Snowmass Rodeo Preserves Mutton Bustin’ Legacy Through 55 Years

“Welcome to the Snowmass Rodeo,” started a column in the Aspen Daily News on June 30, 2005.

The writer didn’t mince words. He described a game called Mutton Bustin’ where kids ages 4 to 7, weighing in at 50 pounds or less, wrapped their arms around the necks of farm animals and held on tight. It was, as he put it, “a little rodeo for kiddies.”

The baby who stayed on the longest won.

The action was chaotic. Little ones got bucked off one after another. Once they hit the dirt, they rolled onto their heads like those punchin’ bags from Toys R Us. They just seemed to roll right back to center. Their legs flailed in the air.

“Boy after boy continued to get bucked off,” the columnist wrote. “The leapin’ lambs do a little jump-a-roo, after freeing themselves from the little wool pullers.”

Then came the girl.

She was the only little girl on stage. Her blonde pigtails stuck out from her helmet. She wore little white sandals as she walked into the manure mud. She got bucked off right away.

After the event, the announcers called down all the kids from the stands. There was a mass exodus. The columnist was left sitting there, wondering what was happening.

“This is truly a family-friendly event,” he noted. “All the spectators are kids, in fact, I felt like one nearly leapin’ from my bum to run down there to the arena and play the game they were about to enjoy.”

They lined up. A gun went off. The kids started running around like “chickens with their heads cut off,” just like the columnist’s parents used to say. They started chasing wild animals. Well, technically, they were chasing little calves with ribbons tied to their tails. But the intent was clear. The kids were tryin’ to snatch the ribbons from their small cow bums.

This was the Calf Scramble. And it was part of the Mutton Bustin’ tradition at the Snowmass Rodeo, which is now in its 55th year of consecutive rodeos.

The Aspen Historical Society, which preserves and presents local history, notes that these events anchor the local community and its evolving character. The image of the 2009 Mutton Bustin’ event, taken by Bob Krueger, captures the essence of it: a child participating, helmet on, ready to wrestle a lamb.

It’s a specific kind of nostalgia for folks around here. We talk about the ski resorts, the traffic on Highway 82, the property values. But we don’t always talk about the mud. The manure. The specific chaos of a 50-pound child trying to hold onto a sheep while the rest of the town watches.

The columnist’s observation about the “mass exodus” is key. It wasn’t just about the kids on the animals. It was about the parents, the grandparents, the neighbors. They weren’t just spectators. They were participants waiting for their turn. The line between the audience and the arena was thin.

“The kiddies were tryin’ to snatch the ribbons from their small cow bums,” the writer concluded.

It’s a simple image. But it’s also a history lesson. It shows us that Snowmass wasn’t always just a destination for winter sports. It was a place for community events. For kids. For laughter. For the occasional fall into the mud.

The Aspen Historical Society continues to document this. It keeps the photos. It keeps the stories. It preserves the memory of the little blonde girl with the pigtails and white sandals.

As the town grows, as the tourism changes, as the economy shifts, these small, messy moments remain. They are the foundation. The 55 years of consecutive rodeos didn’t just happen by accident. They happened because people showed up. Because they laughed. Because they let their kids run around like chickens with their heads cut off.

The question is whether we remember the mud as clearly as we remember the snow. The answer, according to the historical record, is yes. We do.

“The leapin’ lambs do a little jump-a-roo,” the columnist wrote. And we watched. And we laughed. And we came back next year.