From the Archives:  June, 2012–Like a Moth To Your Headlamp

The last 72 hours have been pretty big here at the Lazy Lamb.  Not big as in run away llamas, rogue lambs or anything high-octane like that, but big in a personal sort of way.  Let’s call it a metamorphosis, like the hairy little caterpillar emerging from his sticky cocoon as a glorious yet equally hideous moth that endlessly pesters your headlamp while you’re looking for your beer in the cooler.   That’s me.  An extra hairy caterpillar-turned-moth.

Most of you, my faithful readers, know I’m no country boy by birth.  I was born and raised in the beautiful city of Portland, riding my Mongoose BMX bike around NW Portland long before 23rd was totally safe, let alone a desirable place to shoe shop.  Hence, the blog of a semi-stupid sheep rancher.  Anyhow, I moved to Idaho a little over twelve years ago and really took to the mountain lifestyle.

It wasn’t until about two years ago that my redneckery really began to blossom (or rapidly fester), culminating in a guy that now owns a three wheeler, sheep, two Ford pickups and should have bought stock in Copenhagen at 18.

And culminate, it has.  I just realized that over the past 72 hours, I have had three Redneck Firsts that should be duly noted:

1.  I wore suspenders on Sunday.  And not to church.  I wore suspenders as a matter of function because I’ve found that my pants are repeatedly falling down by the end of a long day of ranch work, despite cinching my belt down.  So I took the suspenders off my carpenter’s belt, gingerly snapping them on to my pants and looking around like I was doing something filthy.  When I looked in the mirror, my blue suspenders over my grey button up shirt, my beard looking even more disheveled than usual, I didn’t flinch.  The cocoon was starting to peel.

2.  Wearing my suspenders and elk hide gloves, I had a twenty minute conversation with a real, big time rancher about commodity prices, water rights and the legendary Ford 7.3L diesel power plant.  Three things I knew little about three years ago but can now talk about with authority.  And to the best of my knowledge, he didn’t suspect me for a fraud for even a minute.   Matter of fact, I think I saw him eyeballing my suspenders with just a hint of envy as he pulled up his wranglers and spat on his dog. The cocoon is wide open and I’m a hideous moth looking about for the cooler.

3.  I built a platform on my 1987 Yamaha three wheeler for my herding dog, Phil, to sit on while we motor two and from the neighbor’s paddocks to move the sheep.   Using leftover plywood from the food cart, I fastened a platform to the cargo rack with bailing wire.  After only a handful of rides, Phil now jumps onto Don Johnson as soon as I pull the cord to start him (the battery recently died, relegating poor Donny back to a pull-start ATV).  Phil then sits totally still as we hammer down the road to the neighbor’s ranch.  I then stop the three wheeler, get off, then say “okay” and he eagerly dismounts.   If my mother saw me (and she will soon), she’d cry.  My dad wouldn’t recognize me.   The moth now flies towards your headlamp.

This morning when I woke up at 5:30 to knock some chores about before hauling straw bales up to the cart site, I realized that I had fully hatched into redneckery.  While I still enjoy watching basketball, listening to public radio and eating spicy ethnic food, I’m afraid it’s just a matter of time until I’m shirtless at a Toby Keith concert, incoherently mumbling about the dangerous of reading liberal media.  And you know what?  I like it.