Blog - The Idaho Rancher's Wife

Reservations and Runaway Cows

February 18, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

Ranch romance doesn’t always look like candlelight.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

We had Valentine’s plans…

But the cows broke through!

Boots polished, hair in place,

Dressed up for our night,

Reservations waiting

Under the city lights.

But then we saw them—

Or maybe we didn’t,

A herd of wild backsides

Slipping out of sight.

Nothing says romance

Like a runaway cow chase,

Down the winding highway,

Our hearts racing to match the pace.

Flying out of the pickup

Before it came to a stop,

I’m fairly certain

The Rancher thought I was hot.

Finally to dinner,

Out on the town,

With a hint of manure

Dusting my cowgirl gown.

Maybe this is romance,

Rough, wild, and true—

A night just for us,

Until the cows break through.

It was cloudy and starting to get dark—no surprise we were running a little later than we’d hoped for our Valentine’s night. It didn’t take long to see the cows had broken through the fence… again. And for no real reason except that they wanted more than what they already had, as cows often do.

With a curse and a grumble under his breath, The Rancher sped down the road to get around them. It didn’t take much to shift gears and get them moving the opposite direction, but with cows spilling off the road into the borrow pit, I realized I needed to hop out and chase on foot. Of course my fancy town booties were NOT the footwear of choice, but there was little to do except go regardless of tweaked ankles or scuffs.

It wasn’t long before others realized the problem and joined in, everyone feeling the frustration of a herd that never quite stays settled. Of course they wouldn’t all simply go back in the field. A large handful busted through more fences, complicating an already irksome evening. Running through tall brush and scooting through barbed wire, I prayed the nice clothes I rarely get to dress up in wouldn’t fall victim to the circumstances.

Some on foot, some on four-wheelers and motorbikes, we finally funneled the cattle through brush to find the gates and get them back where they belonged. But the truth was, if we left them there, they were just going to get out again. Not because of the hole they had just made—we had panels and wire ready to patch it—but because once they learned they could break through, they knew they could do it again.

So we adjusted the plan.

Instead of simply fixing the fence, we decided to relocate them to the corral—a sturdy metal pen far less likely to give to their unrelenting pressure. The Rancher and I headed to set gates and turn the herd while the others bright then from the pasture, not just fixing the problem for the night but hopefully creating a more long-term solution.

Once the cows were finally penned, we took a breath and admitted it could have been much worse. They got out, yes—but we caught it within minutes. We had plans, but dinner could be pushed back. It could have been a disaster.

The frustration was real.

The chaos was real.

And yet somehow, the night didn’t fall apart.

What makes these moments memorable isn’t just the humor or the absurdity—it’s how we show up for each other when it’s not easy. When things go sideways. When plans are interrupted. When the evening could easily end in frustration.

We made the best of what we had. The night was already simple—no flowers, no chocolates, no candles. Just a tired rancher trying to say “I love you,” and a ranch wife grateful for any moment together, even if the promise of no gates to open fell a little short.

Boots scuffed. Jeans dusted with sage. Hearts racing from the chase instead of the date—we handled the mess, laughed at the chaos, and eventually made it to dinner.

That’s partnership.

That’s love.

It shows up in the smell of sagebrush, in the quiet evening air, in the exhaustion, and in the decision to keep going together. We work side by side when it’s fun—but more importantly, when it’s hard.

Romance isn’t always candlelight or perfectly executed plans. Sometimes it’s teamwork in town clothes. Sometimes it’s laughter after chaos. Sometimes it’s knowing that when plans go sideways and problems appear out of nowhere, you both show up anyway.

And that kind of love?

It lasts any time of year.

More Than One Right Way

February 10, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

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.

The Price of Learning on a Ranch

February 4, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

How a broken swather, a six-year-old on the tractor, plus a few other hard lessons taught me exactly how knowledge is earned- usually the hard way.

The little Montana town I grew up in was dotted with small family operations. Nearly every outfit welcomed extra help during the summer months while school was out, and I was lucky enough to have neighbors just down the road who took me on. I helped with everything from moving early-morning wheel lines and hand lines to pushing cows, spraying weeds, and putting up hay.

I was young and inexperienced, but willing to work hard and learn. There were plenty of growing pains — jobs I didn’t understand yet, equipment I hadn’t mastered — but at the end of the day, going home tired, dirty, and satisfied made the hard moments worth it.

With acres of hay to put up, I spent my fair share of time in the swather. My favorite was an old red International that looked rough but wouldn’t quit for anything. It did have one flaw: it wouldn’t stay cool. I remember my boss drilling it into me — keep an eye on the temperature gauge, know when to shut it down, and don’t push it past its limits.

