Most of us, rural or urban, can get attached to an animal. Our barn cat Jay Jay has a special place in my mind. Somebody dumped a litter of kittens on the church grounds. I took three of the little tomcats.

In the sandhills of Nebraskastands a monument of willsWhere man has staked his claimto them blowin’, rollin’ hills

The following excerpts are from the Oklahoma Livestock Committee meeting on Species Relations. Voting members include beef cows, feedlot steers and dairy cows.

The newspaper photo showed them leaning into the harmony like four caroling coyotes. The caption named the pickers and said they were members of a new country singing group. It announced that they would be playing at the Dairy Queen on Thursday.

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful little valley called Pleasant Valley. Pristine streams ran down from wooded hillsides. Wild game was abundant. Fish flourished. The peasants tilled their farms and irrigated them with mountain water. The livestock grazed the grassy meadows. It was a contented community, though lacking in material wealth.

“By gosh, that’s a new twist,” thought Terry as he tightened his collar against the biting wind and stared at the heifer. She was trying to calve standing up. He eased up on her and dropped a loop over the horns.

I like a pickup that looks like a truckAnd not like a tropical fish.Or a two-ton poodle with running lightsOr a mutant frog on a leash.

I stood with George, ears perked, eyes alert, like border collies waiting for the signal. John (we’ll call him John) finally made his momentous decision known: “We’ll do a C-section. But I want pictures for my scrapbook!”

The little kid sat on his kneeAnd looked up with stars in his eyesHe said, “Granddaddy, tell me againHow it was when you were my size.”

1. Lying flat on my back in the lobby of the Hyatt Regency in Phoenix at 2 a.m. I passed the carafe of chablis to my reclining colleague, who looked at me and said, “Pardner, I don’t think you’re executive material.”