Heartwarming Story of a Farmer’s Love for His Cows and a Life-Changing Decision

On a quiet Sunday evening in April 2026, millions of South Koreans tuned in to Human Documentary Sano-ramyeon, a program that has spent years chronicling the unvarnished, often poetic realities of rural life. The episode that aired that night—titled “The Cow Loved Like a Child: A Grandfather’s Regret and a Decision”—didn’t just tug at heartstrings. It laid bare a collision of tradition, economics, and emotional reckoning that resonates far beyond the Korean countryside. And if you live in a place like Austin, Texas, where urban sprawl is swallowing family farms at an alarming rate, the story might feel uncomfortably familiar.

The documentary followed 82-year-old Lee Jong-ho, a third-generation cattle farmer in South Korea’s North Gyeongsang Province. For six decades, Lee had raised Hanwoo cattle, a prized breed known for its marbled beef and cultural significance. But his relationship with one cow, named “Boksoon” (meaning “fortune” in Korean), transcended the transactional. Lee had bottle-fed Boksoon as a calf, slept in the barn during her first winter, and even sung to her during storms. In the documentary, he confessed, “I never thought of her as livestock. She was family.”

The turning point came when Boksoon, now 15 years old, began showing signs of age-related illness. Veterinary bills mounted, and Lee’s adult children—who had long since moved to Seoul—urged him to sell the herd, and retire. The emotional weight of the decision was compounded by economic reality: South Korea’s beef imports had surged 23% in 2025, driven by cheaper Australian and U.S. Cuts, and small-scale farmers like Lee were struggling to compete. The documentary captured his agonizing choice: euthanize Boksoon to spare her suffering, or sell the farm and move to a city apartment where he’d have no space for her. Lee chose euthanasia, but not before throwing a small memorial service for Boksoon, complete with her favorite hay and a handwritten letter of apology.

Why does this story matter in Austin? Due to the fact that the forces squeezing Lee Jong-ho—rising costs, urbanization, and the erosion of generational farming—are playing out in Texas in eerily similar ways. Travis County has lost over 30% of its farmland since 2000, according to the Texas A&M AgriLife Extension Service. The average age of a Texas farmer is now 59, and fewer young people are stepping in to replace them. Meanwhile, the state’s beef industry, a $12 billion economic engine, is increasingly dominated by large-scale feedlots, leaving small ranchers to grapple with the same emotional and financial dilemmas as Lee.

The Human Cost of “Progress”

Lee’s story isn’t just about farming; it’s about the quiet grief of watching a way of life disappear. In the documentary, his wife, Kim Soon-ja, tearfully recounted how their children had begged them to sell the farm for years. “They said, ‘What’s the point of working so hard when the land is worth more than the cows?’” she said. The couple’s eventual decision to downsize wasn’t just about money—it was about loneliness. Their neighbors, too, had sold their farms, leaving the Lees as one of the last holdouts in their village.

This dynamic is mirrored in Central Texas, where the rapid expansion of suburbs like Pflugerville and Manor has turned once-thriving ranches into housing developments. The Texas Farm Bureau reports that the state loses roughly 600 farms annually, many of them small, family-owned operations. For ranchers like the Lees, the land isn’t just soil—it’s a repository of memories, a connection to ancestors, and a living ecosystem they’ve nurtured for decades. When that land is sold, something intangible but irreplaceable is lost.

But the emotional toll is only part of the story. The economic pressures are just as brutal. In South Korea, the average small-scale cattle farmer earns about 30% less than the national median income, according to government data cited in the documentary. In Texas, the numbers are similarly grim. The USDA’s 2024 Farm Income Forecast projected that net farm income in the state would decline by 8% that year, driven by rising feed costs and stagnant beef prices. For ranchers like Lee, who operate on thin margins, one bad season—or one aging cow—can mean the difference between solvency and bankruptcy.

The Austin Paradox: A City That Loves Local Food but Can’t Sustain Its Farmers

Austin prides itself on its farm-to-table ethos. The city’s farmers’ markets—like the one at Mueller Lake Park or the iconic Austin Farmers Market downtown—are packed every weekend with shoppers eager to buy grass-fed beef, heirloom vegetables, and artisanal cheeses. The “local food” movement has even spawned a cottage industry of boutique butchers, like Salt & Time and Dai Due, which source their meat from small Texas ranches.

Yet this demand hasn’t translated into economic security for the farmers themselves. A 2025 report from the Sustainable Food Center found that while Austinites spend over $100 million annually on locally sourced food, only about 15% of that revenue flows back to the farmers. The rest is absorbed by middlemen—distributors, processors, and retailers—who seize a cut at every step of the supply chain. For ranchers like Lee Jong-ho, who lack the scale to negotiate better prices, this system is a slow-motion death sentence.

The irony is stark. Austin’s food scene celebrates the romance of small-scale farming, but the city’s policies and economic realities make it nearly impossible for those farmers to survive. Zoning laws favor developers over agricultural land, property taxes are skyrocketing, and the cost of feed and veterinary care continues to climb. Meanwhile, the city’s rapid growth—Travis County added over 100,000 residents between 2020 and 2025—has turned farmland into prime real estate. A rancher in Manor can sell their land to a developer for 10 times what they’d earn from a decade of cattle sales. The math is simple; the emotional calculus is not.

What Happens When the Last Farmer Sells?

Lee Jong-ho’s story ends with a bittersweet resolution: he and his wife moved to a small apartment in Daegu, where they now spend their days volunteering at an animal shelter. The documentary’s final scene shows Lee standing in front of a row of cages, feeding carrots to abandoned dogs. “At least here,” he says, “I can still take care of something.”

