Tampa Time

My travels have brought me back to Florida for the second time this year, only this time I am in Tampa for the 10th Annual Ag Media Summit (AMS).

This is my fourth AMS, second as a professional. I began coming to AMS as an ACT student. AMS is the combined meetings of the Livestock Publications Council, American Agricultural Editors Association and ABM AgriCouncil, and the student organization Agricultural Communicators of Tomorrow. It just so happened that the first AMS I ever attended was held here at the Saddlebrook Resort in 2004. I was working that summer as an intern for the High Plains Journal in Dodge City, Kan. Since then, I've been to the conference in Portland, Oregon, and Louisville, Ky.

AMS is by far the best conference I've ever attended (and the most fun!) The connections I made at this meeting as a college student have lasted throughout my career, and I always look forward to seeing everyone again. It's like a family reunion. In fact, I think that's this year's slogan for AMS. This industry is unique in that it's small enough to where we all know one another, but large enough to make a difference in the world.

AMS is a group of ag writers, editors, sales people, publishers, organization representatives, business owners, etc., and one thing is for certain - they love to have a good time.

Unfortunately, I didn't bring my cable to upload pictures with, so I will have to share those when I get back to Lubbock. All the pictures are basically of us having fun by the 50,000 gallon "super pool" and "networking" with colleagues.

Gotta run to the opening of the trade show. I hear there's wine and tasty eats. Stay tuned.

Corn 101

As I've gotten older, I've realized there are a lot of ignorant people out there. They're everywhere. Unfortunately, these ignorant people can also be found in the national media, and even in the White House.

Ok, at this point, you're probably wondering what this has to do with corn. Well, let me just tell you.

Most of you have heard me rambling for months over the Food vs Fuel issue, and all of the misinformation that is out there about the topic in regards to the use of corn to make ethanol. I'm not going to explain all of that right now - frankly, because I'm tired to explaining it.

Here's the bottom line: American corn farmers are producing more than enough corn to meet both our food and our fuel needs. Corn ethanol was never meant to be a solution to our oil crisis, but rather part of the solution. Ethanol is not causing starvation in third world countries. Ethanol is not causing your food prices to go up. Ethanol is not the devil.

Ethanol is saving you up to $0.42/gallon at the gas pump.

While you're pondering this thought, visit www.TexasPriceCheck.com and educate yourself.

Ok, back to the lesson. A lot of people, including the national media, think that all corn that is grown ends up on your plate. Well, they're wrong and ignorant.

There's two types of corn, folks. There's field corn.


And there's food corn.


Notice how the food corn is white and the field corn is yellow. They're different, with different purposes.


Food corn represents a very small percentage of the actual amount of corn that is grown. In Texas, there's actually very little food corn grown. The food corn in the man's hands above represents the only handful of food corn grown in Texas. Ok, that's a lie. I don't really know the exact number of bushels, but it's not very much comparatively. Food corn is what actually ends up on your table.

This food corn came from one of our board member's farms in South Texas in the town of Castroville. Castroville is about 20 miles west of San Antonio. I'm pretty sure it's one of the hottest places on the planet. It's also about the only area in Texas that grows food corn.

On the other hand, there's field corn. It's yellow and very corn-looking. This type of corn is what is fed to livestock mostly. Over 90 percent of the corn grown in Texas is used for livestock feed. None of this is consumed by humans, that is until they eat the beef or poultry that consumed the field corn. Texas grows about 3 million bushels of corn each year.

Follow me?


Field corn is also what is used to produce ethanol. When you produce ethanol, you also produce a byproduct, called distillers grains. The handy thing about these distillers grains is you can feed it to livestock and still retain all the protein from the corn. Another cool thing, is some ethanol plants, such as Panda Ethanol in Hereford, Texas, are using poo poo from cattle in the feedlots that are right at their back doors as a fuel to power the ethanol plant. So, it all goes in a cycle: use the corn to produce ethanol, use the ethanol to drive your car and the distillers grains it produces to feed your cattle, then use their crap to turn right back around and power the ethanol production process. To see the whole process, click right HERE.


Corn. It's the new "green".

Cat Wigs

Meet Tinsley.

