Let the Chips Fall

Let the Chips Fall

By: Denton Dowell

 We have all been at shows where we don’t agree with the judge who sorts the livestock. Am I a guilty party of being mad and talking trash about the judge? Yes, I am guilty. Nobody can prove if a show is “rigged” or not.  With that said, I feel like this is something that everybody in the livestock showing industry needs to be told. So here are my suggestions on how to go to the show and feel good about what you are doing.

First thing to do is to buy the best animal you can afford. If you can afford a thirty-thousand-dollar steer and you think he is the best, then pull the trigger. If you can only afford a five-hundred-dollar sheep, go and find the best five-hundred-dollar sheep you can find. Within this part of the livestock season, we must also remember that the most expensive isn’t always the best one.

Second thing to do is to be sure to do your homework. You will never win a show by not working at the barn. In my opinion, the banner is not won at the stock show, but it is won at home. The person who is out there working hair, walking pigs, setting up show lambs before day light during the school year and on every Saturday night in the summer is the one who has the best chance to win. Also, you must feed to the best of your ability. I don’t care if you feed HighNoon, ShowTec, or Jimmy Joe’s finisher ration from the local feed mill. Here is the trick to feeding folks: Get on a program, stay on a program, understand your program. Just because the person who wins a major stock show is feeding a different brand of feed than you are don’t run out and buy that feed thinking you will win just by feeding it.

Third, at the stock show, don’t be afraid to ask for help. I know people see the show jocks as cocky and stuck up. But here is a little secret, they are they to help kids and win at the end of the day. If you go up and ask someone for help my bet is that almost all of them will do what they can do to help you. With that said, think about when to ask.  If you go over and ask someone for help and you see they have seven head of sheep in the next class don’t be surprised if they tell you no. However, the night before the show is a good time to say, “Hey I need some help showing, can you help me for just a minute?”  I bet you nine times out of ten, you’ll get a yes from anyone you ask in that barn.

Fourth, show the animal to show off the best qualities and hide the worst. If you know your steer isn’t quite fat enough turn his head to you a little to make it feel like he is. If your pig is super wide chested and wide going away, then be sure you take that truck and drive it right at the judge. These little tricks are not cheating; they are knowing what you have and knowing how to show off your animal that you have spent countless hours with.

Lastly, be realistic.  We all get barn blind. It just happens. We have to be smart enough to look out at the animals in the class and say, “Hey we just got beat.” And you know what?  There is nothing wrong with that. Every single person will get beat. Whether you are in the show ring or in life. It is part of it. This is one thing all our youth needs to learn and lean fast.

I really feel if you do these five things, you will be ok in the show ring. Don’t get caught up about what certain judges want. Just haul a good one to them and let the chips fall. If you win be happy. If you get beat, then learn from it. And at the end of the day remember this is one person’s opinion on one day.  This industry doesn’t need nasty articles printed in agriculture publications or nasty text sent to judges.

Should we be happy when we get beat? No! In the words of General George S. Patton “I wouldn’t give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughs.” But, what we can do is learn from it figure out what we need to do differently.  And let's remember, we're here to raise good kids, that's what really matters.

Happy Birthday Little Brother!

"To the outside world, we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time." - Clara Ortega

 

 

 

 

 

Happy 27th Birthday to my favorite brother.

The Freakin' Weekends (Part I)

"There aren't enough days in the weekend."  ~Rob Scmidt

I have somehow managed to get behind on posting pictures and stories from all the fun weekend adventures that have been happening around here.  So here, in random order, are some of those things.

First off, American Airlines can stick it.  Long story short, after multiple delays, a flight with no air conditioner in the middle of the Texas summer, and generally hating them after they almost crashed my plane and all, this girl is back to all Southwest, all the time.

Second up, we have a weekend spend in Amarillo for my sweet friend's wedding.

We kicked things off with a show steer clinic.  Because, you know, I'm country like that.  And because I got a free t-shirt.  And I suppose because I liked the company. :)

Then on the way to the wedding, this happened. 

