A Field Guide of a Central Montana Ranch
Caring for and being the past, present, future of a Place
It is dawn on September 12th, the meadowlarks are singing. Living on the western edge of the Northern Plains, this morning song may seem ill timed. The meadowlark is a tough early spring migrant arriving at the end of March, breaking the quiet of late winter with their sweet melody. By September the important work of succession is done. The new crop along with adults are staging for the return trip south. So, why this fall singing? Light. When meadowlarks arrive ranchers are welcoming the spring equinox, when earth’s tilting heralds another new spring, triggering photosynthesis, and initiating a new season of plant growth. The ranch family, not unlike the bird, commits fully to convert this new season of plant growth working in partnership with their cows, to ensure their ongoing succession. When meadowlarks gather to leave, the fall equinox is marking the retreat of light - the earth is now tilting toward the darker season. Here lies the sweet spot--where spring and fall light are exactly the same—the sweet spot is when song happens. This is a lesson. This Field guide is about lessons. These lessons guide how we care for and understand a place. These lessons guide how we care for and understand each other—there is no separation.
This guide is fairly simple and straight forward, yet unendingly complex, not unlike our daily lives. We wake; we eat; we work; we worry; we wonder, and then like the sun we pass into the dark and we rest and retire - sleep. We rise with the sun and begin again, and this becomes our life. We live and we don’t really fully live. We die, yet we don’t fully die. It is a mystery, and if we just engage it completely without preference, we find peace in our existence.