The morning sun drove westward across the desert toward a new public golf course surrounded by a sprawling subdivision comprised of 2,400 square foot homes with tidy, irrigated lawns. Above one such lawn an HOA approved three-by-five-foot Gadsden Flag was affixed to the CC&R regulation twelve-and-half-foot flagpole, the familiar snake on yellow background waving in the morning breeze.

Meanwhile, several hundred miles away on the banks of the Salmon River, Dick stepped over a very real Western rattlesnake. A rattle and sharp hiss wordlessly conveyed where not to tread. Soaking in the same sunshine that graced the golf course, he pulled some salmon jerky from his pocket and contemplated the huckleberries.

His house was built into the hillside on land he did not own. His sustenance came from the earth before him, no trips to Costco or Walmart. Amazon Prime didn’t deliver here. He enjoyed other humans just fine but made it a point not to rely on them for his survival. This provided him with a sense of true liberty.