Which turned into me and Little Brother changing a tire.  Well, I was in a little black dress and three inch heels.  I basically just took pictures and kinda helped to get the spare down by turning the little metal rod.  The motor cycle gang that drove by during this time seemed to enjoy my attire, however.  Luckily, I called in The Boy from Texas for reinforcements and we got it changed.  Suffice it to say that NASCAR is not calling us to be on a pit crew any time soon.

Then there was the wedding, which was basically like a huge reunion of old friends and people from back home.  Just makes my heart happy to get to spend some time with all of them.  The Boy from Texas survived being quizzed by all of the women who deem themselves my "second mother."  From what I could tell, he passed with flying colors.

Dr. Kyra explaining Ski Trip Jerry's Vietnam experience

Next, let's chat about a fun little visit from Mr. FFA!  This guy is just one of my favorite people in the world, so I was super excited to have the chance to hang out with him for a few hours while he was here.  We ended up turning things into a bit of a New Mexican reunion when Mr. FFA, BFF, New Roomie, and I all headed to my favorite taco place in town for dinner and drinks.  5 hours later (circa 1 in the morning) we had pretty much solved all of the world's problems and headed home.  It was one of those nights that I think I will probably always remember.  Nothing fancy.  No big plan.  But a lot of great conversation, laughing, and fun.  We talked about everything from politics to religion to BFF's past relationships, to jobs, to old FFA memories.  You name it and we probably covered it.

Also, I don't mean for this to come off as braggy, but it is amazing to me that four ranch kids from New Mexico can now collectively sit at a table and between us hold a law degree, a Ph.D in animal science, a masters in education policy from Harvard, and half a masters in civil engineering.  You want proof that kids from small towns can go on and succeed in school?  Here's a photo.


Remember the handsome guy on the left.  He'll be running for President one day.
He already kinda looks like a campaign poster, no?



Stay tuned for more freakin' weekend recaps tomorrow.

Family Farm Friday #73: The Sale Barn

"If you take the cowboy out of society you are going to lose people with integrity and honor and heart and love for country. You're going to lose the best of America." ~CJ Hadley, Range Magazine


Last week I got a facebook message from Cousin Kevin's "Accountant."  They were working cattle and she was trying to find out if making it 5 minutes without getting yelled at was good.  Listen folks, if you're working cattle with my family and you don't get yelled at before you get out of the truck, you've done alright.  I'm a firm believer in working cattle as a test for marriage.....check out this blog from a while back.  (No wonder Mr. Right has yet to arrive....he read that blog and ran for the hills!)

Anyway, the next update I got was that Cousin Kevin and the "Accountant" were headed to the sale barn for lunch.  She said that was the only place that would allow and appreciate the cow shit streak clear across Cousin Kevin's right leg, but she did not seem very excited about their destination.  Any place that doesn't fall into that category is unacceptable if you ask me.

Right away, Little Brother and I both started in with comments about how she was actually in for a treat and how great the sale barn is.  I guess this is one of those warped things that country kids take for granted, that city folk don't know about going to the sale barn.  So, I figured I needed to share the knowledge for Family Farm Friday.

First off, there is a familiar feeling to every sale barn in America; one that makes you feel at home.  You drive up and you'll see pick ups and gooseneck trailers lined up down the road.  You walk in and as far as the eye can see there are old men in boots, Wranglers and dirty cowboy hats.  They tip their hats and mind their language around a lady, they carry fencing pliers in their back pocket, and can tell you exactly how much rain they've had for the year.  Whether you're in Dalhart, Texas, Central California, or the hills of Kentucky, this is sort of a sale barn universal scene.  And I love that.

Second, you've got the auctioneer.  You get a good one and he'll be kinda commical and you'll be lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sound of his voice on the microphone.  I didn't realize this, but a lot of non-farm people haven't ever seen an auction in person, but growing up it was a pretty common occurrance for us.  The important thing to know, and one that farm kids learn early is that you don't make eye contact with a ringman or talk with your hands.  You do not want to have to find your dad in the sea of cowboy hats and start off a sentence with, "Don't be mad, but I think I just bought...."  Never good.

