.  What an odd situation, we thought.

The decision was this: Go to the sale on Thursday and get the best 20 we could afford in our budget.  There would definitely be something, but would they be as nice as these?

...or...

The other option was to wait until Friday and risk these heifers going too high, or they won’t let us buy just the 20 we need, and we would not have any heifers at all.  Having the freedom of choice was harder than if we had no choice at all.  Paradox at its finest.  While we spend so much time and energy preserving our ability to choose, it causes quite a bit of frustration and stress when the options are too generous, as in too much of a good thing… is a bad thing.  

Ultimately, we went to the sale on Thursday.  Walking through the stockyards, we didn’t see anything spectacular. It was hard to hold a candle to the others.  Nevertheless, plenty  of heifers.  Plenty of good size.  Plenty bred for our calving window.  But nothing seemed to measure up to the ones we saw the day before.  We thought, maybe we should just go back home.  Maybe we should just watch, just in case.  Even when some fancy ones came in the ring, they seemed short and squatty.  A few seemed lousey.  Though they were right on weight at 900#s, the first one in looked downright obese.  The anticipation was unbounded, and listening to the rhythmic cacophony of the auction intensified the experience.

The auctioneer started high, went low, entertained two bidders who were quickly out, internet buyer might win, then we bid twice, and sold.  Take 20.  It was over as quick as that but in slow motion.  They were ours, and there was no going back.  Suddenly, all the anxiety melted away into a warm spot in my gut and my brain.  I was quite pleased.

We bought our cows at exactly the middle budget.  That was good.  We gate cut 20.  That was good.  Bred, heavy, uniform, docile, deep, black, all very good.  We really couldn’t have asked for anything else, so all was good.

Then I thought of the others. I didn’t even want to watch the sale for the second group because I didn’t want to know whether or not we got the best deal.  I thought, “Ignorance is bliss,” and if I know what the others bring, I might be disappointed.  That risk of distress outweighed the possibility that those heifers might be more expensive than ours.  What if they were?  Then they were probably better, and somehow we bought inferior cattle.  My thoughts swirled, and I was racked with discontent.  Eventually, words came to my mouth.

“I don’t think we should even watch the sale tomorrow because I don’t want to know what those heifers bring.”

I was immediately admonished.  I shouldn’t think like that because the purchase was a win/win.  If we did get a good deal, then we know it.  If they sell the same, then we know we were in the right market.  If they sell lower, then we will learn a lesson, and we can readjust in the future.

It has to do with learning and affirmation.  I grew up on aphorisms, and while Ignorance may be Bliss, the second half says, Knowledge is Power!  We all have this desirable capability to create our own pleasure in the world around us.  “Tis thinking that makes it so,” to quote from Shakespeare, meaning if you think it hard enough and thoroughly enough, it becomes true, so we build our own happiness.  Most of us in America are raised to believe happiness is something to search for; something to be found (or lost) when really, we have the ability to be content with what we have in thinking it true.   

As our 20 black heifers came down the alley and onto the truck, they seemed better than I’d remembered them.  None were quite a short as they’d seemed; it must have been the ring.  They weren’t really lousey or squatty.  They looked... perfect.  Once they were home, they fit right in with our retained heifers; nay, they were better!  My thoughts of the other sale dissipated, and I grew more and more pleased with our purchase.

I had to.  The decision was irreversible, so maybe my subconscious told me, “You must like them, you have no choice.”  Not the case.  The Free Choice Paradigm was at work.  Because the decision was final, there were no other options; the mind’s natural desire is to be content.  It synthesizes its own happiness!  Surprisingly, in studies at Harvard, when bounded by a decision with no other option, the individual was surprisingly and statistically happier than when given numerous choices.  When given the opportunity to know the other outcome, I was frustrated and uneasy; case and point. But just to know!

 The new option presented itself: watch our new heifers in the field and remain blissfully ignorant? ---or--- watch the sale and learn from our experience? This is the option always presented before us. Choice is the enemy of naive happiness but perhaps conducive to natural happiness. Choosing put me (and you, the reader) back in the catch-22, so this is where the story ends. Deus Ex Machina!
My desire to stay ignorant was blissful; what better feeling in the world can one have besides bliss?  There isn’t one.  However, there is one more valuable, Knowledge.  Knowing doesn’t always make a person happy, but it is far more useful.  Sometimes procuring information can be somber, dissatisfying, even painful, but it leads us to wisdom to do better, and that is as close to natural happiness that we will ever have.

