“We didn’t have electricity until I was in high school,” Grandpa explained to all the grandchildren. The youngsters stared sullen-faced with no context for this information. They looked like a horse or a cow when you explain any concept, unable to process the words … lacking the part of the brain necessary.

But more recently, I think there’s another phrase that carries a similar weight: “Don’t mess with the West.” Or more specifically – don’t mess with its public lands.

I mean, I’m a dedicated straw hat member and all, but I’m pretty sure my type of garden works the same way my mirror does: The farther away I am from it, the sure-as-heck better everything looks.

It was hot and muggy in the old middle school gym in Sugar City, Idaho. In the absence of anything that seemed to even resemble a ventilation system – other than the door on the east end of the gym being ajar, courtesy of a big gray garbage can – the air seemed to be thick and stale, a natural byproduct of summer basketball in small-town southern Idaho.

So the question you are all asking: What is a tail on a calf worth? The answer was surprising; a tail is worth $400. At least the calf without a tail was worth $400 less than the other misfits.