Romance in the feedtruck
As the snow was blowing over the Thanksgiving holiday weekend, a friend of mine wrote, “Just a romantic Sunday morning ride with the hubby.” She shared a photo out of the windshield of the truck, as they fed cattle in near blizzard conditions.
“And by the way, girls,” she said, “when you start dating and they tell you cows eat every day, they mean EVERY SINGLE DAY for the rest of your married life.”
It’s true, isn’t it?!
When the rest of the world is snuggling up in PJs and blankets by the fire, the farmers and ranchers of the world don Carhartts and long johns. You stuff your ears under stocking hats and pull on your work boots. It’s just another day—except with more clothes.
If you are lucky, the storm was well-forecasted and there’s already extra hay in the feeder and the diesel four-wheel-drive truck is plugged in and ready to start.
That kind of commitment isn’t an option. It’s just something you saw your dad doing, who saw your grandfather doing it. Your mom rode along and helped. Or maybe she was in charge of the warm meal at the end of the day. No matter who does what, the end result is the same—it is a farmer and rancher’s responsibility to care for the health and well-being of the livestock entrusted to their care. It’s a commitment you don’t take lightly.
There are other professions who are your kindred spirits—lineman who repair electrical lines in howling winds; first-responders who answer the call for help; military servicemen and women who guard our country and protect our interests anywhere in the world on any day of the year; nurses and doctors who provide care for those who need it, regardless of the day on the calendar.
I grew up on a dairy and one of the many things the dairy taught me was patience—particularly on Christmas morning. We would wake up (it didn’t matter how early) and Dad was in the barn milking. There was no immediate present-opening because as any farm kid knows, chores come first—even when Santa came just a few hours before.
Last week, during Thanksgiving I saw many combines rolling and turkey dinners delivered to the field. That’s what happens when it snows three times November in Kansas after a wet fall that left the old-timers speechless, too.
I wasn’t surprised to see the dedication. And neither was my friend who spent her Sunday morning in a feed truck instead of under a blanket on her sofa.
If no one has said “thank you” for having that kind of commitment, consider this your note of appreciation. It may not seem like anything out of the ordinary to you, but to those of us who eat every day, it is.
Holly Martin can be reached at 1-800-452-7171, ext. 1806, or [email protected].
