Wild Cow Milking

Did you know this is a thing?

My wife took my daughter and me to the rodeo last week. My daughter and I were (until that evening) rodeo virgins.

Living in Utah has given me a chance to discover what I affectionately call the "hunter/gatherer" lifestyle. I still don't feel like I "get it," but this is the mentality of a guy who counts down the days until elk season and spends countless weekends making bullets and shooting clay pigeons.

{Tangent}
As a non-hunter/gatherer, I'm personally grateful that I can buy meat in nice little shrink-wrapped packages. Had I been born any earlier in the course of human history, natural selection would have weeded me out rather swiftly.
{End Tangent}

Before I get into the glory that is "wild cow milking," let me first say that "mutton busting" is simultaneously incredibly adorable and slightly creepy.

For those lacking the broad knowledge of rodeo counterculture that I now possess, mutton busting (i.e. mutton bustin') is where little kids pretend to be bull riders and hang onto a sheep for dear life as it runs around the arena. It may or may not have been the cutest thing I've ever seen, particularly when some of them came decked out in a full set of leather chaps.

Now, wild cow milking.

The announcer said it is where a team of three men try to milk a wild cow. I assumed it would be like all the other events, and the teams would go one-at-a-time. Suddenly, 10 cows came flying out of the shoot, and ... the best way I can describe it is that ... chaos ensued. Men and cows were everywhere, and more than one guy got dragged unceremoniously through the dirt. I'm still amazed someone didn't get kicked in the head.

My wife had as much fun watching the spectacle as she did watching the incredulous look on my face. I was speechless except for the phrase, "What the crap is going on?"

Oh, and before I forget, my daughter is now begging to participate in the mutton bustin' next year. Maybe the hunter/gatherer instincts skip a couple dozen generations.