Let the work do the teaching

Like so many families, we have a very determined middle child. A little boy who doesn’t see himself as such a little boy. He has big dreams, big ideas, and big follow-through. I’ve seen it firsthand, yet somehow I continue to be surprised when he goes beyond what I think a little boy—raised around real responsibility with a drive to be more—is capable of doing.

Just a few weeks ago we were scheduled to BANGs vaccinate our newest replacement heifers, a simple day at the chute but always a favorite.  It happened to fall on a very busy day for our family.  Weekend tournaments, early practices, and basketball clinics, plus prizes and pictures for Christmas coloring contest entries all demanded our time that morning.

After sending off the tournament goers, the simplest solution to it all was to cut out the in-town commitments and stay home to work heifers.  It came as no surprise that our determined boy had planned on that all along.  He was NOT about to miss a chance to work calves.  We have always known how much he loves the work, but we didn’t know all his motivation for the day to work chute side.

As it always does, it took a little time to get things set up and ready for the job of the day.  The heifers had to be brought across the road, the corral gates had to be set, and the vet ready to go.  Seeing who was there to help, jobs were quickly divvied up- someone to bring the heifers up the back, someone to push them through the tub and alley, someone to scan the tags, and someone to run the chute.  

When it came time to man the controls, they found a determined little boy, smiling and ready to let the first calf in.  And so he did.  Catching it easily, without any fuss or misstep.  The vet did his work, vaccinating, tagging, and tattooing and he just as easily let the heifer out.  Since no one took his job or told him his turn was over, he caught the next one.  And the next one.  And the next one.  

It wasn’t much longer before his dad piped up saying, “Ya know, if you miss one, you owe the vet a steak dinner!”  Undeterred by the added pressure, he chuckled, let his grin spread a little wider and just let another calf in.  Over a hundred calves went through the chute that day, and that determined nine-year-old boy didn’t miss a single one.

Most ranchers don’t start learning to run the chute at nine years old. It’s a high-pressure job—no one wants to be the one who misses the catch or lets a cow through. It’s typically left to the man in charge, the one responsible for keeping everything moving safely and efficiently. No one imagines a little boy wanting that job.

But for years, this little rancher had longed to be the man at the controls, begging for a chance. Most of us—including his dad and me—didn’t realize that he often made his way down to the chute to “play rancher” and “squeeze chute” the calves. Alone, he would work the few gentle bottle calves summered behind the barn. One by one, he’d push them up the alley, chase them into the chute, then run to the controls to catch them. He’d pretend to give tags, shots, and brands before letting them out and starting all over again.

Totally underestimating his abilities, I never imagined he was really running the squeeze chute when he told me he was out playing with the calves.  I never imagined he would be able to pen them up let alone time everything just right to catch them.  And more than catch them- he would squeeze the chute, close the back gate and extend the neck bars all perfectly and without thinking.  All like a pro.  Like he was born to do it.  All along I thought he was just playing a rancher without realizing he was actually growing into one.

Agriculture is one of the last places where kids are still trusted with and given responsibilities.  Not because it’s easy, but because it matters.  That day at the chute wasn’t only about a little boy doing a big job, but about a life that had quietly been preparing him for it all along.  So much of his learning happened without any attention or intention from us.  He learned by watching, pretending, and doing while no one was looking.  This life has a way of preparing our kids far sooner than we adults think they are ready.  Sometimes all it takes is stepping aside and trusting that the work itself has already done the teaching.