Bryn Theissen

REFLECTIONS | BRYN THIESSEN

PHOTO COURTESY STOCK.ADOBE.COM/ STEVE OEHLENSCHLAGER

You Can Tell a Lot About a Man by Looking at His Cattle

You Just Can’t Tell a Man a Lot About His Cattle

As I’m writing these words, the purebred guys are in their second cycle of calves, the farmers are starting to calve, and by the time these words are being read, the ranchers will be prowling pastures in search of newborn calves. The one thing they all have in common is a belief that what they’re raising and how they’re doing it is what works the best for them.

As the days roll on, the branding season will begin, and as neighbours gather, the calves will be processed both physically on that day but also mentally, as they’re compared to other herds and other years. Everyone will tell you that your calves look good, and you might even agree. Being wise, what they won’t tell you are their personal preferences.

I’ve known folks who went to raising Salers because they were quieter than the Tarentaise they started out with. I rode for an outfit that had a Charolais bull so large he couldn’t naturally breed a cow, so they used artificial insemination, which was good because the cows got used to the chute and walked right in when it was time for their caesarean (I was wise enough to not be there for calving). My personal favourite was an article I heard of in a local paper. The producer (a Simmental breeder) had designed a hot box that he could haul in his trailer to bring a newborn calf home from the vet clinic after having a side delivery (C-section). The best part? He was hoping to sell bulls but noticed none of his neighbours seemed too interested. Other folks like me are trying for a lower maintenance and, therefore, maybe a lower value cow herd, and make up the difference by enjoying what we do. In all these scenarios, your mind can draw the pictures of how the cattle look, but if you saw the producers at their branding, you’d show respect and say, “Your calves look good.”

If we set out to tighten the fence around my opening statement, the wires may sing like this. One of our greatest freedoms is the right to choose. Add to this respect, and the wires are a little tighter. Because we value both of these for ourselves, we also extend them to others. Some folks will ask what we think of their cows (advice or opinion) and will receive it. If they’re in need of help, others will step in and lighten the load, but there’s still the expectancy that you’ll saddle your own horse and fix your own fence.

If we trot back to our first pasture, we find where these freedoms come from. Back in the first three chapters of Genesis, we see where they took root. After God created Adam and Eve, He showed them respect by giving them the ability to choose. All they had to do was be with Him and look after everything. His only “fence” was around two trees — the knowledge of right and wrong, and the ability to live forever. Because we could choose, and maybe because we didn’t know better, we chose wrongly. As a result, we got moved off the range God intended for us, but He never left us. Throughout our history, He allowed us our right to choose. Knowing what it cost us, it cost Him even more.

We know how much it cost Him as we ponder on the meaning of Easter. I best understand it from Romans 5:8: “Even though you couldn’t saddle your own horse or fix your own fence, Christ gave his life for you, respecting your right to choose.” (My words). So maybe you still won’t let others say much about your cows, but I hope you’ll let God say something in your life. c

Bryn Thiessen is a rancher, poet, cowboy and preacher at Cowboy Trail Church in Cochrane. Bryn and his wife Bonny market grass-fattened beef from their Helmer Creek Ranch southwest of Sundre, Alta.

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