To learn more about the Free Choice Paradigm and Synthetic Happiness:

Gilbert, Dan.  The surprising science of happiness.  TEDTalks.  February 2004.  Retrieved from https://www.ted.com/talks/dan_gilbert_asks_why_are_we_happy/transcript?language=en#t-503000.

Only in a Rancher's Kitchen

There are countless blogs, groups, sites and just basic conversation dedicated to Wives of... Ranchers, Cattlemen, Dairymen, and Farmers.  These are good women that have adjusted to living their lives around the agricultural profession.  Some spend their time waiting for wheat harvest to end, some heat dinner after late night bailing, and if the husband is lucky, some help in the little ways they can.  

Then there are women in agriculture who take part in the industry and are out there driving tractors, sorting cattle, milking cows, castrating pigs, you name it!  It isn’t about keeping up or surpassing her husband, it is about serving, stewarding, and being part of the lifestyle.  

Nevertheless, the old adage stands firm, “A man may work from sun to sun, but a woman’s work is never done.” Because after she has spent a day on the field with her man, she is still the one with the drive to maintain her house, feed the family, and keep clothes clean.  Farm wives know the struggle it takes to live on a farm, but wives who farm know it far more intimately.  A woman who is as handy as her husband does amazing things to marry her domestic life to her agricultural one.

The Differences

The Wash: Only in a rancher’s wife’s washing machine will you find a single item because it was so filthy it required an independent wash, but a woman rancher sought out a machine with an extra heavy duty soil setting and the highest RPM spin cycle to get those coveralls clean for the next time she needs them; moreover, she built her house around an adequately sized laundry or mudroom.

The Meals: Only a farmer’s wife feels the pain of planning a meal that is hot and hearty while still being able to haul it to the field.  These are some of the best women because walking into a odorous home at 9 at night when it is finally dark is the best feeling in the world.  A farming wife has learned that her crock pot is worth its weight in gold.  She can set it on a timer to cook the 8 hours it needs even though she will be away from the house for 12 or 14 hours.  

The Kitchen: A wife of any herdsman whether it be bovine, equine, swine or otherwise, is kind and gracious in sharing her refrigerator and kitchen sink with vaccines, syringes, and OB equipment.  She makes a special place for chemicals and medicine, away from other food and out of the reach of her children.  She washes and dries the supplies as if they were a regular old mixing bowl.  But a woman who does that vaccinating, castrating, AI-ing, or even pulling of offspring, knows the labor it took to dirty the OB chain and why there are so many pill guns needing washed.  She carefully soaps and rinses because she is invested.  She will be out there again, and like having to pack your own parachute, she is confident in her prep-work.

The Watch: Agricultural wives keep binoculars handy and alarms set.  She knows that soon enough there will be something that needs watching.  A cow might be calving, so she checks the binoculars in the kitchen window.  A coyote might be stalking, so she checks the binoculars in the family room window.  A fence might be down, so she checks the binoculars in the laundry room.  She sets a quiet alarm and carefully nudges her husband when it is time to check the nannies in the middle of the night, but there are a select few women who know the joy that rests on the other side of the binoculars and alarms.  She sees, and she does.  She gets dressed in the middle of the night to check the barns before her husband wakes up.  She knows where the fencing pliers are and stretches wire before her husband gets back.  And the best woman grabs that .223 and keeps her cattle safe, so her husband has one less thing to think about.  Through it all, she is the better off for knowing the value of her participation and pride that she gets in return.

Whether she is a wife of a rancher or a rancher that is a wife, she knows that she is a necessity and knows that it is both indoors and out.  Maybe it starts inside as support for those outside, or maybe it begins without and makes its way within, but her house ends up bearing all.  

The Return
All country wives see tracks into the house.  In the winter it is snow, in the spring it is mud, in the summer it is dirt and dust, and in the fall it is the shreds of harvested crops, but she knows the tracks as foot-shaped links to the life that provides for her.  They come in through the nearest door, disregarding a floor mat because time is always of the essence, and that’s okay.  She has a good vacuum that has seen more than it’s necessary share of chunks and clods of the land, but because she knows it is the land on which she lives, she is willing to let it in her house for a time, then after it is cleaned, return it back outside.  

