What a wild day Saturday with former president Donald Trump being shot in the ear during an assassination attempt.
I was listening to a man who used to be in the Secret Service, and he said the service’s main job—regardless of party affiliation—is to keep the presidential candidates safe. The man said the service should never let them get on stage or in the open if there is any suspected problem. We don’t need a big political war, in my opinion.
We have had quite a few days where the temperature was well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit with Monday showing 115. I am hoping for a rain as those temperatures have scorched our grass.
September and October feeder futures on Tuesday showed a little more than $259 per hundredweight. Isn’t it amazing that I never thought earlier that we would hit those figures but after we went over $270 a while back I keep watching them, thinking I sure wish they would go back to $270.
I think that is called either greed or stupidity. We wrestle with ourselves, hating to admit, “I could have hedged more contracts higher.”
Through this deal of cattle getting higher, I have never heard much said about resistance from the consumer. Hopefully we have established new levels because if we have to go back to selling a yearling for $1,000 we are going to feel like we are giving them away.
The cattle on feed report comes out Friday with estimates on feed at 100.5%, placements at 97.5% and marketings at 92%. Feeder cattle early in the week were $4 to $8 per hundredweight lower. Packers this week think they will buy cattle at $ 186 to $188 per hundredweight. Feedlots have them priced at $190 per hundredweight.
At the sale, a few buyers were wearing shorts, but not many. I remember my Dad telling me, “You are not going to the cattle sale in shorts.” A lot has changed since then.
This afternoon I was walking into Braum’s to get a milkshake, and I saw a local business owner who is definitely a city slicker. We both spoke, and I asked him what he was up to. He said, “It is my day to milk the cow,” meaning he was going in to buy some milk.
So I responded, “I hope the cow doesn’t kick.”
Editor’s note: The views expressed here are the author’s own and do not represent the view of High Plains Journal. Jerry Nine, Woodward, Oklahoma, is a lifetime cattleman who grew up on his family’s ranch near Slapout, Oklahoma.
