Baxter Black

There’s been a dead sheep out in Brent’s wheat field for a month. Emilio had a band of ewes on the cornstalks across the road. I reckon that one got hit by a car.

Ol’ Louie loved bees. Of all the things I remember about him, I remember that best. He’d be layin’ out in the front yard, daydreamin’ and sunnin’ himself when I’d see an eye open and an ear cock. Then he’d spring to his feet and start snappin’ at the air.

When I was a lad, I remember my brother John wouldn’t go anywhere without his “blanky.” My son and daughter each had a stuffed animal, a fuzzy rabbit and a sock monkey named Chango.

One of the greatest feelings in the world is to see a cow loose on the road – and realize it’s not yours.

I was back in New York last winter speaking to the Beef Producers Association. I have been on the East Coast often and have developed a good sense of how their urban neighbors look at the ag industry.

January 1980 is a month I’ll never forget. It all started out about Jan. 7. The previous spring I had a big hand in selecting the bulls we were gonna use on Albert and Louie’s heifers.