Cow/calf operation

Ranchers get a bad rap. Agriculture is portrayed as a destructive industry, composed of corporate-owned operations that practice aggressive farming techniques, abuse their livestock, plant genetically modified crops and operate with a contempt for the land, the animals and the consumer.

We hear about human health issues attributed to antibiotics fed to animals in their daily rations. We also hear that the animals are tightly confined, and that the ground is saturated with fertilizers and herbicides. That's not so with cow/calf operations. We do well with the land and the animals on it. We respect both. They're all we have.

Montana is primarily a cow/calf type ranching area. It varies by region, but on most ranches the calves are born anywhere from February until late April, and then sold to feedlots in October or November. We don't have the corn and grains necessary to feed them until they reach slaughter weight, so they're shipped to the Midwest or to other regions where those forages are grown.

When a calf is born, it receives only a supplemental mineral shot and an ear tag. The males get a tight rubber ring around the scrotum. After a month or so, the calves are vaccinated against respiratory diseases and turned back with their mothers.

Many cow/calf operators have abandoned both branding and hormone implants. Antibiotics are given only to sick calves or cows – one or two percent of a herd, at most. After the cattle are turned onto summer pasture (usually some time in May), they only see human beings from a distance.

After they're home in mid-September, the calves get another vaccination, again for pulmonary problems, and then they're left alone with their mothers until late fall, when they're put on the trucks to go to a feedlot. Until that time, the calves have never been confined or fed antibiotics, and they haven't been separated from their mothers for more than an hour or two. It's with the feeders that they're corralled, implanted, and often given medicines in their feed.

The cows don't do so badly, either. In the span of a year, a cow is handled twice. It's only for pregnancy testing that she's put into a head catch chute, and that procedure takes less than a minute. Other than that, she's on her own. All we ask of her is that she have a calf in the spring and care for it until fall. We take care of the rest.

The summer pastures are usually native grasses on ground that has never been plowed, fertilized or had herbicides applied to it. The land is respected and rested as much as possible. It's all we have.

Herbicides are used only on infestations of non-native, aggressive weeds, which, if left to thrive, would make the ground worthless for all grazing animals, both wild and domestic. No more than a very small percentage of ranch's acreage ever gets either fertilizer or herbicide, while most lawns, golf courses, and city parks are toxic with both.

Some of us fertilize our hay meadows. For 150 years they have supported cattle, providing both fall pasture as well as hay for winter feed. Most of them have never been plowed and are composed of native grasses that thrive in wetter areas. We spread manure, but that's not enough. We have to replace what we've taken from the fields, and that can only be done with chemical fertilizer. We don't like it, either, and we don't indiscriminately toss tons of chemical onto the meadows. We give the ground only what it needs to maintain.

The differences between the stereotypical views of corporate agriculture and the actual practices of family-owned, cow/calf operations are predicated by time and money. We think in terms of generations, while corporations think in terms of quarterly profits.

Cow/calf ranching is not a profitable lifestyle; it's an existence with a purpose, and that purpose is to hold on until the next generation can take over and hold on again. Many ranches are now operated by fifth and sixth generations, whose only goal is to persist just as their forefathers and mothers did.

No corporation would consider owning a ranch for anything other than a tax write off. Almost any ranch property is worth millions if sold to the right party, but no self-respecting MBA would dream of buying a business that was unable to pay back the purchase price within a certain number of years.

So, it's the poverty, I guess, that keeps millions of Montana acres safe in the hands of people who respect the land, and away from those who see the earth only as a place to stand on while making money.