“Cows can’t have calves unless they’ve made love with a bull.”

The comment might sound snide or perhaps a not-so-funny joke to livestock people. Still it is a fact that those unfamiliar with animal agriculture sometimes don’t know or understand.

That’s off the subject, but there’s much more to it than male bovines having romantic occasions with female bovines.

The point-in-fact has been coming apparent to many cow-calf herd managers in recent weeks. Their bulls aren’t getting done what’s expected of them. From basic animal science, cows have estrus cycles when they become bred to have a calf after a bull’s lovemaking.

For a cow to have a calf, first off all of her reproduction system must be working right. Her bull friend must want to do a little proper hanky-panky and make a fertile insemination to start calf growth.

Before bulls are turned out with cows, today’s operators generally insist on a fertility check. An infertile bull is no different than a steer really; he enjoys romance but nothing will ever come of it.

However, a lot can happen from the day the pasture gate opens, turning a bull out with a cowherd. Generally nowadays more than one bull is with a herd to serve as backup breeding insurance.

Opinions vary as with most of agriculture, but usually it’s figured that one bull can successfully breed about 25 cows. So mathematically there’d be two bulls out with 50 cows.

“Make hay when the sun shines.”

That’s a lot easier than when it’s raining. There are less problems, it’s more efficient and most importantly the hay is higher quality, more valuable.

The ranch manager and a couple of custom operators plus a hay hauler put up headquarters’ brome faster than ever.

In just three days, Thursday, Friday and Saturday, about 60 acres were swathed down, baled and moved into storage.

While tonnage wasn’t as high as a year earlier, quality appears excellent without scientific analysis. Certainly, there wasn’t any spoilage in the field or dampness in the bales.

Efficiency of the hay harvest this year brought back not so pleasant memories of putting up hay for five decades.

It was a Dad and son task in the beginning. A five-foot sickle bar mower, rattle trap rake, John Deere twine baler and pickup truck were the implements.

No hay wagon, small square bales dropped on the ground to be picked up by hand to load the pickup. It was easier if one was driving the truck and the other loading the 36 bales. That often wasn’t the case as the baler had to keep going because rain was in the forecast.

The then-younger cowboy loaded one bale then drove the truck ahead to pick up the next bale. A small open-sided shed was used for some storage with each bale piled one at a time.

“Tom Sawyer eat your heart out.”

Uncertain what books grade school students nowadays want to read or teachers require as class assignment.

Back in the day, author Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer books were generally enjoyed by student readers. Nearly 150 years ago, Twain penned the series based on his childhood experiences growing up in western Missouri.

Likely considered just entertaining perhaps funny tall tales when read six decades ago, the stories are really more. There are life’s lessons throughout the books meriting review today by young people and their parents, too.

Couldn’t help but think about Tom when painting the arena posts last week. Tom’s Aunt Pauly told him to whitewash the 30 yards of nine-feet-high wood fence. Four dozen posts with a two-inch pipe railing around the arena don’t really compare to that job labor wise. Yet there is some semblance of the water-based white paint compared to the whitewash Tom used.

Latex or water-based paint costs less, can be thinned down with water and is readily cleaned up afterward with water. Oil-based paint costs more, is difficult to mix, thin and apply, cleanup is harder, yet coverage and longevity are better.

Tom likely made his whitewash with a sack of lime stirred into a bucket of river water.

Whitewashing the fence wasn’t as much fun as fishing but Tom grudgingly undertook the assigned job. When buddies saw Tom brushing whitewash onto the board fence they wanted to help, thinking it fun not work.

“He was the best man in the world.”

With Father’s Day coming up, appropriate to acknowledge the significance of all fathers. Perhaps seeming discernibly snide, nobody would be here without a father.

Dad’s exclusive uniqueness has been reflected in heartfelt admiration. Every father is different and generally better understood, often more appreciated as children increase maturity.

Yes, Dad was the “best man” assuredly standing beside his son for an only child’s wedding. That is not common but so right because Dad was the best friend too.

Always the one first sought for advice forever confided in whatever the situation, question or need.

Married already a decade and 40 years old when his son was born, Dad was everything in so many ways.

Dad’s most noticeable characteristic was having only one hand. Whenever little kids stared at his left arm stub, hand missing, Dad always jived: “Laura Mae (Mom) bit it off.” Then he’d reach into the meat case pull out a raw wiener, handing it for the smiling little one to eat.

Actually the hand was lost in a five-foot Allis Chalmers combine accident during the mid ’40s. Dad got his left hand caught and mangled while attempting to free the combine canvas jammed by stalks being harvested.

“Time just slips way but where did it come from and where does it go?”

Annual Memorial Day weekend tradition always brings such sad reflection of long ago.

Not only the cemetery stops and standing at gravesites of loved ones gone to the greater beyond. More so are all of the other tombstone inscriptions of those who were friends or from prominent families.

Just yesterday it sometimes seems when a family member was at side, and then gone forever. Only bits and pieces of memories, a few are vivid, mostly vague, much completely unknown.

