People ask me often, "You name your animals?"
When I answer with a resounding affirmation, their next words (and I can assure you it is always the same response) are, "Oh I couldn't do that, I'd get too attached!"
But here's the thing. I want to be attached to our herd. I want to know each of their personalities, their character, their strengths, and their weaknesses. I want to [try] to understand how they function, what their job is in the herd.
And, the truth is, every animal born on this ranch has the potential to be here for its lifetime.
I don't breed to raise meat animals.
I harvest an animal that isn't proving to me to be a good fit in the herd, or that isn't thriving in the environment that I work to produce for the herd. And, until the moment I harvest an animal it will have every single benefit that it is going to have a long life that must be nurtured (environment = high protein grasses, quality hay, clean water, etc) and treated with respect.
That's what's in a name!
Until I see that one of our buffalo is too timid to thrive among the herd, or too aggressive with other herd members I give them full and equal attention.
Our little orphan calf, Liberty, is unlikely to remain in the herd. She missed a lot of the teaching that her mommy would've provided her to develop into a good mommy herself. She lost at least 3-5 months of additional nursing and nutrients provided by her mommy's milk that would have helped her grow stronger and healthier. The odds aren't in her favor that she will produce big healthy calves nor that she'll be the best mom in the herd. But she's getting every bit of opportunity to prove me wrong.
That's what's in a name!
The assurance that I will treat these animals with respect and dedication that I believe they deserve. They are not an ear tag number. They aren't a "Texas" or "Canada" or "Colorado" cow nor an "X" Ranch Bull. They are MY herd that I accepted full responsibility for when I unloaded them from a trailer and agreed to foster humane stewardship over them.
That's what's in a name!
Anytime I decide that a harvest is coming and make a selection of which animals will go, the two weeks leading up to that harvest gnaw at me. I question myself and my decision, I run through a million scenarios to make sure I'm not missing something or making a bad decision. I get quiet and isolate myself to some degree from my husband and family.
I want it to always be personal and necessary that I put that amount of evaluation and attention into my decision.
That's what's in a name!
At the end of the day, when the choice is made and harvest day arrives? It's all business. It has to be. I have to control the number of animals on our land to keep all of the herd healthy on good grasses. I have to harvest to protect the greater number. And, when I have to harvest an animal, it will be with respect and honor.
I don't want the animal worked up, stressed out, and its last moments of life to be fearful and painful. I don't want them in a feedlot. I don't want them hauled all over creation for hours in a livestock trailer, unloaded into kill pens. None of that.
That's what's in a name. Commitment. Kindness. Honor.
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