When Green Comes

I made a fire in the woodstove this morning and it sure feels good. With all that wonderful green outside, it’s a blow to the system to step out and find it’s actually cold and windy. We even saw some snowflakes dancing around.

Mark and I have had such fun with my TEDx talk on grazing. We check periodically to see how many views the video has garnered. And Facebook shares are international – Denmark, Kenya, Nova Scotia. There’s a worldwide community of folks that agree with us on the necessary role of grazing animals and they want to be heard. But is anyone viewing who thinks cows are the problem? Am I changing any minds? I hope so. On second thought, I don’t really expect to change minds, just crack them open.

The water has returned to the canal that runs through our property. Now, when the dogs come off their tether, they run to it to get a drink instead of following the trail to the hydrant and waiting for me to lift the spigot.

I’ve been tidying up the willows that line the canal in our driveway. Pruning and picking up limbs, revealing the breathtaking beauty of trees, is addicting. Seth taught me to operate Grandpa’s little chainsaw and I’m having such fun! I only need a man with a tractor for final clean up, which suits Mark just fine. I am now a force to be reckoned with on my own.

The bees are loving the first flower on our willows and box elders, and we’re happy to oblige their early spring pollen needs. And out our office window, the leaves are filling out on the quakie (quaking aspen). They’re the happiest, shiniest, chartreuse green-iest leaves you can imagine. Mark’s grandpa said when the quakie leaves are dime-sized it was time to turn out the cows. It’s a cowboy’s way of describing plant life phenophase!

I went to a workshop last week full of passionate people from conservation collaboratives across the West. Group after group talked about the value of working landscapes and keeping farmers and ranchers on the land. They even talked about the benefits of flood irrigation and how the pulsing wet and dry provide for birds, and how the system mimics an old-style flood plain. It was like getting a deep massage to hear positive messages about our way of life.

When I took my turn at the microphone, I shared a little bit of my world. I finished by saying, “if you get a chance to talk to a rancher, ask them a question.” I think they heard me. As the workshop continued, several people made a point to ask me a question. One fellow said, “How are you? That’s a question!” Indeed it is.

Here's that link:

Wendy's TEDx talk

Through Lauren's Eyes

First the red-wing blackbirds arrive in February. Then the killdeers. Then the meadowlarks. At first their familiar songs don’t register in my brain, but then . . . oh, it’s spring! And just now, while I’m writing, five goldfinches have discovered the seed heads I left on the flowers in my front bed all winter.   

To welcome the birds, the plants are waking up. I drove into the yard last night when the sun was just starting its slide to the horizon. There it was – a change in the willows. No, they’re not turning green yet, but there’s a new clarity, a fullness. The buds are swelling! And across the pasture the grass blades are popping their heads out, and the tiniest of forbs have pushed up some tentative leaves.

Lauren from Boise State came to stay for a few days and added a little excitement to this busy time of year. She’s working on a doctorate and wanted to experience life on a ranch to help inform her questions around humans, agriculture and ecology. Spring Break is the perfect time because it coincides with our heaviest calving period.  

She rode Sly moving cow-calf pairs into a neighboring pasture. She helped sort and weigh the yearling steers. She cleaned stalls and fed the bottle calf. She bucked hay bales into the calving barn. She fed a few loads of hay and straw to the heifers. Skinny jeans and a long braid aren’t the best for feeding and I’m sure she had straw in every crevice, but she was a good sport. She even helped Mark deliver two calves that needed assistance.

The evening before she left, we had finished our work just as the full moon was rising. We stopped to watch it from the corral outside the calving barn. It was a perfect evening with cold, clear skies. I told her I wanted to experience every full moon I could until I died. She reminded me that not everyone has that chance unless they live in the country. Oh. 

She mostly soaked up a way of living she had never experienced. One evening we went through her formal questions. How do we measure success? What are our plans for the future of the ranch? Are we unique? How has the environment changed over our lifetimes? The queries made us think, and that’s a good thing.

I’ve had some experience working with university researchers, and it’s me that asks the questions. Rarely do they seem very curious about what we ranchers know, so to have the questions directed to us was a welcome change.

She had supper at Seth and Leah’s one night, and spent the last morning with Gary and Anita, going through her questions - and going through their art collection. After meeting individually with all three generations living on the ranch, I wonder what insights she saw that we can’t.

She lost her cell phone in the melee somewhere and spent a day and a half sure it was gone for good. She and Mark had been buzzing around on the 4-wheeler and the battery was dead, so it seemed hopeless. The loss put a damper on her visit. I told her to keep the faith and keep looking for it. And then the next day there it was, half buried in the sand where I was feeding the bottle calf. It was bent in an arc but worked fine! I told her good things happen.

checking out the calving barn               (Lauren Hunt)

                               moving pairs on Sly                                 

not as easy as it looks

the worm moon                             (Lauren Hunt)

feeding time                                    (Lauren Hunt)