Already four decades since Dad left in the hayfield four dozen square bales for his son to put in the barn. It was such an easy expectation of a skinny wannabe cowboy after a day at an office job. Yet the procrastinator shrugged “Not now, they won’t get wet, it’s not going to rain.”

Two days afterward beside his hospital deathbed still positive tone to voice: “Did you get the hay put away?” What seemed so insignificant minutes earlier all of a sudden was the most important thing in the world.

“No.” The hay bales were still in the field, but picked up in short order just four hours later. In ample time but too late for answering “yes” in the last  conversation with the world’s most important person.

Long gone by, the only child’s simple task undone remains forever uncontrollable haunt.

“Keep the throttle to the floor and don’t dare let up on the gas.”

Passenger advice was emphatically demanding as flashflood waters rolled up over the hood splashing harshly on the windshield.

Almost impossible to see as pour down intensity increased yet lights indicated a tailgater and left lane had traffic too.

With torrential rain, racing windshield wipers, heavy traffic, nearly impossible to hear the motor running.

Then sure enough one’s greatest fear, “The car died,” exhausted driver exclaimed. “It won’t start.”

Stalled in the flashflood with other drivers honking obviously shouting inaudible orders too while only thing to do was “pray.”

Almost impossible to believe, the car started again: “Keep it going.”

Far from out of trouble yet though as bumper-to-bumper traffic moved forward on the flooded city thoroughfare. Still difficult to see through heavy rainfall while waters continued rushing across the street and then came a red stoplight.

Only thing to do was take a deep breath, say another prayer, and start again when the light turned green. Fortunately rainfall slowed and sky lightened somewhat as leaving the city limits on the main highway toward the ranch.

Not quite halfway there, traffic ahead was visibly stopped by a trailer truck apparently jackknifed across the roadway. Pulling into the highway department’s gravel lot, other vehicles went ahead but soon came back looking for alternate route.

Getting to the ranch was now the only object, turning onto interstate to the east soon finding it closed too. By this time, flashing law enforcement vehicles and highway crews with caution signs were attempting to slow and direct traffic.

It was a far roundabout yet scenic drive as sprinkles continued with ditches and draws overflowing before ranch arrival. Two hours later than anticipated but extremely thankful to be home.

“Going to grass sure takes a lot more help and time than it used to.”

Eighteen mounted cowboys and cowgirls were ready shortly after daylight. It sure seemed like an awfully big crew to gather a cowherd off winter pasture for distribution to summer grazing.

“Better to have too many than not enough and have some get away,” the herdsman insisted.

Like always, that conscientious younger stockman was sure right. Not too much later, the cows with their babies tailing meandered into the corral with horseback riders prodding forward.

Mommas were separated into different lots from the calves as tally was made on the number trapped.

Despite the calm roundup, there were still a half dozen mommas and maybe that many young’uns unaccounted for. Several riders verified certain ones had been seen in deep timber and others had gotten back without upsetting the herd.

Less than half the original horseback bunch headed out to locate the missing cattle. Fortunately, everyone was found and soon penned with herd mates.

Several trailers with horses loaded headed back to their homes while the remaining crew went to the tasks at hand. Calves had to be worked and paired back to mommas with identification recorded as to which pasture was summer destination.

Dinner time didn’t require a bell when cattle workers eagerly took a break while restless cow-calf pairs rattled nearby pens. In short order, ranch hands were back at it vaccinating, castrating, tagging, applying cattle insecticide and penning as directed.

“Lightning is always dangerous and can be costly to personal property.”

Abundance of rainfall during April was appreciated by farmers and ranchers throughout the Midwest. It’s always good to have ample spring watering when livelihood depends on crop production and green pastures.

Thunder could be heard many days last month and lightning flashes frequently brightened the skylines sometimes making daytime at midnight.

Studies on lightning in history reveal a number of interesting phenomena only definable as uncontrollable, unpredictable acts of Mother Nature.

Verification of lightning strikes remains in trees for decades after as limbs are gone and burn marks remain. Structures even with lightning rods have burned to the ground when fire is started by sharp bolts from the sky.

Dry grass fires including several section pasture blazes are the result of lightning igniting.

Personal caution is essential whenever lightning threatens. Everyone must get inside even to extent of canceling public activities.

Through the decades there has been a sizeable number of ranch livestock lost to lightning. Of course when a horse is taken, especially one with significant history, it remains a sad memory forever.

“The Flint Hills native grassland could become a forest.”

Professor Clenton Owensby made that emphatic declaration on opening day of range management class in 1970.

It was preface to the semester course that highlighted proper care of the prairie for continued productive longevity.

The comment was made in sincerest honesty and concern by the renowned range specialist often times a bit tongue-in-cheek jovial.

Those mostly animal science students in the popular college class may have copied it in their spiral notebooks. Yet few gave much thought to the statement which has now truly become harsh most accurate reality.

Smoke filled skylines and accompanying distinct smell from recent annual spring grassland burning is reminder of management’s importance.

Burning native pastures has seemingly always been a highly controversial issue among landowners. Likely the majority feel controlled rangeland burns whether every year or in certain rotation is essential.

“There’s nothing like living in the country.”

Many who were raised on farms and ranches feel that way about rural living. Yet others growing up in the country can’t wait to get away and live in the city.

