Ranch hands and cowboys often get put in the position of playing host to all manner of guests, reporters, owners’ grandchildren and bank vice presidents. Dave works on a ranch in south Florida. In the right season, Florida looks like the Garden of Eden. He had been asked to guide a notable photographer around. He was shooting pictures for a book of Florida ranches. I have had much experience with camera crews and photographers. Why they don’t get hurt more often is beyond me! They treat animals like furniture, crawling under them, trying to feed them, touching, pushing, pulling, petting, all to get a good shot.

Jerry had what was called a suspect herd. His next-door neighbors had Brucellosis problems and since Jerry shared a common fence, he too, was required to be tested. The neighbors sold out and let the land set the requisite time. Meanwhile Jerry brought in 20 half-Gertrudis heifers to his place. He evaluated them and concluded two out of three had no brain. The government showed up to test them. They insisted on using their clanging, banging, government-issue head catch instead of what the cattle were used to.

I was watching Will trying to entice a small bunch of cows through an open gate by baiting them with protein pellets. The last two cows could not find the gate! After three backtracks he finally coaxed them through. “It’s frustrating,” he said. “My dad told me cows are stupid, that’s why we eat them.” I thought that was philosophical genius! Right there in front of our eyes, akin to Columbus suddenly realizing that the earth was round or a 6-year-old discovering he can burp on command! One of those moments when a person sees there really is a master plan in the universe.

One of the jobs of a Dad is to protect his family from invaders. It explains his membership in the NRA and his tendency to look longingly at the .357 magnum in the glass case. He’s never had to shoot a grizzly bear or rabid rhino but he has imagined it – saving the family, then striking a pose like Thor on the pinnacle of the Parthenon. A covey of skunks had taken over the boneyard just over the hill from the house. An uneasy truce had been established between Mammalius squirtonamus and Dad until … he discovered they had been sneaking into his machine shed through the dog door and eating the dog’s food!

Russ normally would not have kept the heifer he called “The Pirate,” but he did. It was one of those chilly 5:30 spring mornings in southeast Idaho. He decided to make a quick heifer check before he got his youngest kid on the school bus at 6:30. Russ slipped into his handy fashion farmwear (sweatpants, heavy long-sleeved T-shirt and slip-on boots) and drove down to the calving pasture. Dang! Sure enough, there was a heifer down in a low spot, on her back and bloated. Russ stopped the truck and walked over to her.

In this summer of discontent, we still have reasons to be thankful to be an American. This Fourth of July, we as a people filled our city parks and backyards, watched the fireworks, grilled our burgers and flew flags on our front porches. Once again displaying our loyalty to a concept, a constitution, a country that represents something bigger than us as individuals.

My friend and utility consultant, Stevo, often points out the obvious in a sea of obfuscating shrapnel. For example, upon seeing a sailing vessel on the high seas, I noted that sailors in the old days often did not know how to swim. Stevo commented, with the wisdom of my shoe-shine lady, “Probably made them better sailors!” Not long ago, in Erath, we were discussing cattle genetics and breeding. In south Louisiana, one can see the influence of the Brahman breed. They are bred to be heat-resistant. I noted that Brangus is a popular cross in the South and Southwest.

There always seem to be folks who need to say something good, even at the worst of times. Like Mrs. Custer. She might have said, “Well, on the bright side, at least he was wearing clean undies.” Last spring on a gather we set out to find an evasive 300-lb steer; we’ll call him Rompy. We made a big circle and never found him but we did discover a leak in the water line. Just luck, maybe – but on the bright side, it made the ride worth it.

Back in Timber’s youth he got a job helpin’ gather wild cattle out of the fields of an Arizona cotton farmer. He and his partner, Jessie, tried roping them but were unsuccessful. One, the cows only came into the field at night along with the native deer. Two, the horses were not nocturnally trained and wouldn’t get within a rope’s length of the stealthy beasts. Plan Two involved the use of a tranquilizer gun. The second night our boys arrived ‘loaded for bear,’ as they say, and began stalking their prey.

Back in Timber’s youth he got a job helpin’ gather wild cattle out of the fields of an Arizona cotton farmer. He and his pardner, Jessie, tried roping them but were unsuccessful. One, the cows only came into the field at night along with the native deer. Two, the horses were not nocturnally trained and wouldn’t get within a rope’s length of the stealthy beasts. Plan Two involved the use of a tranquilizer gun. The second night our boys arrived ‘loaded for bear,’ as they say, and began stalking their prey.