Population control for the outdoor-minded.
Boasting an annual growth rate of around three percent, Bozeman’s population is ballooning to uncharted proportions. Most “real” Bozemanites blame this accretion on the expeditious influx of out-of-staters. Few, however, seem to address the other culprit: babies.
In 2019, 11,079 babies were born in the Treasure State. That is an average of over 30 babies born per day. At this rate, these diaper dandies will be tracking out your secret pow stash in no time. In an effort to thin the herd, here are some great reasons not to reproduce.
There is no way that a baby can keep up with you trail running. A baby simply has not developed any sort of cardiovascular fitness. Babies lack dedication and rarely do the weekday interval workouts you draw up for them. VO2 max? Abysmal. Lactic threshold? Pathetic. Not to mention the fact that they always seem to poop their pants, which makes for long delays.
Babies are traditionally inattentive belayers. Five moves into the climb and your arms are noodles. Your leg is doing an involuntary Elvis impression. You yell “take!” and look down at your baby. Its hands aren’t even on the ATC. The baby is lying on the ground watching a butterfly and you’re pretty sure those pants are pooped. Should have invested in that GriGri. At least the ground looks pretty soft…
Training wheels cannot be set up tubeless. Mountain biking seems like a logical activity choice since a diaper is already mandatory gear. Unfortunately, a second mortgage on your home is also mandatory to afford a bike—and the baby. Those cutoff jean shorts aren’t doing that diaper rash any favors and… what the hell? Is the derailleur hanger already bent?
Babies attract bears. Bears are scary. And hungry. The baby will only serve as an appetizer—the main course is you.
Baby Overboard! Babies stink at paddling and they aren’t much better at steering the raft. There are lifejackets specifically made for babies, which is good because they pop out of the raft more often than a pair of gas-station sunglasses. But, it’s socially unacceptable to rip cigs and shotgun beers with a baby in the boat. And isn’t that the point of rafting?
Does that baby even have their Avy 1? Babies are not generally known for their reading ability. While it is possible that they have studied the many detailed charts and diagrams in The Avalanche Handbook, it is unlikely that they were able to get through even a single chapter of Staying Alive in Avalanche Terrain. It is even less likely that they will find that beacon you buried in the backyard. It is very likely that they have pooped their pants.
Babies have no appreciation for the moment while fly fishing. Picture this: you’re standing knee-deep in the water. The gentle babble of the river combined with the quiet hum of insects comprise an orchestral ensemble of tranquility and solitude. As you gracefully cast, you notice a deer grazing on the opposite bank, unbothered by your presence. She accepts you as a part of the ecosystem. The sky turns magnificent shades of crimson and tangerine as the sun rises. You are one with nature. A foul scent shatters the serenity; you turn to your baby and notice that it has pooped its pants.