It is hot!  Yesterday, the dogs on Angela’s family farm were fighting over the shade of the four wheeler.  Her uncle and I were traversing the farm, later joined by his son.  In the dead heat of the afternoon, the four-legged companions inched close.  Blood and slobber from one ran down my sweaty leg.  This place will eat you up and spit you out if you don’t mind the elements.  So today I left early, as the sun rose.

I also accepted a ride the first 10 miles from Angela.

She was off to Manhattan to teach art to elementary school students, and to drop off her son Apollo.

I was headed out into cattle country.

I have been here all week, learning about farming and ranching in the Flint Hills.  Yesterday I visited a bull ranch that has been in operation since 1890.  Over apples and lemonade, I learned from the incredibly knowledgeable woman who owns and oversees the ranch.  Like Rose, she was a great communicator.  She explained the ins and outs of many things, beginning with decisions about burning.

Burning the fields is a big issue here.  Topeka had two ‘exceedances’ this year.  This is a government term for when the particle levels of some chemicals exceed the Clean Air Act limits.  All the ranchers I have spoken to have said that they understand the concerns. It is a health hazard.  So, partly pressured by citizens, partly by companies in cities that must pay the fines, and partly by their own concerns, they developed a Flint Hills Fire Management Plan.

But why burn at all?  One main reason is to fight the encroachment of trees.  “I am always in a battle with trees,” Angela’s uncle said to me yesterday.  This one might have put a hole in the pipes going to a pond.

This row was planted during the 1930s during the Dustbowl  as a wind break.  Several decades later it has widened considerably, encroaching on plantable land.

An increasing number of trees in a hedge also requires an increasing amount of water, killing off nearby crops.

The oats and radishes in this field died from the trees draining water from the soil underneath

Trees.  Many were planted early in the 20th century to try and help save the land and its people.  Now trees, many say, threaten the prairie.  But, some ask, can we preserve the prairie?  Some say ‘no.’  It is a simple matter of ecological succession: trees follow grasses.  Others say ‘yes,’ with proper management.  The reasons for wanting to preserve are diverse: only 4% of prairie ecosystems on the planet remain; prairies sustain cattle; they sustain ways of life; they are beautiful.

I learn yesterday that there is a new initiative to sustain prairies and ranching through creating a new brand of beef: sustainable beef.  Many are familiar with ‘organic’ and ‘natural beef.’ The U.S. Roundtable for Sustainable Beef is today trying to create a new category: sustainable.  Its underlying standards are designed to sustain cattle and prairies, as well as communities on these lands.

For a big part of what is threatened in this iconic part of the nation where cattle have for decades been the primary industry are small towns and communities.  Riding out to the bull ranch yesterday, I rode through Parkerville.

The Parkerville Bank

This used to be a lively small town.  I remember going with Angela to local family events here at this very nice park with its large pavilion and picnic area.

Today I saw no one, both in the morning and in my return travels in the afternoon.

I wondered the last time kids had used these seesaws.

Parkerville is by no means unique.  So many buildings show signs of past life, but current decay.

Coca-Cola machine outside Eskridge

Some, though, are coming back through creative new thinking and strategies.  Angela’s husband, for example, was the architect for the restoration of this building.

It is now a laundry mat on the first floor for the locals, and a guest house upstairs for out-of-towners (like me).

These are complex and changing landscapes, ecologically and politically. Over the last decades, increasing numbers of people have tried to decrease their consumption of beef, for producing beef is not just cattle grazing the beautiful prairies.  Today as I headed out on my bike, a fleet of trucks pulled out in front of me from the weigh station at the Co Op in Alta Vista.  A couple of hours later I caught up with them at the Highway 4/99 interchange.

I decided to stop to take this photo.  One of the drivers of the trucks said ‘hello’ to me.  This was Jose.  He told me he has a bike too, and sometimes rides it 18 miles and back from the town where he lives in Southcentral Nebraska.  Today, though, he drove his truck down here to load up 58 or so cattle to transport to the feedlots in Nebraska. These cattle arrived in the Flint Hills in May weighing 3-500 pounds.  They now weigh 8-900 pounds. Over the next few months, at the feedlots, they will double in weight again.  Then Jose will take them back to Kansas to the ‘packing plants’ in the Western part of the sate. I ask what it is like to drive on the road with these cattle.  Sometimes it is noisy, he says, and they rock the truck.  Thus begins the less bucolic life of cattle, and their people.  For now, Jose waits for the two trucks that are ahead of him to load.  I cycle on, and three miles up the road, at the top of a hill, take a break to eat an apple, and watch one of them load.

It is an iconic scene.  I feel privileged to see it at the same time I feel trouble.  I think of the journey ahead, and what it will bring, for me, for the truck drivers, for the cattle, for the many beings who try to live as well as they possibly can on these fragile lands.