Final Reflection
November 2024

I couldn’t have imagined what my 8 months here would hold, so I didn’t. All I knew is that I would learn. I would learn as much as I could, as fast as I could. I would live out my ranching girl dreams. I can honestly say this piece of land, larger than I have ever known and which I have begun to claim as my own, is where these simple childhood dreams were attained. Comparing my first day of work to where I am now a week before I leave is vastly different. I have learned, achieved, and changed so much through my time here in ways I could have never guessed. Looking back, I admit the first day here was intimidating, I had no idea that future me would know almost every pasture, hill, coulee, creek, and fence line over 1,000’s of acres. I have become well-versed in fencing (conventional and electric), calving and pulling calves, branding, irrigation, haying, artificial insemination, preconditioning, shipping, corral work, moving cattle by horseback, and even building a garage. I have learned the correlation of soil health to cattle health to human health, the importance of pasture management, and how to better utilize resources through intensive rotational grazing by electrical fencing. I have also gained a greater appreciation for the commitment it takes to experiment with new practices, learn your individual land, let go of conventional practices passed down for generations, and take steps that may not yield immediate results. A highlight from my time with this program was our midseason gathering with other apprentices where we learned low-stress cattle handling. I know I will use principles from that training throughout my life as I handle livestock. 

While I am so thankful for the ability to learn all these practical skills and gain knowledge on regenerative ranching practices, what I will be taking away from my time here is even still much more than a list of skills for a resume. I learned a way of life. To me agriculture is a lifestyle and my time here has ingrained that concept into me even deeper. It wasn’t just a job, it became a part of who I am and who I always want to be. I always want to view this land as a gift from God. A gift that we have the privilege of enjoying, stewarding, and working. As the term gift implies, I have found that it is far more than what we can do for nature but what is given to us through the opportunity of living among God’s creation and caring for it. Each day I stepped out of the bunkhouse a rush of appreciation for the beauty of the land and nature around me would flood me. The sun rising in pink and gold hues on the horizon, the wind whispering through the leaves, the cows munching on the grass, the calves and sheep frolicking through the fields, the chickens running after a grasshopper, and the dogs greeting me, their whole bodies wagging. At night the sun went down painting the sky, stars appeared in such magnitude, and everything settled down to rest and to anticipate greeting the new morning. How does one take in such beauty and not see it as a gift; a gift that must be treated well and wisely? Here I put my all into my work because it mattered. It wasn’t always easy, in fact most days were utterly exhausting, but it was always necessary and fulfilling. I made community here, close friends that pushed me to continue to grow, fellowship through a Bible study with other young adults, and lighthearted connections through pick up soccer on some evenings. We had nights out, lake days, birthday parties, sleepovers, and camping trips. I learned to grow roots where I’m planted; to enjoy time alone as well as to search for and invest in community for the time I had. 

There were a lot of challenges in the isolation of work but sometimes you learn the most about yourself through the hard times. It is so easy to distract yourself with people, relationships, and activities that when all that is gone you come face to face with yourself. When I had no one else, I learned what it is to rely solely on God. I grew in my understanding of who I am and want to be in the midst of this incredible yet broken world. The principles I have learned through this agricultural lifestyle will always be a part of my life and how I view the world. Whether this reveals itself through working land of my own or some other way, I cannot know. 

I am incredibly thankful to the Schultz family for opening their home and ranch for me to learn and grow. I have gained so much respect for their ability to simultaneously raise a family and run a ranch in this often isolating setting. I too love the vastness of this land; however, I have also learned through this experience how important strong relationships and close community are to me. I want to pour myself into both directly impacting people and the land which I believe can be done hand in hand — each mutually benefiting the other. I have seen much poverty, sickness, barren land, and lack of access to basic human needs, knowledge, and healthcare in many developing countries. Because of what I have seen and studied in the past years, I have decided to pursue a midwifery degree to go alongside my agricultural training. I see that in many ways the health of land and the health of people are interconnected. I have the exciting opportunity to train as a midwife at a program in the Philippines for the next 2 ½ years!

