"My dad was a stalwart Hereford man; that and black Angus," Chuck says. "They built this country."

 

But Herefords and Angus are European cattle, bred for lush pastures and plentiful rainfall. "You take cattle like that and bring them to Texas, well, they're not used to little rain and rocks everywhere," Chuck says. "We expect a cow to survive on a ranch; she has to make it on her own," he says, "but European-type cows have problems when times get rough, like when we have a drought."

 

As a rancher, he says, you want trouble-free livestock because veterinary bills and other expenses lower profits.

 

"When I took over with Herefords, I had to pull at least three calves," Chuck says, meaning that he had to assist cows in birthing.

 

"Until you've had to pull a calf in 27-degree weather, you have not had a bad experience," he says with a laugh.

 

So Chuck sought out a way to produce hardy cattle that would sell well to buyers. The answer, Texas cattlemen have found, lies with the Brahman breed.

 

Brahman cattle, brought to Texas in the mid-19th century because of their ability to withstand the heat, don't taste much good on a plate, but they add hybrid vigor, Chuck says. "They're the toughest animal," he says. "They survive better."

 

Crossing a hardy Brahman with a Hereford — known for their flavor — results in a Tiger Stripe, so called because of unique striping down its back.

 

The Brahman influence on the European cows produces smaller calves, so birthing is much smoother. "I haven't had to pull a calf since 2000," Chuck says.

 

A first-generation offspring of a purebred Brahman and purebred Hereford is referred to by the industry as an F-1 Tiger Stripe.

 

"That first cross creates the highest degree of hybrid vigor and they adapt quite well to the Texas Hill Country," he says.

 

An F-1 female is born with environmental adaptivity, increased milk production, higher fertility, and the heat and disease resistance of her Brahman parent, he says. These traits also bring an optimum price at market.

Going Home

 

Chuck becomes animated and enthusiastic when conversation revolves around his cattle, but there was a time when he had no interest in following in the footsteps of Knibbes who came before him.

 

"I grew up working this ranch and during the drought in the 1950s, I had decided that ranching wasn't for me," he recalls.

 

That decade's seven-year drought devastated the region's agriculture and excessive temperatures and low rainfall scorched grasslands that the Knibbes and other ranchers used for grazing.

 

Ranchers — including Chuck and his father — turned to Texas' prevalent prickly pear cactus to feed their cattle. By burning off the sharp needles, the cows could forage on the cactus, which is extraordinarily high in moisture and nutrients.

 

"It's like having a silo of food," Chuck says. "It's the second-most important plant out here."

 

That's why he's never attempted to control the amount of prickly pear on his rangeland.

"You know how you can tell a real cattleman?" he asks. "He doesn't dig up the cactus."

 

After high school, Chuck, who had had his fill of cattle, ranching, and prickly pear, left for college, determined to make his mark on the world. He met Sharon, got married, and worked for several years as a stockbroker off the ranch.

 

But with Sharon's gentle prodding, he eventually began to consider returning to the ranch.

 

"I said, 'You don't know what you have out there,'" recalls Sharon, who herself grew up on a farm near Hereford, Texas.

 

"It really didn't take a lot of talking to convince him," Sharon says. "We had a little girl, and our son had just been born and we would rather raise them on the ranch than in town."

 

Ranch ties, indeed, were hard to break. Chuck's father, Lawrence, would live on the ranch for his entire 91 years until his death in 2001. "My dad moved three times in his life, but never more than 300 yards," Chuck says with a laugh. "He said, 'I am a cattleman and I'm going to stay on the ranch.'"