Tinsley is approximately 400 years old in cat years. We got him from the Tinsleys when I was about 6 years old (I think). He was a beautiful, fluffy kitty that was always happy. He purred constantly. He never stopped purring. He also liked to work his claws innocently into my flesh, and it was at that point I would then fling him away and inspect my injuries caused by this fluffy creature.

Tinsley's life consists of wandering around the farm, but never really straying far from the porch. He purred so much that I often wandered if he was a gay cat. Most male cats never seem to be that happy.

So, anyway, someone made the mistake of giving my mom a pair of dog sheers a few years ago. Since then, no animal has escaped the blades of this past time that my mom enjoys so much. We've had dogs hide for days until their hair grew back long enough to be socially accepted on the farm. The humility these animals have experience amongst their peers must be extreme. I wonder what little comments the animals shoot their way after Mom has "groomed" them down to nothingness?

I'm sure she's actually doing them some sort of favor by ridding them of gobs of hot, sticky hair. I've even seen her accidentally clip Tinsely and he never stopped purring. I don't think this cat has ever actually been conscience.

Well, Tinsley's massive fluffiness had gotten out of control, so Mom did her thing and got out the dog sheers. Since he's 4,000 years old, there's not a whole lot of meat left on this feline.

Recently, a dog on the farm, Abby, was experiencing intense fluffiness herself, so naturally, Mom got out her "brush" at a cookout and brushed away some of the gobs of nasty hair this dog has been sporting. The result was a large pile of black hair.

Since my family and friends are strange individuals, they decided to add back to Tinsley's fluffiness. The result was a wild array of cat wig styles.

Including the mullet.

The mohawk.

I call this the Elizabeth Taylor.


Every cat deserves a day of beauty in their golden years.

Makin' Hay

Over the weekend, I was lucky enough to stop by Arkansas on my way to Austin from Washington. The fam was putting up some hay at the Thompson place, or the "Circle T" as we often call it.

I haven't been in the hay field in nearly a year, so I was feeling the itch to drive a tractor around in circles in the hot, Arkansas weather.

The Circle T is a great place. There's these great pine trees that stand alone at the top of the hill next to the road. It is my understanding that there used to be about 500 of these things, but only these few remain. My mom's old horse, Silver, is actually buried up there. Tombstone and all.

The old house on the place is a story all its own.


Putting up Bermuda grass hay is a long day's work, but is filled with the sweet smells of the fresh hay, along with the sensory explosions of the setting sun and its golden color on the fields and sky. It's oh, so poetic.


My mom and dad will work out there all day. We'll cut it, fluff it, sometimes fluff it again, rake it, then bale it. Then we'll come along with tractors with "grabbers" and grab 10 bales at a time, load it onto the trailer, then haul it back to the barn and unload it the same way.

This picture below is somewhat deceiving because Mom is usually riding the oldest tractor known to man. It's a 1957 International, but it still runs really nice.
We have often worked long into the night loading hay and stacking it in the barn to keep the moisture from spoiling the quality.


There's nothing better than coming in after a long day in the hay field. You're hot, sweaty, sticky and covered in hay particles, and you can usually still feel the effects of the sun on your skin all day. The coolest part about all of this process is the whole family typically has a role in getting the hay from the field to the barn. Whether it's bringing Razorback Pizza to the field, driving the truck and trailer that's being loaded, or maneuvering the tractor and picking up bales, it usually takes all of us to do it.

Then, if the Lord and the weather are willing, you do it again the next day.

Hurricane Dolly, Hot Corn Fields and Bigfoot Road

Ok, people...I'm sorry, but you're going to have to wait a little longer for "Makin' Hay" and "Cat Wigs" because I'm just plain tired. My Tour de All Over the Place will come to a brief end tomorrow as I fly back to Lubbock.

I started this journey July 12 with a drive to San Angelo, then it was on to DC for a week, then to Tulsa and Arkansas for the weekend, then to Austin for a morning, then a drive to San Antonio, then a drive all around corn country, then a flight back to Lubbock tomorrow.

Last night we wandered down through the River Walk and ended up eating at Mi Tierra, which is at the Market area. It was really tasty. Apparently, they never close.

