Lessons in humility, experience, and learning to mind our own operations.

I never thought I would say this, but I believe I’ve found a downside to teaching our five-year-old the ins and outs of ranching. With all his newfound knowledge, my little rancher is suddenly convinced he knows everything there is to know — and he’s more than happy to tell you all about it.

It’s adorable when he narrates his toy setup in his bedroom. It’s even endearing watching him work alongside his dad, small as he is, doing his best to keep up. But the cuteness wears thin when he’s ready to explain to everyone else how it should be done.

Living out in ranch country means we spend plenty of miles on the road, often passing someone else’s operation. And almost without fail, a commentary begins from the back seat.

“That pivot shouldn’t be off.”

“Why are those cows still there?”

I have to suppress a smile at the certainty behind such strong opinions coming from such a small person. But at the same time, it’s hard not to notice how familiar it sounds. Apparently, confidence comes early — experience follows later.

And unfortunately, this isn’t unique to my five-year-old.

It seems far too easy to jump to conclusions about how someone else runs their operation — when they irrigate, how they feed, when they move cattle, or why something looks different than we expect. Somewhere along the way, observation turns into judgment, even when we don’t have the full picture.

They say there’s more than one way to skin a cat. I’m here to say there’s more than one way to ranch.

Take haying, for example. Round bales versus square bales — one must be better than the other, right? Except both serve a purpose. Round bales can be put up sooner with a little more moisture, and net wrap protects them well in the stack. Square bales, on the other hand, shine when it comes to hauling and efficiency. One isn’t right and the other wrong. It depends on the operation.

Branding season brings its own debates. Calf tables versus roping and dragging. For us, range brandings and skilled cowboys make roping the clear choice. But for operations with fewer hands or closer corrals, a calf table might be exactly what makes sense. Different circumstances call for different tools.

Even moving cows can stir strong opinions — horses versus four-wheelers. There are cows to move either way, and as long as they get moved, the job is getting done. Though if I’m honest, if there’s a chance to saddle a horse instead of turning a key, I’ll take it every time.

Calving systems, feeding programs, grazing rotations — every ranch is a balance of land, livestock, labor, and goals. What works beautifully for one may be completely impractical for another.

The trouble comes when we forget that.

When it’s time to make decisions for an operation, there are a few things that matter more than outside opinion. First, knowing your goals — what you’re actually trying to accomplish. Second, knowing what your operation has to offer — the land, the resources, the skills, and the help available. Systems that align with both will always make the most sense.

From there, you can try new things. Not because your neighbor is doing them. Not because they’re trendy. But because they might help you do your job better.

And sometimes, they won’t.

That’s part of it too.

The older I get, the more I realize that experience has a way of softening certainty. Confidence earned through repetition looks different than confidence born from assumption. One listens more. One asks better questions.

My five-year-old will figure that out in time.

Until then, I’ll keep listening to his opinions from the back seat, smiling to myself, and reminding us both that ranching — like most things worth doing — isn’t about finding the one right way.

It’s about finding your way, being open to learning, and leaving room for the possibility that someone else might be doing it differently — and doing it just fine.