There’s a Photo of My Ranch in the Smithsonian...!

And Somehow That’s Not Even the Wildest Part of This Year!

I don’t think the Smithsonian thing has fully sunk in yet. Seriously. There is now a massive photograph of me and our bison hanging inside the new bison regeneration exhibit at the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History. Millions of people will walk through that exhibit over the next several years and learn about regenerative grazing, bison restoration, and the role ranchers play in rebuilding ecosystems. That’s… not normal. And yet somehow, my life has been so chaotic lately that I barely stopped long enough to process it.

Maybe because this past year felt less like a victory lap and more like getting dragged behind a horse while holding paperwork on fire.

In March of 2025, I stepped into the presidency of the Eastern Bison Association. I believed in the organization. Still do. I believed we could modernize it, stabilize it, and make it genuinely useful for producers again. What I did not anticipate was the amount of conflict, legal tension, and sheer emotional exhaustion that would come with trying to move an old organization forward.

There were belligerent meetings. Demand letters. Threats. Governance fights. Bylaw confusion. Members angry about change. An administrative assistant quitting in the middle of it all because the pressure became too much. Nothing says “fun volunteer position” quite like wondering if someone is going to sue your nonprofit over bison politics.

At the same time, I was navigating insurance issues that became serious enough to involve hearings and conversations with attorneys about potential first-party bad faith claims. Then, just for added seasoning, VDACS showed up at my market and started scrutinizing our co-op retail model and prepared food vendors…Perfect. Excellent. Love that for me…

So while most people see the Smithsonian feature and think: “Wow, what an incredible opportunity,” what they don’t see is the decade-plus of board work, advocacy, networking, education, regenerative management, and absolute stubbornness that happened before any museum ever noticed us. They don’t see the years of choosing long-term ecological health over short-term profit. They don’t see the nights sitting at the kitchen table trying to figure out cash flow while also answering nonprofit governance emails and researching federal retail exemption language. They don’t see the emotional whiplash of simultaneously feeling incredibly successful and completely overwhelmed.

And honestly? That’s probably true for most meaningful accomplishments in life.

The Smithsonian wasn’t luck. Luck doesn’t keep grass green during drought. Luck doesn’t rebuild soil. Luck doesn’t survive legal pressure. Luck doesn’t restructure boards. Luck doesn’t hold businesses together while regulators, bankers, vendors, and nonprofits all want something from you at the same time. Luck might open a door. But grit is what gets you there.

And maybe the biggest realization I’ve had this year is this: I can handle more than I thought I could. A year ago, legal language intimidated me. Now I can hold my own in conversations about bylaws, administrative process, insurance conduct, nonprofit governance, retail exemptions, and regulatory interpretation. Do I want that skill set? Not particularly. Would I have preferred learning it in a less stressful way? Absolutely. But there’s something strangely empowering about surviving hard things and realizing: “Oh. I’ve got this.”

And interestingly enough, on the other side of all this chaos, things are actually improving. The EBA board is stabilizing. We’ve made governance progress. We’re having productive conversations again. The organization is moving forward. The VDACS situation appears to be softening. The insurance battle is still unfolding. The ranch is still standing. The market is still operating. The grass is still growing. And now there’s a photograph of our work hanging in the Smithsonian. Which feels a little poetic, honestly. Because regeneration isn’t just ecological. Sometimes it’s personal too.