How did you get interested in agriculture? And what are you hoping to gain from your apprenticeship?
May 2024

I became interested in agriculture before I knew what to call it. Perhaps from all those hours roaming in the woods with my brothers climbing trees, running through fields, picking flowers, playing in the creek, eating from the garden, and foraging wild onions, mushrooms, black berries, and even slugs. We watched any living thing we could find, laying down with our eyes inches from these crawling things or looking through our binoculars at the creatures that would come out if we were still enough. We understood in our own way, the way they moved, acted, communicated, ate, and fit into the ecosystem. Without clearly knowing it then, all I wanted was to be a part of this by caring for all of nature. I wanted to always be awed by the miracle of living things, the feel of the soil in my hands, the smell of the sun on dewy grass, the sound of the animals and birds moving around me.

Our neighbors started a clean meats farm when I was 11 and I couldn’t get enough of it. I was there whenever I could be, catching a ride or riding my bike. It’s hard to explain the draw to that place because it resulted from far more than just one thing. For how do you fit such unconfined feelings into a word? There is one word that might do it justice because of what many people feel when they hear it. “Home”. At least the way I hear and feel that word, it is chocked full with emotions, smells, sights, sounds… the lot. Many people have a spot that this word fits so well: the childhood house, grandma’s kitchen, the family garden, or maybe the reading nook. These places, this “home”, they aren’t special just because of the material thing. You know what I’m talking about. Perhaps you are even transported there now and recall so much more. “The farm”, as everyone dubbed it, was like this for so many people. It was the variety of animals known and cared for, the cows grazing in the rolling hills, the pigs rooting through the woods, the sheep bounding free through the fields, and the chickens sifting through the grass. But it wasn’t just that, it was also the loving people who became like family, the kids like brothers and sisters, the welcoming farmhouse with the front door always open, the wrap-around porch with a swing, the bright and chaotic dinner table, the tire swing tied to that big oak tree on the hill, and the laughter along with our shenanigans. It was home. And then there was the hard and sweaty, but so rewarding work. Everyone doing their part; seeing what needed to be done and doing it with joy. Hauling heaving loads, moving animals, building and taking down fences, shoveling out manure, weeding the garden, processing chickens, teaching farm camp, long days selling meat, and cleaning freezers. All this was done in community, the good and the bad shared. Often after spending a hard summer day working, we would pile in the truck and head to the river to float down it or get milkshakes. Looking back to those days I still remember clearly the satisfying ache of my muscles, laughing around the dinner table, watching the sun cast gold all around as it went down, and sleeping so deeply. There is something special about investing in the land, raising animals, growing vegetables, and producing meat. It was home and I belonged. I thrived under the responsibility of caring for the animals and helping the farm run. Once I knew what it felt like to produce something with my own hands, through by own sweat and hard work, there was no going back. I learn so much there. Not just how to farm and steward nature well but also work ethic, determination, patience, love, and the need for laughter. In the same way, agriculture isn’t just one thing for me. It’s a lifestyle. A lifestyle I fell in love with from a young age.

I went on to learn tropical sustainable agriculture and animal husbandry in Florida; study international ag and community development at university; practice and teach how to farm while in the Sahara Desert; and learn and perform basic veterinary skills in villages in India. As you know, I am now an apprentice in Montana on a cattle ranch honing my skills, learning regenerative methods, expanding my knowledge, developing new skill sets, and I hope I’m making another “home”. I’m learning to appreciate and love new smells, sights, and sounds. I’m not sure I will ever forget the smell of newborn calf poop on my jeans, day old placenta, the burning of a brand, and warm sage brush in the tires of the ranger. When I leave here, I hope to be able to use the knowledge I learned about regenerative agriculture and soil health to benefit the land and community wherever I end up. My passion for creation doesn’t end here and I hope I can inspire others to this same passion and lifestyle. 

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