"Country Pride

by Maleina Mahler for Agri-Times NW

VALE, OR—Have you ever had someone look you in the eye and ask you how many 'bull-cows' you owned? If you have ever burned eighty-three Calories trying to maintain a straight face during such a situation, you might be a country kid. You also might be a country kid if your favorite outfit is a sweatshirt and muckboots, or if your therapist is a bottle calf. You've probably seen someone disrespect the flag, and taken it personally. You've definitely eaten something that once had a name, and have fully appreciated the meaningful transition from 'Bob' to T-bone. You rode high in eighteen wheelers and napped on the floor of the swather. You drank most of your water from hoses and ate beef as its own food group. You could set a siphon tube before you could get on any of the fun carnival rides, and could pick out a nice heifer before you could pick out clothes that matched. You spent your summers picking up rock out of your dad's fields at five dollars per Kabota-load so you could buy halters and lead ropes. In other words, you worked to make enough money to do other work that was fun. And it was completely logical. At a young age you joined your parents in their opinions of red or green and Dodge or Ford, forming prejudices to last you a lifetime. You were incredulous at other kids who didn't know what a semen tank was or who didn't know better than to stand on the gate. You had a good childhood filled with love, laughter, and life lessons, as well as a lot of dirt. You had it better than most, if you're a country kid. Of course, there are some things you were never fully prepared for, like Yellowstone bingers and people who hear the word 'bull' and think only of a salad dish. But for the most part, your upbringing left you pretty well equipped to face life. So when someone make a comment about 'you country bumpkins,' be proud as you say, "Yes. Yes, we are."