Turns out, keeping cows inside a questionable fence is easier than keeping grammatical errors out of daily conversations.

The Progressive Publishing editorial team is happy to welcome Taryn Cox as the Progressive Cattle summer intern.

The days hadn’t yet warmed up enough to encourage the white crystals to transform into a liquid state and speed down the mountains to refresh the valley below.

By virtue of a leadership scholarship I’d inexplicably earned, I’d been invited to attend a special three-day preorientation function for a few hundred of the university’s “future leaders.”

While at the NCBA CattleCon this past February, I heard one of the speakers say, “Bovine are God’s favorite protein, so we are blessed.” It was one of those fun little quotes I wrote down, thinking I could use it as a photo caption or something one day.

Calving season was upon me. I was just finishing up my last hourlong run through the cows and heifers. It had been a cold night, and with 3 inches of snow on the ground, I dared not leave anything to chance.

I was on my way to Almo, Idaho – literally on the other side of the mountain from my home place near Oakley – to retrieve one of my cows who’d strayed off to the east and down into the Almo Valley instead of heading west to home, as she should have done during the fall gather.

As I recognize myself and my hubby – and how we are wired – it’ll help me to understand him and others as we consider renovating a house.

Under most circumstances, I generally consider myself to be fairly decent, if not entertaining, company. I do, however, have my little quirks and idiosyncrasies, that, if I’m being completely objective, could possibly be construed as minor annoyances.

The little boy took a tentative step my way, and without a hint of apprehension, blurted out, “Hey, are you a real cowboy?”