Saturday night, our local buddy Kevin invited us out to a wedding dance in Val Marie. I had my reservations, as it seemed strange to crash some stranger's wedding. He shrugged it off though, saying that anyone could come. It was definitely the oddest wedding gathering I've ever seen, and one of the most memorable. For one thing, no one besides the bride and bridesmaids were dressed up. Jeans and cowboy hats seemed to be the order of the day, which was just fine with me. A live local band played country music all night, while people two-stepped along. I've been taught how to two-step now, and I think I can keep up alright. It was a LOT of fun.
By 4:30 AM though, things started to get ugly. It has been my experience this summer that a mixture of booze, small towns, and social gatherings tends to bring out the worst in some people. A fight began to break out, with many people jumping in to defend one side or the other. Eventually everyone was kicked out of the hall, and the tensions began to escalate in the street. Small groups broke out, each one trying to hold someone back while they shouted at someone else. The rest of us stood back, watching it develop. Kevin assured us that no one would even remember what the fight was about come morning. Indeed, everyone involved were either friends or relatives! It was a fascinating, and scary, thing. Amazingly, no punches were actually thrown. I was very impressed. By 5:30, everyone had finally dispersed to sleep it off. We slept for a couple hours ourselves, then headed back home. In the course of the night, I also had discovered that people from one small town always seem to think differently of people from the next small town. As in, "people from Val Marie are always a little crazy." Maybe it's just pride in one's town that brings out this attitude, but I found it amusing nonetheless.
That night (Sunday), Debbie and Brian invited us over for dinner and horse riding. These were the people who had hauled Amy and I out of the road when her truck got stuck earlier in the summer. I swear, that was the best thing that happened to me this summer, as it led to me meeting these wonderful people. Dinner was absolutely wonderful, and afterwards we saddled up the horses and set out into Brian's land.
On one side of the horizon we could see a distant storm shedding rain on the land. On the other side, we could see the sun setting in a blaze of brilliant color. The evening was utterly peaceful, and taking in this perfect scene from the back of a horse, I imagined that life could not get any better than this. At the end of the evening, Amy, Kevin, and I rode his horses back to his house, a couple miles up the road. As I had been dying to lope on a horse all summer, and we were finally on even ground, we decided to give 'er. I drove my horse into a canter, and I swear I felt like I was flying. I had never in my life ridden like this before, and it was one of the most exhiliarating experiences I've ever had.
My final summer here is drawing to a close, and I approach it with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I will be very grateful to get away from the crowded living conditions, which have not always brought out the best in me these past months. On the other, I will miss experiencing the wonders of the prairie every day. One of my very favorite things about field work is that you see so much more than you would if you were just visiting a place. Some things can only be seen when a significant amount of time is spent in a place. You get to know the rhythm of the land; the sounds and smells and feel of it. You get to hear the waxing and waning of birdsong throughout the season, as the birds first establish their territories, then depart them. You get to watch the growth of the mule deer's antlers from week to week, until you feel amazement that such huge racks can be supported on such dainty skulls. You see the rippling bloom of wildflowers, each synchronized perfectly, as the colors of the prairie move from purple, to white, to orange, and finally to yellow. You see things being born, living, then dying as their seasons are spent.
A first for me, I will also miss the local people I have met here. These people are so hardy, living each generation on land that is unforgiving and often cruel. Yet it gives them a strength that others don't have. And more importantly, it gives them a sense of family, community, and generosity that I have never before experienced from those living in suburbs or cities. One thing that continues to make me sad, though, is the ranchers' attitudes toward many animals living here. If you speak to a rancher, you can feel immediately how much they love this land. It is their life and their well-being, and they would fight to preserve it. Yet they hate many of the land's creatures. I find this such a heart-breaking contradiction. They see "land" as only the landscape and the rooted things that grow there. Yet I see "land" as an amalgamation of all the things, living and not, that exist there together. It is so difficult for me, because in getting to know them and their way of life, I can understand their point of view. Coyotes take their livestock, costing them thousands of dollars. Badgers and ground squirrels create holes that their horses can fall into and break a leg, making the animal essentially useless. And having ridden horseback through areas with gopher holes, I can appreciate all too much the stress and anxiety (and danger) caused by leading a horse through a pockmarked landscape. But as an ecologist and environmentalist, it hurts me to see such little regard given to animals that are only trying to eke out their own existences. I wish with all my heart that I knew how to reconcile these two very conflicting ideologies.
That is all I have to say for now. Immersing myself in ranching culture as I have tried to do this summer has given me a lot to think about, and offered the opportunity to speak with and understand people with very different lives than my own. I think that of my entire two years being spent in Canada finishing this degree, that has been the most rewarding part, and the part I will carry with me the longest.
I love this photo.
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