Summer after summer, I ran that swather without incident. I stopped strategically to let it cool while moving irrigation lines, taking a quick break, or heading in for lunch. By my final summer, I was confident I had it figured out. Confident enough that I’d quietly crowned myself the queen of the hay crew.

Leaving for college was exciting, but daunting. I clung to every last moment I could spend in the fields. On my final night of work, I put off heading home, lingering in the comfort of that familiar old swather — until it sputtered, stalled, and died completely. It wouldn’t move. It wouldn’t start. Stuck in the middle of the field, I called my boss for help.

It took him only a moment to diagnose the problem. I had overheated the engine, and it had seized up. As the reality set in, I felt awful — for the cost of parts, labor, lost time, and delayed haying. Weeks later, I learned the parts were so expensive and hard to find that the swather was never fixed. The following year, they replaced it entirely.

Maybe, in the end, I did them a favor by forcing an upgrade. But I never forgot the lesson: pay attention to what you’re responsible for, and don’t let overconfidence lead the way. I would have given anything to do it again the right way. Since that wasn’t possible, all that was left was to learn — and never repeat it.

That lesson has followed me into motherhood.

Over the past few weeks, our six-year-old has been desperate for his turn to help bunch bales. He’s watched his older siblings take their place on the open-cab tractor, convinced that he, too, was big enough. Despite being told he was still too young, he didn’t give up. Eventually, his dad decided the best way for him to understand what it took was to let him try.

They headed out together. Dad explained the knobs and levers, walked him through the simple but important instructions, and then stepped back. Slowly, they moved bales into place for the trailer. The work wasn’t perfect — some bales dragged, some were crooked, and the throttle took a while to finesse. But at the end of the day, there was a tired, dusty, proud little boy climbing off the tractor. All it took was the chance to learn.

Learning looks different at every age.

Our oldest has made huge strides in his cowboying. This year, we saw his best roping yet — smooth runs, confident throws, calf after calf caught clean. Midway through branding season, during a big desert branding, it felt like he couldn’t miss. His pride was earned.

A few weeks later, cleaning up the last calves at the ranch, it was a different story. Easy shots were missed. Slack got tangled. At one point, he roped a cow while aiming for the calf beside her. The hit to his teenage ego was sharp — and necessary. It forced him to slow down, reassess, and figure out what had gone wrong. Paying with pride is painful, but sometimes it’s the most effective teacher.

He learned the same way his grandpa did.

My dad still tells stories from his early farming days, when he was certain he had everything figured out. One season, he dug irrigation furrows exactly as he thought they should be — until he turned the water on and realized water doesn’t flow uphill. Only the ends of the rows needed fixing, but they had to be redone by hand. His dad handed him a shovel and walked away. He never made that mistake again.

The fear of making mistakes can keep us from trying at all. It would be far easier for the cowboys on our operation to do everything themselves — less time, fewer breakdowns, no bent nails or bruised egos. But teaching the next generation how to work, how to pay attention, and how to recover when things go wrong is worth the cost.

On a ranch, learning is rarely free. We pay with time, energy, pride, or pocketbook. But the lessons last longer than the mistakes.

And we can only hope they’re less expensive than a new swather.

How to Declutter a Rancher (Yes, It’s Possible)

January 27, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

A practical, good-humored guide to sorting hats, gloves, boots, and everything in between.

No one has written a chapter on how to declutter a rancher. Until now.

Everywhere you look, someone is taking on new habits, breaking old ones, or reorganizing their life. I’ll admit — my curiosity often gets the better of me. I scroll through the upgraded life hacks, improved menus, and color-coded cleaning schedules. Occasionally, I try one. Every now and then, an idea sticks.

But in all my years of perusing cleaning, organizing, and decluttering guides, I’ve never once seen a category dedicated to ranchers. Either no guru has had a rancher in their life long enough to see the need, or they simply weren’t brave enough to take it on. So today, we begin.

The easiest place to start is the hat collection. Every fertilizer rep, banker, nutrition consultant, tractor dealer, feed clerk, and veterinarian has likely contributed at least one. Despite what they may tell you, they don’t need every hat — and they don’t even like all of them.

Some have given everything they have to give. Others were never chosen in the first place. Keep a handful of clean ones for town, rotate a few for work, and let the rest move on.

Once the ball is rolling, turn your attention to gloves. You will hear arguments:

“That one’s still good — its mate just wore out.”

“It only has a small seam popped.”

“That’s my backup pair to my backup pair.”

