Stretching for Television

So many misunderstandings about ranching circulate throughout the media that each of us has a duty to explain how and why we raise livestock so we can debunk a few of those misunderstandings.

Yet stretching beyond my insulated daily life makes me uncomfortable.

Some of my friends regularly stretch beyond the people they know.

One friend hosts visitors for weeks at a time.

Another friend speaks to large crowds about topics that range from artificial intelligence to religious beliefs.

A third friend posts on social media every single day as a part of her successful marketing plan.

I don’t know how any of them do all of that.

My heart races and my toes tense just thinking about those activities.

These friends seem to thrive on interactions with strangers.

They enjoy finding commonalities.

I can do that, too, I tell myself.

I can stretch.

I can ignore the comment that I need to take my hat off.

Or that my good clothes that I save to wear to town look like working ranch clothes.

Or the implication that I suffer for my choices because they can’t fathom that I use a gas stove with a pilot light, get my water from a spring and don’t watch subscription TV.

I can take a deep breath and attempt to gently explain the rationale behind my choices.

It’s those deep breaths that mentally exhaust me.

Or maybe being gentle exhausts me because I have to filter my internal conversation before it comes out of my mouth.

Yet I know that advocating for ranching is critically important.

It is the only way for people to understand how ranchers juggle so many cogs that must turn in perfect time or the whole engine will jam and store shelves will be bare.

So when Dr. Phil’s production team called – I can’t make this stuff up -- and wanted me to fly to Dallas and talk about ranching, I knew I should advocate for my profession.

Only, I won’t leave the ranch during calving season. Besides, I need to be home to milk my cow.

The angst on the other end of the line was palpable.

Angst over a TV show when a first-calf heifer might need help bringing new life into the world.

I filtered my scoff before it left my mouth.

Barely.

My top priorities were obvious to me, but I had to explain them repeatedly to well-meaning people who were trying to do their job as well as they could.

Just as I was.

We settled on Skype.

At least I had another excuse to avoid cleaning my house.

They overnighted computer equipment.

As we tested the equipment, I told stories about chasing a bull on my horse and crashing a 1200-pound bale on my tractor.

The production crew wanted to visit the ranch.

That idea exhausted me.

Fortunately, I had work outside to do, including pulling a calf out of a heifer.

My daughter, Abby, helped me pull and took a few pictures, too.

Pulling a calf is a lot of fun when the calf lives.

I sent the pictures to Dr. Phil’s crew, wondering how they would respond.

They started looking for flights to Great Falls.

I checked a fence line where I don’t have cell service.

I reminded myself that we all need stretch beyond our comfort zone, tell our stories and invite people we don’t know to understand a little more about ranching.

Then I admired the tinge of new green grass on the ridgetops, watched an eagle circle high in the blue sky and felt the sun on my shoulders.

Once again, I felt sorry for my new friends who truly believe television is important.