Tracking it back outside is where, not the country wife, but the woman of the county finds herself again.  She cares for the home and the land as equals and essentials that need her.  When she’s outside, she isn’t there to admire the cute babies, but she is caring for them like she does her own.  She isn’t there soaking up the sunshine, but she is assessing its value over the crops. She makes a date in the tractor and prefers it to town.  She is there with livestock that she loves but understands their value in the industry.  She puts in the hard work to make it work which is where she will differ from all of her Farm Wife friends.

A Damn-it Kind of Day

Bad Days

Maybe it is just Mondays, call it getting out of the bed on the wrong side, or it happens every Friday the 13th, but we all have bad days.  What gives us comfort is knowing that a day doesn’t last forever.  We get through our stubbing of toes, running out of toilet paper, and throwing an eggshell into the trash only to have it splash off of a milk carton and like a little waterfall, spill and splatter onto the floor, leaving a nice sticky puddle to be cleaned.  

We can all handle little “damnit” days, but can we take that mentality back to the farm where everything is amplified and intensified?

A bad day in town is an entire bad season on the farm.  A stubbed toe or bumped funny bone in town equates to standing up too fast and scraping your spine on a square edge of metal or slamming a thumb between a hammer and it’s recipient.  More than once, I’ve walked my big forehead right into a lever on our squeeze chute, leaving a welt and some purpling.  

Likewise, not planning well and running out of household staples sets a suburbanite back an hour while she runs to the store.  The country counterpart is making-do with cloth rags instead of paper products and re-purposing lots of kitchen utensils into shop tools.  And who hasn’t found themselves jimmy-rigging machinery to the point that you look like the guy on the warning sign?  A few months ago, we were using a square sump-pump balanced 6’ up on top of a round nursery tank, fighting slippery ice on top and frozen ice in the valve so that we could water our cows. To have been recording the sight from the house would have gone viral!

But the worst offender of a bad day on the small scale are those little acts of fate that let you know God has a sense of humor at our expense.  It really can be comical from the outside like when you carefully take a drink and the rim of the cup still dribbles right onto your white shirt.  There is nothing you did wrong, and nothing you can do to fix it.  An equivalent is new or relatively new hoses leaking on a tractor or other implement.  There is nothing more frustrating that digging through dirt-crusted hydraulic fluid to find where all the mess is coming from for no reason at all.

The Splashback

We all know that ripple effect when things go wrong which is how the new sprayer ended up laying on it’s back.  The tractor broke down and was leaking everywhere.  We had estimations coming in over $10,000 for … leaking. Cause unknown but thought to be the hydraulic pump, and it was just leaking.  Because the hydraulics couldn’t close the booms, they had to stay open.  Because they were wide open, the wind was able to get some backside lift, use the weight on the butt end, and tip the whole thing up.  When things go wrong, we tend to think there is a cosmic game of dominos happening to us and quite literally to our livelihood, where one misfortune leads to the next-- all beyond our control.

Then, just at the moment you throw up your hands and slam the towel to the ground because chaos seems to be winning the monumental battle, everything is going wrong on an epic scale, the entire spring has been the pits, you finally decide to do chores and call it a day, and a leaf of hay bounces right into the mud splashing back onto your pants.  You laugh.

You Laugh

 You laugh because big or small, things will go wrong for a day or an entire season.  Whether it be the leaky faucet on the bathroom sink or the leaky well head in the field, puddles will form, and they are funny.  So, find some humor even in the worst of cases--  Even in the most expensive of cases--  Even in the ironic, irreparable, and sometimes most devastating of cases.  Try to laugh.  The minute you chalk it up to a damn-it kind of day and surrender to it, the powers that be will relent.  Puddles will dry, bruises will heal, time will allocate itself for cleaning and repairs.  Things will always work themselves out and reward you in finding a hydraulic pump repair is only a hose, and a dribble on a tee shirt will dry.  They just do.