Third, and Little Brother's favorite part, is watching the bidders.  The old cattle buyers are pretty clever.  First off, just seeing how they bid and trying to figure when they are doing it is interesting.  Sometimes it's just raising an eyebrow.  Sometimes flicking a paper.  Other times you'll swear that they didn't even take a breath, but somehow they bid.  They also periodically mess with each other.  One will sit right behind another and run the bid on him, while nudging the guy in front and telling him not to quit and let that other kid win, pretending that he's not really the other bidder.  It's quite the small town entertainment, folks.

Fourth, sale barns are apparently good for romance.  That's right, y'all, sometimes you find a boy who takes you to the sale barn for a date.  My dad took my mom there when they were dating 33 years ago.  Apparently it worked out pretty well for him.  In my experience, these guys are few and far between, so if you find one, you better grab him up and hang on!  Especially if he takes a shower between loading the cattle and the date.  What?  A girl can dream, right?

Finally, you've got the pie.  I mean usually all the food is pretty good.  They'll have burgers or bbq or maybe roast.  All beef, obviously.  But you don't beat sale barn pie.  There's nothing like sitting in a room full of dirty ol' cowboys eating pie with ice cream on top and listening to them talk about life.  It's pretty close to Heaven on Earth in my book.

I know I'm like a broken record here, but farm kids are different.  We grew up with different experiences and enjoy different things.  For some people, a day at the sale barn would be torture.  But give me a building full of cattle, old cowboys and pie, and I'll take it any day!

*Linking up to Rural Thursday.

Guest Blog: What It's Like To...Spend a HunDo a Plate

While I'm on vacation in Costa Rica, some of my friends have volunteered to step in with guest blogs on the theme "What It's Like to...." Hope you enjoy! Buenos dias! :)

Today's blog is going to be sort of short and sweet....it's written by Little Brother, so would you really expect anything else?  A little reminder--for their wedding present, I got them a gift card to the fanciest steakhouse in Vegas, Prime in the Bellagio.  I'm much more into spending money on experiences rather than material things (jewelry coming in a little blue box with a white bow is an exception!) 

Anyway, after getting hilarious text messages from him saying he didn't know what to do and he couldn't believe this place, I knew a blog was in order.  And so....here is Little Brother's thoughts on what it's like to spend a HunDo (hundred dollars) a plate on dinner!

 As you know we got married in Vegas a couple weeks ago.

Tiff got us a gift card to the Prime Steakhouse at the Bellagio. Most of the time the fanciest place we eat is a Chili’s or Olive Garden so this was really out of our experience level. We got all dressed up and headed that way.

We walked in to the place and there was a sign that said “Jackets Preferred” well I didn’t wear a coat just a cowboy hat starched shirt and I got real wild and broke out the slacks. Lindsay rocked a long dress so she was kinda in with the fashion unlike me I was the only one in boots and a hat. They sat us in a dark back corner (due to our lack of reservation) and left us a wine menu and I flipped through it and they had a bottle of wine for $58k. The waiter came over and I couldn’t hear him ‘cause he talked so low. The look we got when we ordered our drinks was priceless; I guess they don’t hear you order a jack and 7 or a crown and water too often.

Little Brother's snooty rich person face.

We got an appetizer of bacon wrapped shrimp. Then the main course came a Lindsay got salmon and a side of sautéed mushrooms.  {Note from Tiff:  I send her to the best freaking STEAK house in Vegas and she orders fish?  And not even fancy fish...the kind that you can buy in a can and make into patties?} I had a dry aged bone in rib eye with herb mashed potatoes and a side of steamed asparagus. The steak was by far the best steak I had ever eaten in my life.

It was worth the 70 bucks but just barely. 

A Wedding Shower: 5 Thoughts from an Outsider

"Think about it. If you are single, after graduation there isn't one occasion where people celebrate you. ... Hallmark doesn't make a "congratulations, you didn't marry the wrong guy" card. And where's the flatware for going on vacation alone?" ~Carrie Bradshaw

A couple of weekends ago, I headed home for Little Brother and Moomoos wedding shower. I knew it would be pretty good, because small town women know how to throw showers and funeral dinners. And I was not disappointed, nor were Little Brother and Moomoos who could hardly fit all of the gifts in their cars! I recorded a few thoughts to share with you all.

1. I do not understand the rationale behind giving people wedding showers. Their income just doubled. Their bills just were cut in half. And they have twice as much stuff as they did yesterday. It's not fair that we proceed to buy them every gift they can scan with a little gun. There. I said it. Sue me.