This morning we met with the San Antonio Express-News and I was pleased with the visit. Their editorial board seemed somewhat sympathetic to our message, so I hope to see some success in getting our op ed column published in their paper. Meanwhile, our consumer education campaign launched officially Monday, and so far, I've gotten some great feedback. Go to www.TexasPriceCheck.com to check out my blood, sweat and tears.

We actually got to the meeting a little too early, so we walked the block over to the Alamo and took a look. I've seen it before, but it still amazes me to see this icon of Texas history surrounded by large buildings, including a Ripley's Believe It or Not and an IMAX theater.

But there is a really cool tree inside the famous fort.


After the visit with the paper, David and I drove the Caddy to Castroville to visit one of our board members who has a grain elevator. We went out into the fields to investigate some AF36 field corn, and look for evidence of aflatoxin, a serious issue Texas corn growers have to deal with that involves moisture problems. I'll post those pictures tomorrow. It was ridiculously hot today. I mean, like unreal-hot.

Did I mention it was hot? Try 100 degrees with good ol' South Texas humidity. I was drenched after leaving the corn field. Maybe I'm just soft after working behind a desk. These poor folks down here are suffering from a drought, but Hurricane Dolly may change that. Today was the first time I'd ever seen a sign that said, "Hurricane warning: Avoid travel to Brownsville." It looks to be making landfall in the morning. As I mentioned this morning, I hope it doesn't keep me from flying out of here.

We stopped at a Mexican eatin' spot and it was much to my delight that they served Mexican Cokes...now I quit drinking Cokes a while back, but I can't pass up a real Mexican Coke. They use real sugar. For some reason, they're just really good. David asked the waitress why they were supposed to be better, and she responded,"Because Mexican Cokes are just more better." Those crazy Mexicans.

On our drive today through the brushy, rugged terrain of South Texas, I commented on the high fences near the road to contain wildlife. The deer down here are crazy big. David commented that we wouldn't want to be driving through there at night because of...I thought we was going to say, "because we might hit a deer" but what he really said was, "because we might hit a Mexican sneaking up from the border." The comment made me laugh, but I then started pondering the thought of actually maneuvering through this thick, rattlesnakey brush country. We were only 120 miles from Mexico at that point.

We drove the Caddy to Castroville, Uvalde, Pearsall, Frio Town and finally back to San Antonio where we ate tonight at Bohanan's downtown. We ate at the white table clothes steak house in February for our board meeting, and it once again did not disappoint. I should also mention that there's a town down here called "Bigfoot" so I naturally had to take a picture of it for my mom. Here you go Mom, you can thank me later.


I'll be back in the office in Lubbock tomorrow, and then it's on to Tampa, Fla., for Ag Media Summit.

Oh, and check out this awesome sunset tonight. Pretty neato, huh?

This Just In

Well, I know I promised "makin' hay" and "cat wigs" today, but they were having some Internet issues here at the Crown Plaza in San Antonio. I flew from Tulsa yesterday morning to Austin, met up with my boss, and paid a visit to the editorial board of the Austin American-Statesman newspaper. Our main purpose in these visits is to present them with a simple, concise message that ethanol is not driving up food prices, and in fact, saves consumers up to $0.42 per gallon at the gas pump. Even though we had tons of research to prove our point, one guy still said," I just don't believe that." It can be frustrating to deal with people that choose to ignore the facts, but I guess it takes all kinds in this world.

After visiting with the paper in Austin, we drove our rented Cadillac to San Antonio. It's hot here. 102 degrees to be exact. Fortunately, the Caddy had A/C seats. They really came in handy.

The news down here this morning is the threat of Tropical Storm Dolly that is expected to make landfall tomorrow as a Category 1 hurricane. The funny part about this story is I am supposed to be flying back to Lubbock tomorrow. That should be interesting.

I'm off for an editorial board visit with the San Antonio Express-News. I promise to post pictures tonight, and recap makin' hay and cat wigs.

It's Mud and Guts and Glory, One Mortal's Chance at Fame...

Last night I journeyed east to Berryville to watch my good ole' buddy Kim run some barrels in the Berryville rodeo. Anytime I've ever watched Kim run barrels, she's taken home money. Last night was no exception.