Growing Pains

 

I have this pain in my left foot. It hurts more standing next to our working chute where the ground is lumpy from cattle tracks impressed during the rain then crusting over in the sun.   I look back at my husband clunking around an Aircast on his left foot.  It is caked with mud and manure and has remnants of duct tape from when he tried to protect it from the muck.  He fractured his ankle back in February and just now got it fixed which makes my fat, flat, foot fasciitis seem insignificant.  Nonetheless, we have spent the last couple of weekends tromping our sore feet up and down our corrals, spending more time in them this year alone than we have the past four years put together.  

Why so much time?  Do we just love looking at the lines of the fences or the exercise of climbing the panels or the trailing of cattle 200 feet into and out of pens?  Well, yes.  However, our increase in time spent in the corrals and the pain in our feet are just growing pains.

Growing our herd and our operation is something we’ve been looking forward to doing since we began.   

• Though it wasn’t part of the plan, we invested in pairs late last summer.  
• When it came time to sell the calf crop, this is the first year we kept a significant amount of our weanling heifers for replacements to add back into our herd.  That was a nice increase in size as everything came home in the fall.
• As if that weren’t enough, we took some of our calf crop income to buy 20 replacement heifers and 20 more investment heifers.  At one time this winter, we had doubled our herd size in one season.  

Calving began, and we had a handful of AI calves and good herd bull production showing up in February.   Feeding this herd in the winter was less burdensome due to a little cross-fencing and a decent feed trailer, but the extra time and energy spent was noticeable on our joints and our backs.  Instead of one or two calves to tag, we had three or four, and our eyes burned from looking longer for springing cows and heifers over three distinct calving periods. We went through gloves that seemed to grow holes, and the dirty laundry mountain grew larger each week. The growing seemed painful but was hard to quantify or justify in the thick of it.

The physical pains we feel are real.  Achy bones and muscles, sore feet, blistered hands, and tired, watery eyes are all part of growing pains, but the double entendre on the phrase exists for us as well.  Growing our herd and cattle operation were not the only adjustments in the past year.  This fall brought us a new baby.  Balancing family and farming is not an easy feat; though we didn’t expect it to be.  What we learned, however, is that it isn’t at all about avoiding those pains; it is about embracing them.  Transitioning and expanding is not just a means to an end.   Growing in itself is part of the process, and once it is done, our bodies will thank us, but that part of our lives on the land will be over forever taking the growing and the pains with it.  

Bad, Better, Best: 5 Must-Haves for Life on the Land

With the recent boom of urban farming, farmers and ranchers welcome our city friends into the fulfilling yet difficult lifestyle.  As a word of caution to the new family farmer or backyard rancher, you might want to find your way to a feed store to stock up on a few supplies.  There are some that work better than others, and it is easy to assume something will work successfully when it will not.  Those of us making a living off of the land may appear to the outside world as simpletons, and while we are resourceful, making do with what we have and converting trash to treasure, we are no exception when it comes to needing the right resources for various endeavors in the field.  When we go without, we remind ourselves of the old adage, “Only a poor craftsman blames his tools for poor workmanship,” but having the right tools sure makes the workmanship better, and it lets us produce the best final product.

Gloves in the Corrals during Breeding and Branding Season

Bad: Assuming you don’t need gloves when handling vaccinations.  Because Murphy has an iron grip on the law, you will of course squirt more on your fingers than you inject into the livestock.

Better: Dish gloves.  They provide protection from chemicals that can wreak havoc on women’s hormones, and at least they create a necessary barrier.  Though they will never make it back to the kitchen sink, they don’t need to because you’ve pinched and pulled all the fingers out of shape after getting the excess rubber stuck between your finger and whatever you’re holding.  The next time you pull them on, they will indeed rip.

Best: Suck it up and get a box of fitted latex gloves that you average doctor wears.  Much of what we do is intensive and having the mobility of your fingers to hold small vials, use 2ml syringes with 18 gauge needles, and “feel” your way around the back side of a breeding cow is a must that requires dexterity.  Then you can peel off those blue bad boys and throw them out-- a rarity once you realize how many times you can reuse other items.

Sweatshirts or as they’re known around here, Sweaters.

Bad: Your raggedy college favorite, missing the draw string, holes over the thumbs, and a purposely torn V cut out of the neck is not appropriate feeding attire.  In the late spring, you have no idea when a gust of wind will blow those fine alfalfa leaves back in your face, and without tying that hood down, they blow right down your neck.  What they don’t tell you about the tiny little leaves is that they are second cousins to barbed wire when they’re in your bra and tee shirt.

