Working Ranch Blog

"And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of his flock and of the fat thereof.  And the Lord had respect unto Abel and his offering."  Genesis 4:4

From the beginning of time, ever since the fall, there has been a fragile balance between life and death.  The balance is some of God's created life must end in order for some life to continue on.  That's just the way it is.  As a stockman, I live day to day among that balance.  Each year in the cycle, there comes a time when I have to say goodbye to those critters that I've poured a part of my life into.  I've lost sleep, endured the cold and heat, bled, and anguished within my soul over them.  Then they're gone, and I know it must be.  Now it will be their turn to take care of me and return the blessing to my family.  I bow my head and take time to thank them and the Creator for their sacrifice.  

Well, he may not yet grasp the concept of sacrifice, but he sure is thankful.  This little boog is only four and can down an entire ribeye, as he puts it, "By all myself."

That's why I take my kids with me as much as I can when I can.  So when my five-year old wanted to come along to pick up a finished steer last Saturday I was thinking this just might be a teachable moment.  Like all kids, mine aren't afraid to ask the questions.  My little girl asked what this place was when we walked into the local meat market.  There are times when I have wondered how honest I should be with them.  It's not that I want to lie, it's just that I'm not sure if they're ready to hear how some of life is.  But, I usually just find myself saying a quick prayer that God will help me make them understand and just tell 'em.  She was a little taken aback when I told her what Bob does.  She was quiet for a moment as he was bringing the baskets full of white paper packages to us.  As we were packing our hamburger and steaks into some boxes I could see the wheels turning as I tried to anticipate the next question.  Her youthful shock had worn off and now we were at the curiosity level.  "Is this where they cut the cows?" asking about all the tables and knives on display.  I said this is where they make up the hamburger.  "So, where do they...?" she pried.  I asked her if she wanted to go see the backroom where all the carcasses hung.  At first she said no, but then I laughed as she asked if I would go with her?  I assured her that it was in the plan the whole time that I would be right there.  So after we got packed up, we asked Bob if it would be alright.  He took us back through a big door and then opened the locker.  "Wow", she said in her natural child-like wonder.  That was it.  No more questions.  She understood sacrifice.   

I know some may say that they're just animals.  Yes, it's true, I know the difference.  Somehow, though, even though they don't choose, I find a greater inspiration within them.  It's almost as they know, and have completely accepted, that they were made just for us. It's a creature that is so willing to lay down his life that the thought of self never enters their mind.  Now, I'm well aware of the self-preservation instincts, i.e. fight of flight, that cattle have, but there are also some highly admirable instincts within them.  For instance, I've heard it say that we as ranchers force cows to become pregnant.  I'm sure who ever came up with this never had to fix a fence that some hot heifers busted down to get to bull a mile away when a soft southern Kansas breeze whispered his scent to them.  As long as they're alive, cows must follow their natural God-given purpose to sustain life. They don't know why.  They don't need to know why.  They just know.  To them there is no greater purpose than raising that calf.  Then, the funny thing is, come weaning time, a couple days of bawling and something just tells 'em that they've done their job and now it's on to get ready for the next gift.  The one thing I've never come to understand about us humans, is why we look at children as such a burden?  We think they slow us down, cost too much, worry us too much, and shackle us down too much.  Maybe we all should stop for a spell, ask a question why, become children again, and learn something from those “dumb” old cows.

Tell me about the questions your kids ask about your critters at thekansascowboy36@gmail.com.  You can also friend me on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter.