Song of the South

Holy Cow!

I hail from the South.  And while there are farms and fields where animals roam and children play, I myself was never was one of those kids who enjoyed getting down and dirty in the mud.

I know rodeos occur there from time to time, but I had never been to one before last week.

I was excited to go to Homesteader Days in Hot Springs because of the hype that everyone had given the rodeo.

Everything from calf roping and bareback riding to barrel racing and wild cow milking were on the agenda.

The first half of the day’s events were somewhat boring to me. There was no excitement that lived up to the hype. No make-or-break moments that sparked my attention.

A few cowboys managed to stay on their bucking horses for the required eight seconds.

Flashbacks from the movie ‘8 Seconds’ began playing in my head, and I remembered how I felt watching Luke Perry struggle to hold on for what seemed like an eternity, and I began to get a little nervous.

As I was watching these gentlemen go out and give it their all for just a short amount of time, only to walk way empty-handed with no prize money, I was disappointed, not only for them, but for me. How was I going to get a good scoop on a story for the newspaper?

The barrel-racing event did produce some cute girls on horseback, I think the youngest was two years old, but their pace was not enough for me to want to keep up with.

It was only when the wild cow-milking portion of the program began that I started to realize I might start to look at things quite a bit differently.

No one prepared this city girl from Alabama   for what I was about to witness.

Teams of three people walked into the middle of the arena, ready to milk a wild bovine.

They too were probably not as mentally prepared for what was about to happen, or at least that’s what I thought. I would soon learn just how wrong I was.

These courageous men and women were  prepared  to wrestle a cow in order to milk it simply so that myself and the rest of the 300-plus onlookers could be entertained.

 I thought the cows would be lead out by some nice ranch hand and then the contestants would proceed to milk the cow wile the crowd cheered loudly for the first team to fill a cup to a certain level.

I will give you a minute to regain your composure because I’m sure most of you reading this are laughing hysterically at my misconception.

With my camera in hand, ready to capture the fun, low-key event, I stood against the fence and waited.

The next 48 seconds would be the most dramatic cattle-time I have ever experienced.

At the sound of the announcer, five cows barreled into the arena, each being chased by a group of crazy cow-milkers.

My brain couldn’t catch up to every team in the midst of all the chaos so I focused on the one directly in front of me.

Dust was flying, the crowd was screaming, almost screeching at some points, and I found myself in tears.

I managed to observe Tony Larson wrestle a cow barehanded and remain underneath her. Neither moved an inch.

I thought Tony was dead. I thought the cow was dead.

I thought I wasn’t supposed to be watching what was happening.

Next thing I know Tony’s teammate Kelsey Anderson was running towards the judge with a cup and proceeded to turn it upside down.

Apparently the judge didn’t see the milk droplets fall or else the few drops that did mnage to fall weren’t enough because Kelsey immediately ran back and began milking their cow some more.

Lisa Larson, Tony’s mother was screaming at the top of her lungs and for those of you who know her, you probably heard the effects the rodeo event had on her all last week.

Upon answering every phone call at the office, her immediate response was “No, I’m not sick. I was screaming at Homesteaders for my kid as he wreslted a cow.”

I turned around and looked at the crowd and the looks on their faces ranged from cheery encouragement to shock and awe.

I felt all those same feelings, I just couldn’t speak or move, for that matter.

It took me two weeks to write this column because I had to wait until the right words came to mind.

It took two weeks for me to fathom the idea that someone would consciously wrestle a cow barehanded.  

I had to conceive an appropriate way to relay my emotions.

And so after two weeks of contemplating, all I could come up with was Holy Cow!!