Sunday, December 10, 2006

SATURDAY NIGHT AT THE WESTERNER


Pretty is as pretty does -- just who is the amateur?

By Julie Carter

The pickup looked a little "ranchy" and had been re-painted several times. The last time it got a fresh coat, its appearance suggested a whiskbroom had been used to apply the faded blue paint.

The wobbly single-horse trailer had never been painted and was complete with wood-slatted sides and the metal bows over the top - no top of any kind, not even a tarp. The gate was crooked and needed to be wired shut and one could only imagine if the floor was solid enough to hold anything heavier than a small dog.

The oversized-palomino roping horse looked better suited to pull a plow, but the poor boy from down on the river managed to use him to compete quite handily in the calf roping.

"Snoopy" he called him. The only explanation he would give was: "Every time someone tells me I need to get a new truck and trailer, I tell them there is nuthin' wrong with the one I got. But, I do worry about my horse a little so I'm in the hunt for some big Snoopy goggles and a Red Baron scarf for him."

Knowing the true path to the pay window, this cowboy didn't waste much on frills but more than paid his way with skills. Pretty is as pretty does.

The other side to that story is another story.

It's not uncommon for cowboys going down the rodeo road to pencil their travel plans around a stop at a buddy's place.

There, they will run his cattle for practice, eat at his table, and sleep in his bunkhouse - all in the name of a last minute tune-up before the "big one," - rodeo or roping.

It was Wrangler National Finals Rodeo (WNFR) time in Las Vegas and behind every rodeo hand that qualified, there were legions who wished they could.

Some marketing genius decided to offer the "wish I could" ropers a place to compete, close to Las Vegas so the fun and atmosphere was a perk, but the roping was open to anyone with a pulse and checkbook.

David and his partner, whose name I never did catch, stopped off to tune-up for this big "also ran" roping. They arrived in separate $50,000 pickups, pulling $50,000 aluminum trailers and if rig shopping was a contest, they had it won.

The first session went badly. Missed heads, missed heels, missed dallies, missed everything, half heads, bad handle ... you get the idea.

After a day, the unnamed header loaded up and headed for the city of lights but David stayed a little longer to perfect his uncountable imperfections.

The first two steers that were headed for him, David completely missed the heels.

No one is quite sure what happened next, but the resident header nodded, roped, turned off and when everyone looked David's way, he was lying in the dirt and so was his horse. The horse got up but David continued to lay there like a dead tuna.

This was not his shoulder's first encounter with the arena floor and David was in bad shape.

A bag of ice, some high voltage Motrin and a shot of Tennessee whiskey later, David was absolutely positive he'd never been better.

Assured that his horse was fine, his friends unsaddled him, lifting the gear into the trailer for him because David couldn't lift his arm to poke his own eye.

Asking "how do I get to Vegas from here, " David waved good bye with his good arm which did not happen to be the arm he needed for roping.

A little detail like a wrecked roping arm that didn't work very well even without injury wasn't about to keep him from his dreams of winning the world. Or at least seeing Las Vegas when it teemed with cowboy hats, pretty girls and lots of possibilities.

You gotta love'm.

© Julie Carter 2006



The failed farms

by Larry Gabriel

During prolonged drought, some farms and ranches fail, meaning their owners are forced to sell something they otherwise would keep in the family.

It is sad thing to hear about, and still more sad when the farm's owner resorts to suicide. That happens as often as four times a week in Australia, where a record breaking drought is drying up much of the countryside, according to recent news reports.

"There is a sense of failure that his father, grandfather and those before him managed to cope, so why can't he?", the one farmer reportedly said of the drought victims who lost hope in the future.

I know people who were unable to keep their family farm or ranch in South Dakota. Some have a similar feeling of failing their ancestors.

There are many good reasons why a farm or ranch supported previous generations but may fail to support the current one.

Being forced out of business by prolonged drought is certainly not a personal failure. Entire civilizations have "failed" (been forced to relocate) due to prolonged drought. There is no defense against no water.
Also, many things have changed. In grandpa's day, agriculture was labor intensive. Today it is capital intensive. Grandpa did not face monthly bills for ordinary expenses like food (they grew and canned their own), water (it flowed from an artesian well or was pumped by a windmill), clothing (grandma made much of it), electricity, heating fuel and other modern necessities.

Like it or not, both rural lifestyle and agriculture require significant cash flow just to keep the wolves from the door. There were no wolves at grandpa's door, but he had a loaded rifle sitting by it just in case one showed up.

There is another difference. An acre of ground was once valued by what it could yield. An acre of ground that produced $80 worth of corn could be bought for $60. The same acre may now produce $300 worth of corn but it takes more than $1,000 to buy it.

Artificially inflated land prices are hurting many farmers and ranchers, especially the young ones. Inflated prices increase the risk of a financial crisis when a disaster hurts cash flow. That's one reason some of us favor the idea of a government sponsored income insurance program for farmers instead of a crop subsidy system.

People facing the difficult decision to sell a family's farm or ranch may not feel better after hearing the reasons why one generation could survive and another can't, but I hope they do.

If you know someone facing this problem, help them preserve their hope. The immediate future may look dim, but no one knows what tomorrow will bring.

A failed farm does not always mean the farmer failed. What we all need during hard times is faith in the future. Save that, and everything else will save itself.

Larry Gabriel is the South Dakota Secretary of Agriculture

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