“Well it's bulls and blood, it's dust and mud, it's the roar of a Sunday crowd. It's the white in his knuckles, the gold in the buckle he'll win the next go 'round. It's boots and chaps, it's cowboy hats, it's spurs and latigo. It's the ropes and the reins, and the joy and the pain, and they call the thing rodeo” (Garth Brooks- Rodeo). Going to rodeos has always been one of my favorite things to do. I would go to a rodeo every weekend if it was possible, but no rodeo will ever compare to seeing it all for the first time. It was a clear September day in Fort Madison, Iowa, we all piled out of the car and headed to the ticket window. I was dressed to the nines, with my wranglers tucked into my red boots, my fleece horse jacket was zipped up over my button up, and my cowgirl hat perched on my head, covering my braided hair. I was rodeo-ready. After waiting in line for about 15 minutes we had our tickets and were in the gate! We bypassed all of the vendors selling hats, jewelry, and clothes to get to our seats. We didn’t have to wait long before The National Anthem and the flags were brought in on horseback.
After The National Anthem was over the announcer said that something called Grand Entry was about to begin. I didn’t know it then but I was about to see my favorite part of the rodeo. All of the sudden the gates opened and horseback riders started streaming in. There had to be over 500 riders, all at full speed running around the arena. It was a beautifully dangerous thing. Watching the horses, which were every color and breed running around the arena with all their colors blending and moving was amazing. There were paints, buckskins, roans, chestnuts, bays, palominos, and every color in between! The riders were from all over the midwest and were all ages, some were even younger than me. It is a terrifying thing to watch as the horses get excited and throw some of their riders. I was scared that someone was going to be trampled by the other horses. Cowboy hats and riders were flying off as the excitement grew. Eventually all the riders had made his or her entry and it was time for the real fun.
Sitting in those bleachers I was introduced to a whole new world of bulldogging competitions, roping cowboys, and calf roping. Watching all of the tough cowboys out there wrestling these animals was mystifying, but none of them compared to the events that came toward the end.
Bucking broncos and wild bulls are animals that most sane people would not dream of getting within ten feet but next thing I know there is a line of men waiting to ride them. The cowboys await their turn on top of the chute, waiting for their glorious eight second ride. They watch as the men before them mount their bull or bronc and fly out of the chute. Watching from the stands I watched these men as they came out and found the rhythm of the animal they were on. I watched as these cowboys adjusted to the animals seemingly random rhythm of bucking. How they push through that wild ride for eight seconds is beyond me. I am terrified for them just watching from the stands!
As the bull and bronc riding were finishing up, I thought the night was coming to an end. The tractors started to loop around the arena, erasing the traces of what just happened, but they are also unloading something. They put three barrels on the track and the tractors parked off to the side. From the gates emerges a girl on horseback, and I can see her sparkle from where I’m perched on my seat. Her shirt, her belt, and her tack were all rhinestones. I still didn’t know what was happening until she spurred her horse forward and made a dash for the first barrel. The speed that she was going and how receptive her horse was to her commands awed me. She went at a breakneck speed, but horse never faltered and they never touched a barrel. It seemed that each time a new horse and rider entered the ring they were blingier and faster than the previous one. I remember wishing that I could be one of those girls out there. Now as I look back and watch barrel racing I appreciate the beauty and grace, but I will say a big no thank you to participating in it.
Going to the rodeo for the first time is not a memory I will soon forget. The experience opened a whole new world to me that I am never going to let go of. I love going to the rodeo and seeing all the brave cowboys and cowgirls saddling up and taking off. As Garth says, “It's the ropes and the reins, and the joy and the pain, and they call the thing rodeo.”