I’m ‘off the reservation
?!’
…I know, I know, it was there all along and I could’ve used it earlier, but held out for a time just like now instead; as never before has it meant so literal a representation of my soul - I almost feel like I’ve been released from prison in a strange and totally insane way of thinking (not forgetting of course I just left a job at a fly shop on the Big Horn River, Montana)?......
……..Yup, Boca, Suzie, and I, vacated as quickly as news came I was ‘accepted’ to move from one end of this great state to the other. We now live just 12 miles west of Bozeman, a few miles southwest of Belgrade, and on a lone dirt road, in another singlewide, in the middle of a gigantic cow pasture; but it’s perfect and I’m happier than I could ever be (within reason of course).
……………………….
If there were any great news attached to what was already good news; would be what Charlie, my landlord/famer said after being asked: “how many head is that anyway”; having’ lost count well into the hundreds?
”It’s just under a thousand, but gonna be a lot less come next week, as were done with dairy”.
“What’s that?”
“Done- lands worth too much to keep it up? We’re sellin.”
“Oh?”
“Yup, been in the family fer generations, but we’ll just go to raisin a few instead (200), but not milkin anymore?”
“Dang man, sorry to hear it?” I said and tried to sound sincere, though not sure how convincing I was; considering I was ecstatic to hear my daily intake of noxious cow pooh would be diminishing a whole 800 head, give or take.
………….
I’d had a less enlightening conversation on the subject just the week before, when discussing the possibility of even moving here in the first place.
“Oh cows?”…“You’ll get used to it.” Carrie said while ringing up my bacon and eggs in the Yellow Tail Market
“No, I’m tellin ya, this is some strong stuff were talkin bout here now, nauseating; something like: 900 head of cattle?” I said
“I grew up on a farm. Aint nuthin to it I tell ya”…”Give it a week or two and you’ll never even notice.”
“Yeah whatever, still, I’m hoping that place in Boulder pans out?” I said, still foolishly thinking people with million dollar homes were idiots enough to let me live in them for winters with two dogs, no job, and terrible credit references
.
“Heck, I was driving home from work one night and got behind a cattle-rig and I was bout hangin my head out the window like a dog; I couldn’t get enough of it I tell ya...My ex-husband asked ‘why I was late?’ and I told him ‘I got behind a cattle truck’ and he understood.” she said smiling
“That’s just not right, if were talkin bout the same thing?” I told her, “These dairy cows, man they just rot from the inside out I think!?”
“Oh, you mean ‘dairy cows’?”…”I thought you said ‘cattle’, like free ranging?” …”No, no, no, dairy cows, now that’s an entirely different animal; they sure nuff stink!”
-The ‘news’ they were leaving was a blessing I hadn’t even put much serious prayer into, but was glad none the less. And since consoling future millionaires wasn’t something I’d ever considered fun, I left Charlie to sulk about his family farm going under all alone.
……………………………….
Once I’d completed the all important task of closing off both ends of my yard, utilizing the existing pasture fence, along with 100’ of hog wire I bought- trapping the girls inside. I set about figuring out how to shelter them when I was away and that’s when a notion struck me like a bolt from the heavens?
“Saw Zaw”; it’s what Charlie called the funny lookin tool he lent me to cut a hole for my dogs to go in and out of my shed, which is now my dog house? I’d heard them called this before, but never had anyone actually let me use one, and here the guy handed it to me along with his skill-saw without even asking whether I did or didn’t feel confident working either; given I was a fat red neck lookin 41 year old and probably should?
Yeah, I’ll go ahead and admit if there was an area I was more clueless in than making money and holding down jobs, it would be actually working while on them; especially when it involved the use of high powered tools? As far as construction-projects go, I can be counted on 100% heading in the other direction when the mere words “build something from scratch” enter the conversation. Oh following diagrams no better, clueless. I’ll lose the hammer in the first few minutes, the screwdriver while looking for the hammer, and let the directions blow into the lake while looking for both?
There isn’t a plantation manager who will ever forget that city slicker they hired who couldn’t operate a leaf blower or weed whacker without some formal ten-minute instruction. When I wasn’t cat walking huge Jon Deere tractors across food plots I was usually found attempting to call AAA before I’d ever call the office -broken down again along a lonely stretch of Georgia roadway; having mysteriously lost a wheel at some point
?