I understand the logic. Winter gloves, summer gloves — all makes sense. But when there are extra pairs stacked in the corner and seven left-handed gloves for only two right-handed ones, it’s time to intervene.

Boots follow the same rule. Town boots, work boots, riding boots, long-day boots — all fine. But the pair that was replaced three times ago? Let it go. Don’t waver. The chaos they create sitting in the way, tripping people left and right, just isn’t worth it.

Before leaving the mudroom, tackle coats, sweaters, vests, and scarves. Ranchers are loyal to old favorites, but even loyalty has limits.

Closets are next. They make do with the old while still chasing something new. Keep what fits, toss what’s torn, stained, or beyond repair. If there are still too many, have your rancher try them on. There may be whining. Stay strong.

Work pants follow one rule: never mend a patch you’ve already mended. If they’re worn enough to need fixing again, they’ve done their duty.

Once the wardrobe is tamed, gather wire bits, fencing clips, loose tags, and miscellaneous tools that migrated indoors. Send them back outside. They may not end up where they truly belong, but they are no longer in the house — and that’s a win.

Next come the less obvious collections. Bathrooms often house too many bull sale catalogs and ranching magazines. If they haven’t been read yet, they likely won’t be. While you’re at it, clear out outdated vaccines and medicines in the fridge and pantry. Lunch boxes, coolers, water bottles, and ice packs deserve the same reckoning. Even if you never acquire another, you already have plenty.

One final thought: ranchers are excellent at sorting. They do it every day. You just might need to change the setting. If they can call out “by” or “in” while culling cattle, they can manage the same system indoors.

If you’re successful inside, the garage might be next. Broken tools, old truck parts, abandoned projects — all can go. More sensitive items, like worn-out tack or retired hot shots, may take longer.

In full transparency, I have a rancher who could use a real dose of decluttering. There are too many good hats, gloves with a little life left, favorite shirts, magazines worth skimming again, and tools that just need “a little attention.”

This piece is largely theory and wishful thinking, not a record of triumph.

But if you try it — even just taming the hats and gloves — the house feels lighter, and the rancher…well, they keep riding on.

Small Changes That Make a Big Difference on the Ranch

January 21, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

Why steady, thoughtful improvements matter more than sweeping change in agriculture.

Winter has a way of slowing things down enough to notice what usually gets overlooked. With the cows settled in and the rush of the season behind us, there’s finally time to walk through the shop, study the books, and think a little harder about why we do things the way we do.

Our ranch has been running cattle on the same ranges for more than a hundred years. We still calve, brand, doctor, and wean out on the range with some cows, never bringing them back to the home place — the same way it’s been done for generations. In many ways, those traditions are the reason the ranch is still here.

But every once in a while, we have to pause and ask whether we’re doing something because it’s the best way to run our operation — or simply because it’s the way it’s always been done.

Don’t get me wrong, there is plenty of room for keeping to the traditional cowboy ways. Our ranch has been running cattle on the same ranges for more than 100 years. We calve, brand, doctor, and wean out on the range with some cows, never coming back to the home ranch, just like they did all those years ago. We do it because it’s the best way we can run our operation.

But there are also places where we’ve made changes, capitalizing on improvements in genetics, machinery, technology, and management practices that have strengthened our ranching business.

Often when we think about making a change, we imagine it needs to be something big and dramatic — something that produces immediate, noticeable results. But the truth is, most of us resist those kinds of changes. They’re uncomfortable, disruptive, and risky.

What if, instead, we focused on making small changes?

There’s a story about the British cycling team that illustrates this idea well. For nearly a hundred years, they struggled to find success, constantly searching for one big change that would finally turn things around.

That shift came in 2003 when Dave Brailsford was hired as performance director. Instead of chasing a single breakthrough, Brailsford focused on what he called the “aggregation of marginal gains” — the belief that small improvements, stacked together over time, could lead to meaningful progress. As he put it, if you broke down everything that went into riding a bike and improved each part by just one percent, the overall result would be significant.

They went to work making small adjustments — refining equipment fit, improving recovery practices, reducing illness, and even paying attention to sleep. None of the changes were revolutionary on their own.

But together, they worked.

In the Olympic Games that followed, the British cycling team dominated the podium, setting records and proving that steady, incremental improvements could change the trajectory of an entire program.

It’s not hard to see how the same principle applies to agriculture, where progress is rarely dramatic and almost always cumulative.

Small changes are often more realistic, more achievable, and far less painful to implement. Over time, they can quietly reshape an operation in meaningful ways.

