Commentary: Give thanks for the resilience of farmers and ranchers

By Masie Skelton

Resiliency has become a trending word in California agriculture, symbolizing the ability to endure and overcome the multitude of challenges farmers and ranchers face.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, it is important to reflect on the agricultural community’s strength and how the word “resilient” captures the complexity of agricultural life, which I believe embodies the strength, adaptability and perseverance required to thrive despite adversity. In agriculture, resilience is more than just a trait; it is a way of life.

At the heart of this resilient spirit lies Zane Ranch in Paynes Creek in the Sierra Nevada foothills. For my grandparents, Steve and Peggy Zane, the ranch is more than a home; it is a legacy and a livelihood built on decades of hard work and sacrifice. Over the summer, a formidable hardship threatened that livelihood, one that continues to challenge my family even four months later.

Growing up, I was fortunate to be raised so close to my grandparents and to experience the agricultural way of life firsthand, which has wholly defined who I am and the values I hold. In my rural hometown, agriculture is more than an industry; it is the lifeblood of the community. It encourages a sense of belonging and shared responsibility, where neighbors are as close as family and everyone understands the meaning of hard work. My grandparents’ ranch has been a place where people come together—not just for the tasks of ranching, but to support one another during times of crisis.

On July 24, a wildfire ignited in Upper Bidwell Park in Chico, a spark that would quickly escalate into an all-consuming threat. By 11:48 p.m. the following night, the fire had grown to a staggering 145,171 acres, leading to widespread evacuation warnings, including for my nearby home in Dairyville. By noon on July 26, the fire had swelled to 178,090 acres and continued to rage northward with alarming speed. By 6:30 p.m., it had reached Zane Ranch.

In a single night, my grandparents, uncles and mother worked side by side with CalFire, employing every tool and ounce of energy they had to fight the encroaching flames. They cut fire breaks, cleared brush, extinguished spot fires, watered the pastures and barns, and filled water tanks, battling relentlessly to protect our cattle, homes and structures. The night was long and sleepless, but their determination was unwavering.

A few hours before the sun started to rise, it was clear that the threat of the fire destroying everything had essentially passed. The fire burned the rangeland, but the buildings and cattle were spared. The flames, though perilously close, had been held at bay, and my family was able to secure the ranch from a threat that could have been much worse.

Amid the chaos of that night, a moment of irony highlighted the resilience of life on the ranch. While my family fought to protect the land, the cattle were in the middle of calving season. That very night, as the fire raged nearby, three new calves were born—a poignant reminder that life in agriculture does not pause for disaster. No matter the obstacles, the cycle of life continues.

The impact of that Friday night extended far beyond our family. The fire displaced many residents of Paynes Creek, forcing families from their homes and disrupting lives. Yet, in the aftermath of the fire, the strength of the agricultural community shone through.

In this season of Thanksgiving, those who work in the agricultural industry deserve all of our thanks. Farmers and ranchers often face unpredictable challenges as a part of their daily lives, and a network of support is not just about physical aid but emotional encouragement since they understand the unique struggles that come with repairing after such a catastrophe.

The Park Fire, however devastating, illuminated the incredible spirit of recovery and cooperation that defines rural communities and farming families. In the aftermath, I am thankful for the challenges that farmers and ranchers go through to be able to improve and dedicate themselves to their work that provides for our country and the world. Those challenges make agriculturists tougher, more persistent, more dedicated and more equipped to handle more or worse challenges in the future. It also makes for tight-knit groups of individuals who understand the need for good neighbors and great families.

In the face of overwhelming loss, people came together—not just to rebuild their homes and livelihoods but to reaffirm the values of unity and collective strength, which I believe lie at the heart of agricultural life.

(Masie Skelton is a junior majoring in horticulture at the Purdue University College of Agriculture. A version of this piece was first published on the Purdue Sigma Alpha sorority’s Beta Chapter Blogs at purduesigmaalpha.com. She may be reached at masie.skelton12@gmail.com.)