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This is a two-day festival. The horses, the tropillas, are transported from
around
the region to the site of the festival, in the town of Loberia. There was a
huge grassy field, filled with horses, trailers, tents, trucks - surrounded
by improptu camp kitchens (asadors and parillas - grills and ovens) -
shops - tiendas - for selling horse tack, gaucho clothing, knives, matte
cups, rustic jewelry, leather and silver - artesanos Argentine, ... and lots
of 'stuff'. A
few carnival rides, fusbol tables (!!), little ponies adorned in mini
saddles sparking with silver for the children to ride, a cantina -
pulperia - for softdrinks and
beer. And a huge array of asadors for the traditional Argentine barbeque.
Whole racks of beef, sausages - chorizos, ribs - smoking and roasting to
perfection with carefully tended beds of coal.

This is a major festival and contest for the horses and traditional horsemen
of Argentina - today's gauchos. A special time of the year to bring out all
of the special harness and tack - silver and leather crafted, exquisite
workmanship - some by new artisans, some antique works. And the time to wear
the most colorful and traditional clothing. The thick leather belts and
silver handled knives (the beautiful gaucho butt...), the flat topped hats,
with the strap tightened at the back of the head rather than under the chin,
the colorful wool
berets and silk scarves. High topped boots, baggy bombachas, woven waist
bands,
Alpargata slippers. And the very unique botas, made from hide taken from the
front leg of the cow - the natural bend and callus of the knee becomes the
heel of the boot. The leather is soaked and formed and dried to perfectly
fit the foot and leg of the gaucho. Strong, yet soft and supple, allowing
the rider to have a sensitive feel of the horses as they are being trained
to saddle.  It's a lovely site, men, women and children
alike dressed for the occasion.

The Tropilla -

As I'm sitting here writing this, on Claudia's patio, birds and parrots
chattering in the trees, doves cooing, -the flowers and grasses of late
summer, gentle breeze, warm sun - and in the distance I can hear the ringing
of the bell of the  tropilla of Las Cortaderas. The bell of the Madrina. I
can't see the horses, but I can imagine them, a tight band, never straying
far from the mare with the bell. So what, and why, is the tropilla....

Here's the problem: the rangelands of Argentina and the pampas were vast -
horses, cattle, sheep, Indians, gauchos, ranchos spread across the land. The
people had
to travel great distances by horseback, and each man needed more than one
horse to do
the work. The work of transportation - simply getting from one place to
another, and the work of moving and managing the herds of cattle and bands
of horses.

Here's the solution: train a band of horses to travel together, to stay
together, to always seek and follow a leader. Like a tight school of fish,
or a flock of sheep, or goslings bound to their mother, panicking if they
are separated or she gets out of site. Create a band of horses that wake,
graze and travel as one. No need for fences or corrals, no need for halters
and ropes. Wherever the madrina goes, the others follow. Where she is
picketed, they stay. When she moves they follow. Where she is led, the
others go. A band of horses - broke to saddle, trained to work, and always
at hand. Simply change saddles from one horse to another, any time, anywhere
on the range.

The look in the eye of these horses is different when they are free, when
their madrina is on the move. Their focus is intent, always an ear or an eye
toward the mare with the bell. It's the look you see in the eye when
something startles a herd - what now? where now? run? stay? - ears erect and
pointing toward the danger, but the focus toward the lead mare for
direction.

Over the years the tropilla has become a tradition, a specialty - defined
visually and functionally. It must meet certain standards of composition,
and performance. The size of the tropilla generally ranges between 10 and 20
horses. There is always a mare, the 'madrina' (godmother) who wears a bell
collar. A loud bell, the bell that the others are trained to follow and stay
close to. No matter what. This mare is always of a different color from the
others. There is also the 'lunar' - (the mole, the beauty mark) - a gelding
of yet another different, distinctive color. The lunar - the mole - is the
accent of the tropilla - the artistic touch - the signature of the owner.
The rest are geldings, generally of the same color, ideally of the same size
and type. All blacks, all tobianos, all overos, or all roans, etc. The
madrina and lunar are chosen to have complementary colors. For instance, if
the band is black/white tobiano, the mole might be a bay/white tobiano - and
the madrina a solid black. Claudia's tropilla (which she bought several
years ago to help preserve and promote the tradition) is 'rosa overo' - the
geldings are a rose-buckskin color pinto. The madrina is a mottled gray
overo and the lunar is a darker rose-bay overo.