One place to start is record keeping. As the saying goes, you can’t improve what you don’t measure. It doesn’t have to be complicated or fancy — a notebook, a small ledger from the feed store, a spreadsheet, or an app will do. Recording herd health, feed routines, start and end dates, or grazing conditions helps reveal patterns and trends that might otherwise go unnoticed.

Maintaining large acreages can feel overwhelming, but simply cleaning up what’s right in front of you is often the best place to begin. Pick up old wire. Gather stray baling twine. Clear rocks that will cause trouble come haying season. One small task at a time adds up faster than you’d expect.

Carrying wire stretchers and a roll of wire makes it easier to fix minor fence issues before they become major ones. There will always be places that need a full overhaul, but plenty more that just need tightening or clipping to keep cattle where they belong.

Routine equipment maintenance is another small change that pays dividends. Keeping tractors, implements, trucks, and four-wheelers in good working order saves time, money, and frustration down the road.

Sometimes improvement means asking for help. Veterinarians, feed consultants, agronomists, or market-savvy sales representatives can offer insight and experience that helps guide thoughtful adjustments.

Getting an early start — whether on a workday, irrigation, or paperwork — is another quiet habit that can make a noticeable difference. Something will always come up to disrupt plans, and starting ahead allows room to handle it without rushing or settling for “good enough.”

Herd health, too, benefits from small improvements over time. Adjustments to feed, more frequent checks, better preparedness during doctoring, and thoughtful decisions around branding, turnout, weaning, and culling all influence the long-term direction of a herd.

Change has never come easily in agriculture, and it probably never will. But standing still isn’t the same as holding steady. Over time, it’s closer to drifting.

This quieter season gives us space to notice the small things — the loose wire that needs tightening, the records that could be written down, the early start that might save a long day later on. None of them feel like much on their own. But together, they shape the direction of a ranch just as surely as the big decisions do.

The goal isn’t to abandon tradition. It’s to tend it carefully — making small, thoughtful adjustments so that what was handed to us not only survives, but remains strong enough to hand on again.

Where Gratitude Grows: A Heartfelt Thanksgiving on the Ranch

November 27, 2025 by admin Leave a Comment

In 1789, President George Washington declared a “Day of Publick Thanksgiving”, continuing the tradition started in 1621 when the early settlers and the Wampanoag tribe held a three day feast to celebrate the year’s fruitful harvest. During the Civil War in 1863, President Abraham Lincoln proclaimed the fourth Thursday as a national holiday simply named Thanksgiving. He hoped the holiday would help bridge the chasm between the north and the south.

The Thanksgiving season is steeped in history and tradition- taking time to account for the blessings brought in through a year of hard work and intentionally giving thanks to overcome the challenges this life brings.

The few weeks of the season are almost forgotten as so many skip on to the joy of Christmas. And while the magic of a winter wonderland and the celebration of Christ’s birth is so deserving of our focus, pausing to count blessings and have an attitude of gratitude is always worth it.

In agriculture, an industry that makes it from one year to next by the grace of a higher power, we feel that gratitude deeply. We see hardships of drought, loss of livestock, dropping market prices, and rising expenses. But somehow we tend to have just enough rain to make it through another season, enough cattle to fill our contracts, and enough funds to keep our operations running for another year.

So I’m going to take this opportunity to point out the things I’m thankful for, especially those things in this industry that bring peace to my soul.

I am thankful for the buddy seat in our big green tractor. It allows me to come and sit with my husband when I need to chat. It gives me a chance to see him on days I might not otherwise. It gives my little boys a place to sit and ride when they want to be like dad. And it gives my big boy a place to learn to work with his dad by teaching by his side.

I am thankful for slow old horses that might seem broken down and even a little worthless until I throw my babies on their backs. Carrying my most precious cargo, their plodding pace seems just right. Their steady gait teaches my young learners to keep going, keep trying, and keep holding on.

I am thankful for weekly water checks that might seem to eat up a day, but provide the perfect excuse for me to go for a quick lunch date with my man. Some trips we conquer the world’s problems and other days we sit in a peaceful silence as we look out over the beautiful vastness of this country. Every once in a while there is actually a water issue to take care, and on those days we are thankful for all the weeks that nothing went wrong.

I am thankful for a western heritage, a way of living that we are able to continue to this day. There may be innovations and advancements in farming and ranching that have progressed the industry that I wholly embrace, but branding on the range like the old timers did feels like a nod to the foundation they gave.

I am thankful to have our work right outside the back door. Somedays it feels like it never quits, but every day I am thankful to look out the window and see our cattle, watch my husband drive around the corner and send the kids off to work. Jumping in to help work is just a quick walk away where everyone is welcome and no one is turned away.

