Snapshots of the Auction Barn

Tis the season for selling cattle.  Yes, they are actually sold year round, but the local livestock auction pens are more than more in the fall months as cattlemen ship off their latest calf crop and cull out their fats and ornery cows.  There’s nothing quite like the smell of a fresh sale barn in the morning — a heady blend of coffee, cow manure, and high-stakes drama. It’s like Wall Street, if the stock had hooves and the traders wore boots and chew.  I can’t deny it’s one of my favorite places to be.

You might be thinking, “Of all the places you could be, why in heaven’s name do you like the auction?” It sure isn’t a white sandy beach somewhere in the Bahamas, I’ll admit, yet there is something about it that just feels cozy and homey.  Yes it can be a stinky, chilly, noisy chaotic scene with cattle, coffee, and chatter but there’s something about the old timers lined up on the front row reminiscing the good days over a bellaring herd of calves competing with the call of the auctioneer that soothes my soul.  

Not convinced?  Let me indulge you with the sights and sounds of a good ol’ livestock auction to win you over.

I’m sucked into the charisma of the scene with that very first step in the auction house.  It’s the drawl of the auctioneer.  The sing-song rhythm of the haggling price lands somewhere between a lullaby and the next hip-hop chart topper.  Honestly, if you handed that auctioneer a mic and a gold chain, he could probably out-rap half of Nashville.  Somewhere between “twenty-five, twenty-five, gimme thirty” and “sold!” I swear there is a remix coming on.

One word of advice, unless you are ready to buy, wave to a friend across the way, don’t make eye contact with the auctioneer, don’t scratch your nose or raise your eyebrows.  Don’t even blink wrong because before you know it, that little piece of dust in your eye just signaled the winning bid to the auctioneer and you are suddenly taking home a pen of calves you really don’t want.

And his fast talk isn’t just meant for selling you another cow you certainly don’t need.  He networks, plays matchmaker, sells a little seed on the side, and reminds the buyers to pick up dinner to take home to the wife so he can come back next week to do it all over again.  

Every sale barn has its regulars, the folks you know you worry about when they miss a sale day because you don’t know if they went on vacation or died.  There are the old-timers who haven’t missed a Thursday since Nixon was in office. They’ll sit in the same seats, drink the same coffee, and have the same weather related conversations, dabbled in with some hay price analysis, followed by some sort of political conversation week after week.  They are really there to buy anything, it’s just their favorite hang out.  

Then there are the regulars that actually come to buy something that the auctioneer doesn’t just know his first name and buyer number but also his feed plan, vaccination protocol, herd limits, and probably even his anniversary.  Each buyer has his own quirks- the funny they nod their head or flick their fingers to bid, the picky way they eye the cattle coming through the pen, or the micromanaging way they tell the help how to sort off a bum steer.

Finally there are the regulars that come by that aren’t there for the auction at all, just the cafe.  It may be a little greasy, but that meatloaf special is just the way grandma used to make it and it is worth it every single time.   

Speaking of the cattle auction cafe, there really isn’t a hole in the wall eatery that can counter its charm.  Sale barn cafe food is 50% lard, 50% love. The biscuits are the size of saddles and the gravy is thick enough to patch drywall.  The cheeseburgers are cooked to perfection without fail and always served with a side of, “Is there anything else I can getcha, Hun?” that makes you feel like you’re the only person that actually matters.

At the heart of the auction is the sale ring where anything on hooves comes through.  You never know just what is going to come through the gate next- it could be someone’s old pet milk cow or breachy bull that can hop any fence.  You can learn a lot from watching the cattle — who’s calm, who’s cranky, and who’s planning their prison break. There’s always one steer in the back with a glint in his eye like, “Try me.” 

 You really don’t wish any hardship on the ring help but there needs to be some snorty rank bovine that gets the heart pumping and shakes things up.  When things tend to get a little slow, there is always the “guess the weight” or “pick out the odd one before the next guy does” game.

You always know when something good comes through the ring because all eyes and ears are suddenly zeroed in on the ring, heads are nodding, and a determined look sets across their face.  But of course the bidders don’t want to give away that they want to buy what’s on the block and they certainly don’t want anyone to know they will pay an arm and a leg and maybe even their firstborn to bring home the prize cow.  They still just raise a finger or give a little nod as their insides scream “I WANT HER!”  It’s amazing how raising an eyebrow merely half an inch can put a guy out thousands of dollars.

Did I convince you that the sale barn really is the place to be?  Truthfully, in a world moving faster every day, there’s something grounding about the sale barn. The pace may be quick, but the people are steady. It’s a place where deals are made on a nod, friendships last decades, and every rig in the lot is unlocked with the keys on the dash. And if any of that isn’t a refreshing surprise, the lightning-fast patter of the country rap auction surely will be.