Since the time the last of my five kids left home, Father’s Day Sunday has brought with it a slight amount of unnecessary angst. Not that it would alter my affection for any of my two daughters or three sons, but I always worry, just a little bit, one or all of them will neglect, for whatever reason, to contact me on Father’s Day.

A sometimes underappreciated, if not completely forgotten, link of the beef production chain is the cull cow market and slaughter segment. I am probably one of those who, at times, has not adequately appreciated the significance and contributions of the cull cow to the grand scheme of our little cowboy party.

Once in a while, it’s good to get away from home for a bit to reboot and refresh the stale routine of whatever your particular routine may be. Although I was leaving more unfinished chores than completed projects at home, I reluctantly struck out for the Red River country in mid-June. In spite of my ignorance-induced hesitation, I had the good fortune to spend a few days in June in and around the Ardmore, Oklahoma, area as I attended the Texoma Cattlemen’s Conference, hosted by the Noble Research Institute.

He cracks the bedroom door open, just an inch or two, and hears her discussing with the 2-year-old the civil rights of the roan horse and the heeler dog, and why they have to sleep outside.

Davin is my neighbor. He’s in the eighth grade, and he just turned 14. Like a lot of 14-year-old boys, sometimes his attention span rivals that of a cedar post, but he’s a big stout kid, so he comes in pretty handy as a neighbor, especially since I don’t have any kids at home anymore.

A lifetime spent in the pursuit of happiness, quite often generally and specifically in pursuit of a cow, in some form or another, has taught me nothing if it hasn’t taught me the world of agriculture is full of paradox and Renaissance men and women.

I was enjoying a dandy start to the new year. January was like a heavenly dream. We’d had some snow and a couple of cold stretches in late December, but the first few weeks of the year felt more like April than January.