I have the great good fortune of living and working on a ranch near Bozeman. I write this while looking out a south window at 30 horses. They've come down from our hills to drink at a spring. Although much of the ground is bare, one of the streams which cuts through our place is still frozen over.

I timed my ankle reconstruction and recovery with the end of skiing and the beginning of irrigation. We may have America's highest number of excellent orthopedic surgeons per capita. Despite their competence, I'm temporarily crippled. I've traded pickups, four-wheelers, and tractors for crutches and a walker. If lucky, in a few weeks I'll add a handicapped sticker for occasional trips to town.

The horses are 50 to 200 yards away. Looking toward them, on our deck is a greater-than-life-size metal sculpture of a Rambouillet ram, art I commissioned to honor Ramona's contributions to our earlier life. Then, at the edge of our yard, is the creek. Just past it is our timber-frame pavilion, a tribute to my grandfather's craft and to memories of my logging days.

South of the horses is our Kleinschmidt Canal built in 1882-3. Behind that, a bench, hilltops, and timber. Aside from my confinement, this all seems quite idyllic. It's not. Here's why.

From my bed I can't see the ridge-top houses built on 10-acre lots broken off the old Skipper place when the urban developer who bought it went bust showing the neighbors how to ranch. More houses are destined for the former Reiser Ranch southeast of our place. Fortunately, they are designed and located to be ecologically and aesthetically unobtrusive.

The residential developments intruding on neighboring ag lands are a sign of economic evolution. Here's an overview of the forces converting ranches to ranchettes. They have a relentless, gravitational pull that can't be altered or ignored, only accommodated. I've found two recent books, "Ranching West of the 100th Meridian: Culture, Ecology, and Economics" and "Fast Food Nation" especially helpful in understanding this process.

Farmers and ranchers are the keystone species for preserving open space and wildlife habitat. Organizations like the Gallatin Valley Land Trust, Nature Conservancy, and Sonoran Institute help them do that. But agriculture has essentially become an industrial activity governed by business norms, not neighborliness or kinship with the land. For example, today potato companies are run by "MBAs from Harvard who don't know if a potato grows on a tree or underground" ("Fast Food Nation," p. 119).

Family farmers and ranchers have difficulty competing with the economies of scale and business sophistication of industrialized agricultural companies. As a result, huge firms like Conagra, Simplot, and Tyson control ever more of the market and use the political system to rig the game in their favor.

Price and quality information is instantaneously available throughout the commodity world. Those who prosper use it ruthlessly when making decisions. But since small-scale operations don't have the manpower for both farming and information processing, this industrialization of agriculture condemns the traditional farmer and rancher to a financially meager life.

Together, Ramona and I represent nine generations in traditional American agriculture. Although our children have broken this family curse, they too appreciate parts of the culture and ecology of ag. To help them understand their heritage, I'm sending them "Ranching West of the 100th Meridian." Fortunately, thanks to FedEx, we can also send them natural, grass-fed lamb and beef. While the lamb is from our stock, the beef we trade for with neighboring ranchers, Craig and Gretchen White.

Craig and Gretchen, both graduates of MSU, exemplify traditional rural values. They could be poster people for Ben Alexander and Luther Propst of the Sonoran Institute, for the Whites live what Ben and Luther celebrate when they write: "They are the ones who are open to working with their neighbors and adapting to the changing economics and land-use patterns that are shaping the West." Small operations will survive by innovating and finding niche markets-like organic meats.

Now back to my window. Before I recover, ewes and lambs will replace the horses in our lower meadow. And fortunately, wolves have made a remarkable recovery. Some have been sighted near our place. The computer table by my bed has room for a spotting scope. Within easy reach is a target-grade .308. As I wrote many years ago when advocating the wolf's return, they will need to be controlled. I'm ready to honor the stockman's responsibility.