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Unformatted text preview: s, to establish some common ground between longtime enemies. He was not a wealthy, New Age type playing at being a
cowboy. His income came from the roughly four hundred head of cattle on his ranch. He didn’t care what was politically correct and had
little patience for urban environmentalists who vilified the cattle industry. In his view, good ranchers did far less damage to the land than
city-dwellers. “Nature isn’t an abstraction for me,” he said. “My family lives with it every day.”
When we got to the ranch, Hank’s wife, Susan, was leading her horse out of a ring. She was blond and attractive, but no pushover: tall, fit,
and strong. Their daughters, Allie and Kris, aged six and eight, ran over to greet us, full of excitement that their dad was home and had
brought a visitor. They scrambled into the minivan and joined us for a drive around the property. Hank wanted me to see the difference
between his form of ranching and “raping the land.” As we took off onto a dirt road, I looked back at his house and thought about how...
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- Spring '08