Confessions of an Unlikely Rancher
- Tara of Seek First Ranch
- Apr 27
- 7 min read
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Confessions of an Unlikely Rancher
Written by Tara Dukart, originally published in the March/April 2024 issue of
IN PRACTICE, a publication of Holistic Management International issue #214
Here’s the truth. I was not raised on a farm or a ranch. I didn’t grow up with livestock or a house full of pets. I was raised in a small North Dakota city and immersed in a belief that the “right” path in life was to move directly from high school to university, graduate with a bachelor’s degree, and promptly secure a stable job–with benefits.
And that’s the path I traveled.
Until I met Joshua.
It was the summer of 2004, and I was ready to put my newly acquired Elementary Education and Language Arts degrees to good use. Just as long as the employment was not in North Dakota, nor any other location experienced in long, dreadful, cold seasons.
I had paid my winter dues. This girl needed more sun.
My young naive eyes were dead-set on Phoenix, AZ, where the teaching jobs were as plentiful as the desert heat. I was ready to divide my time equally between a third-grade classroom and… probably the pool.
Enter Joshua.
Cue romance music and a LOVE-TRIANGLE featuring:
Myself
This man I just met (who has an engineering job–with benefits)
Arizona
Maybe Phoenix could wait, because what if… he’s the one.
How did I know he wasn’t the one?
Because a few weeks into our relationship, he invited me to a wedding in his hometown.
Hanging on the wall of his parents’ country home – there it was.
His senior picture.
Dressed from black Stetson hat, to big-belt-buckle, to leather boots,
like the ranch-raised cowboy I was shocked to learn he was.
Wranglers don’t lie.
Country roots run deep.
In that moment, life experience told me that some day. SOME DAY this man would be called back by his desire or obligation (I didn’t know which) to take over his family’s ranch.
Maybe it would be years. Maybe decades.
But SOME DAY he would want to move there.
With the loud, smelly cattle, and the allergy-inducing pollens, and the obligatory-making-of hay bales, and the prairie-wind-whipped infrastructures, and the corroded barbed wire fences in endless need of repair, and the rusted old machinery that’s always breaking down at the worst times, and the sun-up-to-sun-down labor, and the vast debt, and the terrible, cold, hard, isolation of it all.
I would have none of this.
So I quickly and carefully scripted our fresh-new-relationship’s exit interview.
“It’s not you, it’s me. I just don’t have what it takes to be a farm wife. I gotta be honest. I’d feel bitter if we moved here. I’d feel guilty if we didn’t. Neither of us wants that. Nice knowing you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be following my heart to Phoenix…”
But he would have none of this.
“I don’t want to move back to the ranch.”
“But SOME DAY you will.”
“I promise I won’t.”
“But I BET you will.”
And I was right.
But I was also wrong.
Very, very wrong.
Because I didn’t know about Holistic Management. Neither did he.
Yet.
I did not move to Arizona that fall like I said I would.
I trusted this man, and I trusted his intentions.
I trusted God’s nudge in staying.
I applied for a North Dakota teaching license, only a bit begrudgingly, so we could both have jobs–with benefits.
We got married.
We bought a house in a cul-de-sac (for me) with 2.5 acres (for him) as a “compromise.”
I still despised the cold.
But we loved each other.
We thought we were saving ourselves from the toils and troubles of the dreaded ranch life.
But life handed us toils and troubles of a different kind.
We didn’t ask for infertility.
Or a stream of miscarriages.
We weren’t prepared for those kinds of heartbreaks, confusion, or disappointments.
Is anyone?
I confess to you now, that we both hated the house and it’s 2.5 acres. Turns out, neither of us were interested in residential cosmetics. All the mowing and maintenance seemed like a waste of our time and resources. We couldn’t keep up with the neighbors, who we never got to know anyway, even after eight whole years in that cul-de-sac.
It certainly hadn’t become the “community” we had eagerly anticipated.
Imagine that. We didn’t need to move to the ranch to feel isolated and bitter about our circumstances. We were living it right there on the outskirts of town.
Something had to change.
We started to question things that we hadn’t thought to question before. Conventional practices, for a start…
The difference in philosophies between conventional western medicine and traditional holistic practices.
The difference in philosophies between conventional agriculture and Holistic Management.
We questioned. And we researched.
Food Supply.
Where is our food coming from? How was it raised or grown? How does soil health affect nutrient density?
Chemicals.
Pharmaceuticals.
Side effects.
