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  1. World’s Largest What?

    September 12, 2012 by Becoming Midwestern

    When I was driving out to North Dakota for the first time, I remember Blake’s family mentioning that we should make sure we stop and see the world’s largest buffalo as we pass through Jamestown, ND. Obviously I was intrigued. In my mind I pictured a massive buffalo roaming the plains of North Dakota. “I wonder how big it really is?” I questioned. “I wonder how much it eats?” I questioned. As we approached Jamestown and began seeing billboards urging us to exit and catch a glimpse of the buffalo, my anticipation only grew.

    Just hanging out with the world's largest buffalo

    Just hanging out with the world’s largest buffalogrew.

    We pulled off I-94 towards where the billboards directed us, and my face was glued to the window scanning the horizon for a giant buffalo grazing the hillside. Before I knew it, there it was. The world’s largest buffalo. How big was it? Huge. How much did it eat? Well… nothing. For in fact the world’s largest buffalo was not a living, breathing animal. Instead, it was a 40 foot fiberglass statue of a buffalo. Now, don’t for a second think I was disappointed. This was still great! A giant buffalo statue was the perfect photo op. As we left Jamestown and the world’s largest buffalo behind, I asked Blake, “Why do you think they have a statue of a giant buffalo?” “Why not?” he replied.

    I soon learned that the world’s largest buffalo was not the only large, man-made, creature that stood proudly throughout the towns of North Dakota and Minnesota. In fact, the buffalo is accompanied by a whole stampede of giant animals. And according to roadsideamerica.com,  apparently North Dakota and Minnesota have the densest population of largest animals (and a few other random large objects) than anywhere in the world. Here are a few I found while Googling:

    • world’s largest holstein cow (named Salem Sue) in New Salem, ND
    • world’s largest sandhill crane in Steele, ND
    • world’s largest catfish in Wahpeton, ND
    • The Enchanted Highway in Regent, ND has an entire host of giant animals including a giant pheasant family, a giant deer family, giant grasshoppers, and giant flying geese
    • a giant walleye in Garrison, ND
    • a giant turtle in Bottineau, ND (named Tommy the Snowmobiling Turtle) as well as Dunseith, ND and Turtle Lake, ND
    • a giant otter (named Otto) in Fergus Falls, MN
    • a giant octopus in Minneapolis, MN
    • a giant prairie chicken in Rothsay, MN
    • a giant cod statue (named Lou T. Fisk) in Madison, MN
    • a giant viking name Big Ole in Alexandria, MN
    • a giant muskie in Bena, MN
    • the world’s largest stucco snowman in North St. Paul, MN
    • Babe the Blue Ox and Paul Bunyon in Brainerd, MN
    • the world’s largest corn cob statue in Olivia, MN

    And while I now have a new goal before leaving the Northern Plains of visiting as many world’s largest creatures as possible, I still have to ask, why? Why are there so many large statues spotted across North Dakota and Minnesota? Maybe the best answer should simply still be be, why not?

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  2. “Why I’ll Never Move to North Dakota”

    August 30, 2012 by Becoming Midwestern

    Yesterday, I met a friend for coffee downtown to catch up on life. Though we talked about everything under the sun during our three hour coffee date, at some point the conversation turned to North Dakota (like it does so often with me). She asked me if I had seen the study that voted ND #1 state for 18-24 year olds. I said I had, though unfortunately I fall outside the age bracket (so sad). She then asked if I had seen the follow up article addressing this study titled, “Why I’ll Never Move to North Dakota”. My friend gave me a brief summary and then said she’d send me the link. While I encourage you to read the entire article and weigh in, I’ll give you a brief summary:

    A young journalist from New York City (who has probably never been to North Dakota) thinks it’s a crummy state, that the study is ludicrous,  and that people are ridiculous to live here over big city life. Her three main reasons: 1. Yeah, there are jobs but I mean… they are probably just oil job. 2. It doesn’t matter if there are a lot of 18-24 year olds, with only 200,000 residents there is clearly no real social scene. 3. ND isn’t ethnic enough… forget the strong Native American heritage and the unique German and Norwegian culture that still is incredibly prominent. 4. The vibe… wait… what? (Note: I may have given myself a little liberty in the paraphrasing).