The first summer I ever took to the rodeo road was in 2005 after I graduated from the U of A. That summer was one of my favorites of all time, because I was in between graduating from college and beginning graduate school at Texas Tech. My destiny for the next year and a half was set, so the summer was care-free. I worked in the hay field during the week, then went to rodeos on the weekends. Life was great.

The rodeo life has been a dream of mine since I was a small human. I grew up on horses, but was never competitive. Basketball became my life, and the potential of getting into rodeo took a backseat. However, once I got into college, my basketball career had run its course. When I was a freshman at the U of A, I met Kim, and seven years later she's still my best buddy.

She grew up rodeoing and introduced me to the sport of team roping. I've never been a can chaser, but once I picked up a rope I was hooked. So, during that summer, I decided to give breakaway (calf) roping a try and entered up at Arkansas Cowboys Association (ACA) sanctioned rodeos in the Harrison area.

For about three consecutive weekends, I loaded up and headed to Kim's house south of Harrison where I would load my horse and gear in her trailer and we'd take off to the rodeo.

ACA rodeos would run Friday and Saturday nights with no overall averages, so I'd stay the weekend and enter up both nights. I entered up twice at Mountain Home, Lead Hill and then Berryville.

Entry fees were about $50 each night, and for the first five times I entered, I donated my fees to the winners. Berryville was my last rodeo to enter that summer, and until then, I'd come up empty. In fact, I didn't even catch until the first night in Berryville, but I broke out and came in second. Unfortunately, they only paid first place. Dang the luck. The second night, I finally won and took home enough money to nearly break even. That one tiny win was enough to hook me for life. the competition in the arena is you against everyone else. If you lose, it's your fault and only your fault.

Monetarily, my success wasn't great, but the fun I had loading up on the weekends and venturing to those rodeos ranks that summer at the top of my list. The people that all know each other over there, who go to these rodeos every year and every weekend - they were great and became great friends and a Harrison family to me. They helped me learn the ropes (literally) and were right there to encourage me each time I left the arena after missing and help me learn what I was doing wrong.

And once I finally caught, they were right there to celebrate. That camaraderie is unbeatable in this atmosphere.

On the other side of that story, each rodeo we went to, Kim also entered up in the barrels. But, the difference here is she took home money every night she entered. I'd be $50 poorer, and she'd usually be $150 or more richer. Usually it was more than that.

As long as I've known her, she's never been a competitive person. I'd get all huffy up over an intramural basketball game that really didn't mean a hoot to anyone. Kim would calm me down and remind me that, well, it didn't amount to a hill of beans that we lost to a group of guys in a pick-up came at the Rec.

The same could be said about other things throughout college. But the first time I watched her run barrels, I saw a whole other person. Since the rodeo pen, as a competitive arena for me, was intimidating and a new experience, I was a nervous wad of a rookie just trying to get in and out of the arena without doing something stupid and making myself look like an idiot. Granted my competitive spirit would lead me to beat myself up over missing, but I still found it a success to escape without falling off or something embarrassing. I just wanted to prove to the world and to the people over there I was capable (but obviously need a lot of work!)

So, Kim gets out there and just whoops up on everyone every night in the barrels. She belonged in that arena. I saw rider and horse become one. Her modest confidence was inspiring. I used to feel that confidence on the basketball court, but once placed in the rodeo arena, I was suddenly a rookie desperately trying to earn my right to be there and the respect of the others who had been there for years.
Well, I haven't been back to the arena in a while as a contestant, but my dream of doing so is as strong as ever. Going to Berryville last night put the poison back in me. After grad school, Kim spent a year and a half in Washington, D.C., and returned this spring to Arkansas. Now she's back in the arena, whooping up on people again. Only this time, she's earning money toward qualification into the ACA finals this fall. I asked her how she fared Friday night in Berryville, and she said, "We had a good run," which meant she won first place.

That lifestyle is where I feel at home. The smell of saddle leather, the hot summer Arkansas nights, even the horse sweat are intoxicating. Add the thrill of leaving that arena a winner, and it's an addiction unlike any other.
I won't be surprised to see Kim get to the finals in October. While such an accomplishment is just a dream of mine, I know one of these days I'll be back in that arena donating my entry fees again, but having the time of my life.

Coming up next: makin' hay and makin' cat wigs.