But what happens when there are no more farmers like Lee? In Texas, the consequences are already becoming clear. As small ranches disappear, so does the genetic diversity of the state’s cattle herds. Large feedlots favor a handful of high-yield breeds, which are more susceptible to disease and require more antibiotics. The loss of small farms also means the loss of local knowledge—how to rotate pastures, how to breed for resilience, how to read the land. And perhaps most importantly, it means the loss of a cultural touchstone. For generations, Texas has defined itself by its ranching heritage. When that fades, what replaces it?

There are glimmers of hope. Some Austin-area ranchers are adapting by diversifying their income streams—offering agritourism experiences, selling directly to consumers through CSAs (Community Supported Agriculture), or even leasing their land for solar farms. The Texas Department of Agriculture’s “Go Texan” program, which promotes locally grown products, has seen a 20% increase in participation since 2020. And organizations like the Texas Agricultural Land Trust are working to preserve farmland through conservation easements.

But these efforts are fighting an uphill battle. The forces arrayed against small farmers—globalization, urbanization, climate change—are powerful and relentless. For every rancher who finds a way to adapt, another is forced to sell. And with each sale, a piece of Texas’s identity slips away.

If This Hits Close to Home: What Austinites Can Do

Given my background in agricultural economics and rural policy, I’ve seen firsthand how communities can either accelerate the decline of small farms or become part of the solution. If you’re an Austin resident who cares about preserving the region’s ranching heritage, here are three concrete steps you can take:

1. Vote with Your Wallet—But Do It Strategically. Buying local is a start, but not all “local” purchases are created equal. Seek out ranchers who sell directly to consumers through CSAs or farm stands. These models cut out the middlemen and ensure that more of your dollar goes to the farmer. The Texas Real Food directory is a great place to start. Gaze for operations that are transparent about their practices—question about pasture rotation, antibiotic use, and how they handle animal welfare. The more you know, the more your money can support the kind of farming you believe in.
2. Advocate for Policies That Protect Farmland. Austin’s rapid growth isn’t going to stop, but the city can adopt policies that sluggish the loss of agricultural land. Support initiatives like the Travis County Agricultural Land Preservation Program, which offers tax incentives to farmers who retain their land in production. Push for zoning laws that prioritize farmland over sprawl, and for infrastructure investments that make it easier for small ranchers to access markets. Organizations like the Farm and Ranch Freedom Alliance are leading these fights—consider donating or volunteering.
3. Engage with the Next Generation of Farmers. The average age of a Texas farmer is 59, and fewer young people are entering the profession. Programs like the Texas Young Farmers Coalition are working to change that by providing mentorship, land access, and financial resources to new farmers. If you have land, consider leasing it to a young rancher through programs like the Texas Farmland Trust. If you don’t, you can still support these efforts by attending workshops, spreading the word, or even just visiting a local farm to learn about the challenges ranchers face.

The Local Resource Guide: Who You Demand If You’re a Rancher (or Want to Support One)

If you’re a rancher in the Austin area feeling the same pressures as Lee Jong-ho, or if you’re a resident who wants to help, here are the three types of local professionals you should know about. These aren’t just generic categories—they’re the specific kinds of experts who can make a real difference in your situation.

1. Agricultural Financial Planners

Not all financial advisors understand the unique challenges of farming. You need someone who specializes in agricultural economics and can help you navigate everything from tax strategies to succession planning. Look for professionals with credentials from the Texas A&M Agricultural and Food Policy Center or the Farm Credit System. They should be able to help you:

• Structure your business to minimize tax burdens (e.g., taking advantage of agricultural exemptions).
• Develop a succession plan that keeps the farm in the family without crippling the next generation with debt.
• Explore alternative revenue streams, like agritourism or value-added products (e.g., selling beef jerky or tallow candles).

Red flags: Advisors who push you toward selling your land without exploring other options, or who don’t understand the cyclical nature of farming income.

2. Land Use and Zoning Attorneys

As urban sprawl encroaches on farmland, legal battles over zoning, water rights, and property taxes are becoming more common. A solid land use attorney can help you:

• Challenge unfair property tax assessments that don’t account for your land’s agricultural value.
• Negotiate conservation easements that allow you to keep farming while protecting the land from development.
• Fight zoning changes that would allow developers to build on adjacent properties, increasing your property taxes or disrupting your operations.

Look for attorneys who have experience with the Texas Department of Agriculture and local county governments. The State Bar of Texas has a referral service that can connect you with specialists in agricultural law.

Red flags: Attorneys who don’t have experience with farm-specific cases or who seem more interested in facilitating land sales than protecting your interests.

3. Sustainable Ranching Consultants

If you’re struggling to compete with large-scale feedlots, a sustainable ranching consultant can help you differentiate your product and command a premium price. These experts specialize in regenerative agriculture, grass-fed beef production, and direct-to-consumer marketing. They can help you:

• Transition to regenerative grazing practices, which can improve soil health, reduce feed costs, and produce higher-quality beef.
• Develop a direct-to-consumer sales strategy, whether through a CSA, farmers’ markets, or online sales.
• Obtain certifications (e.g., Animal Welfare Approved, Grassfed) that appeal to conscious consumers.

Look for consultants with certifications from the Savory Institute or the Rodale Institute. The Texas Grassfed Association is also a great resource for finding local experts.

Red flags: Consultants who promise quick fixes or who don’t have a track record of working with small-scale ranchers.

Lee Jong-ho’s story is a reminder that farming isn’t just a job—it’s a way of life. And when that way of life disappears, something essential is lost. But it doesn’t have to be inevitable. Whether you’re a rancher fighting to keep your land or a consumer who wants to support local agriculture, there are steps you can take to preserve the farms that feed us—and the people who tend them.

Ready to uncover trusted professionals? Browse our complete directory of top-rated agricultural financial planners in the Austin area today.