Rodeo time

It isn't hard to imagine what's going on inside a little girl's head as she circles a ring on a patient old pony...

... rodeo dreams. A lot of girls growing up in the West dream of this: the perfect little quarter horse, a nice black hat, tailored shirt, fancy belt, good boots, and above all, the ability to ride lickety-split.

If the dreams don't pan out, well at least one can get a hat. If you've ever worn a cowboy hat, then you know it is imbued with special bad-ass powers.

As usual these were for sale at the local rodeo, the Philomath Frolic, always held the second weekend in July. I love going to this rodeo, which is a pageant of color, sound, tradition, patriotism, and the Old West. For one night I'm totally into it. Let's go to the rodeo!

Saddle bronc riding.

Bulldogging.

Barrel racing.

The second part of the rodeo is devoted to the super-macho sport of bull-riding, but first we must have an interlude: the Local Business Donkey Races. The donkey race participants are all local business sponsors who bring forth two employees, each pair matched with a random, recalcitrant donkey.

First one team member has to get on the donkey. As you see here this is much harder to do than it sounds, after a couple of long minutes causing the announcer to say impatiently "GET YOUR ASSES UNDER CONTROL."

This team is H. Storch Pollination Services. They are dressed like honeybees, of course. The harder you tug a donkey, the slower it moves forward and H. Storch did not win. Too bad! We were cheering for them because H is actually a friend.

On to the serious stuff: bull-riding. Such a terrible idea! What a ride, eh?

This alert horse and cowboy both watched the bull riding from a safe distance, ready to step in if needed.

At their side was a cow dog named Jake.

As soon as a rider goes down, the bull must be guided out of the arena. That was Jake's job.

Maybe the best spectacle of all is at the very end of the rodeo when the horses are turned loose, creating a gorgeous stampede around and around.

Then in a cloud of dust they disappear. Time to go home.

Western art sculpture, created entirely of horse shoes.

There were fireworks afterwards, but we didn't stay. The sky was aflame with color and I can't imagine that anything could have surpassed its drama.