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Read online content from popular Progressive Cattle columnists including Paul Marchant (Irons in the fire), Lee Pitts (It's the Pitts), Baxter Black (On the edge of common sense) and Yevet Tenney (Just dropping by), plus comments from Progressive Cattle editors.

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The cow went down in the pasture.
I took it as a sign.
Like lightning striking my saddle
horn or guppies in the wine.

I’ll have to pull the calf right here.
But it isn’t raining hard.
It’s just too bad that my slicker
Is still back in the yard.

I taught my horse to ground tie.
Like havin’ an extra man.
Now why did he run off like that?
I really had a plan.

Thank goodness I’ve got a catch rope.
Whoa, darlin’, just lay still ...
You four-footed Double Whopper!
Your next stop is the grill!

Stay outta the blinkin’ cattails!
At least they break the breeze.
For now she’s stuck in the quagmire;
Me, I’m up to my knees.

I’ve got both feet and I’m pullin’.
She’s flat out on her side.
It’s a water-cooled delivery.
He’s comin’ with the tide.

I feel like a scuba diver;
He hangs up at the hip.
I get his head on my shoulder.
It’s hard to keep my grip,

He’s slick as a newborn porpoise.
I heave him on the shore
And plop, right there in the water;
Just glad there ain’t no more.

The cow, relieved of her burden,
Rises outta the crud
And walks the length of my body,
Mashin’ me into the mud.

My hat is the only thing floating.
I’m soaked from head to toe.
The cow is lickin’ her baby
And watchin’ me below.

I wait till he’s up and suckin’,
Then slip out like a mouse.
And thank the Lord that I’m only
Half a mile from the house.  end mark

I had a free weekend, and I’d worked it out so I could help my dad move cows from one unit of the forest allotment to another.  My folks had just bought the ranch in southern Idaho’s Oakley Valley a year or two earlier while I was in college, and it would be several years before I would make that same ranch my permanent home.

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Leaving a legacy.

I’ve been pondering this statement lately. I’m in my 40s, and my children are beginning to leave the nest. When our oldest left for college last fall, my husband and I started reminiscing about our lives at that age.

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Yet again, the country is worshipping the golden calf that rules our wealth: the stock market. Forgive me if I try and exit from the back pew.

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Those T.V. shows about vets make it look easy. Doc gets a call about a calf that needs to be pulled, and he or she speeds over to the farm in a jiffy. There, things are set up nicely for a few quick turns inside the cow, and the calf comes out nicely.

It doesn’t work like that in real life.

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They say you can’t control the weather, but can we? A better question would be, “Have we been influencing the weather and our climate for decades?” or “Have cattle producer actions been contributing to global warming?”

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