…My ‘doggy door’, because I failed Shop in 8th grade, is now approximately 16”x 24”x 29”x12? Thankfully, the only two other living breathing things in Bozeman I know, don’t possess the know-how to measure either and love me regardless of my construction shortcomings. As a bonus I still have all my fingers, though when cutting down several shelves that needed removing, I very nearly removed my left hand from my body?
The girls now have a warm place to miss me when I’m off looking for a job (or elk hunting) and ‘it aint out in the fifty mile an hour wind at least’, or so I tell em before leaving every morning.
It took a surprisingly short time to teach both dogs that the giant building (in dog terms) was now, given I’d sliced the abnormal sized hole into its’ siding; their “new dog house” and they got excited at entering and seeing their master bent over as the dang thing’s too short to stand erect (in human terms).
Once inside, we stood and stared at all the wonderful things a dog might like to chew to smithereens once left alone; and I began the chore of hauling outside their enclosure several cans of paint, thirty feet of garden hose, a box of caulking tubes, jointers, skews, and other odd items I’d never in my life heard of?
…Once this was complete, both Boca and Suzie still dancing around my feet, it dawned on me; “I’d just turned my shed into a giant dog house and now I needed a shed
?!”
……………..
After doing about two dozen really dumb things since moving here five days ago, I awoke this morning and made a vow to myself to cut it out once and for all! This vow is one I’ve made before, but this time I meant it! Three hours later I broke this vow so bad it makes me think I’m incurable, destined for more of the same, and borderline an idiot savant of sorts?
I’d for several days been seeing this sign along the roadway indicating a ‘Fisheries and Game Management Office 4 miles west’ and had spent the better part of yesterday riding four miles down two different roads trying to find it instead of another job, or doing the half a million other more important things on my list; then try to find more land to hunt on?
Today I found this mysterious office and found it closed, the wrong one anyway- as it was devoted to ‘fish hatchery only’, and after asking a Fed EX driver “where I should go next?”; he pointed me back across town where I walked into the Forestry Office of Bozeman and was informed I was in the wrong place again?!
When the woman behind the counter in the brown uniform politely informed me:”You might be looking for the Department of Fish and Game over on College Avenue?” I very nearly fell flat on my face! Seriously, it defies logic in common man just how brain dead I am sometimes. For those who kindly suggested I not refer to myself as an idiot in past posts, I appreciate the gesture of good will, but would now discourage you from arguing the point ever again?
Not three weeks ago I posted on this very forum not only ‘stopping in this same exact office she was now referring to and buying my bear and wolf tag’, but had also spent the better part of an hour in the bloody thing, throwing down over $60.00 bucks I didn’t have on tags and maps on my way down to the Gravellys; now only to realize so and that I might in fact be losing my mind?!
“You’re in Bozeman now you idiot?!” I exclaimed aloud, walking back out the door, much to the woman’s horror.
As I drove back across town I sincerely contemplated driving to the nearest insane asylum for admission instead. Being used to such things though, I shook it off and eventually found myself in familiar surroundings (the office of the DFG), and then spent another two hours discussing “deer and elk hunting” with a handful of helpful folks seemingly understanding my plight of attempting to kill both a huge muley and elk in the next two weeks before the season ended, though none of them the wiser just what caliber of a hunting lunatic they were dealing with?
Tomorrow evening I begin my hunt again, this time however the prey is ‘mule deer bucks first, elk second’, as the RUT is in its pre/chasing-phase and with state lands less than an hour away, some good info I think from a reliable source (?), I may be into some good deer hunting; who knows??...
………………………..
...Thus begins ‘Part 2’ of my elk hunting journey (the part where I score and there is no Part 3) as I’m flat broke and no longer just wishing for beginners’ luck, but just dumb-luck if the local deer and elk herd can spare some??…….
….I’ll check in after each hunt and let you know how it’s going.
Later,
G
?!’…I know, I know, it was there all along and I could’ve used it earlier, but held out for a time just like now instead; as never before has it meant so literal a representation of my soul - I almost feel like I’ve been released from prison in a strange and totally insane way of thinking (not forgetting of course I just left a job at a fly shop on the Big Horn River, Montana)?......
