Editorial / Opinions

Irecently read an article on a “global warming expert,” Lord Stern of Brentford, a professor at the London School of Economics, who offered his opinion on the best solution to “save the planet from global warming.” His solution? Stop eating meat. That’s the message being dissipated to the masses.

Afew weekends ago Pat and I went down to Duncan, Okla., to a literary festival.  Duncan is about 80 miles south of Oklahoma City on Highway 81, it's a neat farm/ranch community that straddles the Chisholm Trail. The town has a wonderful civic center for such events, as well as a historical museum of the trail drives.

Winter will soon be upon us and all of the old-timers (a group of which I’m rapidly gaining membership in) that I hang around with, are beginning to make their predictions based on “the signs.” My father observed the natural occurrences when he was alive and always seemed to put a lot of confidence in the hints that mother nature provided, but he once confided in me that the best two signs he relied on to begin the winter months were:  1) A barn full of hay, and 2) enough wood cut by Nov. 1 to get you through the worst of winters. He firmly believed that if those two goals were accomplished, even the harshest of winters wouldn’t seem so bad.

As I write this I’ve just finished reading an article about a “global warming expert,” Lord Stern of Brentford, a former chief economist of the World Bank and now a professor at the London School of Economics, who offered his opinion on the best solution to “save the planet from global warming.” His solution? Stop eating meat. Yeah, folks, that’s the message being dissipated to the masses. Somehow, by stopping eating, and by eating he means raising, feeding, transporting, slaughtering, processing and then eating meat, we will stop the greenhouse gases from our cows from destroying the planet.

Blizzard-driven snow numbed my face as I reined old Buck into the ravine where my Hereford cows and the early calves had gathered for the night. Protected from the wind now, it seemed degrees warmer; but I knew even the ravine and timber wouldn’t stop the falling temperature – already near zero – from killing any calves dropped this night. As if the wind and the below-zero weather were not enough, there was a six-inch snow on the ground to chill the life out of anything so unfortunate as to be born this hell’s night in the Missouri Ozarks.

Winter will soon be upon us and all of the old-timers (a group of which I’m rapidly gaining membership in) that I hang around with, are beginning to make their predictions based on “the signs.” My father observed the natural occurrences when he was alive and always seemed to put a lot of confidence in the hints that mother nature provided, but he once confided in me that the best two signs he relied on to begin the winter months were:  1) A barn full of hay, and 2) enough wood cut by Nov. 1 to get you through the worst of winters. He firmly believed that if those two goals were accomplished, even the harshest of winters wouldn’t seem so bad.

From mums, pumpkins and spiders making webs, to pecan pie, turkey and Thanksgiving joys, to the shopping hustle, holiday parties and Santa Claus, the fall to winter, Halloween to Christmas seasons fly by each year.

A friend of mine's father, who is a little long in the tooth, still keeps mother cows on his ranch in Oklahoma.  He called his son the other morning and said he had a cow who'd calved and the little fellar wouldn't get up. Also, his momma didn't want no one messing with her latest offspring. So his son came over and they took dad's off-road buggy down there, intending to load the calf and bring him to the house.  Now his son's kinda like me, a little out of shape from his office job, and not ready for no 9K run.

Afew weeks ago, a friend was riding with me as I made my afternoon rounds. I was up at the north place tending to a crippled bull when I asked my buddy to look behind the seat of my truck to see if I had an extra can of “purple spray” to apply to the infected foot of the bull. He walked back to the truck, which was hidden from my sight, and spent what I thought was way too much time. When I finally gave up on him and walked over to the truck, I saw him still pulling out stuff from behind the seat.

From mums, pumpkins and spiders making webs, to pecan pie, turkey and Thanksgiving joys, to the shopping hustle, holiday parties and Santa Claus, the fall to winter, Halloween to Christmas seasons fly by each year.