Marci Whitehurst

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.

My kids are fighting the crud right now – with the sickness here, you'd think we walk around licking doorknobs, light switches and the bottom of our boots. (We don't.) I've made soups, cleaned, disinfected and opened windows. I think it helps.