Calling All Cows

In case you've forgotten (or more likely, never knew), the National Cowcalling Contest in Miami, Texas is this weekend. (always the first weekend in June). The festivities will kick off tonight with the Frontier Follies ( a show put on by locals), with a barbeque and the cowcalling tomorrow.

Since I last attended, they've added more events, such as a Texas Hold'em tournament, a steak cook-off and several others. It's also when many class reunions are held and my big sister and I went to mine a few years back. (the good thing about reunions is that you get to see many people you haven't seen in years; conversely, the bad thing is you have to see many people you never wanted to see again)

You can read more about it at the official town website.

From the site:

Miami's main event, the National Cow Calling Championships, began in 1949 at the suggestion of "Old Tack" - otherwise known as humorist, columnist, publisher, and conservationist Gene Howe of Amarillo.

Let cow calling introduce you to the prettiest town in Texas. If you think the Panhandle is flat, you're in for a very pleasant surprise. Our canyons, mesas, and tree-lined roads are unforgettable!

My favorite part of the entire weekend was always the Follies; sometimes it was a chore sitting through certain portions of it, but it was always a pleasure to hear a classmate's mother sing; she had a voice like a combination of Patsy Cline and Peggy Lee.

My least favorite part was the Saturday night dance. Oh, I suppose if women with big hair-do's, drunken cowboys and fistfights are your thing.... I used to get a buzz just from all of the excess testosterone in the air, along with copious amounts of hairspray and perfume, never needed any beer.

(I blame country and western dances for depleting the ozone layer)

(To be honest, the first time I ever got drunk was at a Cowcalling, back when I was about 13. Long story, but I didn't drink anything else until I was 18 or so. It still makes me nauseous to think about that night. Did you know you can drink a pint of whiskey and a six pack of beer and then vomit five gallons? One gallon went down the gutter in front of my big sister's house and four gallons went onto her carpet)

The cowcalling part was always a little bit of an embarrassment to me, namely that I was embarrassed for some of the callers. All of the callers, actually. But, if it didn't bother them....

Anyone can call cows...if you can go "Whooooooooooo" as loud and as long as you can, then you too can call cows. (Back when I helped feed cattle, I always just used the truck horn to get them to come feed, but usually not even having to do that. Cows are dumb, but they ain't stupid. They're usually at the gate before you can get it open. I'm the same way when I'M hungry)

Did I ever get up there and participate? Well, no, I'm not that stupid brave. The event is held just after noon, and I never have drank anything before around six in the afternoon.

Actually, I'm fairly sure there's not enough booze in the world to make me get up there.