Raising cattle is one of the hardest activities I’ve ever been involved with. When you’re responsible for cattle’s welfare, you live with that responsibility 24 hours a day. And just when you think you’ve got everything about them taken care of, Mother Nature will throw something like a drought or a storm at you.
I learned this early on, when I was about 10 years old and growing up in Alvin, TX, during the late 1950s. Alvin is near Houston, and just about 30 miles from the Gulf of Mexico. I had just bought my first cattle—three baby dairy calves—that I was bottle feeding so they could get big enough to eat grass on their own. I rode my bike to their pasture every day to check on them.
Just a few weeks into owning my “herd,” we learned that a hurricane had formed in the Gulf and was headed our way. I convinced my parents that I needed to protect the calves in our garage. They agreed, so I padded the floor and built a makeshift corral. The calves stayed in there for three days until the storm passed. Then, for the next three days, what did I do? I cleaned out the garage. How my mother put up with all that, I’ll never know. But under the circumstances it was my only choice. A disaster was about to hit and I was going to lose my whole operation. I learned right then that cattle raising wasn’t a hobby; it was a commitment. You have to be concerned about cattle around the clock. You have to think about them just as you do your family.
I’m fortunate in that my real family understands this. In fact, they share my passion for ranching. So that means I won’t be the only voice on the blog. You’ll also hear from my wife Ruth, my children, Reid, Reese and Wendy, and maybe even from my fellow cattlemen if I can talk them into it.
Visit us occasionally to get our thoughts about great beef and great baseball. Let us hear from you too!
Early ranching memories