Marci Whitehurst

Time. We all wish we had more of it. It slips through our fingers. We start a project and it takes longer than anticipated; the cows move slowly or the barn is dirtier than we thought. Now in springtime we're checking calves, building or repairing fences, and lining up irrigation equipment: We're busy.

Our oldest child is 17. What if she wants to come back to the ranch after college? What if our other kids do too?

Last week one of our cows died unexpectedly. Fortunately, we experience minimal loss, but when it does occur, we are sad. I’ve heard negative commentaries suggesting ranchers don’t care about the lives of their cattle, but those of you in the fields with us know that nothing could be further from the truth.

It's a new year! I'm sure we all got a few goodies for Christmas, maybe a new pair of boots or coveralls … maybe a can of tuna fish (don't ask, but yes, it was wrapped).

We've all seen it: A cow sticking her head through the fence to get a bite of that luscious green on the other side, or a horse tilting his head sideways through the rails to munch slightly beyond his reach. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. It's true in the pasture; it's true in us.

"Get out of there! Why you little…"

My husband's arms went flailing, and his spurs were moving. "That's not where I want you!" His horse moved fluidly underneath him while my cowboy went to changing the course of a migrant cow. Make that two cows.