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Baxter Black

Baxter Black tackles ag issues with a strong funny bone. Black is an American cowboy, poet, philosopher and former veterinarian.

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Most of us, rural or urban, can get attached to an animal. Our barn cat Jay Jay has a special place in my mind. Somebody dumped a litter of kittens on the church grounds. I took three of the little tomcats.

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Many’s the time I’ve come home with yellow paint on my coveralls. Caterpillar yellow – spot it a mile away. We used it to mark our cull cows. Two paint brands we’d borrowed from the sheepherders were dipped in the paint can and daubed on the cow’s rump according to their condition.

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I wonder if I will see in my lifetime the end of “designated Americans”? I was filling out a form and was asked to check if I was African American, Hawaiian American, Latin American, Native American, Asian American, Anglo American or Other American.

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I have developed a way to evaluate when a person reaches the pinnacle of their profession – their prime, so to speak. I call it the “Peak of Practical Intelligence.” It states there is a point in the lifetime of a profession where your dependence on your knowledge derived from education (ED) equals your dependence on your knowledge gained from experience (EX).

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Unless you’re a tiger trimmer in Tanganyika, the tranquilizer gun has not lived up to its potential. During its preliminary promotion, it was touted as the greatest invention since the rope. But in the livestock business, it has never quite fulfilled its expectations.

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“Oh, I’m doin’ a little day work for Irsik and ridin’ two green colts for $50 a month. I think I’ve just about sold that load of salvage lumber I traded Mr. Jolly out of. Some guy came by the other day and wants me to audition for the Marlboro Man. Said they pay pretty good even if they don’t pick me.

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