For city slickers on the East and West coasts contemplating a move to the wilds of Montana, there's something you should know. They don't plow all the dirt roads out here. To get from your front door in January to the nearest outpost of civilization, you may want to get a set of chains for the BMW – or a snowmobile.

You should also be aware that you'll likely have to haul your own trash to the dump. And if a stray Angus tramples your daffodils, it's up to you, not your ranching neighbor, to keep cattle out of the garden.

These and other friendly bits of advice are articulated in the "Code of the West," a document being handed out to prospective transplants in more than a dozen western counties as part of their newcomer initiation. Call it the unofficial guide to cowboy etiquette – Emily Post in chaps.

"You wouldn't believe what some people complain about," says John Vincent, a recently elected commissioner of Gallatin County, Mont., which has just created its own "Code of the West" manual. "They move to Montana in search of a perceived western lifestyle and build their log castle at the end of a dirt road. Then they want taxpayers to pay for paving a path to their driveway because they don't like dirt getting on their shiny new SUV."

What Mr. Vincent is really echoing is Code of the West rule No. 1: If you're headed to the Rockies in search of a quieter pastoral life, put a muzzle on the whining. Remember, this isn't Scarsdale or Beverly Hills.

Adoption of the code by government officials, who are serving it up as a prelude to traditional visits from the Welcome Wagon, symbolizes how much the demographics of the region are changing – and of how deep the cultural divisions run between the ranching set and those flocking to the New West in Range Rovers.

Indeed, during the 1990s, 3 million new immigrants poured into the sparsely populated Western interior. They demanded expanded services such as police and fire protection, new schools, paved roads, and snow plowing. The trouble is, providing these services could bankrupt many rural counties.

In addition to the growing fiscal burdens they bring, transplants are often smitten with the idea of living closer to nature or in agricultural landscapes. Yet they sometimes find themselves repelled at the authentic elements of their new environment.

Just recently, for instance, a judge in Idaho ruled on behalf of subdivision owners who wanted farmers to stop burning their fields in the fall, a practice the growers consider essential to maintaining soil fertility. The newcomers considered the smoke a nuisance. The homeowners filed suit under a clean-air law, which in court, trumped any sentimentality for the old mores of living off the land.

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