Rodeo is to America what bull-fighting is to Spain or horse-racing is to Britain: the nation's most popular animal sport, and a very popular sport at that. Paul Denman recently spent a day at the Deschutes County Fair, in Redmond Oregon, and joined hundreds of Oregonians to watch the highlight of the fair, the annual Deschutes Rodeo.
At 1 p. m. the air is still, heavy with a confusion of smells that drifts among the stalls and the barbeques, the animal enclosures and the ice-cream vendors. In the hot midday sun, the fair throngs with visitors, but there's little shade to sit in, just narrow strips of shadow alongside the buildings and the tents. All around, the music is playing while kids run riot and and stall-holders beckon passing visitors with their colorful displays.
Then, as the time moves towards 2. 30, there is a new sense of excitement in the air: people are no longer moving round randomly, but heading in the same direction, towards the dusty arena to the south of the showground. It's almost time for the rodeo!
Here at last there is shade for everyone: the grandstand, with its tiered seating, rapidly fills up, as thousands of fair-goers pile in, eager for a good view of the excitement that is soon to begin. For some people it has already begun. Microlight kids on minuscule ponies are cavorting round the empty arena, while a handful of cowboys, astride impeccably trained horses, walk or trot sedately round the ring. Suddenly a little blonde girl, hardly four feet tall, careers into view, riding bareback at the speed of light on bright white pony. No-one pays much attention. The folk in the stands are too busy talking about horses and rodeo-riders, discussing the last rodeo, predicting the winners of the next. Somehow, as someone who has not been brought up in the company of horses, I feel slightly out of place, as if everyone here except me knows everything about what is going on.
I had been to a couple of rodeos before, including the biggest of them all, Canada's Calgary Stampede; but the other rodeos I had been to were put on for the tourists. Not this one; in central Oregon, there are few tourists. Rodeos here are for the locals, people who know them and understand them; most of the folk round me are from Redmond, or Prineville or Madras or Bend, certainly not from Europe!
Then action: suddenly the gates at the end of the arena burst open, and a posse of flag-carrying girls erupts into view, circling the arena in formation on shining dark ponies. Dressed in patriotic red white and blue, courtesy of Pepsi-Cola, the girls come to a stop in the middle of the ring, as the crowd rise to their feet, the men take off their stetson hats, and everyone joins in the singing of God Bless America. The rodeo has begun!
The rodeo has begun! For the next couple of hours, spectators watch with excitement as local heroes perform feats of dexterity on the backs of bucking animals! While some show their skills at calf roping — catching a running calf with a lasso and tying it up in just a few seconds — others demonstrate their daredevil skills by riding untamed broncos or bounding round on the backs of enormous raging bulls. As intrepid riders master or fall off their wild mounts, the crowd cheer wildly or aah in apprehension, then burst into laughter as the obligatory clown, the matador of the rodeo, distracts the attention of the raging animals while mounted cowboys round them up, calm them down, and coax them away into the pens from which they originally emerged, their day's work over. Katie Sharpe, 21, the local Rodeo Queen, does a lap of honour, then participates in the ladies' events; but in this macho part of the world, the ladies do not get to pit themselves against untamed bulls and broncs! That's men's stuff! Katie and the other young ladies show their skills at "barrel racing", hurling their horses at breakneck speed round a triangular shaped race-course, marked out with barrels, in the middle of the arena. It's not as dramatic as bull-riding, but it's exciting, and the crowd roar their approval.
As the sun falls lower in the sky and the shadows begin to lengthen, the final rounds of calf-roping and saddle-bronc riding bring another half hour of thrills and spills before the commentator finally announces that the Rodeo is drawing to an end. The last prizes are handed out, the last riders leave the arena, and the show is over. As the spectators pick up their belongings and move slowly towards the exits, the kids on their ponies come back again for another few minutes as imaginary champions, tomorrow's local heroes in the arena of the stars. Here, it seems, if rodeo does not flow in the blood, at least it's all in the family.
Rodeo
is to America what bull-fighting is to Spain or horse-racing is to Britain: the nation's most popular
animal
sport, and a
very
popular sport at that. Paul
Denman
recently spent a day at the
Deschutes
County
Fair
, in Redmond Oregon, and
joined
hundreds of Oregonians to
watch
the highlight of the
fair
, the annual
Deschutes
Rodeo.
