Forces of Nature

One of my first mentors, Ladd, said “If you wait for the perfect day to do something, you’ll never get it done.”

We ranchers pride ourselves on getting it done despite the need to jerry-rig, develop solutions on the fly and the forces of Nature.

I’m not good at saying no just because elements are working against me.

Frostbitten toes, weathered cheeks and Ladd’s philosophy replaying in my mind are evidence of this.

Yet every once in a while, we humans have to bow down, admit a power is stronger than ourselves.

Last week, 91 mile-an-hour winds howled when a trucker surprised me, calling to say he would deliver a 2200-pound, 7-foot-tall, top-heavy air compressor in two hours.

As I drove to town to organize help to unload the air compressor, gravel pelted my windows and wind lifted my pickup.

In Conrad, toppled trees, downed electric lines and power outages greeted me.

Later, I discovered shattered glass and gravel inside my pickup topper.

Once I assessed the chaotic conditions, I called the trucker.

Neither his insurance nor mine would cover unloading the air compressor, I couldn’t open the door to my building without electricity, and the borrowed skid steer was locked inside another building.

My refusal to take delivery under these conditions spawned a barrage of expletive-laden insults aimed at get-it-done ranchers and promises to pull the air compressor off his flatbed trailer with my pickup and a rope.

“Just leave this thing on the sidewalk. Nobody will steal it,” he insisted.

I don’t mind taking most risks, but this one was too much for me.

As much as the trucker’s insults cut to my core, I realized only I would bear the consequences of an unloading gone awry.

The odds of awry were high.

Four times I spoke over the trucker’s loud badgering and belittling, refusing delivery.

Finally, he hung up on me.

The air compressor will arrive next week.

Wind is a mighty and urgent force of Nature, but it is not the only force more powerful than humanity.

The darkness offers gentle yet compelling hints that we need to slow down.

This season of rest offers renewal -- renewal imperative before Nature’s promise of spring growth and new life can be fulfilled.

Both wild and domestic animals take this hint.

Grizzlies hibernate.

Geese migrate.

Deer, cattle and sheep bed down out of the wind for long nights.

Worms seek darkness all year, but now they burrow deeper in the soil toward warmth.

Yet, during this human-created season of bustling, insistent celebration, we ignore the hints from darkness.

We shine lights and begin tasks after sundown.

We make noise and chaos with honks and whistles and advertisements.

Just when Nature holds out the offer of a slowing tempo, we add more to our to-do lists.

At least, I do. Maybe others are wiser.

Last night, as I walked to the barn in the dark, the clear sky beckoned me to stop and look up.

The wind was still.

The stars were bright.

The sky humbled me.

The lesson was obvious.

I am far weaker than Nature.

I find peace when I work with Her forces, not against them.

I hear those forces giggle in the breeze whenever I attempt to impose my will past Nature’s limitations.

The wind holds no such subtlety, roaring a guffaw at my pathetic determination.

Nature’s darkness creates danger when I oppose it, yet offers mystery and promise when I yield.

Under the stars, I take a deep breath.

Lesson accepted.

I resolve – once again – to observe Nature’s quiet wisdom.

At least until I get distracted and Her forces must remind me again.

Then I snuggle under my wool comforter and sleep.