We need to talk about cows. I am hoping maybe we have a Montana reader who can explain to me WHY ON EARTH cattle roam free out here? Is there a health benefit? Are fences expensive? Or do you just do it to freak out the tourists?
You see, we had this tense drive the other day. I think maybe everyone else in the car was doing fine, but if I had been clenching a lump of coal in my teeth I could have produced a diamond in about forty-five minutes. Why? Because the land outside the boundaries of Glacier National Park is populated by hundreds of free range cattle. We encountered this in Texas where it was not a problem because west Texas is flat and the roads are straight and you can see clear to New Mexico. Montana is different. It’s hilly and you come around a corner and there are Bessie and four or five of her friends standing in the road. A simple drive to the other side of the park feels like living in a video game.
You see, we had this tense drive the other day. I think maybe everyone else in the car was doing fine, but if I had been clenching a lump of coal in my teeth I could have produced a diamond in about forty-five minutes. Why? Because the land outside the boundaries of Glacier National Park is populated by hundreds of free range cattle. We encountered this in Texas where it was not a problem because west Texas is flat and the roads are straight and you can see clear to New Mexico. Montana is different. It’s hilly and you come around a corner and there are Bessie and four or five of her friends standing in the road. A simple drive to the other side of the park feels like living in a video game.
Kevin was driving that morning and he did not seem the least bit bothered by all this. I prefer my burgers on the grill and not beef all up in the truck grill so I could not relax. I kept my eyes pealed and scanned for signs of bovine.
ME: “Cow. In the ditch.”
KEVIN: *slows down a tiny bit*
ME: “Another one. No, a bunch there!”
KEVIN: *no reaction*
ME: “Crossing the road, crossing the road, ITSCROSSINGTHEROAD!!!!
KRISTIN: “That one was dark.”
JOEL: “The Dark Cow. It’s like a cheap horror movie.”
EMILY: “Come to the Dark Side. We have cookies. And milk!”
Out west here we seem to have another disturbing trend on which I feel I must hold forth. It’s the one where men wear skirts. I need to clarify that these are NOT KILTS. No, if they were toting bagpipes and sporting William Wallace warpaint I would not even flinch. These skirts are not even close to Scottish. They do not feature a tartan, not even anything close enough to plaid to qualify as a traditional private school uniform.
Nor are these men drag queens. They have all been men who otherwise appear to be Joe Average Suburban Person, complete with a wife in capri/yoga pants and 2.3 kids. Except the dude who was probably in his mid-sixties. His kids might have been grown. I am hesitant to give him the benefit of that doubt about ethnic background because his skirt was black with two tiers of ruffles and hit about eight inches above the knee. So why do I still think he might have been Scottish? I will say it was an extremely windy day and I got too much information permanently burned into my brain and leave it at that. "Big Sky Country" just got a whole new meaning. I normally strive to offer you some great photos with each post but I figured this one time you will thank me for not doing so.
Just scroll back up and enjoy the lousy iPhone-shot-from-a-moving-vehicle cow pics and don’t say I didn’t warn you about the American west.
-Jenni
ME: “Cow. In the ditch.”
KEVIN: *slows down a tiny bit*
ME: “Another one. No, a bunch there!”
KEVIN: *no reaction*
ME: “Crossing the road, crossing the road, ITSCROSSINGTHEROAD!!!!
KRISTIN: “That one was dark.”
JOEL: “The Dark Cow. It’s like a cheap horror movie.”
EMILY: “Come to the Dark Side. We have cookies. And milk!”
Out west here we seem to have another disturbing trend on which I feel I must hold forth. It’s the one where men wear skirts. I need to clarify that these are NOT KILTS. No, if they were toting bagpipes and sporting William Wallace warpaint I would not even flinch. These skirts are not even close to Scottish. They do not feature a tartan, not even anything close enough to plaid to qualify as a traditional private school uniform.
Nor are these men drag queens. They have all been men who otherwise appear to be Joe Average Suburban Person, complete with a wife in capri/yoga pants and 2.3 kids. Except the dude who was probably in his mid-sixties. His kids might have been grown. I am hesitant to give him the benefit of that doubt about ethnic background because his skirt was black with two tiers of ruffles and hit about eight inches above the knee. So why do I still think he might have been Scottish? I will say it was an extremely windy day and I got too much information permanently burned into my brain and leave it at that. "Big Sky Country" just got a whole new meaning. I normally strive to offer you some great photos with each post but I figured this one time you will thank me for not doing so.
Just scroll back up and enjoy the lousy iPhone-shot-from-a-moving-vehicle cow pics and don’t say I didn’t warn you about the American west.
-Jenni