Each time I haul a round bale of hay into the feedlot, I think of my dad. When I was young, he nearly lost his arm when my brother’s foot slipped off of the tractor clutch, causing the baler to engage and shove the knife-sharp plunger alongside my dad’s arm as he attempted to unclogged the machine. Blood drenched the ground and my father carried a scar on his arm from that day onward. Each time I haul hay, I also think of the cowboy who gave me the pocket knife I use to cut the netting from the bale. A year after Nate gave me that knife, he was moving cattle down a back road on horseback. A distracted driver plowed into the back of his horse. The impact killed the horse and nearly killed Nate. The doctors did not expect him to survive. He did, but he’s no longer able to ride. Most folks are unaware that agriculture is one of the deadliest jobs in America: twice as deadly as law enforcement, five times deadlier than firefighting, and 73 times more deadly than Wall Street investment banking, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. Farmers? Heroes? Some years ago, a friend came across an old newspaper in the wall of his house which he was remodeling. The paper was printed in the 1940’s and the mast head featured the drawing of a soldier and a farmer marching in unison. Beneath their boots were the words, “Together we will win this war!” Soldiers and farmers. Electricians and roofers. Cashiers and teachers. Nurses and janitors. Equally necessary. Equally deserving of respect.