WALKING THE WALK Division head lives and breathes beef industry By Leann Hunting, Animal Industry Director, Utah Department of Agriculture and Food Snow is flurrying as I write this, the clouds skidding across the Wasatch Mountains. The air is crisp and cold. After the drought of the past few years, it looks like this year’s snowpack is above average. The grasses and the sage of spring and summer grazing looks to be almost normal. But there’s nothing normal in farming, whether it’s the ranches of Utah or the wheat of Nebraska or the tobacco of the South. It’s the unusual and the abnormal that is the usual joy and wonder of ranching. We lost two bred cows last week; one gummer cow we were hoping to get one more year out of and the other from what we guess was a pulmonary embolism. She had a bloody nose for a couple of days and then died, blood staining the fresh white snow all around her. Earlier that month, we lost two of our breeding bulls. One we found after the coyotes had picked him clean and the other was fresh-smelling after he’d gotten stuck in a swampy area around the ditch. Emotional and economic losses are all too common in ranching. Things are more elemental, closer to the financial edge, surrounded by animal predators and a predatory market, battered by international controversies . . . and for the last several years the storms of a pandemic. Despite the hardships of weather, drought, feed shortages, feed prices, parasites, land development, interest rates, market values, politicians who don’t understand agriculture, and consumers who blame the producers for, well, everything. Sill, trying to raise livestock for a living is a worthwhile adventure and sublime. For me it is anyway. Ranchers and farmers tend to just buckle down and get on with it, resigned to outside forces. I have the pleasure of blending two worlds; my professional career as Director of Animal Industry at Utah Department of Ag and Food, and my personal family ranch. As the director, I supervise all animal agriculture within the State of Utah. There are seven programs within this division; Meat and Poultry Inspection, Animal Health, Domestic Elk, Livestock Brand Inspection, Aquaculture, Predator Control. and Horse Racing. I like to say that animals alive and dead are regulated through this division. Each week looks different, depending on the needs of the programs and the seasons of the year. Spring and Fall are busy for brand inspection, winter provides aerial hunting opportunities within the predator control program, the legislative session begins late winter, and so on. Our division serves the most wonderful people, those who are working to feed and clothe America. I grew up on a family farm and ranch in Utah Cattleman Seedstock Edition 44
southeastern Idaho. I was one of six kids that were all expected to help plant and harvest crops, contribute to the gardening and canning, and help work the livestock. One experience from my childhood has stuck with me. One spring morning my dad took me out to the pasture where our cows were calving. There was a newly-born calf struggling to stand up. Its back half was eaten away and mangled. It was still alive and its mother was in distress as she walked circles around her little baby. My dad pointed to the calf that was still alive, just half-eaten, and said, “Leann, that’s what coyotes do to calves.” This experience has allowed me to empathize with the livestock producers who lose animals each year to predators in Utah. The predator control program is one of my favorites and one of the most valuable to Utah ranchers. After my “work” day is completed, my husband Hadley and I tend to our own herd of animals. It’s a common sight to see when I pull in my driveway, coming home from Salt Lake City, the truck and trailer loaded with two horses and our cow dog ready to go to work. We doctor our animals as needed; move them from pasture-to-pasture through rotational grazing; gather, sort, weigh and ship; and all of the other chores that come with this wonderful life. Our office is a pickup that’s always smeared with mud; big decisions are made there. I don’t trust gleaming pick-ups. A friend of mine told me, “If you have time to wash and wax and detail your truck, you should go out and fix some fences instead.” Facing the same challenges personally as the producers I serve professionally provides me with the understanding, compassion, and insight needed to manage these statewide programs and advocate for them.
VOLUME 8
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FEBRUARY 2022
