Big Sky Blog

Who Want to Be A Millionaire Farmer?

Have you noticed lately how anyone can be a farmer or rancher? All you need is the money to buy a place and then you just call yourself that. I don’t comprehend this. I come from a long line of short, fat, peasant stock – even if I am several generations removed from the farm. So my ancestors became short fat blue collar workers.

Am I the only one bothered by this phenomena? It’s as if farming/ranching isn’t a real job. Anybody can do this. These folks usually are doing something else. Often that “something else” is where they earned the money to purchase their farm or ranch. They can be a shop owner, a doctor, a movie star, a sports hero, an attorney, a politician, or a recent retiree. Anyone can be a farmer or rancher. They like to remind people that they are a farmer or rancher. They know all about farming/ranching. They can tell you all about LDPs (loan deficiency payments), CRP (conservation reserve program), EQUIP ( environmental incentives program), and how wonderful conservation easements are. When did this lifestyle become so popular? Could it have something to do with government programs, incentives and payments? Maybe it’s because they can dress up in boots, Wranglers and a hat? Why is it that people don’t “become” journalists, barbers, gynecologists, electricians, accountants, plumbers, engineers, pastry chefs, truckers, librarians, sailors, or chauffeurs?
Oh, those are “real” jobs, sorry . . . what was I thinking?

We worked one bunch of cattle today. Sarpy Sam recently explained what that means.

Since we are fortunate to have some good agricultural land, (which we are taxed dearly for) our operation is a bit different from his. Sam’s more a rancher, while we’re more farmers. We feed our calves until the following spring before we sell them – with feed that we raise. We worked some cows, calves and a few bulls today. We worked the cows in the morning, which started off overcast and very cool. After a while we were sweating. The only part of me that wasn’t covered with manure was my cap. I’m not quite sure how I managed that – since I had manure on my face and in my hair when we came in for dinner (that’s lunch for you non-farmers). After dinner we went back out and worked the calves. We had a few late calves to work, which we saved for last – which also coincided with the rain that had been threatening all day. Once that was done, we moved the cows with the fall (late) calves to a pasture. Next we moved the mamas that we weaned the calves off. Then we fed all the cattle. By then it was pouring and we were soaked to the skin. We got in after seven. Time to clean up and clean up equipment. And I needed to get something on the table for supper (that’s farmerspeak for the evening meal).
I wasn’t “to the farm born” – but I am a farmer. I’m not some uptown girl with a trust fund calling myself a farmer. No, I’m definitely a downtown girl who became a farmer. I don’t just call myself one. I am glad to be one. I think that the self-proclaimed farmer/ranchers spending more time playing golf or running around politicking than actually farming or ranching aren’t.

I imagine that my short, fat peasant ancestors would refer to them as “to the manor born,” feudal lords, or maybe simply wealthy landowners. But certainly not farmers.

A few agricultural Links:

USDA
Farm Bureau
Range
Agriculture.com