I can’t help but think that much of the reason we may not like each other is because we don’t know each other.

Each year, shipping day is a momentous day. I’m quite certain that statement holds true for anyone who’s ever sold a calf.

It was shipping day, or at least the first of a few. We were only shipping one load, so I didn’t expect much drama, but shipping day is always accompanied by some angst. We’re not a huge outfit, and our final day of harvest is when we ship the previous year’s calf crop to its final destination to a packing plant in Texas or California. It may not be as romantic or Instagram-worthy as branding day or turnout day, but it is every bit as important and impactful.

The circles I run in are filled with like-minded people. That should come as no surprise to anyone because, in that regard, I’m quite certain that most of us are pretty much the same. The chances are pretty high that, if you’re reading this, you fit in the circles in which I run.

It was the day after Christmas. We were working on a chore that I would have liked to have finished a month earlier, but the stars never did quite align as I had hoped. So here we were, on Dec. 26, finally running the cows through the chute for preg checking.

Call it obsession or passion, but sports have a way of pulling people in. From casual fandom to full-throttle devotion, many can’t resist the rhythm of the seasons.

It was late afternoon, and the thin layer of frail gray clouds that had made their first appearance that morning before sunrise still hung low in the sky. I knew I had barely an hour of daylight left, and I also knew that there was no way I’d finish my fence repair project before dusk overtook me.