Better: Keep about three sweatshirts per season on hand.  You will need a wind-resistant one that won’t let old man Winter bite through.  You will need a fitted one for when you need to be more mobile, and you will need a light-weight one for when the sun just isn’t quite ready to admit he wants to bring on summer.  This only covers spring, so spend some time during the other seasons collecting numerous shirt varieties for the occasion.

Best: Upgrade your feed sweatshirt at least once a season after it isn’t fulfilling its function and know that there is no clothing too threadbare to retire from the farm.  There is always another lower level for it to live.  After it’s served its purpose outside, it can keep you covered when cleaning, dealing with oil, hydraulic fluid, ammonia, fertilizer, or bleach.  Finally, you can cut it up for rags or even calf/lamb/kid blankets, making its way back to protecting a living body from the cold and restoring warmth and vitality.

Boots for all Occasions

Bad: Anything you buy at the sporting goods store.  Boots made for hiking are just that.  Hiking is like prancer-cizing when compared to the strain you put on boots in a dirty corral or dusty arena.  The breathable mesh lets in dirt and somehow the rubber doesn't hold up well to concrete cow patties or provide traction on little scour plops all around the place.

Better: Muck Boots.  These recycled 20lb tires pass as shoes, but work wonders in the wet slop after a decent rain or snow storm.  Once the sun returns, you still need them since puddles will sit side by side next to dry spots.  Wet or dry, at least your toes won’t be sharing their space with pulverized, powdered feed dust or suck-ya-down mud or pure liquid poo.

Best: You can’t just pick them up at the local ranch supply store, but after some time and dedication, you will wear out a great pair of everyday cowboy boots.  Maybe they’ve seen some rodeo action or just lived their life plodding around the place, but a worn out pair of boots holding you up when a steer is trying to run you down will remind you that you’ve been through so much already, what’s one more day?  

Trailers in Tow

Bad: Loading a pickup bed full of wasted hay from the bottom of the barn floor or haystack.  Having to fork it out leads to much of the feed blowing away.  Likewise, hauling water in a 300 gallon tank painstakingly hoisted into the bed each afternoon builds muscle but breaks down morale.  

Better: Repurposing anything with wheels into a functioning trailer.  Sure, a fertilizer tank will need some invasive cleaning to haul water, or wood slats will need reinforcements to hold 10 tons worth of bales, but with a little ingenuity and effort to make them work as you need them to, they will get the job done.
Best: Buying equipment built its purpose.  You know you’ve made it then.  It takes man-hours and man-power, and lots of years doing it the hard way just to get by before justifying such luxuries as bale processors, feed bunks, extensive corrals, automatic waterers, or heaters.  Convenience comes at a cost albeit sometimes well-deserved.  Having paid your dues in problem-solving, patience, and gained strength, these extravagances help you remember how far you’ve come and help you reallocate your time and energy to continue expansion of your livelihood.

The most beneficial tool is in your head

Bad: Ranchers love their animals and want to do what is best for them.  Thus they become part veterinarians, part dietitians, part truck driver, part bookkeeper.  Farmers become part electrician, part meteorologist, part greasemonkey, and part coffee connoisseur during the wee hours of baling in the night.  However, having too many irons in the fire doesn’t allow any iron to get hot enough to brand.  Ranching and farming with their many facets and hand-in-hand financial opportunities allows for diversification, but beware of spreading out beyond your own capability.

Better: Rather than thinking you can do it all and working yourself weary, invest in equipment, implements, and reliable help to work smarter.  Know when you have to pay for convenience and time, and understand that investments that return 50% in a year is not bad debt!  Debt will pay itself off with smart work.

Best: Having put in the time during the early years of your operation, forgoing vacations and exotic living locales, seeing friends at parties and running marathons, make your life your livelihood and your livelihood your life.  Using the right tools for the job, you will set yourself up to enjoy the ride on the downhill slope. Debt will be done, and investments will begin working for you, freeing up time and returning your sanity.

Although, by the time you reach this point, you will just want to reinvest the fruits of your labor back into the ole place because working on the land and for the land makes you invested in the land.  Welcome friends to this piece of paradise!