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BIG TRAMP IN HIS TEENAGE YEARS! |
We buried Big Tramp today. Standing on his hind legs, he stood over six feet tall. In his prime, he weighed close to two hundred pounds, and he was our American Alpine herd buck. He was quite a guy.
Shaggy and massive he gave us a lot of darling goat kids and scared a few grown men back into their pickup trucks. But he never hurt a soul or wanted to. He was our gentle giant.
Burying him put me in mind of what farming or ranching is all about.
Farming is knowing that sooner or later your favorite buck or doe or bull or cow will not show up for breakfast in the morning.
Farming is getting up in the middle of the night to check on whoever is sick out in the barn.
Farming is watching for the signs that one of your flock or herd is in trouble.
Farming is being worried when the medicines you rely on to keep your animals healthy skyrocket in price.
Farming is pressure washing the barn before breakfast.
Farming is studying the good, better, or best ways of raising whatever you’re trying to raise.
Farming is prayer for rain in due season.
Farming is not having to guess what the “circle of life might be” because you see it every day.
Farming is figuring out how to keep goats or pigs or cows where they’re supposed to be and not where they think they want to go, which is a mile down the road in the neighbor’s vegetable garden.
Farming is sun and sweat and dirt and heartbreak and the most darling babies you’ll ever see in the spring.
Farming is tough with a steep, steep learning curve.
Farming is life . . . and death.
Our Tramp was a great guy who lived a great life in green pastures with lovely ladies out in the fresh air and sunshine. He lived up to the measure of his creation, and we were lucky to have had him.
Linda (Just a Hobby Farmer) Zern