I announced to a couple of the hostesses that if I turn 30 and am not married (a deadline that is quickly closing in!), I am going to have Mrs. Franklin throw me a birthday shower. Because based on the wedding shower she threw, I'd make out like a bandit! I'm registering for shoes.

2. If you don't ask for it, you're not going to get it. You can all thank Little Brother for this lesson. See, apparently throughout the whole registering process, he wanted to register for a big screen tv. Moomoos would not let him because she said no one would buy them that. Little Brother's response, "Well they sure won't if we don't register." So she finally gave it and registered.

And in comes my crazy family. Aunt Delta Dawn, Aunt Evil Knievel, and Uncle Black Belt to the rescue. These three crazy people went in together and bought that big screen. At the end of the wedding shower, I asked Little Brother if they had gotten pretty much everything they wanted. He said, "Everything but the big screen." To which Moomoos replied, "I told you we weren't getting that." That was the cue and in walked the aunts with the tv. You should have seen the look on Little Brother's face.

3. From what I can tell, the number one choice of shower gifts is....drumroll please....cookbooks. I bet you Moomoos got 57 different cookbooks that day. Everything from cookies to New Mexican to quick meals for a weeknight. Mind you, us single girls who eat Wheat Thins for dinner could use some of this knowledge too, but no one throws parties and buys us cookbooks! Of course, had I not cheated my way trough homec, maybe this would not be an issue.
4. I love a competitive child. My parents frequently tell me that I was one of these. My mom swears I wa the most competitive kid she had ever seen. So I suppose this revalation surprises no one. Here's how I learned this at a wedding shower. Little Cowboy was in charge of handing gifts to Little Brother and Moomoos to open. Some box was heavy and Connie J tried to help him, but he informed her that he was stronger than she was. Somehow (Lord only knows with those two involved!), this led to them arm wrestling in front of the entire shower....front and center. Little Cowboy, not wanting to leave anyone out, ended up arm wrestling pretty much all of the other guests at the party. Including the woman who is about a month into recovery from open heart surgery. I about died when I looked over and he had her hand in his and was pulling away.

5. Our family could not be blessed with better people in our lives. Looking around the room that Saturday afternoon, it was clear that Little Brother (and I) are surrounded by people who love us. There were women there who knew our grandmothers and remember the day were were born, and people who Little Brother met in college. Elementary school teachers and mothers of high school best friends. There were ladies from every town in the county, and several from surrounding counties. You could almost watch us grow up just by looking around the room at these women.

I've got this posted on my blog every day, but it seemed particularly appropriate today. They say it takes a village to raise a child. It took more than that for us, and for that we will forever be grateful.

Family Farm Friday #68: Thank You FFA Speeches!

"A speech is like a woman's skirt: it needs to be long enough to cover the subject matter but short enough to hold the audience's attention."~Author Unknown

I realized that I talk alot on this blog about the benefits of FFA and 4-H in the form of showing and judging. Recently, I had an experience that made me thankful for another part of 4-H and FFA that I sometimes overlook....public speaking.

I was in court and a judge stopped me during my argument and said, "I wish you could give lessons to some of the other lawyers in my courtroom about how to speak up and ennunciate." I wasn't sure if he was meaning this as a compliment or if he was telling me to tone it down (no lie, I have had a judge literally turn down my microphone before....), but the judge assured me that he meant it as a compliment. All I could think was, "Thank you FFA speeches!"

Both Little Brother and I started giving speeches as soon as we turned 9 years old in 4-H. That means that for about 9 years, we were giving at least one (if not two or three) speeches in contests every year. We would memorize our speeches--no notecards for us!--and practice them COUNTLESS times to my parents. We had a fireplace in the trailerhouse that I grew up in, that we would always stand in front of for speech practice. I guarantee you if walls could talk, that fireplace could rock a speech contest.
(Sidenote: Apparently while I was learning to speak in public, I was NOT learning about fashion....seriously???)

