Greed and pride are terrible bed fellows

I am a little fearful about the old cow herd at this time. They are all fat and sassy, most of them raising spring calves. One or two are without a baby due to a calf loss, and the calves are pretty dang nice, too.

I have a wonderful time sitting in the truck watching them graze and patting myself on the back for getting this herd built up to this point! I sure hope every cattle rancher feels the same way.

The reason I worry is the herd is so pretty and gentle that rustlers could throw up a pen, call them in and haul them to Wyoming and we would never see them again. I would kick the ground, gnash my teeth, kick something, not my Dog, be purely sick.

After that thought crossed my mind, I have not been able to leave the place for coffee and pie, trip to the feed store or other recreational activities. I have gone to church but backed into the parking spot, sat on the back pew and made a mad dash for the farm as soon as Amen was proclaimed!

I have watched the stock market on my computer, tuned in on the radio, called the sale barn in three towns just to keep abreast of the news. I have never been in a state like this before in my entire life. But then, I have never had a pile of gold grazing in a pasture by a highway, either!

Do you know anyone working at a day job that can eat beef daily? I am wondering if I will think it sensible to eat one myself, considering how many pounds of chicken I could buy for the same dollars! I am so paranoid over this that I have gone to counting hides daily and sometimes twice daily!

Now I know what a miser feels like. He just needs a little more money, or just the land that joins his. He is awake during the night figuring how much he will have if the Fed ups the interest rate and how to keep the IRS from getting in his pocket. He can't trust his close relative because she will buy just any old street person a hot meal, give at church, send flowers to funerals and all that other foolishness she does to spend his money! He is one unhappy feller!

I came in at just dark last night after checking the cows for the last time and, as I removed my boots, this is what I heard: "Yes, Scrooge is here. He just came in from counting his cattle again and locking up the gates. He will be right with you."

My close relative handed me the phone.

It is my opinion, and everyone has one, greed and pride are terrible bed fellows. I was taken aback when I heard myself referred to as Scrooge, and the taste in my mouth suddenly became pretty bitter. Sure, I like my cattle, rephrase that, our cattle. I am proud, but I sure needed the good Lord to take the upper hand and I am thankful He did.

I have since stopped myself and said farewell to all the nonsense about worry and fretting over such stuff. I will sleep better and, if you try to open my gate, it just might set off a charge to measure about a 5 on the Richter magnitude scale! My last word on the subject!

Bill is the pen name used by a local writer and longtime resident of the Gravette area. Opinions expressed are those of the author.