In the same country that’s been ripped open by controversy over a new generation of massive open-pit coal mines, the husband-and-wife duo of John Smith and Laura Laing trail their cattle to pasture the way ranchers always have, by horseback.
They could use ATVs but the horses generate less noise and keep the animals’ stress levels lower. That matters to Smith and Laing. Besides, there are certain pastures that are exclusively accessible by horseback.
Anyone farming almost anywhere else in the country might object that outdated technology like horses can’t possibly make economic sense. The couple are unphased. To them, the animal welfare and handling protocols they employ are crucial to their business.
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It’s like that for their environmental thinking too, and for their production and marketing systems as well. At Plateau Cattle Company, everywhere look you see respect for the value of traditional strategies brought up to date with modern science and business smarts.
Smith and Laing are the third generation on the ranch started by John’s grandfather John Smith Hay, a Scottish immigrant who would go on to earn a global reputation exporting Herefords to Africa, Europe, Russia and Hawaii.
Today, Smith and Laing manage anywhere from 500 to 600 head of Black Angus breeding cows, 100 to 125 replacement breeding heifers and approximately 30 to 35 Black Angus bulls. Their breeding sires are all selected from the TT Leptin gene, a marker of lower input, higher gain animals that for PCC have proven great results through to their calf crop.
Tail hair samples from their bulls and replacement breeding females are analyzed at Quantum Genetix in Saskatoon, Sask., to guarantee the TT gene stock.
“We see a gain in performance that is proving through to our feedlot and finishing buyers,” says Smith of their sold cattle.
They have also spent the last six years slowly shifting calving dates. Today they calve in the first week of April as opposed to February and March, when the low thermometer causes more stress on the animals and a greater physical toll on the ranch team.
“We are striving to mimic Mother Nature as best as possible to avoid cold stress and lower assisted births due to weather,” says Smith. “They’ve been fine. We didn’t make a radical six-week shift overnight. We’ve been going by two-week increments.”
Their cows graze in a few locations — Waldron Ranch, the Mount Livingstone Range and at their home place, with additional adjoining pastures rented from their neighbours. At Waldron (see page 23), Smith currently serves as a director, as did his father and grandfather, the latter of whom was one of the co-founders of the grazing co-operative.
Their grazing strategy on their own land also has deep roots. It’s a simple yet effective 50-50 rule. Take half, leave half.
A unique feature of ranching in the mountains is the wildlife that freely moves through the region. Smith and Laing have seen just about everything — from grizzly bears and wolves to cougar, lynx, moose and even elusive wolverines. Each year they plan for a certain amount of animal loss due to predation, as do other ranchers.
While there is compensation available for animal loss due to wildlife attacks, it’s a “near impossible” process to capture this relevant kill data, Smith says. A rancher must find the carcass within hours, document it with pictures, then have officials assess it all in a timely manner.
“Frankly, it’s dangerous,” Smith adds. “You run into the wrong grizzly, you could end up on the ground beside your cow.”
To keep a better eye on their animals and their movement, the couple has investigated Ceres Tag, a GPS tracker for cattle. While enticing, the costs are prohibitive for their operation. For the time being, they will settle for drone technology to fill in the gaps. This can be useful for not only going into an area where there may be one or more predators, but also to get a good picture of where the animals are without causing undue stress.
In fact, a skilled operator can actually direct the herd with a drone.
“It’s handy that they don’t like it,” says Smith of the cows’ reaction to the aerial tech. “You think, gee, it’ll take three hours to get them (out of an area) or 10 minutes to fly around and get low enough to bother them. We’ve moved cows out of difficult terrains towards us with the drone. When it comes to gathering, it saves a lot of time in the saddle.”
They’re also investigating the possibility of geofencing for greater tracking.
To bolster their low-stress environment, the couple are certified with just about every label a ranch could have, including an approved rearing process recognized by the European Union, a designation not all western Canadian ranchers have. As well, they are part of Canada’s VBP+ program, A Greener World and the McDonald’s sustainable beef program.
The couple also sell direct. As Laing sees it, there is no downside to having multiple affiliations in a business with such tight margins.
“We are assessed every year, which makes us better,” says Laing. “People say it doesn’t pay but opening yourself to every market helps. It also helps to tell your story.”
One of the biggest stories Laing is telling these days, though, is that she and Smith care for the land. That may sound counterintuitive, but recent developments in Alberta’s energy sector have greatly affected their lives, and the lives of neighbouring ranchers, since 2019. That was when the United Conservative Party rescinded a provincial law put into place by former premier Peter Lougheed in 1976, banning open-pit coal mining in the mountains.
You could imagine the surprise when, before it was even announced to Albertans, Laing and Smith received a call from an Australian mining company.
“That didn’t come until the phone rang in the middle of calving,” says Laing. “John’s father was ill, COVID was happening, we were dealing with all that and we hadn’t been consulted.”
The retracted law meant that exploration and possible development could begin on certain lands. Ranchers rushed to document their concerns about impacts to the watershed. Air and selenium contamination are massive concerns too. And there have been some victories. The overwhelming amount of feedback to the provincial government delayed its initial reports, and permits have been cancelled. But still there are concerns, and meanwhile, legal costs rise, and paperwork pulls Laing away from the ranch.
On a ranch dedicated to sustainability and co-existing with nature, she describes the fracas as a non-stop headache. “It’s been full time from the beginning,” she says, adding that she is not compensated for the work. “At the height of it, it’s 40 hours per week, evenings and weekends.”
The couple openly balk at the notion they are anti-resource, but it’s been the label they are hit with in these talks. They wish government could understand the critical importance of not only the grasslands, but the water, too.
“We are super concerned,” Laing says flatly. “This isn’t a NIMBY (not in my backyard) issue. We’re Albertans. We’re concerned about this happening in any sensitive landscape.”
A portion of the Oldman watershed runs through their forestry allotment, with tributaries on their home ranch, and it sustains communities and agriculture downstream of them east to the Hudson’s Bay, where it finally drains. Estimates from independently commissioned studies suggested the proposed projects could use up to 40 per cent of the Oldman’s water in prime months of June and July, and air toxicology research reports predicted dire results for their livestock and forages should surface coal mining occur.
“I don’t know where we would get that additional water,” Laing says.
The fight means they’ve had less time for one another, extended family and friends. They’ve had virtually zero spare time, and, of course, the rest of life and ranching has continued to come at them.
“It’s definitely a strain dealing with crisis after crisis,” Laing admits. “There’s really no time for the enjoyment side. It’s difficult on our mental health, our relationship, but we’re strong and we support each other and we’re getting through with each other. It’s important to choose the best partners and community.”
They say they have been blown away by the “phenomenal people” supporting them in this, including many in Calgary’s business community, the ranching industry and just everyday Albertans.
“It’s created an opportunity to show how we are land stewards,” Laing says. “If ever there has been a time to get back to the basics of land stewardship, protecting watersheds and native grasses, it’s now.”