Mr. Franklin didn't really like speeches. He'd listen to us a handful of times before a contest and always come up with some off-the-wall question to make us feel stupid, and he'd get choked up if results were good and smile big in pictures. But mostly, he left this one up to our parents, both of whom were obsessed with speech contests. My mom was the queen of proofreading and bibliographies. You couldn't touch her. And my dad was in charge of presentation. You know--voice inflection, hand movements, you name it.
Our hard work paid off. When we were kids, Little Brother and I won the District public speaking contest like 8 years in a row or something crazy. When we got older, we were both State Champions in public speaking. He won the FFA prepared contest his senior year, and I won the 4-H extemporaneous contest my senior year. We're a family of talkers.

We talked about everything you can think of. My winning extemp speech was about drinking and driving. Little Brother's winning speech was about the beef check-off program. I was second at State FFA my junior year (to ND Friend) with a speech about marketing our products. You've read my first speech here, and Little Brother's was something having to do with the phrase, "Make my day" by Clint Eastwood. In the middle there were speeches about game plans and cattle breeds and cowboy hats and water conservation...you can pretty much name it and we talked about it.

What did we learn from this? I'd say confidence and a lack of fear mostly. I have read about people who have a horrible fear of public speaking. I feel fortunate to have had such a great experience in 4-H and FFA growing up that I have honestly never had that experience. Sure, I get a little nervous before a speech, but nothing like the fear that some people describe.

Chalk another one up to 4-H and FFA! (Ironically, tomorrow I'll be judging the Junior High State FFA Speech Contest....my how the tables have turned!)

Family Farm Friday #66: So God Made A Farmer

"If you take the cowboy out of society you are going to lose people with integrity and honor and heart and love for country. You're going to lose the best of America." CJ Hadley, Range Magazine

I tell y'all.....I loved Paul Harvey growing up. My Gran listened to him every single day at 11:50 in the morning on AM radio. And that man was full of great stories and wisdom every day. But I have come across what I'm convinced is his very best piece.

If you want to listen to it in Paul's voice (trust me, you do), just click here.

So God Made A Farmer

And on the 8th day God looked down on his planned paradise and said, "I need a caretaker!" So, God made a farmer!
God said I need somebody to get up before dawn and milk cows and work all day in the fields, milk cows again, eat supper and then go to town and stay past midnight at a meeting of the school board. So, God made a farmer!
I need somebody with strong arms. Strong enough to rustle a calf, yet gentle enough to deliver his own grandchild. Somebody to call hogs, tame cantankerous machinery, come home hungry and have to wait for lunch until his wife is done feeding and visiting with the ladies and telling them to be sure to come back real soon...and mean it. So, God made a farmer! God said "I need somebody that can shape an ax handle, shoe a horse with a hunk of car tire make a harness out of hay wire, feed sacks and shoe scraps. And...who, at planting time and harvest season, will finish his forty hour week by Tuesday noon. Then, pain'n from "tractor back", put in another seventy two hours. So, God made a farmer!

God had to have somebody willing to ride the ruts at double speed to get the hay in ahead of the rain clouds and yet stop on mid-field and race to help when he sees the first smoke from a neighbor's place. So, God made a farmer!
God said, "I need somebody strong enough to clear trees, heave bails and yet gentle enough to tame lambs and wean pigs and tend the pink combed pullets...and who will stop his mower for an hour to mend the broken leg of a meadow lark. So, God made a farmer!

It had to be somebody who'd plow deep and straight...and not cut corners. Somebody to seed and weed, feed and breed...and rake and disc and plow and plant and tie the fleece and strain the milk. Somebody to replenish the self feeder and then finish a hard days work with a five mile drive to church. So, God made a farmer!
Somebody who'd bale a family together with the soft strong bonds of sharing, who'd laugh and then sigh...and then respond with smiling eyes, when his son says he wants to spend his life "doing what dad does." So, God made a farmer!

I'm not sure truer words have ever been spoken. Sure makes me proud to be a farm kid.

Family Farm Friday #62: So Much More

"My roots are here. Chosen and planted for me long before I had any say in the matter. And I’m bound to this land." ~Courtney at Vintch

Today I am linking up with Bloggers Like Us to show a few pictures of the place I call home--our family farm in rural New Mexico!