Being raised in town, there was always the urge to live on a ranch to have horses and cows. It would be most difficult to again become an urbanite.

Sometimes farmers and ranchers who’ve lived in the country their whole life move to town upon retirement. Despite certain conveniences, they generally soon dislike city life desiring to return to rural living. Often that’s impossibility after country assets have been dispersed.

Still most farmers and ranchers cringe at even the suggestion of leaving the rural life they’ve forever known and loved.

The recent nation’s health shutdown confining majorities to their city homes has some people thinking country living might be nice.

Real estate brokers say that demand for homes has shifted to rural areas as people react to the coronavirus pandemic. Many want to move out of dense urban areas for freedom to partake and enjoy all that Mother Nature offers.

While the issue makes media headlines today, it’s actually nothing new. Three or four decades ago there was similar “fad” as several office coworkers moved to homes in the country.

Acquiring small tracts typically an acre or two up to maybe a “40,” it was exciting restoring an old farmstead. Others went the extreme, acquiring bare ground, constructing new homes and outbuildings from scratch.

Expenses were higher than speculated with labor considerably more demanding caring for the land compared to a town lot.

“Water is the most valuable and precious commodity in the world.”

Yet so many, perhaps most people have such little appreciation and understanding the value of water.

That is until the bathroom faucet is turned on and there is no water.

Then all urgency explodes: “There’s no water. What shall we do? We can’t do without water.”

It is a fact. Nobody or anything can live without water.

Food is an essential commodity for life, yet one can live for quite long times, perhaps three weeks without nourishment.

However, a human would typically only last three to four days without water, according to those in the know.

Still, individuals have lived a week at the end of life when food and water intake has stopped.

Never personally the sharpest in science, books verify at least 60 percent of the adult body is made of water. Water acts as a lubricant for joints, regulates body temperature through sweating and respiration, and helps to flush waste.

Fortunately, the ranch front yard well supplies ample good water for household use and has supported substantial livestock numbers too. Even during drought when other ranchers’ wells went dry, it continued to flow clear water with no bad taste.

An elaborate electrically operated pumping system circulates water from the drilled well hole around the barnyard generally quite dependably.

When the electricity goes off for whatever reason, there’s no water. Every mechanical device wears out over time with continued use. The water pump has been repaired on several occasions and replaced a couple of times in nearly five decades.

Dear Friends in Christ,

We continue observing social distancing and the State of Kansas stay at home order.  I continue to offer you home worship resources as well as update your prayers for others.

I am saddened because of the news in Sioux Falls, S.D., and Grand Island, Neb., where the coronavirus confirmed tests have sky-rocketed! My personal ties are that I took a month long college course at Augustana College in Sioux Falls many years ago; and I served as interim pastor at St. Pauls Lutheran Church, in Grand Island. My heart goes out to the residents and the mayors of both cities who have asked their governors for stay-at-home orders, but the governors have refused.  Sadly, this will just allow the coronavirus to continue to spread, tax medical resources, and bring about more deaths.

I am angry at the lack of leadership from the White House in its denial of danger from the virus in the early months, and its continued lack of federal planning, coordination, support, and assistance to states, communities, hospitals, and nursing homes. These vulnerable people in communities and institutions need to be in our prayers.

Changes in our prayers since last Sunday: for Paul Lundgren who is home now, back to work, and awaiting radiation treatment. Also, we offer our sympathies to the Whitmer family as Pam’s cousin, Doug Boyd, passed away at KU Hospital.

Attachments for this week’s home worship are:

Hymn of Promise (1 page)
Puzzles: Jumble 4-19-20 and Wordsearch 4-19-20

Grace and peace…

Pastor Russ Glaser

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Worship

Easter is not over! While we celebrated Easter Sunday last week, the fifty day Easter Season continues until Pentecost Sunday. During this time the Lectionary (where we get the word “lesson” from) of Sunday readings invites us to dig deep into the meaning of Jesus’ resurrection. This week the gift of the Lectionary is the gift of assurance – a confidence that our faith is not just a fantasy, or a distant dream, but is something real and transforming that we can experience and live each day.

May the power of resurrection life fill our souls as we worship this week, and throughout the Easter Season!

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Pray the Prayer of the Day

Almighty and eternal God, the strength of those who believe and the hope of those who doubt, may we, who have not seen, have faith in you and receive the fullness of Christ’s blessing, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

“The more one does the more mistakes that can be and often are made.”

Nobody wants to make errors and most do their best to prevent them.

However, anybody claiming to have never made a mistake is not telling the truth.

While certain inaccuracies can have long term detrimental impacts, in reality most errors are quite insignificant.

From an early age, blunders are made from adding wrong on a math test to knocking over the milk pitcher.

Slip-ups are common in athletics, those with the least often become a star, sometimes happenstance more than ability.

Certainly as a lifelong horseback rider and professional trainer for decades, many mistakes have been made handling horses.

Every mistake has a certain impact, yet most can be overcome with correction and positive reinforcement moving forward. The smarter the horse, sometimes the dumber the horse, the more difficult it is to forget wrongdoing.