The Fair, Mutton Bustin' and An Introduction to a Wrangler

The first place winner of the annual quilt competition. Quilting is big here - and it isn't merely the colors or the pattern used. What you can't see, on this one, is the intricate leaf-pattern of clear-threaded, quilt stitching that adds that 'pouf' and makes a lovely underlying pattern all its own on the material. One of my artist friends asked me if I was thinking about competing next year - I told her, "After looking at all of this, I think I'll just go home and buff the floor!"



Another intricate pattern and much attention to detail. The main rule is - these quilts had to be made since the last fair, last August. There were over 50 quilts - in a county of only 6000 people.

OK, Mutton Bustin'? What's that?

It is the introduction to the rodeo for the tiniest tykes. There is only one qualification - being under 60 pounds to compete. Like the grownup riders, the mutton busters get their own numbers attached to their shirts. Like the grownup riders, they march down to the gate, line up, get assigned their ride. The gate slams open as they are tossed onto the back of a full grown sheep. Then their ride is timed from gate to buckoff. There were twenty of them, five, six and seven year olds, serious and determined, lined up for their own little rodeo. The ones who were bucked off into the mud didn't cry - the boys nor the girls. They would get up, dust themselves off, and walk off the arena, heads held high. They had ridden! They had competed! Even the ones who had lost had a gleam in their eye when they walked through the stands afterward.

And that's how their kids are raised - self-confidence and competition at an early age. No bleeding hearts whining about 'everyone deserves a trophy' - the kids would consider it an insult to get a prize for merely competing. Winning is what counts. Self pride and making the effort is what counts. There was no one around to whine about the 'poor abused sheep' either... the sheep barely noticed that the munchkins were on their backs.

After the mutton bustin', there was the grownup rodeo.

In the arena for the grownup competitions was a friend of mine, Rick Weber. He owns a ranch where he raises quarter horses. He also owns a real estate company. He was one of the sponsors of the rodeo. But he loves the animals, the rodeo, and his community so much that, instead of playing up his largesse and self-importance, he sat astride his big cow horse, dressed in chaps and a plaid shirt, wrangling the broncs and the brahmas as they bucked off their riders. His son rode next to him. Tall in the saddle, Reese Weber helped herd the stubborn bucking animals out the gate after their riders had left their backs. Cool and confident, Reese would circle his lariat and rope a plunging, stamping, bucking and galloping brahma's horns, bring him in, run him out the gate. He and his father were a team, one roping, one sidling close in to the animals, herding them, forcing them to run out the gate instead of over the competitors or the clowns in the arena.

Reese is a fascinating character, too. He is going to be a veternarian. He loves the ranch, loves the horses, loves the wide open country and the animals and the challenges. He is soft spoken, not arrogant, very matter of fact, usually cheerful, full of common sense and humor. He is warm and friendly, purposeful and yet kind to his horses. He is tough as nails; a brahma slammed him against a wall, and he and his horse never stopped, kept right on going, took that 2050 lb animal right on out of the gate.

By the way, Reese is 12 years old. That's right. Twelve. And he is not unusual for a twelve-year old here. The ones who ARE unusual, are the goth kids, the pierced kids, the city-dressed-wannabes. Even with their unusual hair colors and dress, they still don't leave trash anywhere, and they still step aside for, speak respectfully to, or help their elders up the stairs.

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This is a terrible picture of Reese, lassoing a bull at high speed while his Dad looks on and assists from the rear. But you get the idea....