We learned very quickly (and in hind-sight) that just because a product in any market is “approved for use,” does not ensure safety, efficacy, or restoration of health.
We learned that what helps or hurts one person or animal, might not help or hurt the next.
Nature won’t be put in a box.
We began to truly tune-in to our symptoms. We searched for root causes.
We learned that even though parts of my body had been permanently damaged by effects of the pharmaceutical drugs I had been prescribed as a teenager, I could work toward physical healing for most of the rest.
I call this chapter of our lives “the ocean of tears.” Because it felt like it was.
We continued to navigate the jagged journey through knowledge-seeking and damage-healing. We sought out mentors for guidance.
We were blessed with resources, advice, and encouragement.
As I was working toward holistic healing for my own health, Joshua was finishing his training through Holistic Management International.
We pursued adoption.
We were chosen to be parents by a young woman, who’s gift we can never repay.
I grasped every possible minute of maternity leave to bond with our new daughter.
During this time away from my middle-school classroom, Joshua accepted an invitation to speak about the principles of Holistic Management at a large agricultural conference in South Dakota.
Since most agricultural conferences take place during the school-year, this was the first time I had been able to travel along to hear Joshua speak to a large audience of farmers and ranchers.
Who knew I’d be blown away by my own husband’s message, and his ability to engage a crowd? Who knew I would fall in love with a community of farmers and ranchers?
Who knew that everything I used to think about loud smelly cows would get flipped upside down?
Or that the things I never thought about, like what ruminant animals eat, or the ecosystem within the soil, would take its rightful place in the forefront of some of my new decision-making?
Certainly not I.
Is this when we moved to the ranch?
No.
But the seeds had been planted. And the freedom within Holistic Management–and all its grand possibilities, was helping them germinate.
I never went back to my middle school teaching job.
Joshua shifted his employment from Natural Resources Conservation Services to Burleigh Soil Conservation District. The team surrounding him were and still are tremendous advocates of Holistic Management and soil health. They granted Joshua the flexibility in his work schedule to take time away from the office to travel around the country to speak and teach HMI principles. The speaking requests were plentiful.
We were finally blessed with both the finalization of our daughter’s adoption and the first full-term pregnancy of our dreams. Little did we know that our seven-pound baby boy would be born with a severe life-threatening condition.
Emergency life flights and intestinal reconstructive surgery saved his life at four-days old. Neonatal intensive care kept him alive for his next two months.
We were warned that he would struggle keeping all food down for his first year, maybe longer.
2013-2014 was an absolute blur for our family. I was home, chronically sleep-deprived, caring for a sick infant and an energetic toddler. Joshua doubled his speaking contracts to help defray our medical bills and the loss of my job–and its benefits. He was away from us for days at a time. Week after week, month after month.
I call this chapter of our lives “the days of nearly drowning” Because it felt like we were.
One day, I just couldn’t take it anymore.
I couldn’t do the cold, hard, round-the-clock isolation of it all. Our kids deserved better. Our family deserved better.
So I quickly and carefully scripted another exit interview.
Little did I know he was scripting one too.
When Joshua came home that evening, he presented me with a list of bullet points, highlighting his reasons for….
I’ll never know.
Because I stopped him mid-sentence to say this:
“Honey, I think we should move to the ranch.”
And in 2016, we did.
Why? Because we both knew that it was time to practice what Joshua and his mentors were preaching.
We both knew the ranch would be the place where we could live out every part of our Holistic Goal.
We believed it would be the place where we could raise the kind of food our son needed for his complete healing. And the place where we could raise high-quality, nutrient-dense, pasture-raised meats for others and for ourselves.
We believed we could work with nature, and that we could be profitable.
We knew we needed the warm and loving support of the family and friends right next door and in our wide base of farming and ranching networks.
We trusted the ranch to be the place for our ultimate well-being.
And we were right.
Of course, the transition to the ranch has come with its own challenges and learning curves. But so does life.
Holistic Management has helped us see things differently.
It has given us hope and a renewed sense of purpose.
Part of our current business model here at Seek First Ranch, is sharing our journey with others, so they don’t feel isolated like we did, or like we thought we would.
Together we build the community of our dreams—a community that values quality of life, builds soil health, rejuvenates resources, cares for creation, and promotes profitability.
Now that’s what I call a job with immeasurable benefits.
I’m really glad it was my idea to move here.
Copyright © 2025 Tara Dukart of Seek First Ranch. All Rights Reserved.
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