Decisions, Decisions

When most people picture ranch life, they imagine the postcard moments: cattle scattered across open country, golden sunsets over the desert, maybe a horse standing patiently by a weathered fence.

And yes — those moments exist.

But what most folks don’t see is that ranching is really just a long string of decisions. Some small, some heavy, and most of them made before you’ve finished your first cup of coffee.

Out here there’s no boardroom, no committee meeting, and definitely no customer service line to call.

Just family, livestock, the land… and a whole lot of figuring it out as you go.

We just wrapped up a WOTB meeting, Working On the Business; which means we had a chance to really talk about how things are going. That was just a full day of making decisions - some easy, some hard fought.

One of the more interesting puzzles on a ranch is deciding who gets a day off.

In most jobs, you request time off and someone else fills the shift. Simple.

On a ranch, the math looks a little different.

If someone’s gone, someone else is feeding, checking water, fixing the fence the cows mysteriously broke overnight, and probably chasing something that decided today was the perfect day to test the boundaries.

And when your “staff meeting” is mostly family, it’s less of a schedule and more of a friendly shuffle of responsibilities.

Animals, as it turns out, rarely get sick in convenient places.

They’re almost never standing next to the corrals waiting politely for help.

More often they’re two miles out. Sometimes five. Occasionally in the one rocky wash that vehicles absolutely cannot get through.

So the question becomes:

Do we bring them in?

Do we treat them right there?

Do we grab what we think we’ll need and hope we guessed correctly?

Ranch veterinary care sometimes looks less like a tidy clinic and more like a pickup truck and the old toolbox that’s become the pharmacy.

You make the best decision you can with what you’ve got in the moment. And occasionally you add another item to the “need to restock” list.

Then there are the decisions that sit a little heavier.

Keeping or culling an animal is never as simple as it might sound to someone outside of agriculture. Every animal represents time, feed, care, and effort. Sometimes even years of breeding decisions behind them.

But ranching has always required a certain level of honesty.

Is she sound?

Is she healthy?

Is she doing her job?

Those questions matter for the health of the herd, the land, and the future of the operation. And sometimes the right decision is also the hard one.

It’s not about being cold.

It’s about responsibility.

Even if you wish the cows would occasionally hold a meeting and sort these things out themselves.

Especially in this arid climate, we have tough calls to make for the health of land and future operations. Some years - we thrive; we get rain in the times that matter (creating good forage for summer) but more often than not… We gotta make calls so we can continue our herd without sacrificing health.

Some of the biggest ranch decisions don’t happen in the pasture at all.

They happen at the kitchen table, living room, porches.

Ranching is both a lifestyle and a business, and sometimes those two things wrestle each other a bit.

Equipment breaks. Rain forgets to show up. Prices bounce around like a jackrabbit in a thunderstorm.

So families sit down and ask the questions that keep the whole thing moving forward:

Do we fix it now or limp it along another season?

Do we buy cattle or wait?

Do we sell cattle or wait?

Do we invest here or hold tight for a bit?

None of those decisions come with a guaranteed answer. Usually they just come with a deep breath and the phrase:

“Well… let’s see what happens.”

Entering our 4th year working on the Conservation Easement we have been hoping for, things are feeling even more - stagnant - in decision making.

Living off-grid and away from town adds another layer to all of this.

There’s no crowd watching. No outside commentary. Just miles of desert, a solar system quietly humming along, and the occasional call of a delusional woodpecker on the tin of the house.

Out here, when you make a decision, you feel it.

If it was a good one, the ranch runs a little smoother.

If it wasn’t… well, the ranch has a pretty effective way of teaching lessons.

But the quiet also brings something valuable: perspective.

When you live this close to the land, you realize that every choice — from the smallest repair to the biggest herd decision — ripples forward into seasons you haven’t seen yet.

And Somehow… We Still Choose It

Ranching asks a lot of people.

Sometimes it asks even more from families.

But it also gives something back that’s hard to explain to folks who haven’t lived it.

A life where your work actually shows up on the land around you.

Where your days are measured by sunrises and sunsets, cattle checks, and whether or not the water tanks are behaving.

And where tomorrow morning will bring a whole new list of decisions.

Probably before coffee.

Definitely before the coffee.