I am thankful to be in an industry that feeds the world and feeds the world something they desperately need. We can debate all day about the health and nutrition facts but no one will convince me that beef at your table isn’t just good for your body, it’s good for the soul. I know that because the same beef I raise for the grocery store sits on my table to feed my own family.

I am thankful for a sometimes dirty, smelly, disorganized shop that not only keeps our equipment up and running, but my own rig too. It’s a place for my kids to take apart their dirt bikes. It’s a place for new ideas and projects. It’s a place to huff up a basketball or a flat tire. It may call for too many late nights working, but it also expands the possibilities for my family.

I’m thankful for bright lights- in the arena, on the tractor, outside the shop, and the flashlight I use to check cows in the night. All too often I complain about having to use them, that the work is going too long and too late. But these lights help finish the work and finish it right.

I’m thankful I get to see the miracle of life and also witness the grief of death. Whether it is a favorite pet or just another cow in the herd, we feel the gift every life is and the loss of every passing. Instead of becoming calloused to either, the beauty, strength, fragility, and hope of every life has become a counted blessing.

I’m thankful to watch the seasons come and pass every year. The hope of a new spring is exciting and invigorating. The eventual growth through the summer makes the hard, long days worth it. Making an accounting of the year’s production with the fall harvest is satisfying. And then resting through the winter as Mother Nature prepares for a new year is peaceful.

I could go on and on finding things to be thankful for. From the little cowboy hats and boots that line my mudroom to the chickens in the coop, there is something that brings joy and peace to my life.

If you haven’t taken time to pause this season to be grateful for the blessings around you, take a little timeout and give thanks. The hustle and bustle of life might have you believing there isn’t a lot to be thankful for. And while Christmas is in a hurry to splash across your front door, don’t let it push a season of gratitude aside.

Doing Scary Things- Ranch Wife Style

February 18, 2025 by admin

The comfort zone- a place of ease, perceived control, and little stress. Let’s be honest, we all want to operate inside our comfort zone where we can keep anxiety at bay, feel confident, and know what we are doing. We fear failure so we ensure success by only doing those things we have already done. But experience teaches that the most growth and learning happens when we step outside that comfort zone. Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “Do something everyday that scares you. These small things that make us uncomfortable help us build courage to do the work we do.”

Life on the ranch tends to give us all plenty of moments outside our comfort zone that we can either embrace and learn through or shy away from and stay stagnant. I’ll admit that embracing those moments feels especially hard when my failures are out on display for so many others to see. It’s ok for my growing children to learn from failure, but as a grown adult, I too often feel like I should just know, well… everything.

Just last week I took the opportunity to do something new and outside my comfort zone. For some, this might seem like a simple daily chore but for me, it was a whole new experience- feeding cows solo. Now I go out and help feed often, sometimes daily. I know the routine, what to feed, how much, but I’ve always been the crew that opens the gates, cuts the net wrap off and such.

What I haven’t ever done is be the guy in the tractor behind the wheel. If we had to choose between my very capable husband and myself in the seat, we choose him because we want to get the job done and move on. And, really, why should I do it when he is there?

Eventually the day rolled around when all of the usual feeding crew were gone. The roping that was supposed to get done with plenty of time for the ranchers to get home and feed, went long, lending to one of two possibilities. Either they would have to feed late after getting home or I could jump in and try to do it myself. I pulled on my big girl coveralls and jumped in the tractor seat, sure that I could feed three bales of hay without disaster striking.

There were a few things I knew I had on my side as I set out- first I had the basics of tractor mechanics down so that I could drive faster than at a snail pace and move the loader in all the necessary directions. Second, if I had questions, FaceTime put me just one phone call away from help. And third, cows don’t care how pretty the feeding is, they just want the hay out.

Getting to the stackyard I found the right hay, and through a little trial and error, managed to get a bale on the forks and grab one with the three point bale squeeze on the back. It wasn’t as smooth and easy as when the guys do it, but I was doing it. I headed up the hill to the hungry heifers, planning in my mind how I was going to go about feeding. I would set the first bale down, cut the wrap off, tip it over, send it rolling down the hill and that would keep the cows out of the way while I put the other two in bale feeders around the pasture. Easy enough.

Everything started off according to plan until it was time to send that bale rolling down the hill. What seemed like a simple little push with the forks was hardly so and because it was taking longer than usual, the cows were now starting to get in the way. To complicate things even more, it was suddenly dark outside.

I was definitely outside my comfort zone, but also so in the thick of what I was doing that there was no quitting.

