The new year means that we are supposed to make resolutions to make ourselves better, right? While most people might resolve to lose weight, to eat out less or spend more time off social media, cowboys make different resolutions that might only make sense to them. It’s been a long time since I have stayed up and rang in the New Year, maybe I’m getting old, or maybe the fact that the cows still need fed on New Year’s Day makes me go to bed before the ball drops. Whatever the reason, I have decided to make a few resolutions this year.

                  My first resolution is to not rope any bovine out of anger. The 30-foot-wide gate simply wasn’t big enough for that yearling heifer to see and walk through. The fence I had to fix after she bailed over not 10 feet from the gate probably needed my attention anyway and she was just pointing it out to me. The same heifer has rambling fever and likes to showcase her athletic ability by jumping corner posts in a single bound on her way to visit the neighbors. In years past this would infuriate me, and I would likely give her a new necklace made of nylon to show all her friends. This year though, I’m not going to let it bug me, except on Saturday, or when I’m trying to be somewhere, or when the sun is out, or its cloudy. Other than that, I won’t let bovine incite me to anger.

                  Next, I won’t tell my precious four-legged leather wrapped beef patties what I think of their behavior. This might take some time, because I am pretty sure that cows only understand English if it is spoken with several adjectives to describe their behavior. While in the past my cows have been subjected to what some would call verbal abuse, this year I will try to compliment them more and try to see things from their point of view. Like Bessy it’s OK that you stomped your calf into a mudhole when he tried to nurse for the first time. I’m sure giving birth to him ruined your reputation with the rest of the girls as being nothing but a trophy wife. We’ll get you a nice dry stall in the barn and when you’re ready, or tired of living in solitary confinement with a set of hobbles so that junior can have a meal, then you can rejoin the herd as the socialite I know that you are.

                  Finally, I resolve that I will find joy in fixing the mechanical things that break down. Ice baths are the new thing in health, so fixing floats that break when its -8 with the snow flying will make me a fitness guru. My daughter likes to play dress up, so when I smash my fingers and they turn purple, it only adds to the outfit she has planned for me to wear. When the baler sets off more alarms than a fire at a gunpowder plant, I’ll smile and be glad that I get to play in the hay dust and get to see the world though swollen hay fever squinted eyes. I always enjoy not being able to breathe and what better way to do that than to work on hay equipment.

                  I guess that’s all for this time, I’m headed out the door to see if that cold-blooded diesel tractor wants to start today. Well crap, guess that will have to wait, the neighbor just called and told me my wandering heifer is in his hay yard again. Guess I’ll catch a horse a go retrieve that good for nothing dog food reject and bring her home. I’m not off to a good start on my resolutions, maybe next year. Until then, keep tabs on your side of the barbed wire and God bless.

Meinzer is a fourth-generation rancher raised on the southeastern plains of Colorado. He and his family live and ranch in Oshkosh, Neb.