At 1 p. m. the air is
still
, heavy with a confusion of smells that drifts among the stalls and the
barbeques
, the animal enclosures and the ice-cream vendors. In the hot midday sun, the
fair
throngs with visitors,
but
there's
little
shade to sit in,
just
narrow strips of shadow alongside the buildings and the tents. All around, the music is
playing
while kids run riot
and and
stall-holders beckon passing visitors with their colorful displays.
Then, as the time
moves
towards 2. 30, there is a new sense of excitement in the air:
people
are no longer moving
round
ran
domly
,
but
heading in the same direction, towards the dusty
arena
to the south of the showground.
It's
almost time for the rodeo!
Here at last there is shade for everyone: the grandstand, with its tiered seating,
rapidly
fills up, as thousands of
fair
-goers pile in, eager for a
good
view of the excitement
that is
soon
to
begin
. For
some
people
it has already begun. Microlight kids on minuscule ponies are cavorting
round
the empty
arena
, while a handful of cowboys, astride
impeccably
trained
horses
, walk or trot
sedately
round
the ring.
Suddenly
a
little
blonde girl, hardly four feet tall, careers into view, riding bareback at the speed of light on bright white pony. No-one pays much attention. The folk in the stands are too busy talking about
horses
and
rodeo-riders
, discussing the last
rodeo
, predicting the winners of the
next
. Somehow, as someone who has not
been brought
up in the
company
of
horses
, I feel
slightly
out of place, as if everyone here except me knows everything about what is going on.
I had been to a couple of
rodeos
before
, including the biggest of them all, Canada's Calgary Stampede;
but
the other
rodeos
I had been to
were put
on for the tourists. Not this one; in central Oregon, there are few tourists.
Rodeos
here are for the
locals
,
people
who know them and understand them; most of the folk
round
me are from Redmond, or
Prineville
or Madras or Bend,
certainly
not from Europe!
Then action:
suddenly
the gates at the
end
of the
arena
burst open, and a posse of flag-carrying girls erupts into view, circling the
arena
in formation on shining dark ponies. Dressed in patriotic red white and blue, courtesy of Pepsi-Cola, the girls
come
to a
stop
in the middle of the ring, as the crowd rise to their feet, the
men
take off their stetson hats, and everyone
joins
in the singing of God Bless America. The
rodeo
has begun!
The
rodeo
has begun! For the
next
couple of hours, spectators
watch
with excitement as
local
heroes perform feats of dexterity on the backs of bucking
animals
! While
some
show
their
skills
at calf roping — catching a running calf with a lasso and tying it up in
just
a few seconds — others demonstrate their daredevil
skills
by riding untamed broncos or bounding
round
on the backs of enormous raging bulls. As intrepid riders master or fall off their wild mounts, the crowd cheer
wildly
or aah in apprehension, then burst into laughter as the obligatory clown, the matador of the
rodeo
, distracts the attention of the raging
animals
while mounted cowboys
round
them up, calm them down, and coax them away into the pens from which they
originally
emerged, their day's work over. Katie Sharpe, 21, the
local
Rodeo
Queen, does a lap of
honour
, then participates in the ladies'
events
;
but
in this macho part of the world, the ladies do not
get
to pit themselves against untamed bulls and broncs! That's
men
's stuff! Katie and the other young ladies
show
their
skills
at
"
barrel racing
"
, hurling their
horses
at breakneck speed
round
a triangular shaped race-course, marked out with barrels, in the middle of the
arena
.
It's
not as dramatic as bull-riding,
but
it's
exciting, and the crowd roar their approval.
As the sun falls lower in the sky and the shadows
begin
to lengthen, the final
rounds
of calf-roping and saddle-bronc riding bring another half hour of thrills and spills
before
the commentator
finally
announces that the
Rodeo
is drawing to an
end
. The last prizes
are handed
out, the last riders
leave
the
arena
, and the
show
is over. As the spectators pick up their belongings and
move
slowly
towards the exits, the kids on their ponies
come
back again for another few minutes as imaginary champions, tomorrow's
local
heroes in the
arena
of the stars. Here, it seems, if
rodeo
does not flow in the blood, at least
it's
all in the family.