Scooping up the bale I had intended to roll down the hill, I put it in the first feeder and opted to try again with the second bale, learning from my earlier mistakes. It took a little trial and error but bale number two was finally rolled out and the cows were content to leave me alone while I fed the last bale.

Heading to the feeder, I saw that it was on a hill and while I might be in a tractor, I had better be smart about how I went about getting there. Between the snow and mud, the hill was slick and in that moment, a distinct memory of a teenage girl failing to turn a tractor up a muddy hill came rushing back to me.

Putting the tractor in the low, snail pace gear, I carefully headed down the hill, making sure I had a clear plan out of there after dropping my load. All seemed well as I made my way to the feeder until I stopped the tractor to pull off the net wrap and noticed the tractor continued to slide. I quickly turned the wheels and that was enough to keep it still. I knew I could dump the bale but I wasn’t sure how I would get out of my predicament once I straightened out again.

Four wheel drive. That was the solution. I really should have thought of that before heading down the slippery hill but at least I was thinking of it now. The only problem was that of the millions of buttons, levers and switches, I had no idea which to toggle. And I was sure that the wrong one would probably make the whole tractor implode.

Mustering the courage to make that phone call that admitted a bit of failure, I called my husband and asked for help. Without laughing at my mistakes or making me feel even more dumb than I already felt, my rancher easily helped me get out of my sticky situation. I dropped the last bale, skirted around the feeder, and headed for home quite proud of what I had finally accomplished that night.

For some, this was a simple chore, something they could probably do with their eyes closed, although I don’t recommend it. They made it seem easy but as I went through the very steps they did, it seemed so complicated and almost dauntin. I hope you chuckle about this little ranch wife willing to help even when the job is outside her comfort zone. But more importantly I hope you learn a few lessons from her.

Learn that you can accomplish far more than you think you can. You just have to try. New things are hard and scary- they are supposed to be! But, trying, jumping in with both feet is the only way to grow. Learn that people are here to help you. Asking for help isn’t admitting failure, even though it feels like it. Learn that the only real confidence in life comes from conquering those moments of fear, big or small. I might not be on the “A team” when it comes to the feeding crew, but if the job needs doing, I know I can do it. Next time, I just might have to start a little earlier and find the four wheel drive a little sooner.

When You Give a Ranchkid a Pocket Knife

January 30, 2024 by Allison

Nothing is safe at our house right now. We have three little boys, ok one is a teenager and not quite so little, that have begged to have their own pocket knives like dad. Between babysitting, Christmas and birthdays, somehow they all have their own shiny multi-tool and belt toting pouch to keep them in and I’m just not so sure how we got to this point. The teenager, yes, I’m on board with outfitting him with some tools that will help him be more useful. But the recently turned five year old… we must be crazy. Before anyone falls into the state we are in, let me share a few little nuggets that we have learned when you give a ranchkid a pocket knife.

Learn From Me…

First, like I said earlier, nothing is safe. It seems that everything is begging them to try that little blade out. From just random pieces of paper to the box of your most recent packages to the first stick they see, they just have to start slicing it all up. And somehow they don’t see the trail of destruction they leave behind as annihilated boxes, paper shreds and whittling shavings mark their owner’s territory. I don’t know if it is some sort of premonition or warning but my greatest fear is finding one of my knife-toting little boys carving his name into the wooden baseboards or window trim that is just his height and so inviting.

Next, if they insist on wearing their new multi-tool in the very cool new pouch on their belt, make sure that belt is cinched up as tight as possible, for two reasons. Between the belt and the tool, those pants are going to weigh ten times as much as usual and are highly likely to sag straight off their ranchkid rears. And secondly, if that belt buckle isn’t on good and tight, it isn’t the pants that will bounce off, it will be that new little tool filled pouch.

Cheapest is best in this scenario…

Which leads me to my next lesson- if you are going to buy a forgetful, carefree, inattentive, neglectful five year old a pocket knife, make it a cheap one. It won’t be long before he sets it down somewhere or it slips out of a pocket or falls off of his belt. The loss will be much less painful for you if you haven’t put in a large investment. He will still be devastated, but at least you are somewhat prepared.

