We were putting out range cubes, or as we call them mascarote, when it hit me that there was a time, back some years ago, when money was a little tighter and ranchers didn’t pour sacks upon sacks of “cake” (or “ cupcakes” as my four year old granddaughter says) out for a herd of cattle. We were raising cattle when $.35 a pound for yearling steers was normal. My grandfather sold cattle by the head, instead of by the pound.

One rancher pulled his pick-up out in the pasture, and as the cows gathered around the truck he spoke to them saying “You probably wonder why I called this meeting. Well, old girls, things are tough. It’s going to be a long winter. I’ll see you again in the spring.”

Another drove his ‘59 Chevy up to the long wooden feed trough, threw out a single bag of cubes as a hundred and fifty cows ran up. He said “Eat till you bust,” and got in his pick-up and drove away.

My favorite was my neighbor who explained how to winter a set of cattle on a single sack of cubes. “You put the sack over your saddle horn. You ride out amongst the cattle. When you see one laying down, ride to her. If she gets up – she don’t need no cubes. If she don’t get up – ain’t no use wasting cubes on her!”