……..Yup, Boca, Suzie, and I, vacated as quickly as news came I was ‘accepted’ to move from one end of this great state to the other. We now live just 12 miles west of Bozeman, a few miles southwest of Belgrade, and on a lone dirt road, in another singlewide, in the middle of a gigantic cow pasture; but it’s perfect and I’m happier than I could ever be (within reason of course).
……………………….
If there were any great news attached to what was already good news; would be what Charlie, my landlord/famer said after being asked: “how many head is that anyway”; having’ lost count well into the hundreds?
”It’s just under a thousand, but gonna be a lot less come next week, as were done with dairy”.
“What’s that?”
“Done- lands worth too much to keep it up? We’re sellin.”
“Oh?”
“Yup, been in the family fer generations, but we’ll just go to raisin a few instead (200), but not milkin anymore?”
“Dang man, sorry to hear it?” I said and tried to sound sincere, though not sure how convincing I was; considering I was ecstatic to hear my daily intake of noxious cow pooh would be diminishing a whole 800 head, give or take.
………….
I’d had a less enlightening conversation on the subject just the week before, when discussing the possibility of even moving here in the first place.
“Oh cows?”…“You’ll get used to it.” Carrie said while ringing up my bacon and eggs in the Yellow Tail Market
“No, I’m tellin ya, this is some strong stuff were talkin bout here now, nauseating; something like: 900 head of cattle?” I said
“I grew up on a farm. Aint nuthin to it I tell ya”…”Give it a week or two and you’ll never even notice.”
“Yeah whatever, still, I’m hoping that place in Boulder pans out?” I said, still foolishly thinking people with million dollar homes were idiots enough to let me live in them for winters with two dogs, no job, and terrible credit references
.“Heck, I was driving home from work one night and got behind a cattle-rig and I was bout hangin my head out the window like a dog; I couldn’t get enough of it I tell ya...My ex-husband asked ‘why I was late?’ and I told him ‘I got behind a cattle truck’ and he understood.” she said smiling
“That’s just not right, if were talkin bout the same thing?” I told her, “These dairy cows, man they just rot from the inside out I think!?”
“Oh, you mean ‘dairy cows’?”…”I thought you said ‘cattle’, like free ranging?” …”No, no, no, dairy cows, now that’s an entirely different animal; they sure nuff stink!”
-The ‘news’ they were leaving was a blessing I hadn’t even put much serious prayer into, but was glad none the less. And since consoling future millionaires wasn’t something I’d ever considered fun, I left Charlie to sulk about his family farm going under all alone.
……………………………….
Once I’d completed the all important task of closing off both ends of my yard, utilizing the existing pasture fence, along with 100’ of hog wire I bought- trapping the girls inside. I set about figuring out how to shelter them when I was away and that’s when a notion struck me like a bolt from the heavens?
“Saw Zaw”; it’s what Charlie called the funny lookin tool he lent me to cut a hole for my dogs to go in and out of my shed, which is now my dog house? I’d heard them called this before, but never had anyone actually let me use one, and here the guy handed it to me along with his skill-saw without even asking whether I did or didn’t feel confident working either; given I was a fat red neck lookin 41 year old and probably should
?Yeah, I’ll go ahead and admit if there was an area I was more clueless in than making money and holding down jobs, it would be actually working while on them; especially when it involved the use of high powered tools? As far as construction-projects go, I can be counted on 100% heading in the other direction when the mere words “build something from scratch” enter the conversation. Oh following diagrams no better, clueless. I’ll lose the hammer in the first few minutes, the screwdriver while looking for the hammer, and let the directions blow into the lake while looking for both?
There isn’t a plantation manager who will ever forget that city slicker they hired who couldn’t operate a leaf blower or weed whacker without some formal ten-minute instruction. When I wasn’t cat walking huge Jon Deere tractors across food plots I was usually found attempting to call AAA before I’d ever call the office -broken down again along a lonely stretch of Georgia roadway; having mysteriously lost a wheel at some point
?…My ‘doggy door’, because I failed Shop in 8th grade, is now approximately 16”x 24”x 29”x12
? Thankfully, the only two other living breathing things in Bozeman I know, don’t possess the know-how to measure either and love me regardless of my construction shortcomings. As a bonus I still have all my fingers, though when cutting down several shelves that needed removing, I very nearly removed my left hand from my body?The girls now have a warm place to miss me when I’m off looking for a job (or elk hunting) and ‘it aint out in the fifty mile an hour wind at least’, or so I tell em before leaving every morning.
