My last post in June seems like a lifetime ago. Facing a long cat 3 drought with no end in sight we were looking to God for some relief. I guess He took pity on our dry land because we got the rain and plenty of it. Now I'm looking at moving out of survival mode and into herd expansion.

Looks like 2010 will be a little kinder to those of us in agriculture who feed the U.S. and the world.

Cate started pre-K at Red Rock and Callie started 5th grade at Cedar Creek. She is playing flute in band at just got first chair. Also won the grand prize in the Bastrop Pecan Show for her candy. She's also active in 4H. Sam's vocabulary is increasing. If if can get him to stop saying 'Moo' when he sees a toy or real horse! He also got his first haircut this week. Trina's subbing some and of course we continue with our sortings on Saturdays.

We wish all our family and friends a very merry Christmas. May His light shine on you in the coming year.

journals

I found a treasure last week.
In an old box there was a stack of old journals that my grandpa had kept years ago.
I guess 'journal' is a little optimistic, because they were not really his deepest feelings. Mostly it was cattle weights, fertilizer ratios, hourly time schedules, the odd phone number.
But if you read between the lines, you could guess his day to day temperments. If he had trouble with one of the ranch hands, an entry read that he and the worker had a talk and a "good understanding" about the way thing were going to be if that worker was going to continue in employment on the ranch.
Invariably on Friday nights, my grandparents went to dinner with friends at Ray's Cafe (just down the hill from their house) or they carried someone over to the old Cottonwood Inn. I remember the place as a kid. It had these dummies propped up on the porch of the restaurant, dressed as cowboys. Dead cowboys, their heads half cocked as if to say.hey stranger, come on in. Try the fish. It was the last thing I et.
One of the later entries concerned my education. As you may know, I took a brief sabbatical from A&M between my sophomore and junior semesters that was a result of my shall we say lack of grade intensity. Anyway, after a semester of work and ACC I was admitted back into the College of Liberal Arts as an English major. Poultry Science wouldn't have me. I didn't even ask any other Ag-related departments. My PawPaw's words were--"He will study English." With 'English' underlined three times in disdain. The point is, I did well in the English dept. I didn't make great grades, but I passed everything and graduated. He never wrote he was proud or anything, but I know he was glad I decided to come home and work for the ranch.
That was worth more than words to me.

Ever have one of these days?

This was last week. I decided this cow needed some encouragement to stay out of this mudhole that once was our big tank. So Operation Electric Eel went into effect.

I decided against putting up a new fence around the tank because SOMDEDAY it will rain and fill that tank up to the brim. After a little studying, some measuring and a trip to TSC, I had all the supplies I needed. Putting the posts and stringing the wire was easy, but when it came time to test the fence, I was heitant to do it again on purpose. I had gotten zapped a few times on accident. But Buster the Dog decided to sniff a little too close and with a yelp he told me that we had power. Kind of reminded me of a time long ago involving another electric fence, my little brother and an unfortunate time to go number one. But we won't talk about that.

Well, we've got spring calf working behind us. There were fewer calves than last year due to our contiued process of selling the culls, and selling lighter calves due to the drought.
On a positive note, the girls had a ball finding Easter eggs this afternoon. Sam will be hunting with them next year, I know.

Aspen 2009

Aspen 2009
Last week I went to Aspen, Colorado. A college friend of mine put out an invite to come and spend a few days skiing at his family's condo in the Rockies. My buddies from my Corps of Cadet unit, B-2, try to keep in touch, make a few home games at Aggieland each year, but it is hard. When you are spread out all over the country and have wives and kids and commitments, its hard to break away for any amount of time. This time, we all had plenty of time to organize, save some dollars up (in my case) and block out a few days off. I flew out of Austin with my brother Tim and arrived in Denver on Thursday morning to find the snow capped mountains to the west draped with low clouds and a light snow coming down. After meeting the other 4 guys we rented a Suburban and headed west 4 hours and stopped in Glenwood Springs to buy groceries at the last Walmart before Aspen. We unloaded our gear at the Aspen Alps then went to pick up the other 3 guys from the airport outside of town, noticing the rows of Gulfstream and Lear jets lined up on the runway. I wondered which one was Oprah's.

It was a great reunion. Some of these guys I hadn't seen in several years, and somebody remarked that essentially, nobody had really changed that much. A few extra pounds, less hair, but basically the same unlikely group that we were almost 20 (twenty!) years ago. We decided that we should have a good meal to start our get together off right, so we wandered into the Hickory House, with the sign that boasted the Best Ribs in Colorado. Maybe that wasn't too high of a goal? But bbq sounded good.The sign inside that explained their pork was imported from Europe and fed tulips, seemed fishy, but it smelled and looked good as the plates passed by. The waitress suggested we order a couple orders of "The Feast." The menu said it feeds 3 or more.There were 8 of us, so a little Aggie math said 3 Feasts should do the trick. A couple of
pitchers and some onion rings, hey we're on vacation. Then the Feast arrived.The Feast consisted of 2 racks of ribs, a heaping platter of brisket, of sausage and chicken. And beans and corn and cornbread. And potatoes. We enjoyed the Feast all week. From then on, all prices were calculated by Feast currency. A lift ticket? That's two Feasts. Ski rental for 4 days? 1 Feast. Plane ticket to Aspen? 4.5 Feasts.

