Most people assume the Circle J Ranch has been in our family for generations. It hasn’t.
We bought our first 285 acres in 2008. My dad, Jeff, wanted a place our family could gather and something we could build over time. The land had solid fencing, good grasses, and natural water sources. Perfect for cattle. Since then, we’ve expanded to just under 1,000 acres, including a stretch along the Brazos River.
That stretch includes an ancient oxbow known as the Lost River, documented as far back as the 1700s. It’s rumored that dignitaries once hunted there. The ranch also holds deeper roots. In the 1800s, the land helped feed soldiers stationed at Camp Groce, a Confederate outpost and prison during the Civil War which boarded the ranch.
The oldest home still standing was built in 1906. In the 1930s, the ranch operated as a dairy and beef operation under the Nevin family, who called it Circle N. They built barns, spring-fed ponds, and hosted local gatherings. Some say even polo matches. In the 1990s, the land was divided among several families. One of the owners registered a new brand: Circle J.
When we bought it, that brand came with the property. We didn’t name it.
We were going to change it. Then my dad had a dream that we were supposed to keep it. For him, Circle J became a symbol of our family’s dedication to Jesus and a commitment to live out biblical principles for generations. It wasn’t a branding decision. It was about being faithful with what we were given.
The flood came fast — so did the decision to change everything. In 2017, during Hurricane Harvey, while Houston was dealing with one of the worst disasters in its history, we had our own crisis unfolding at the ranch. The Brazos River jumped its banks and poured into the back 500 acres. Almost two miles of fence were wiped out. We checked the NOAA charts, saw what was coming, and launched a cow rescue. Our team moved fast, pushing through four to five feet of water, and managed to save nearly every animal.
After the chaos, we sat down at a whiteboard. Grocery store meat was getting worse. Labels had lost meaning. We talked about how often we gave beef away to friends and how many times people told us it was the best they’d ever had. That was the start of Circle J Meat. Too many good ranchers had been pushed out of the food supply chain. We wanted to change that. For Houston. For Southeast Texas. For people we know and care about.