If you looked, you would see just dirt. With two barbed wire fences on either side. Maybe a quarter of a mile long, then it turns, and goes for another quarter of a mile. A lane where our sheep run down each day on their way to the field and run up each evening on their way back to the barn. Nothing fancy. Just dirt.

But when I look, I see so much more.

I see the place where I crashed my bicycle one afternoon and broke my nose. I see the pieces of red material that Gran tied to the gate so she could tell if it was open or closed. I see the hoof prints of horses of the the years....Baldy and Smokey and Baby Doll and Frosty and Blaze and Chief and Badger. I see Mr. Maes walking up the lane shaking his can of rocks behind the sheep. I see my dad following behind the herd with a baby lamb born in the field. I see Gran's old straw hat bobbing along in the dust. I see so much more.

If you looked, you would just see trees. A line of evergreens along the side of a gravel road. Just trees.
But when I look, I see so much more.

I see each tree that my dad and his dad planted by hand. I see trees that were irrigated in the summer with water that ran over the ditch stop and down the row. I see a windbreak protecting the fields. Where my first dog, whose name was my first word, was burried. I see so much more.

If you looked, you would just see a pile of manure. And you'd think it was gross and wonder why I was taking a picture of that.

But when I look, I see so much more.

I see the front end loader putting this manure in the back of an old truck for a family friend who would pay us in the pecans he'd grow that year. I see a childhood playground. Where Little Brother and I spent hours playing King of the Manure Pile. Where bruised knees and bloody noses were had by all. I see so much more.

If you looked, you would just see a farm. A little land. A few cows. A lot of sheep. A couple of horses. But I see so much more.

Family Farm Friday #58: Dan and Jerry's

"For our family, farming is not just a business; it's a heritage rich with a history filled with treasured memories and great stories." ~Sine Kerr

While I was home for Memorial Day, Little Brother and I got to have sort of a flashback to our childhood. In doing so, I was reminded of yet another reason why I love having grown up on a family farm as much as I do.

We have always had great neighbors. You've read about the recent examples here and here. Back in the day, it was no different. Aunt Jean always had the best candy and snacks when we would go visit, and always invited us to pick peas in her field. Robert and Tressie always brought the best homeade bread at Christmas. Linda saved my brother during a violent turtle attack by burning that darn turtle with her cigarette. Ralph helped me with more science projects than I can count, and Faye was the genius behind Faye's weenies. But I would be lying if I didn't tell you that my favorite neighbors were Dan and Jerry.

Dan and Jerry grew up in our neighborhood when they were kids, and moved back during their summers off during college. Little Brother and I were little kids by this point---maybe like 3-7 years old or so. Dan and Jerry were crazy and funny and you never knew what they would do next. My parents used to periodically let them babysit (makes me wonder WHAT they were thinking) Little Brother and I. My Dad probably said it best when he said, "Just saying 'Dan and Jerry' sort of makes you laugh when you think about them."

Well over Memorial Day, we were reunited with Dan and Jerry, along with their wives and kiddos. They were all in town to go to the lake and were camping at the old farm house where they lived. So on Saturday night, it was like old days....Little Brother and I were hanging out at Dan and Jerry's.

We sat around an old lantern in the yard and talked and laughed at their stupid jokes about the north star and whatever else they came up with. We talked about funny memories of the crap they used to get away with. They told stories about how once my mom and dad got in a fight and dad showed up to their college bachelor pad and just said he needed a beer. We remembered driving down to check on them in a tornado warning once and them planning to chain themselves to the hay barn.

We talked about how the land where we all lived had been in our families for 3 and 4 generations. We remembered when houses were built and neighborhood picnics and how much we missed our grandparents, and each other's grandparents for that matter. We talked about history and memories and it became pretty clear how much these farms meant to all of us.

And I watched Dan and Jerry's kids get so excited when Little Brother said that we would come back for dinner the next night. And how they would run over to see what he had done all day as soon as he drove up. I realized that Little Brother had become those kids' Dan and Jerry. And the circle continues. (Note: I didn't get a picture, but Little Brother, Dan and Jerry were all three dressed like this....priceless!)
When I say "family farm" I guess I mean more than just my own family. I mean the neighbors who become like family too. It means passing stories and friendship and memories to the next generation. Chalk another one up to growing up on a farm, huh?