The Fiesta -

The horses, handlers, riders and families arrived on Friday. Saturday
morning all of the tropillas were judged. There were 22 tropillas at this
festival - bays, blacks, chestnuts, overos, grullas, and a few 'pelos
varios' or of mixed color. They are judged by type and quality of horse,
consistency of size, health and robustness, by the artistry of the color
(the geldings, the madrina, the lunar) - and probably a few more qualities
that I couldn't quite translate...

Later in the afternoon was the parade. The people donned their finest
clothes, and adorned their saddle horses with their most beautiful silver
and leather tack. It was quite a task, organizing all of the tropillas,
riders, carriages, moving them from a huge field onto the street, and
ultimately forming a line to parade down the streets. 22 tropillas, and all
of the saddle horses, almost 300 horses, finding their spot, circling and
lining up and circling again. The tropilla master, the tropillero,  would
bring the madrina into a tight circle next to the horse he was riding, the
others would follow the circle, a tight wad of horses, spinning until the
madrina stopped. The tropilla master would shout a few words, and all of the
horses would line up, shoulder to shoulder. Then off they go again, a dash
across the field, stop, spin and line up. Polishing their performance.

We drove to the plaza square of Lobelia to watch the parade. For over an
hour, until the sun set, the line of beautiful horses and riders and the
amazing tropillas paraded past. The city officials and event organizers were
providing commentary, the 'criollo poet' peppered the commentary with
improptu verses, always in rhyme, colorful words and language. When the
tropillas came by, they would stop and spin and show off the talent of the
master and the tightness of the group (Claudia's was one of the tightest,
most uniform tropillas!). Almost every tropillero had a child - a grand
daughter or grandson - tucked into the saddle in front of him. Several
generations on horseback. Still a strong tradition.

The Entrevero

We went back to the festival on Sunday. The asadors were loaded with beef,
ribs and chorizo. Smoking and delicious smelling. Very friendly atmosphere,
the little shop stands were crowded, the pulperia (cantina) was pretty busy,
this was a day to stay in one place, eat a lot, and visit with friends and
companions. Musicians were playing, guitar and accordian, old couples
dancing in the dust below the stage. Plenty of cerveza. This was the day of
the doma, the rodeo and most importantly the Entrevero - the most amazing
horse thing I've ever seen.

For an hour or so before the Entrevero, all of the tropillas were spinning
around the fields. Twenty two bands of horses of unique colors, circling,
spinning, lining up and galloping across the field. Sometimes the groups
would mingle, get a little mixed up as they shifted around, but another
spin, a shout from the tropillero, and they separated into their bands
again. The tropilleros (masters) were honing their groups, tightening the
bands, working the horses into a frame of mind, frantic focus, bound to the
madrina, the bell mare.

Eventually all of the tropillas were herded into a large corral. But once
each band was in the enclosure, the tropillero took his madrina out, the
mare with the bell, leaving the band and the mole in the corral. 260 horses
enclosed together in the corral, 260 sets of ears flicking back and forth,
searching for their madrina. The madrinas were taken to the opposite side of
the field, far enough away that the sound of the bell could not carry.
Several gauchos worked the groups in the corral, mingling the bands
together. The bands of chestnuts, bays, overos, etc soon became
indestinguishable, a mix of all the colors.

In one moment the gates were open and the horses released. The 22 madrinas
on one side of the huge field, 260 anxious horses on the other. Now the
competition - now the challenge - for the madrina and tropillero to reunite
their band. Horses were galloping in every direction, back and forth. Bells
were clanging, shouts and hoops. The whole thing didn't last more than 5
minutes, and finally out of the dust, an intact tropilla, with madrina and
lunar, and dust covered tropillero, presenting themselves to the judges. Are
they all there? quick count, check - yes the winner! Meanwhile the others
were reuniting in various stages, some lone, stray horses still searching.
The tropillero has to keep his madrina in motion, to keep the sound of the
bell steady. And a spin and line to see if they were all present. Yes? no?
keep searching, keep ringing. very cool...

After the Entrevero was over - the tropillas went back to grazing quietly in
the far field beside their madrina, then it was time for the bucking bronc
riders - la doma. These horses can really really buck, and these gauchos can
really really ride.

It was a fantastic treat to be there, to see this Fiesta de Tropillas. And
it was totally non-touristic, non-commercial. Just the locals doing their
thing. John and I were the only gringos there, but everybody was friendly
and welcoming. I think that people that love the horse have a natural
affinity for each other. Doesn't really matter where, who, when - we
understand each other, and appreciate in each other that which we feel so
deeply.

Steph






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