    Alright, well let me address all four of your points from the perspective of someone who actually chose to move to North Dakota from a more populous state:

    The job market. “No one can simply look at employment rates for a state and count on finding a job in their field. North Dakota’s economy may be booming, but that’s mostly due to its mining and shale industry.” True, jobs are plentiful out on the Western side of the state, however, the rest of the state isn’t doing too badly either. According the the Bureau of Labor and Statistics (July 2012), the unemployment rate is still only 3.3%. Additionally, Job Service North Dakota notes that there are more than 20,000 open positions across the state.

    The social scene. Yes, Fargo is the largest city in the state and only has 200,000 residents. Yes, I have lived in bigger communities before and Washington DC was only a quick metro ride away. However, no town that I have ever lived in has provided so many community events for both young and old. And with three universities and various community and technical colleges near by, the community has provided plenty of opportunities to keep those “young people” occupied.

    The diversity. Ok, I agree North Dakota lacks a bit of the diversity you might find on the east or west coast or in a larger city. At the same time however, I feel like much of the state realizes this. In turn, communities seem to put forth the effort to offer cultural opportunities to people as to not keep them in the dark about diversity.

    The vibe. I don’t know what this means. “No matter how stellar a state’s economic report card may be, the personal connection people feel to a place is what truly matters. I’m a city girl and though I’m always up for traveling off the beaten path, I don’t thrive for very long outside of the concrete jungle.” Oh, so wait. Is she saying she wouldn’t move to North Dakota because she loves where she lives no matter what, and you should stay where you are happy? Hmm… interesting. I may be wrong, but couldn’t the same be said to those of us that are happy and content living in North Dakota? Additionally, as someone who has moved around a bit, if you don’t branch out of your comfort zone ever, you sure miss out on learning a lot about yourself.

    So obviously I got a bit defensive when I read that article, and maybe I shouldn’t be. After all, when I wrote a blog post about a year ago addressing how outsiders have a negative image of North Dakota and the state needs some serious positive PR to show the true ND, a few readers disagreed. They said that the reason many communities are able to keep that “everyone knows you, small town, be kind to your neighbor feel” is because people aren’t flocking to move here. So I guess if a journalist from New York City wants to shout from the top of a mountain how she would never move to North Dakota… fine. Because really, the people that have made the decision to move to North Dakota (yours truly included) as well as those individuals who have lived here their entire life know the truth. NoDak rocks.

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  3. A Leap of Faith

    August 18, 2012 by Becoming Midwestern

    As the summer begins to wrap up and back-to-school commercials start playing on TV, people start putting away summer toys, making one last trip to the lake, and begin shopping for new clothes for the approaching school year. For me on the other hand, this time of year now makes me think about the biggest gamble I have ever taken. Moving to North Dakota.

    Packing up the U-Haul about to leave.

    Two years ago (almost exactly) I was starting a 1,300 mile drive to North Dakota to begin a new chapter of my life. Making that decision to move to a place I had never lived before, in a part of the country I had never been before, and hundreds of miles away from any family or friends was one of the scariest, craziest, and best decisions I have made in my life thus far. I am not typically one to take huge risks in my life. I think things out, make rational decisions, and then rethink my decision to be 100% sure what I am doing is logical before I take any action. My family knows this about me, my friends know this about me, my coworkers know this about me. So this may be why when I announced I was moving to Fargo with my boyfriend, much of my family and friends thought I had gone insane. And to be honest, I wasn’t so sure I hadn’t myself. So even though I didn’t exactly have the blessings of everyone in my life, I loaded up a U-Haul, jammed stuff into my little car, and hit the road unsure of what lay ahead.

