Further Evidence of My Decline

Last year I wrote about becoming one of 'those people' (meaning a Coloradoan, mostly). If you're just joining me, or if you're forgotten, a link: Mourning for my Wyomingiteness

It hasn't gotten any better. I really am one of those people now, with some glimmers of the redneck I was underneath it all.

I am a gadget-a-holic, as evidenced by recent acquisitions:
- A new laptop and extra memory for said laptop

- A Sprint wireless internet card w/ USB adapater

- A Motorola Q

And finally, deciding that the Q was only a neo-gadget, it's been handed down to MadManda (who conveniently destroyed her Blue Katana by starting a water fight w/ Cowboy while carrying it in her pocket)
- A Treo755p in Burgundy

This is, of course, in addition to my 'old' phone, the i870 by Nextel


Happy (thought slightly guilty) sigh...

Where has the redneck gone, you say? She's still here, under all the sophistimicated database maintaining/report creating glamour. I have proof, though I'll spare you any pictures you might find disturbing.

The elk were moving from the lower meadows up into the high country last weekend. A dangerous trip at any other time, it was particular rough during the first weekend of the summer. More than one elk vs man accident claimed the life of one of these great animals last weekend. My brother in law, as a Colorado State Patrolman, was required to work every day of the holiday weekend and happened to be present at one of these incidents.

While it is sad to see anything die after being hit by a car; a practical, unabashed-though-slightly-citified redneck might inquire: what happens to the carcass? Nearly 200lbs of meat shouldn't go to needless waste! Usually, some helpful (hungry) passing motorist volunteers to take care of that problem. Cowboy and I have actually waited several years for the opportunity to get in on the action.

Now, you sophisticated city folk may be sitting at your computers with horrified looks on your faces at the very thought. Consider this: what could be more earth-friendly, practical and efficient than to make use of what would otherwise go into some landfill to rot? I think my native American brethren would approve: if the animal is going to die either way, better that it's death serve a purpose. Filling my freezer and feeding seven hungry souls seems a noble purpose indeed.

As a kid growing up in Wyoming, I helped my parents raise many different kinds of animals for food. It might seem heartless to those who have always procured their dinner from neat packages in grocery stores but there is a feeling of accomplishment when you have worked for months to raise and care for what you're eating.

Hunting for game is an accomplishment in itself. In my part of the world, we still remember that hunting is honorable work when the animal is used properly: as food, not just a prize. Man has removed nearly all the animals that preyed upon these great beasts. Without hunting by man, the species would overpopulate and become subject to starvation and disease. It's not the same, of course, in this case but in the great scheme of things, making use of the animal still serves a purpose.

It's also not as simple a thing as you might imagine; there's quite a bit of very dirty, nasty, smelly, dirty work involved in the process, not to mention some quick thinking and phone calls to local game-processing butcher shops. Just getting a carcass this size off the ground and into a vehicle is a procedure in itself.

We got a call from D Saturday evening: if you want one, we've got one, but you need to come now.

Unfortunately for us, we didn't move quickly enough. As mentioned before, a passing motorist volunteered and a Trooper who didn't know we were on our way allowed them to take the elk. No hard feelings; we were really playing the part of scavengers in this scenario and the first rule of scavenging is 'first is first.'

Most days I feel completely urban, from the top of my sophiscatedly cut, colored and high-lighted hair to the tips of my professionally pedicured toes. I think it's a testament to how deeply my country-girl goes that in one quick minute I transformed into something else: a woman prepared to have a dead elk on a tarp in the back of her Suburban but later, a woman with a couple hundred pounds of low-fat, range-fed meat in her freezer.

That someone else claimed the right is disappointing, but not terribly so. After all, I can still visit my local butcher or grocery store for a fine cut of beef instead. On one point, though, I did find myself sighing wistfully. With the loss of the opportunity also went another possibility: months worth of 'roadkill for dinner' jokes!