The minute you find your ranchkid digging up rocks or cutting in the dirt (or cutting the dirt…), you will be grateful you didn’t spend even an extra nickel on their shiny new knife. If they manage to not lose it right away, that fun new tool will take a beating, literally, because even though there isn’t a hammer tucked up inside there next to the can opener, it will be used like one. Trust this all too experienced mama…

Now, I still can’t decide if it was better to buy the multi-tool or if we should have just stuck with a simple, plain-Jane pocket knife. With the knife, I’m sure more things would have fallen victim to its blade, something we don’t need to tempt these already spellbound, curious little boys to. But it seems that giving them a knife and pliers and screwdrivers and the like just leaves a bigger swath of destruction. Sister’s dollhouse has screws, let’s take ‘em out with my new screwdriver! Crackers for snack time, let’s see how many I can crunch with the pliers! How many of these soup cans can we poke holes in with the can opener?! See what I mean?

After a day or two, your friends and neighbors might question if your kids have been wrestling the barn cats because I can almost guarantee that all that fun with their new knife will lead to scratches up and down their arms. No matter how many times you teach kids the boy scout knife safety rules, they will still manage to cut themselves. Here’s my advice- buy a large package of bandaids when you succumb to your insanity and buy a ranchkid a pocket knife.

Finally, expect your work to take a little bit longer now that you have equipped your little helpers with their own tools. There is no twine you can cut, screws to pull out or fences to be fixed without them jumping in to help you work. And really, that isn’t a bad thing after all. Oscar Wilde said, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” and it is in that moment of imitation that every ranch dad swells with pride as he sees his kids want to be like him.

We just might be mad for handing over wrecking gear to a kid that is sure to destroy them and everything is their path. But for the chance to help them work and be just like dad, it is worth the little bit of crazy that we will have to endure. There will be a day when a tool in their hand will be second nature and they will be able to build or fix anything. And it will all have started with that long lost little pouch and multi-tool you were sure they were too small to have.

Just Bad Luck Days on the Ranch

June 25, 2023 by admin

“If I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all!” There might not be a truer phrase for a rancher to admit to than that. Some days it feels like all the stars have to align for the work to get done without any hitches, hiccups, or holdups. Whether it is Mother Nature the parts man or ornery old boss cow, someone, somewhere is cooking up a disaster to derail even the best laid plans. You can always count on the fact that in the middle of the cattle work, farm work, machinery fixing, fence fixing or anything else on the never end to-do list, something, without fail, will go wrong. And while I don’t have any research data to back me up, I’m pretty sure that the probability and the size of such a disaster goes up exponentially when its a high stakes situation, and goes up even more so when there is zero time for a breakdown and a do-over.

Okay, yes that may be an overdramatization, but you have to admit that there are days when things, not only don’t go right, but seem to go especially bad. It’s those sort of days you might have to concede the victory to fate, turn in early so nothing else can go wrong and laugh at the day to keep from crying. Looking back, we have had our fair share of bad luck days, some we can laugh at now… some that we still need a little more time.

This last winter felt like one stroke of bad luck after another. I mean, to begin with, it had to be bad luck that after years of drought and praying for moisture, it all comes pouring down in one, unending winter. Of course, we never look a gift horse in the mouth, but if I could have been in charge of the timing of said moisture, it certainly wouldn’t have come in a near record breaking winter fashion.

In a season where we really needed all the things to go right, I swear everything would go wrong, especially on the days when we were far from home and help. We put one fire out after another (not literally fires, but that surely would have warmed things up while we were freezing our fingers off). If it wasn’t the tractor door shattering (on a rented tractor, no less) to keep the work from being done, it was the blown hydraulic hose on the back. If it wasn’t the flat tire on the backhoe that kept us from feeding, it was the massive sinkhole that swallowed the newly fixed tractor. Not only did the gator break down but the snowmobile wouldn’t start either. You’ve heard of the hand Midas that turns everything that it touched to gold? We had the exact opposite. We touched it and it died, quit, or broke.

Sometimes it isn’t the hand that is cursed, it’s just the machine that refuses to stay in running condition. Our problem child of a pivot is simply dubbed “the old pivot” although it might be more accurate to call it the-leaky-run-down-dilapidated-old-pivot. As soon as one hole is plugged or fixed, a new pinhole starts gushing. Aside from its leaky bits, there are computer problems and electrical problems. You might say that running an old pivot just signs you up for breakdowns, but I think this pivot runs at a higher level of breakdowns. If we have any luck this year, it’s getting that old thing replaced… hope I didn’t just jinx it!

We might just make our own bad luck for the number of times we say things like “we are all caught up with the shop work” or “all the cows are settled.” It’s like those darn cows know when we breathe a sigh of relief and work to stir things up. If I had a dollar for everytime we think the cows are settled and then get a phone call that says the cows are out, we could pay someone else to keep them in. They are masters at finding the down wires, gates left open or just barging their way through. And with the sort of luck we run, we get those cows back in but can’t find the hole they are crawling through, so they just keep getting out.