    When I think back to that 1,300 mile drive, I thank God Blake didn’t dump me somewhere between Bozeman and Bismarck. Half the

    Right after my melt down… we decided to keep going to ND.

    time I was oozing excitement and the other half of the time I was alternating between fits of crying or yelling at the closest person to me… which in the middle of Montana happened to be Blake. And when he accidentally drove past the “Welcome to North Dakota” sign without stopping, which in my stress induced craziness I somehow took as a sign this trip was a big mistake and threatened to turn around and drive back to Washington, he calmly managed to give me a hug, turn the car around, and snap a photo by the sign without calling me the foul name I probably deserved.

    My first ND winter.

    People swear I know more random facts about North Dakota and have experienced more aspects of the state then the average North Dakotan who has lived here their entire life. The truth is, researching my new home and finding things to keep me occupied was what I credit to be the main way I lasted through the first few months here. It also helped that I was desperately trying to prove to whomever cared that North Dakota had way more to offer than just corn fields, snow, and a quirky movie, and that my move was not just a good decision but a great decision.

    In my process to survive until Blake was done with school and then we could get the heck out of here and move home, a funny thing happened… North Dakota became my home. On top of that, more amazing things have happened in my life in the two years I’ve lived here than I ever could have predicted. And while maybe it could be credited to good timing, I think the main reason things have worked out so well is because North Dakota makes me happy and when you’re happy, good things happen. On top of that, the community truly has opened its arms to me and provided me with opportunities I never thought could

    Go Bison!

    happen. I mean, I had an amazing first job working with amazing people that helped me get to know the community. Through my connections there I began to research graduate school at NDSU. When I got into the program I was able to teach. Through teaching I discovered my passion for working with college students which I plan to keep doing in some form after I graduate this year. Not to mention I’ve made some life long friends, been on some crazy adventures (went to a bar on a frozen lake, experienced ND wedding dances and a bachelorette party on a school bus, watched animals being birthed at the Minnesota State Fair, learned to drive in snow, experienced Sioux hockey, branded a cow, learned to make lefse, and took many trips to “the lake”), eaten life changing food (taco in a bag, fry bread taco, lefse, bars, rocky mountain oysters, and of course… hotdish), got engaged, learned new words (bars, wedding dance, personal attendant, ‘I suppose’, The Cities, and The Lake) and most importantly… had the opportunity to share my experiences through this blog which the community has embraced.

    What I have learned from all of this is that if you don’t sometimes just take a leap of faith you can’t even imagine what you might miss out on.

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  4. A Camping Adventure

    August 7, 2012 by Becoming Midwestern

    I kept saying all summer, “It’s ok… we’ll find time to go somewhere before the summer is over.” Well, with hectic schedules and not much time available to take off, sure enough, August rolled around and my fiance and I had yet to take a trip (except for day trips to Detroit Lakes) anywhere that did not involve weddings and family events. The other day I was fed up. I’d be back to the grind of grad school in just a few days and as the saying goes, I needed to get out of Dodge. With not much time to plan and a poor college student budget to work with, we decided to go camping. After a little bit of Googling for camping in the area, off to Pelican Rapids, MN and Maplewood State Park we went.

    Now, this wasn’t the first time we had gone camping since moving to the upper Midwest, but it was the first time we had visited a state park in the area, and we definitely weren’t disappointed. We spent an entire day swimming in Lake Lida (which looked a little different than the last time we had visited when it was frozen solid and had ice houses and a bar atop it), hiking around the trails, and in the evening, enjoying the campfire and roasting smores.

    After the campfire burned out it was time to call it a night. We headed to our tent and I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. A few hours later (though I can’t really be sure of the time) I woke with a start to a strange noise that sounded like a howling wolf… but not quite. Now I am someone who enjoys nature… during the day. Nature at night on the other hand always finds a way to bring out my inner, five-year-old, sissy girl. Panicked, I immediately began planning how I would save myself from the impending wolf attack even if it meant sacrificing my fiance. After a few minutes of utter paranoia, I finally realized this was no wolf but rather, a loon. Now, I know loons are revered out here for their beauty and unique bird call, but at 2:00 in the morning, I was not impressed. Somehow, I managed to roll over and go back to sleep.

