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The article below is a continuation of the "Preserving the Flint Hills on the Muller Ranch" article appearing in KLT's Winter 2008-2009 Stewardship Notes. Please read both for the full story on Kenneth Muller, his land, and his conservation ethic.

Photograph by Bruce Hogle

At 78, Kenneth Muller still sits tall in the saddle, proof that Flint Hills ranching builds its men tough and strong. A straight-forward but unassuming man, Muller knows his mind but does not force his ideas on others. He lives his principles, giving his best to each endeavor, whether it be farming and cattle ranching, serving his country in the military, custom cowboying or tending his land.

Born in Abilene, Muller and his family came to the Flint Hills in 1938 when “my dad decided he wanted to move to country where there was grass because he liked cattle.” Muller took to it like a duck to water; “I started helping my dad farm before I was ever out of grade school, and that’s all I ever wanted to do.”

A stint in the Army during the 1950s, when he was stationed outside of Washington D.C. in Virginia, only reinforced his dedication to this land and this life. “I didn’t like it but I made the best of it. There was no doubt what I was going to do the day I was discharged; I was gonna come home and be a farmer.”

Muller married while he was in the Army, and so went out on his own when he returned to the Flint Hills. “That’s when I started working for other ranchers, custom cowboying. Someone might call me and say, ‘I want you to come help me gather cattle,’ or ‘I’ve got a stray over there…’ That’s when I started, about 1956 or 57.”

Muller’s son Richard shares his father’s outlook. As Richard puts it, “Well, I guess I must be kind of like him because I went to college for one semester, then had an opportunity to go back to Indiana to what they call work study. When I came back through here from Indiana – I went to school out at Colby – I guess I just forgot to go on back to school.”

Photograph by Elizabeth Stevens

Muller chimes in with good-natured humor, “I tried to tell him! I tried to guide him in a different direction. He said, ‘I’m not learning nothing at all. I’m ready to go to work.’ I said ‘Well, if you’re ready to go to work, buddy, we better get this operation geared up.’”

Muller’s grandson, Richard’s son Ty, however, has moved away from the area to pursue a career in baseball. Muller muses, “I guess it’s just the way of life but this is happening just all over the country around in here, the rural area. My dad was here and I’m here and Richard’s here but that’s probably the end of generations carrying on this operation.” For Kenneth and Richard, though, ranching is the life, no matter the hardships, the risks and the challenges.

 

The Muller’s Independent Operation

Like so many farmers and ranchers, Muller runs an independent operation. Though some local ranchers may tend cattle now and then for a corporation, corporate ranchers have not gobbled up the Flint Hills. Each individual or family-owned ranch flourishes or struggles on its own, unlike corporations with capital to weather the bad times.

Photograph by Elizabeth Stevens

But, as Muller says, “It won’t make any difference how many times cattle go up and down. There’s any amount of these people out here, it won’t make any difference how tough it gets, they’ll stay; they won’t quit. They’ll say it’s gonna get better, it’s gonna get better. Chances is, it won’t make any difference how tough it gets unless somebody comes and forecloses on our property; we’ll stay and we’ll tough out the hard times and look for better days. For most of us people out here it don’t make no difference how cold it gets or hot it gets, we’ll be out taking care of our cattle. That’s the way we was born and that’s all we know, and that’s all we want to do.” Father and son sum it up, completing each other’s thoughts, “You know, it’s sad to say you don’t know any better, if you was smarter…,” “you’d go get a good-paying job…,” “and not have to worry about everything.” “But that’s just the way we are.”

As Muller explains, “You’ve got to be devoted to it. Cause if you’re not, and you don’t take care of it, it just ain’t gonna work.” For the Mullers, adaptability runs a close second to devotion as a key to survival. “In the summertime, all we do now -- we sold our ranch operation out several years ago -- and all we do in the summertime is look after cattle, grass cattle. We got about 6,000 acres of grass that we look after in the summertime; in the winter, fall and spring we build custom fence.” And some local ranchers have found agri-tourism to be a way to bring in extra income without resorting to taking a job off the ranch.

When asked if a rancher could run cattle here, on the land’s own terms and without introducing non-native crops, Muller is thoughtful. “I guess that’d be about the best I’ve heard anybody say that – on its own terms. Yep, that would be like planting it back to native blue stem, we’re working on its own terms, what it will do by itself without any help.”

He continues, “You can ranch and run cattle with just grass. Of course, you’ll have to have some feed in the wintertime. But, no, you can make a living running cattle and just running them on the grass and like that. Some years you won’t make much; other years you’ll make more. When you buy a load of cattle in the spring here, you don’t know what’s going to happen by the first of August or October, whether you’re gonna be a millionaire or whether you’re just gonna be trying to rake up enough money to buy a hotdog.”

The Pressures for Development

“We’re a hundred miles from Wichita; they are coming up to Council Grove Lake and cabins. One guy down the road here three miles and west, come out of Wichita, built a brand new high-priced house and that’s where he’s retired. His wife can’t sleep cause it’s so quiet. What you’re seeing here, we’re seeing everyplace.”

Muller is determined not to sell, but he worries. “You know, somebody come out here and buy 10 acres right there on the corner, build a house, well that’s 10 acres off of there. Then somebody go over there and pretty soon you’ve got three or four houses, and 3 or 4 different families living there.” Enough of those 10-acre chunk sales and pretty soon the area resembles a subdivision. Muller sees this happening not far away. “Northeast of Council Grove there’s a blacktop road goes up there 5 or 6 miles; there’s several people built new houses up that road.”

Muller would rather keep his spread intact and preserve its character. He is pleased that his son and daughter now own the family’s Century Farm, and he values the old barn on the property. “That barn is starting to deteriorate somewhat, and I’m in the process of fixing everything I can on it and keeping it up in good shape because it’s one of the few good barns left around here. We don’t know how long it’s been in existence but it’s rock up to the hay loft, about 8 feet. It has 1923 carved on that one rock, so we know it’s been there since then. It’s just kind of like this land; you can read every week or two in the paper about the historical barns they’ve got, there’s just hundreds of them, they’re just almost shambles. They’ll never be replaced or fixed up, and a lot of them are not replaceable and not fixable. I ain’t gonna do anything with the barn after I fix it; it’ll just be there.”

Thoughts on Conservations Easements

“I’ve read about it, and talked to Kent and Rose a lot, and I really think this is what I’ve been trying to do but I need some help. It ain’t all the money; it’s protection I’m getting, and then it will give me a chance to improve the land by getting some money, like building fence and finish cutting the trees and preserving land. So I guess you’d say Kent and Rose had quite a bit of influence on me. I keep asking her every time I see her, ‘Are you still happy?’ and she says ‘Oh, yeah, we’re pleased.’ The easement’s going to go through and I’m pleased with all I did. And I think I’ll always be pleased with it, the way I intend for it to be.”

As committed as Muller is to partnering with KLT to protect his land, he backs off when asked whether his neighbors may consider following suit. “Well, Richard is. But I don’t think you’d interest any of my neighbors in it. I never mention it; I’m not in the business of selling the program.”

Muller’s decision was a personal one. “If this is for eternity, if this easement is for ever and ever, and can never be changed, well, is that what I want? When it goes to him (Richard), I don’t care what happens, if they never can sell it, fine, for being in that conservation easement, but I’ll guarantee that they ain’t going to tear it up. So that’s my feeling and that’s the reason it took me a couple years to decide if I wanted to participate. Don’t want to end up someday saying, ‘I’m sorry I did that; it ain’t worth it.’ But I think it’s the right decision and I’m going to do it.”