Mother Nature especially likes to throw a wrench in our carefully planned out days. Despite knowing the old adage that you bale hay while the sun shines, it always seems we get into the wrong project for the weather. We meticulously check the forecast, make plans to best fit the conditions of the day, only to find the weatherman was wrong once again. It’s spraying weeds or cutting hay because it’s sunny for days on end to only have thunderstorms suddenly come in, day after day. Or planting fields just before the predicted storms never roll through. We move cows or plan to brand, sure it’s supposed to be a nice, sunny day, only to be caught in Idaho’s blustery wind, something we should learn to count on anyway.

Oh the luck of a rancher. It seems the ball never bounces our way. But truth be told, we are far luckier than we deserve with the great industry we have to be a part of. We have the great fortune of working the land, having the satisfaction of working as a family, and doing a work we love. There may be moments, some days more than others, that it feels like we have nothing but bad luck. But I will take these bad luck days on the ranch over any other day. Who needs luck when we live a life so blessed.

Christmas Wishes On the Ranch

December 13, 2022 by Allison

Top of the holiday traditions for excited girls and boys is making that all important Christmas wish list. Whether it’s mailed off to the North Pole, whispered to Santa in person or just shared with mom and dad, every excited child makes such a list. I’ve never seen a list with anything like “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth!” or “I want a hippopotamus for Christmas” but my ranch kids write practically the same list with just a few variations year to year, even though Santa and I do a darn good job checking things off their list each Christmas

Their Christmas lists always include tractors, cows, corral setups, trucks and other fun ranch life replicas and since you can never have enough tractors or cows, they find their way on the list again and again. All of those tractors and cows just make for more possibilities, ideas or storylines to play out. Whatever it is that they come up with that day, there is one thing for sure,…

It’s usually pretty easy to know what sort of stuff dad is doing out on the ranch because from the sand pile to the living room, the kids are recreating the same set up with their miniature versions. When it’s haying season, they have their own hay to bale and stack. When it’s branding season they gather in their little herds to put brands on all the new calves. I wish I could remember all of their different storylines over the years, but there are some that standout that I will never forget.

Throughout the summer months we have a herd of heifers we haul around to various roping and sorting events. After seeing dad take his cattle on the road, my little ranchers often do the same. They load up their toy bull wagon to their freshly erected rodeo arena for a day’s worth of roping, riding and rodeo fun. Their setup includes the littlest details like the watering trough, the various sorting pens and even seats for their spectators. To truly capture complete reproduction of such a day, they even borrowed a few Barbie kitchen snacks and toys because no day at the arena is complete without mom packing a cooler of snacks and a bag of toys.

During the fall months of weaning, preg checking and prepping to sell each year’s set of calves, we spend a lot of time at the squeeze chute. In fact, we have coined our own term such work- squeeze chuting. At the end of a long day squeeze-chuting with dad, the littles come in and squeeze chute their own cows. They aren’t even afraid to get in there and do the preg checking, just like dad does.

Now replicating some of those days at the squeeze can be a little dicey. Like when we pretend to squeeze chute the day we semen test the bulls. I vividly remember sitting at the counter as my son set up his alley and chute and then proceeded to line up the bulls. He was very specific to not include any cows or steers, just the bulls. After putting a few bulls through the chute he looked at me with his curious eyes and his wheels turning, trying to figure out just what we are doing when we bring the bulls through the chute. Let’s just say that day’s play was a great conversation starter for the birds and the bees sort of talk.

Even the simple day to day chores make for fun memories as the kids work to haul hay to the corrals to feed, whether it’s in the mud or the rain or the snow. There is always something new they add like the horses sneaking out as the tractor came in, putting mineral in the bunks or checking the water. I’ve even heard a few of their dad’s favorite phrases about those darn cows and pray they don’t repeat EVERYTHING dad says.

Make believe ranching isn’t a new ranch kid past time. Generations share some of the same stories with their own little spin on them. My mom used to talk about what a gamble it was to walk through the living room minefield of invisible cow pies. She was never sure where to step but very sure it would always land right in the poop and she would be told about it. My husband remembers not letting anyone in grandma’s family room as he was midharvest. No one was going to mess up that cutting!

It’s always exciting to see just what toys end up under the Christmas tree, but I’m pretty confident that there will be some sort of ranch life replica under there. And not long after the wrapping paper is gone, the creativity will take over and a new ranch will come to life. It will have some new fun and flare with the new toys but it will always point back to the life we live on the ranch, because truth be told, nothing is better than the real, deal every day life on the ranch.