Peter Janetta, MD, DSc, FAANS(L), once told me that young men should read old books and old men should read new books. It struck me as a profound thought at the time. What I think he was saying was that something new and interesting was possible when young people, full of excitement, were grounded in the wisdom of history, as well as when older people, full of lessons from experience, challenged their beliefs with new ideas. Since I rarely dismiss any of Dr. Janetta’s insights and have “crossed the Rubicon” from younger to older, I try to occupy my mind with new ideas.
I am fascinated by new technologies that have changed how the world works. Digital technology has made indispensable sales staff…not so much. Robots have turned human welders, drivers and warehouse workers from essential to optional. Artificial Intelligence writes news stories and legal briefs that were once the exclusive domain of skilled journalists and attorneys. And once technology performs a task better than humans, we only do it for nostalgia, recreation or when the power goes out.
I gladly embrace those technologies. I am thankful to never go to the mall or a bank again. I marvel at the efficiency of the local Amazon warehouse and am well aware that the online recap of last night’s NBA games was probably not written by humans who actually saw the games. But I have a confession. There is one old way that I can’t let go of – I raise cows.
I love raising cows. I love watching them graze, herding them across the pasture, hauling them in the trailer, feeding them in the winter, treating them when they are sick and planning how to market them. I like people who like to raise cows. We “get” each other. I raise cows on 120 acres in southwest Missouri. Most of the time, I can run around 50 head on that amount of land. But just like technology has changed every other industry, so it has changed the beef industry.
It’s simple math. Farms that run 50 cows are far less efficient than those that run 500 or 5,000 cows. Better fertilizers, hybrid grass seed, larger equipment and economies of scale make it possible for one man to run hundreds or thousands of cows on a large amount of land just as easily and more profitably than one man can run a few dozen on a small amount of land. The truth is, that my small cattle farm is a relic of the past. Four generations ago, a farm of that size raised cows, pigs, chickens, vegetables and a little grain and was profitable enough to provide for a family. Today, the starting point for a farm large enough to provide for a family would begin at 15 times that size.
The highest and best use of my farm in the exurbs of Springfield, Missouri is not raising cattle. Local developers and my banker would prefer to see it become another subdivision replete with cul-de-sacs, swing sets and lawn sprinklers, rather than mud-filled tractor tires, hay bales and feed troughs. And yet, I can’t let it go. I struggle to embrace this new idea.
Here is why. There is a moment most evenings on my farm when I can walk toward the west as the sun begins to set. In the far-off distance, I can see the city, but hear almost nothing but the wind in the trees. I can smell the cows and grass and earth, and as I take a few steps, I begin to feel the mounds of turf and dirt and rock beneath my boots. In those moments, I often think about the people that have walked those same steps on the same land for hundreds of years before me. I wonder if they felt the same peace and calm as I do. I wonder if, like me, they were able to clear their mind, find perspective and be thankful for the breath they were able to draw in that moment. It makes me think that perhaps it’s not just nostalgia or recreation that draws me to a few cows on my small farm. Perhaps I find myself there, time and again, because it is a place and a moment when I can think clearly and find a connection between the wisdom of what has come before and the hope of what might be. And in that juxtapose, perhaps, lies the beginning of something new and interesting, just like Dr. Jannetta said.