    What seemed only a few minutes later (but again… who really knows) I was awoken again by the sounds of nature.  This time it wasn’t a common loon that disrupted my beauty sleep but rather the sound of a giant bear or rabid raccoon scratching at the sides of my tent (or so I thought). Again, I began plotting if I would be fast enough to roll out of the side of my tent and sprint for the car without being mauled by the giant bear/raccoon foaming from the mouth that now sounded like it was underneath our tent. A bear under the tent? I grabbed the flashlight and surveyed the floor. A little bubble was scurrying around underneath the tent. Somehow a little rodent of sorts had dug below the tent and was now taking refuge from the night terrors that were lurking outside our thin tent door. I sighed, figured I didn’t blame the little guy for not wanting to be outside at night, and tried my best to sleep.

    Somehow, I managed to survive the night. As I stepped outside the next morning into a beautiful, Minnesota, summer day, the haunting night disappeared and my trauma was replaced with a feeling of relaxation and peace. As we loaded up the car and headed back to Fargo, I couldn’t help but feel lucky that I live in a place where a relaxing vacation is only a short drive away… even if it is full of animals that want to eat me.

     

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  5. Summer: Sunshine and Traffic Cones

    July 20, 2012 by Becoming Midwestern

    When I first moved in ND two summers ago (wow… hard to believe), I was greeted with friendly “hellos”, invitations to cook-outs, and… road construction… lots and lots of road construction. I have heard the joke before that North Dakota’s seasons can really be indicated by descriptions such as windy (Fall), snow (Winter), flooding (Spring), and road construction (summer). Now, while I can handle the wind, a rainy Spring, and yes, even the snow, one thing that really drives me crazy is the road construction. To be honest, it annoys me so much that I’m surprised I haven’t written a blog post about it up until now.

    Now, I understand that there is only a short window of time that road construction can take place in the upper midwest. What, with snow on the ground about 7 months out of the year and rain falling for about 3, July and August are really the only time the road crews can get out there and fill in the giant potholes that were created from the 7 months of snow and 3 months of rain. And while I appreciate Fargo, Moorhead, and the vast majority of every other large town in North Dakota’s dedication to impeccable road conditions, the east coast driver in me goes crazy. You see, if you ever come in contact with me you will no doubt find a very polite, good-natured, and friendly young lady. However, stop me with a road flag or take me on a detour while I’m running late, and that lady-like demeanor goes out the window (something my fiancee can unfortunately attest to).

    Yes, I know that it isn’t the worker’s fault. Yes, I know the City of Fargo is only trying to make the roads more manageable the rest of the year. Yes, I know in the long run my car will be a lot better off on smooth roads. And yes, I know that really I’m only being slowed down by a few minutes (if that). I don’t claim to be rationale about this. I can only speak the truth. So if you happen to see an angry little blond girl shouting out the window of her car this summer when she is stopped as a backhoe pulls onto the road, or banging at her steering wheel as she is rerouted down a side street… I apologize in advance. Remember, I am BECOMING midwestern. Clearly, I still have a little way to go before I learn to manage my frustration with road construction the way midwesterners do.

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  6. This Means War

    July 9, 2012 by Becoming Midwestern

    I am at war… at war with a squirrel. I am pretty fond about most things that I’ve experienced while living in the Midwest. Sure, the winters are a little tough, but it makes you stronger, right? Unfortunately, the one thing that has not meshed well with me are the Midwestern critters. The mosquitos eat me alive, I’m constantly paranoid that I’ll hit a deer while driving, no matter what I walk through in the summer I always seem to end up with a tick on me, and the first time I saw a jack rabbit I thought it was a medium sized dog. However, the one animal that I can’t stand most of all… that truly makes me see red… are the squirrels.

    You would never have guessed that a squirrel would be my archenemy but when I decided to plant flowers and herbs this Spring, the war began. You see, every spring and summer I have a tradition of planting sunflowers and various herbs (parsley, basil and dill this year). I become somewhat attached to my sunflowers. Now, I can’t say that I’ve always taken the best care of them. Last year I had an incident with setting the seedlings too close to the grill while it was heating up. Whoops. While it break my heart a little bit, I can deal with my own absent mindedness destroying my little flowers. However, when something else causes them to experience an untimely death I don’t handle it as well.

