Column: Making it in Missoula
Sheep at I-90: Missoula in a Nutshell
By Big Sis, 6-05-07
This Sunday, I was biking home from a leisurely brunch downtown when I was stopped abruptly by livestock in the road. A lot of livestock. Yup, right in the middle of Van Buren Street—30 yards north of the busy Broadway intersection and directly blocking several cars backed up on both the on- and off-ramps from I-90—several hundred sheep were crossing the road. I hopped off my bike and gazed at the scene.
Now, this might sound bizarre in and of itself, as you don’t see a whole lot of sheep-herding through city streets in our grand year of 2007. But add in the following factors to the sheep-crossing scene and the bizarre-o-meter creeps higher—or perhaps just serves to illustrate Missoula in a perfect time-space nutshell:
- A middle-aged man on a bicycle in front of me was taking rapid-fire pictures, literally on top of the poor, confused sheep. He attempted to balance a wooden guitar slung across his back, his bike between his legs, and his zoom lens, all while staying clear of flailing hooves.
- A cowboy on a 16(+)-hand horse stood guard directly in the middle of Van Buren. I knew he was a real cowboy not just because of his spectacular statue-like posture in the saddle, but because he had on for-real spurs, hat, and Wranglers.
- A very non-cowboy-looking (yet still very good-looking) young man was running vigorously (and slightly desperately) amidst the thigh-high sheep wearing typical Missoula summer flair: Chacos, a North Face backpack, hiking shorts and an old t-shirt. He appeared to be using a stick in an attempt to direct sheep traffic.
- A homeless man stationed at the Interstate off-ramp put down his cardboard sign and sidled up next to me to share these heartfelt observations:
“Listen, the sheep are saying my brother’s name: ‘Maaa-aatt.’ I used to tell him that way back, when we were out on the ranch. He’d get pissed and call me ‘Dickhead.’ But since my name is Dick, I just laughed harder and told him, ‘Hey, what’s the name of that thing you wipe your feet on when you come in a door?’ Yeah…we had some good times with our names, man. Good times.”
The man grinned at me, then chuckled as he gazed at the baa-ing sheep running toward Mount Jumbo. I chuckled with him.
To read more about livin’ in the Garden City, check out www.newwest.net/makingit
If you’d like to contribute your own snippet about Making It In Missoula, email bigsis@newwest.net
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