Fix Your Fences: Lessons From Ranch Life

For most of the year, my wife, Christina, and I live in the high mountain cattle country of Montana. We wake up to breathtaking beauty and peace every morning. It is a soul-cleansing alternative to city life.

I can hardly be called a cattle rancher. However, Christina comes from five generations of hardy people who homesteaded, herded, roped, branded and fenced their way to create a living among these mountains. We are fortunate to live where they lived while conveniently tethered to the working world with a fast fiber optic Wi-Fi cable.

One thing I have learned about cattle: If there is a fence, they will ultimately want to be on the opposite side. To a cow, the grass is truly always greener on the other side, even if it’s scrub brush and sage. The Hollywood depiction of old-time cowboys riding fence lines to check for gaps is a true picture of ranch work -- even if it is a lot more “hard work” than Hollywood and done on 4x4s vs. horses today.

Everyone who has lived or worked on land knows the importance of a fence. It keeps the herd where it needs to be, protects what is valuable, and offers a sense of order in a world that often resists it. But when a fence breaks, it rarely happens with a bang. More often, it gives way slowly—one loose nail, a rotten post, a winter storm that peels back a length of wire.

At first, it seems minor.  You might say, “I’ll fix it tomorrow,” but then tomorrow becomes next week, next month, or maybe never. All the while, the herd grows restless and eventually… breaks through.

In leadership and personal growth, we all have our “broken fences.” They might not be made of fence posts and steel wire, but they are just as real…that difficult conversation you’ve been avoiding with a colleague, the apology you owe, the new skill you promised yourself you’d learn, or the health checkup you keep postponing. The longer we ignore the break the more vulnerable we become.

Maybe there is a broken fence in your life right now. Maybe you see it every day, a quiet reminder of something left undone. Or maybe it’s hidden, out of sight but never truly out of mind. The lesson is universal: the fence won’t fix itself. Growth comes from facing the hard thing—having that conversation, making the decision, or the stepping into the unknown.

You could begin by asking yourself:

• What do I need to fix?

• What do I need to start?

• To whom do I need to reach out?

• What do I need to let go of?

• Who do I need to stop judging?

• What do I need to stop doing?

So, take a walk out to your fields. Look at the fence break. Gather your courage and get to work. You’ll find, as generations of ranchers have, that the hardest part is often just beginning. Once you start, progress comes with each post set straight, each wire pulled taut, and each nail driven home. 

When will you begin to fix your fence?