|
California's rancho days come vividly to life in this information-packed collection of facts and stories. All the essentials are here: how the ranchos came to be, the rancheros' lifestyle, and the gradual decline of the rancho way of life following the American conquest of California. But that's just the beginning! Chapters devoted to eight selected ranchos tell of such fascinating episodes as the only pirate attack on a rancho, how two wealthy rancheros staged California's greatest horse race, the "golden mistake" that brought a fabulous fortune to famed explorer John Charles Frémont, and the surprising discovery that turned rancho land in Santa Clara County into California's richest mine.
128 pages, illustrated Be sure to check out the exciting Hands-On History projects and activities book for this title! |
The biggest party of all was held when the branding was over. It was then that a huge feast was served and special games were played. The men showed off their riding skills by performing tricks and competing in races and games in front of enthusiastic spectators who clapped and shouted and cheered them on. One of the most popular and difficult of the games involved a rooster. The unhappy bird was buried up to its neck in the ground (or in the sand, if the game was played on the beach), so that only its head was showing. When the rooster was firmly planted, a signal was sent to a rider waiting on horseback about 200 feet away. Upon getting the signal, he spurred his mount toward the bird. Charging down the straightaway as fast as he could ride, the horseman would lean over as far as he dared and attempt to grab the creature by the head and yank it from the ground. As you can imagine, the game was both dangerous and exciting. It took a great deal of skill for a rider to lean down from a galloping horse, pluck a rooster from the ground, right himself in the saddle, and wave the wing-flapping bird in the air-all while riding at top speed! Those who succeeded in grabbing the rooster won whoops of admiration from the spectators. . . . |
|