Give us your Doers

Give us your Brawn

Our People

Give us your Doers

By Stephen L. Wilmeth

            The images of Harvey ruled our week.

            The contribution of New Mexico to the hurricane’s battering of Houston, the high that kept the storm nearly stationary, continued to linger over us. High and dry here, the scenes of the newly created inland sea were at once horrifying and riveting. The accumulations were simply amazing. Some of them equated to seven times our annual average.

            Goodness, gracious what sharing some of that water could do.

            Our People

            The Washington Post article about the Cajun navy caught my attention. We shared the predawn emails showing the pictures of their truck and trailer rigs with Louisiana license plates lined up or making their way to the beach fronts where freeways existed just over a week ago. Then we saw them in the water in their flat bottom boats ferrying supplies or thankful Houstonians to another landing where water was at least a bit shallower.

            The descriptions of them didn’t go unnoticed, either. They were categorized as “those people” with characteristics that differed from the Starbucks crowd of urban philosophers. It was a reminder that those of us out here in the hinterland that could probably survive in the face of the most daunting circumstances probably don’t fit the criteria for an invitation to a rakish wine tasting celebrating the latest specie of the month honoree.

            The fact is we wouldn’t want to be there anyway.

            While the coon ass crews were literally saving the day in the urban complex, the cowboys were mounted and gathering cattle under the same conditions. Those who can actually see the subtlety of their age old craft marveled at what those fellows are getting done under unbelievable conditions. Shoulder deep in water to their horse driving mixed herds is not for the weak of heart or spirit. What can be deducted in their spread yet tight positions around the herds is the difficulty of moving cattle under those conditions. In the deepest of waters, the baby, baby calves were simply … no more.

            That alone suggests the grit of facing the most difficult circumstances and getting it done. Those horses cannot be overlooked, either. The courage and willingness to stay in that water and perform under saddle is simply breathtaking. Let us all hope they can get them out and onto dry ground as quickly as possible for consideration of their feet and their minds.

            Those equine partners, too, wouldn’t want to attend the wine tasting. Let’s add them to the list of “our people”.

            Give us your Brawn    

             I prefer the company of strong men. The fact is I like their women equally as much. Bill always used to tell me he preferred their company to that of hairy legged men.. I grew to admire his stance on so many things that today equate to timeless standards. He was a good friend, but he was an even better mentor. He was an agricultural artist, a veritable maestro. I wouldn’t say he was a genius, but magician wasn’t too far off the mark. He could farm a lot like the best cowboys can work cattle. He knew when to go slow and he knew when to be fast. He taught me to run tillage equipment in pods and to calculate adequate bee numbers during almond pollination. We felt the ground shake as we ripped ground four feet deep. We stood in California rains with Hank Moore and his big cigars and turbine driven Thrushes whistling in the background hustling to finish planting alfalfa. We concocted micronutrient cocktails for young vines and trees, and he put me into situations that offered so much more insight into the real world than any university.

            Walt was a similar model to emulate. He came from the deep sandy loam country along the Kings River in Tulare and Fresno Counties. If you who have eaten California nectarines over time, you have eaten some of his fruit. From very humble beginnings, he survived and then thrived through sheer hard work and instinct honed by being there. Taking risks others could never fathom, he became his generation’s patriarch of stone fruit producers. I never worked directly with him, but I watched him. I emulated his approach to selecting varieties, and we would see each other every Wednesday from late May until early September in Modesto at Zaiger Genetics walking with Floyd and debating fruit and growing characteristics.

            Bert remains the consummate arbiter of California agricultural resources in this generation. He is a genius in the art of doing deals. Long ago he became a dear friend. He had the most unbelievable gift of negotiating. He made the difficult easy and foresaw puzzle parts that no one else could even conceive. His approach was tangible honesty. He strived to make both sides winners. One of the greatest mistakes of my life was not taking him up on an offer that was once made on a drive from Madera to Fresno. If you eat nuts of California, you have eaten the fruits of his deals. His contribution to the industry is simply amazing.

            These men worked every day. Even when they weren’t at work, they were thinking, planning, and contemplating next moves. Without pretense, they thought and acted big. They showed many colleagues and admirers the way.

            Give us your Doers

            The condescension of folks who can actually perform on their own has long been tedious. What they can do as compared to their “citified” brethren is remarkable and it should be heralded as opposed to criticized. They are the doers. They are also the targets of regulation. They are the sweaty performers who talk differently, create uniqueness in their lives and their surroundings, and protect themselves.

            We saw them in Houston doing the impromptu rescue work as if it was easy, but they are everywhere as well. They exist in every community where they have created jobs and businesses, provide essential services, assume the duties other shirk, and maintain age old customs and craft. Their skill levels adapt to changing conditions without instruction or oversight. Indeed, they are the doers.

They are utterly essential.

Stephen L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New Mexico. “God bless these people!”