By Blaine Davis, Contributing Editor
Traversing again through the proverbial “ranch gate,” I am on another trip south to the Gulf Coast. This time to celebrate my wife, Tammy’s, birthday and a gathering of her five best college friends at our “Happy Place.” As the miles rolled by, the title of an AC/DC rock number, Highway to Hell, came to mind. But actually, a juxtaposition of this applies, as it should be “highway from hell,” with reflections of what we left behind and attempting to make sense of various past events. Do the professionals who cover this same asphalt have these thoughts and reflections? Or do they concern themselves only with the cost of diesel fuel and tires for their rigs? Or do they fret over road construction and its delays to their scheduled deliveries? Yet, do they miss their families and the kids’ sporting events? Just maybe, there is more to the title of this rock mantra.
My first thoughts of hell were Mother Nature and her wrath that applied to the family farm. While I can deal with her extreme heat and drought most years, this was quite different. With what most describe as beneficial early summer moisture came with a devastating side effect. Hail destroyed all our of newly planted corn crop, but upon replanting, we were dealt the same blow, again. Now, in lieu of marketing this commodity, I am working through insurance claims and subsequent payments. I only jest with this, but I have heard that some farmers only do it for the insurance payments. For me, I much rather negotiate with my grain trader than insurance adjusters and agents. I would venture to say the same applies for these insurance people, too.
With what I considered “hell” in my rearview mirror, I am saddened by the word of Greg Henderson’s passing. While we never met, I feel a kinship, as I never failed to peruse his expertise in Drovers magazine. I could only hope that my literary savvy would measure up to his in just a small way, from an in-depth livestock market analysis to his common sense, like his assessment of Colorado’s plan to release “known” predatory wolves back into their state. Now, the state has reversed its stance and with some semblance of common sense, will condone the ranchers’ right to protect their livestock. That I have cited Mr. Henderson in more than one of my columns has me wondering where my next inspiration may come from?
As any reader of my work here knows, I question the rationale and common sense of alternative energy sources. Just on this latest trip down U.S. Highway 83 south through Texas, we encountered several of the behemoth wind turbine blades heading north to the chagrin of fellow travelers going in the same direction with their slow pace and destinations hundreds of miles away.
Recently, as reported again by Greg Henderson, the Osage Nation won their lawsuit against one of this large wind energy companies for failure to obtain a mining permit, even after being previously notified. While this doesn’t appear to be such as that of coal or oil exploration, Mr. Henderson espoused the violation of the Nation’s subsurface mineral rights with the massive excavation of rock and subsequent crushing then placement as base for each tower’s foundation. Presently in the appeal process, the ruling would require the removal of 84 wind-turbine units and the related infrastructure, and return the prairie to its original condition, giving the Osage vindication for the corporate continued trespassing at a cost of more than $300 million. This malfeasance could be likened to that of the early 20th century when this same tribe had their oil rights violated. As depicted in the film and book Killers of the Flower Moon, dozens of Osage Indians were murdered by white men for their oil resources.
Still grappling with the premature death of what I might consider a mentor, a passing hit much closer to home. This past week, my cousin Rodney, seven years my junior was taken by the scourge of pancreatic cancer. Happening rather quickly after his diagnosis and much too early in his life, I again am traveling that “highway from hell.” With Tammy’s college friends safely here at our Happy Place and the birthday candles blown out, I look forward to palm trees and a drive along the beach … and no more AC/DC lyrics.
