This ain’t my first rodeo. Well actually, it is. As a flatlander who’s new to these parts, next week’s Mission Mountain Rodeo will herald my first time attending such an event.

You could say that up until this point in my life, I have steered clear of the sport (pun very much intended). By no means have I deliberately avoided it, but having been reared in relatively tame corners of the Midwest and upstate New York, this impending exhibition of toughness, grit and Montana-sized belt buckles will all be new to me.

This ain’t my first rodeo. Well actually, it is. As a flatlander who’s new to these parts, next week’s Mission Mountain Rodeo will herald my first time attending such an event.

You could say that up until this point in my life, I have steered clear of the sport (pun very much intended). By no means have I deliberately avoided it, but having been reared in relatively tame corners of the Midwest and upstate New York, this impending exhibition of toughness, grit and Montana-sized belt buckles will all be new to me.

Greenhorn that I am, I’m eager to make my wide-eyed debut as a spectator at next week’s festivities. As a cultural icon of the Old West and a lingering vestige from the rough-and-tumble lifestyle of yesteryear, I’m counting on my attendance at the rodeo to officially christen me as a newly-branded Westerner.

I don’t know the first thing about what to expect, other than at some point intrepid cowboys will attempt to stay on a crazed bull or horse for roughly eight seconds. And I mean roughly.

From a safe distance it’ll be fun to watch this test of mettle and coolness under pressure that rewards those who have mastered the most practical of ranching skills. We’ll see if the area’s bravest have got what it takes when it’s time to roll up the sleeves, get to work and willingly pounce on the back of an incensed and potentially deadly animal.

Even more importantly, though, I’ve listened in awe to rumors of the phenomenon known as mutton bustin’. Where I come from, sheep are docile creatures that are such a symbol of tranquility that merely thinking of them helps folks get to sleep. But out here, evidently young children buck up and wrangle the meanest sheep this side of the Rockies. I can’t wait to see one of the woolly critters get in touch with its wild side and do battle with a 55-pound kid who’s more of a man than I am.

With so much to discover, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of this spectacle will be quite the cultural learning experience. I’m excited to camp out in the stands overlooking the lake and the mountains, hopefully acquainting myself with rodeo jargon in the process – which I’m imagining to feature colorful terms that evoke the Wild West.

I reckon it’ll be a pretty fun time. Time to see what the fuss is about and grab the bull by the horns. But not literally – I’ll leave that to the rodeo clowns.