It took a surprisingly short time to teach both dogs that the giant building (in dog terms) was now, given I’d sliced the abnormal sized hole into its’ siding; their “new dog house” and they got excited at entering and seeing their master bent over as the dang thing’s too short to stand erect (in human terms).
Once inside, we stood and stared at all the wonderful things a dog might like to chew to smithereens once left alone; and I began the chore of hauling outside their enclosure several cans of paint, thirty feet of garden hose, a box of caulking tubes, jointers, skews, and other odd items I’d never in my life heard of?
…Once this was complete, both Boca and Suzie still dancing around my feet, it dawned on me; “I’d just turned my shed into a giant dog house and now I needed a shed
?!”……………..
After doing about two dozen really dumb things since moving here five days ago, I awoke this morning and made a vow to myself to cut it out once and for all! This vow is one I’ve made before, but this time I meant it! Three hours later I broke this vow so bad it makes me think I’m incurable, destined for more of the same, and borderline an idiot savant of sorts?
I’d for several days been seeing this sign along the roadway indicating a ‘Fisheries and Game Management Office 4 miles west’ and had spent the better part of yesterday riding four miles down two different roads trying to find it instead of another job, or doing the half a million other more important things on my list; then try to find more land to hunt on?
Today I found this mysterious office and found it closed, the wrong one anyway- as it was devoted to ‘fish hatchery only’, and after asking a Fed EX driver “where I should go next?”; he pointed me back across town where I walked into the Forestry Office of Bozeman and was informed I was in the wrong place again?!
When the woman behind the counter in the brown uniform politely informed me:”You might be looking for the Department of Fish and Game over on College Avenue?” I very nearly fell flat on my face! Seriously, it defies logic in common man just how brain dead I am sometimes. For those who kindly suggested I not refer to myself as an idiot in past posts, I appreciate the gesture of good will, but would now discourage you from arguing the point ever again
?Not three weeks ago I posted on this very forum not only ‘stopping in this same exact office she was now referring to and buying my bear and wolf tag’, but had also spent the better part of an hour in the bloody thing, throwing down over $60.00 bucks I didn’t have on tags and maps on my way down to the Gravellys; now only to realize so and that I might in fact be losing my mind?!
“You’re in Bozeman now you idiot?!”
I exclaimed aloud, walking back out the door, much to the woman’s horror. As I drove back across town I sincerely contemplated driving to the nearest insane asylum for admission instead. Being used to such things though, I shook it off and eventually found myself in familiar surroundings (the office of the DFG), and then spent another two hours discussing “deer and elk hunting” with a handful of helpful folks seemingly understanding my plight of attempting to kill both a huge muley and elk in the next two weeks before the season ended, though none of them the wiser just what caliber of a hunting lunatic they were dealing with?
Tomorrow evening I begin my hunt again, this time however the prey is ‘mule deer bucks first, elk second’, as the RUT is in its pre/chasing-phase and with state lands less than an hour away, some good info I think from a reliable source (?), I may be into some good deer hunting; who knows??...
………………………..
...Thus begins ‘Part 2’ of my elk hunting journey (the part where I score and there is no Part 3) as I’m flat broke and no longer just wishing for beginners’ luck, but just dumb-luck if the local deer and elk herd can spare some??…….
….I’ll check in after each hunt and let you know how it’s going.
Later,
G
Keep us posted!
I began booking it and moving my legs and feet faster than I ever had on a deer hunt, but there was no way these two were gonna beat me to ‘wherever it was we were going?’ By the time I stopped to turn around again, sure I was another hundred yards ahead at least; they had vanished?! I secretly told myself he’d figured he couldn’t beat me, so he decided to tell his girlfriend they’d just hunt closer to their truck or something? That’s when I turned back around and saw him up in front
?!
I'll admit, they're long....
Agressively searching for 'an editor' at MSU-seriously. 