    A few weeks ago I walked outside to water my plants and noticed that a little baby sunflower had been plucked from the pot and dumped on the ground next to it. I was a little upset, but brushed it off. Then, a few days later I noticed something had been nibbling on my parsley. Again, I was a little frustrated but stayed composed. When I was on vacation for a few weeks, a friend of mine was cat sitting/plant sitting and sent me a horrifying message. Something had destroyed my parsley. And the next day, something had destroyed my dill. She moved them indoors until I got home, but as I walked up the steps after a long day of traveling I had seen the worst thing of all: something had bit the top off one of my sunflowers.

    I snapped into defense mode! No more messing around. I ran to the store, grabbed an array of netting, and surrounded my injured plants hoping it would add a little protection.

    While I am happy to report I have had no more incidents since I went on the defense, the war is not over. While I try to be kind to all animals, and really love everything North Dakota, squirrels be warned: If I see you so much as sniff one of my plants, I will have no problem setting a hose and my two fierce kittens on you.

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  7. “I’m bringing bars!”

    July 3, 2012 by Becoming Midwestern

    With summer in full swing and 4th of July less than 24 hours away, the smell of grilling is in the air. You’ve got your burgers, your brats, your chips and potato salad, and of course, you’ve got to have an assortment of bars. While I know I have mentioned this before in my Midwestern Dictionary , I decided I needed to dedicate an entire post to the glory that are bars.

    My favorite type of bars: Scotcheroos

    It had only been about a day into our big North Dakota move when we were invited over to a friend’s house for grilling. As we loaded up our plates with all the delicious food, we were reminded to not forget the bars. “The what?” I questioned.

    “The bars,” she responded and gestured over in the direction of what I now know as Scotcheroo Bars.

    “Oh,” I replied. “I’ve never heard them called that before.”

    “Well, what do you call them then?” she asked.

    “Umm… whatever they are called. Like brownies, or lemon bars or I guess Scotcheroo Bars.”

    This wasn’t the last time I would have this conversation with Midwestern locals. In fact, it is still hard for me to call them bars without giving a little giggle or adding a little bit of a Midwestern accent to my pronunciation. You see, while I knew what she was referencing, I had never heard them called such a generic term before. Sure, I have a section in my ‘Better Homes and Garden Cook Book’ just dedicated to cookies AND bars, but I still would never say, “Oh, I’m making bars”. If someone asked what I was bringing to a BBQ or potluck, I would say specifically whatever the dessert item was. For example, chocolate chip bars or blondies. Not simply “bars”.

    Additionally, if I was asked to bring some sort of dessert, “bars” would probably not be on the top of  my list. In fact, I had never seen so many bars until I moved to North Dakota (ironically, this statement could also hold true to the kind of “bars” that serve adult beverages as well). I may bring pie, or cake, or even cookies… but probably not bars. Now don’t get me wrong. I love bars! They are just not really something I grew up eating or really paid much attention to. What is it about Midwesterners and their bars? What happened to simple chocolate chip cookies or a few Snickerdoodles?

    As I ponder this question, I suddenly feel in the mood to make some bars. So on that note, happy 4th of July everyone and enjoy the many bars you will consume in celebration of America!

    side note: as I Googled “bars” to post a few photos up on my blog, you can guess the first 100 or so images were not of dessert bars but instead… the other type.

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  8. Oh! I Get it Now!

    June 25, 2012 by Becoming Midwestern

    This past weekend was the first weekend in a while that both Blake (the fiancé) and myself had nothing going on… well… at least nothing that was urgent. So what should we do when we both have a free weekend off and the weather is beautiful? Well, ‘Do as the Romans do’ as the saying goes… so to “the lake” we went!

