Somewhere along the way, we seem to have lost an appreciation for our history — certainly as it applies to our sense of what it means to be a citizen of this dynamic and luminary nation, to understand the challenges, triumphs and setbacks of previous generations — those who built our families, businesses, communities and laid the foundations upon which our opportunities extend.  

Rather than studying history with a desire to mine inspiration, lessons and insight from the experiences of those who came before us, we either ignore them as irrelevant or judge them within the perspective of our own experience rather than doing the hard work required to understand the circumstance of a different time. 

We expect perfection from the past while ignoring or deflecting the mistakes of our own time, we take for granted the conveniences that make us softer than our forefathers while ignoring the guidance that would be ours, if only we took the time to listen to the past.

Delving into the history of ranching and the cattle industry reveals an epic set of stories, ones punctuated by crucible moments and difficult crossroad decisions. Whether examining the history of our family’s engagement in ranching that began in the late 1860s or reading the history of the earliest days of cattle raising in North America, be it the establishment of the colonies along the Atlantic seaboard or the introduction of cattle ranching in the Southwest extending out to the Pacific including Hawaii, several themes emerge that are instructive in our own time. Perhaps the era of the great cattle drives might provide context to consider these lessons. 

Lessons from the drive

Undertaking a cattle drive required the application of entrepreneurial thinking; examining the risk-reward ratio; and establishing logistics, provisioning and tactical approaches to the journey that lay before them. But planning does not an enterprise make. The intentional and risk-filled choice to gather a herd and head them north required action, effort and choosing a path sure to be delineated by crossroad after crossroad. Once begun, the trail boss would have to develop the capability to see beyond the horizon — to peek around the corner — to avoid barriers, obstacles and unwarranted risks to the extent possible.

No one undertook such an epic journey alone. They gathered a crew and then had the monumental task of turning that crew into a team, dealing with the challenges of leadership and maintaining momentum under often challenging and dangerous conditions. 

As the herd progressed towards the desired destination, the pace and cadence had to be established requiring constant decisions about speed and distance to be traveled. Like a sailing vessel, the route was never a straight line as the trail boss tacked port and starboard, navigating via landmarks, celestial bodies and sometimes dead reckoning.

Most importantly, there was no expectation that the drive north would be a Sunday stroll without difficulty. The trail boss and crew knew that the unexpected would occur, that situations and conditions would occur that would be rigorous and even painful tests of will, stamina and courage. There was always the awareness that to complete the mission would require facing crucible moments.  

An evaluation of meaningful endeavors reveals that passing the test, experiencing the crucible, is an element that cannot be dodged. Crucible moments demand much, and while they are times of great difficulty, they yield a fruitful harvest as we learn the true nature of our character in the passage. Throughout history human beings have come to crossroads and always with imperfect knowledge about the consequences of their choice of direction. We should expect no less.

Just as Charles Goodnight and his peers faced crucibles and encountered crossroads, so must we in our own time. Reflecting on history and learning from it offers a model of hope, determination, resilience and persistence. There is no time for complaining, only for having the guts to take the next step forward. 

Editor’s note: Tom Field is a rancher from Parlin, Colo., and the director of the Engler Agribusiness Entrepreneurship Program at the University of Nebraska–Lincoln.