Friday was ski day. Everybody on the trip had at least some experience in snow, except, guess who. So, ski lessons were in order. The humiliating 'yes I barely know what a ski looks like, so put me in Beginner Magic 1.' But I must say the instructors really know how to put you at ease and guide you through the process without laughing out loud. The lessons were at the top of Buttermilk mountain. Buttermilk. Really? I guess Milktoast or Creampuff Mountains were taken. The lift up to the top was fun, though. It was really cool. So quiet. All you could hear was the wind softly blowing, as you watched a crowd gather around another unfortunate skier with a mangled leg. Now you hear another sound. It is the sound of the Ski Patrol snowmobile rushing to the wreck. What a great day to be skiing!

I must admit, learning to ski was hard for me. In fact, I really don't know if I actually 'learned,' but I was putting the turns together on the second day and didn't fall once on that day. I really need on more day of lessons before I 'really' take the slopes alone.The first day was pretty discouraging, but like I said, kudos to the instructors for their encouragement. All my buddies said the best part of the day was when you took you boots off. Boy, were they right. Our days in Aspen fell into a routine. Get up, drop the Millers off at Pansy Mountain, ski, meet at the end of the day and hit the shower rooms. Another of my favorite parts was the sauna room. Again, a first for me. The room was at a sweltering 150-F, and like all the movies you've seen, a ladle of water is poured over the heat to create clouds of steamy goodness. Although it was Gay Week in Aspen, there were no encounters in the sauna. The hot tub was a different story, but Scott didn't venture out of the bath house across a courtyard in 7 degree weather. The unfortunate guys that did were rewarded with a middle aged fellow dancing in a tiger striped banana hammock. I guess he was the target market for the colorful t shirt that proclaimed "I Can't Ski Straight--Aspen Gay Week 2009."

It was a trip I'll never forget and probably never make again, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. Like the boots at the end of the day, it was wonderful to touch down in Austin,
to see my wife and children, give them a big hug and Finally turn onto Watterson Road.Hey, It's Good To Be Back Home Again. (Thanks, John Denver.) and thanks to Phillip
Bornefeld for his accommodations.

Maybe it's Time for a Re-think...

This was an article in the TFB newsletter, I thought it was a good one.
By Lloyd J. Huggins
Editor’s Note: The following is a response to Nicholas Kristof’s Dec. 11 column in the New York Times, which called on President-elect Barack Obama to abandon national agricultural policies.
So Nicholas Kristof recommends we abandon agriculture as an important piece of the American fabric. In doing so, he casts a wide net, vilifying farmers and ranchers, along with agricultural policy in general, as he makes numerous misstatements regarding the nature of agriculture in the United States today.
Thankfully, one thing, he got right: Only 2 percent of America’s population provides the food which feeds not only the United States, but much of the rest of the world. We grow 40 percent of the world’s corn, as well as much of its rice and wheat—three crops which by themselves are the staple products for the bulk of diets the world over.
Mr. Kristof notes that 100 years ago about 35 percent of the population engaged in agriculture, a statistic which I believe points out how much more efficient agriculture is today.
Still, Mr. Kristof would rather rail against the "farm lobby," saying it has been "hijacked" by "industrial operators."
I, like many of my friends and neighbors, am a beef cattle rancher and farmer, as well as a proud member of the Texas Farm Bureau and American Farm Bureau Federation. As we all perform systematic labor for the purpose of producing food, I suppose we could be guilty of being "industrial operators." Given that we are members of the nation’s largest farm organization, we are also probably guilty of trying to influence government agricultural policy.
And because Farm Bureau policy, which directs our organization’s efforts, is developed at a grassroots level by county organizations of individual farmers and ranchers, it must clearly be a "hijacking" of governmental policy.
But the men and women I know are hardly pirates. We don’t represent a lot of votes, so we must lobby collectively in order to be heard. We hope to ensure our nation’s agricultural policy is common-sense and helps us continue to produce food for the world while allowing us to make a living doing so.
Mr. Kristof bemoans the loss of "family farms" to behemoth "industrial operations" and "factory farms." As I look at my neighbors, I see families—some with small operations and some with large operations—yet, they are all run by families.
Perhaps in New York State, agricultural operations are run by faceless corporations, but here the family farm is real.
Mr. Kristof says he regrets that his own kids don’t have the chance to grow up on a farm. Given that he owns land in Oregon, it appears he made a personal choice not to pursue the agricultural life, apparently leaving him somewhat bitter and resentful.
Maybe he couldn’t be satisfied with the low profit margins (when they are not negative) and the 12-14 hour days many farmers and ranchers embrace. Perhaps, he couldn’t live with the risks these farmers take when they put thousands of dollars worth of seed in the ground and then pray for rains that will germinate their crop, but not come at a time to ruin the harvest.
Or maybe he couldn’t endure the times ranchers watch their pastures burn up under a hot, dry sun and have to sell some of their best cattle at a loss due to drought.
The farmers and ranchers I know care for their animals and their land. They try to truly provide the best care they can afford for their livestock, while managing their land in a way that is sensitive to the environment and allows for sustained productivity of that land. They love the land, God’s creatures, and the lifestyle they have chosen.
Very few get rich, and most struggle to make a living that would be unacceptable by most urban standards. This small slice of our population provides our national food security and economic clout by virtue of how much of the world’s food supply they produce.
Given how few of us actually produce that food, perhaps today more than ever we need an effective, supportive Agriculture Department that can help ensure the survival of this tiny, but essential slice of our nation’s population.
Lloyd J. Huggins is a Hamilton County Farm Bureau leader and member of the current FarmLead class.