    While I did have the opportunity last summer to go camping at one of the many lakes in Minnesota, it wasn’t quite the “lake” experience that I have heard so much about. This time we decided to really follow the crowd and head to Detroit Lakes, Minnesota or “DL” as the locals say. Neither of us had been out there before, but it didn’t take long for us to realize where we should be headed. Following the steady line of cars cutting through town, we eventually ended up at the main beach. I couldn’t believe it. Here we were in landlocked Minnesota (yeah, I’m not counting lakes when I say landlocked) and I was staring at a Midwestern beach town complete with sand, funky food places, and even tourist-y beach shops full of boogie boards, t-shirts, and every other knick-knack you’d find at a beach store along the coast (minus the hermit crabs and sea shells).

    We found a place to set out our towels and picnic food and laid down in the sand to begin soaking up the sun and commence people watching. I was in heaven. Unfortunately, we got a bit of a late start on the day (I was feeling a little conflicted of whether I should trust weather.com’s prediction of precipitation or trust my eyeballs seeing no clouds in the sky) so we headed back to Fargo after only a few hours. When we woke up the next day and saw the sunshine, it took about two seconds to decide what we were doing for the day… to “the lake” we go for round two!

    We were able to get there much earlier this time around and found a great spot. The entire day was spent much the same as the first: soaking up the sun, snacking on food, and all in all enjoying the lake. Though I wasn’t looking at the time, I knew immediately when it was about lunch time. Pontoon after pontoon (with the occasional jet ski and speed boat) pulled up straight onto the sandy shore and out hopped hungry lake-goers. The majority of the crowds headed straight the Zorbaz  or one of the other nearby restaurants.

    After about five hours, it was time to head home. On our drive back I finally realized exactly what all the fuss is about when people always jet off to “the lake” for the weekend. Yep, I get it now. The lakes are awesome.

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  9. Ole and Lena Walk Into a Bar…

    June 17, 2012 by Becoming Midwestern

    The other night I was sitting around withe friends talking about summer activities we used to do when we were younger. We talked about camping with families and sitting around the campfire at night make s’mores. The difference between our experiences: While I sat around and told ghost stories with my family, they did something very different. “We used to sit around the camp fire at night and tell Ole and Lena jokes,” she said very nonchalantly.

    “Tell what kind of jokes?” I asked.

    “Ole and Lena jokes… or Ole and Sven depending on the joke,” she replied.

    Of course my curiosity was peaked and thus began an evening of Googling Ole and Lena… and sometimes Ole and Sven jokes. If you are like me and have no idea what these jokes are, let me tell you what I learned through my conversation with friends and a helpful Wikipedia search. Ole and Lena are two characters that show up frequently in jokes popular in the Upper Midwest alongside their friend, Sven. Ole and Lena are from Norway and  Sven is usually thought to be from Sweden. These jokes are not told in Norway or Sweden (according to Wikipedia), but instead originated in the Upper Midwest and often poke fun at language/translation mistakes and Scandinavian stereotypes and traditions. Apparently, these jokes can be a little bit… umm… “scandalous” at times and may be a little culturally offensive as well.

    Here is an example of a relatively PG rated joke that I came across while Googling:

    Ole is on his deathbed. The doctor has told him he has only a few hours to live. He catches the scent of his favorite bars wafting through the air. With all the strength he can muster, he drags himself into the kitchen and sees a fresh pan cooling on the rack. He cuts one out and bites into the scrumptious cookie. Lena comes in, smacks his hand, and says, “Shame on you, Ole! Dese are for after de funeral!”

    As I learned more and more about Ole and Lena, I asked the natural question of why be so specific as to use characters with names? Why not just use general terms like “a guy” or “this girl”? For example, instead of saying, “So Ole and Lena went shopping…”, why not just say, “So this guy and his wife went shopping…”? My friends reply, “Well, because they wouldn’t be Ole and Lena jokes then.”

    While logical, I still admit that I’m a little confused. How did these jokes get started and why Ole and Lena? Does anyone know? Has anyone else heard of these jokes? Here is my request to you, please enlighten me about Ole and Lena. Where did they come from and what are some other jokes that are… er… appropriate to share on the blog-o-sphere. I look forward to a good chuckle!


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  10. They’re like REAL Cowboys!

    June 9, 2012 by Becoming Midwestern

    After a brief hiatus traveling around the country for the past few weeks, I decided to come back with a bang… or rather a “moo”. A

    I'm a natural... just kidding

    few weeks ago I received a text from a friend asking if I would like to come with her to her aunt’s farm for a day. They would be branding calves and there would be REAL cowboys! My obvious response, OF COURSE I would come!

    So today, off I drove to their farm near Binford, ND to experience the life of a cattle rancher. Just moments into my arrival I was asked if I wanted to ride a horse. As a talented 8 year old rode up on her horse and explained how to get up in the saddle, my pride began to waver a bit. Luckily, I managed to get up on it without looking too ridiculous and didn’t seem too scared as the mini-cowgirl led me around in a circle like a pony ride. Clearly this girl was practically born on a horse and I was not.

    Next, I was ushered up to where the action had already been going for a few hours. It seemed like something straight out of a western movie. Cowboys on horses were lassoing calves, moving them out to a separate pen where a crew of individuals jumped into action like a well oiled machine. As one person

    Branding

    held down the calf, the next branded, another gave shots, and if needed, another individual castrated. In a blink of an eye the calf was up and off to the pasture where their waiting mother was looking on. It was about three minutes into my first glimpse of the scene that I realized my mouth was hanging open and I should stop looking so out of place and try my best to blend in.

    Though I was prepared to help, the sheer number of individuals there made it not seem very necessary. When I asked who everyone was, I was told that they are simply neighbors from nearby farms that rotate weekends helping with the cattle process. While this may not seem like that strange of event to anyone else, it actually really struck me. Neighbors helping neighbors to get the job done… and this was no easy job, especially not in 90 degree weather with blowing dust.

    After a break for lunch, it was time to bring in the final herd from a second pasture. Cowboys and cowgirls jumped on at least 20 horses and rode off over the hill to round up the cattle. Again, I felt like I was watching something closer to a western movie than a real world scene. The breathtaking landscape didn’t hurt either.

    REAL cowboys!

    As I waited for the next round of cattle to arrive, I decided to explore a little further and climb a few hay bales to get a better view. After about twenty minutes the sounds of mooing echoed across the prairie and a cloud of dust filled the air. Off in the distance came the herd of about 300 cattle followed by the cowboys and cowgirls steering them in the direction of the pens. What seemed to me like a virtually impossible task only took a few minutes and some snazzy maneuvering on horseback.

    This round I decided I could help out a bit. I created a job for myself of getting

    Proof I did something other than taking pictures

    the confused calves back through the hole in the fence and to their mothers instead of running around aimlessly. Clearly, I was a valuable asset to the success of the day. As the day came to a close, I was approached by a cowboy and asked if I wanted to try my hand a wrestling a calf and holding it steady as it got branded. “Sure,” I replied rather hesitantly, “But make sure it’s a small one!”

    More proof I did something.

    Soon it was my time to shine. Out came a tiny little calf and though I had to be talked through the process (and get a little assistance), I managed to get it pinned on the ground by holding the front legs and head steady. A quick brand and a few shots (no castration needed) and I had successfully wrestled my first (and only) calf. I was a regular cowgirl (minus the whole horseback riding thing).

    Rounding them up

    As the day wound to a close, it was time for “supper”. Not surprisingly, we had a delicious beef brisket. But the real highlight of the meal was a particularly fresh little item that was fried up before my eyes. I even helped prepare a few. Yes… I tried rocky mountain oysters. If you don’t know what those are, I’m not going to explain so just go ahead and Google it. My thoughts? Well, if I didn’t think about what it actually was, I can’t say that they were horrible. Wait… they? I meant the one tiny one I tried followed by a quick drink to wash the taste out of my mouth.

    As I’m sitting here writing this post, I can honestly say I am completely exhausted. What is pathetic is I did next to no work compared to everyone else that was involved in the process. But while I get to sleep in tomorrow and recover, they will be up doing it all over again. Just another day for a hardworking North Dakotan.

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