Bumbling Burglars

“They took ‘em!”

Wendy Stokes, Daughter of beekeeper 

Bumbling burglars have hit the small town of Estancia, New Mexico (population 1,584). It’s not that these guys are inept; it’s what they stole that makes them “bumbling”: bees. And not just a few bees: a quarter of a million bees. 

The owners of the bees, a father and daughter, went on a short trip, and when the daughter returned, the bees were gone. She’s stunned, and stumped. Who would want to steal bees? Whoever it is knew what they were doing. The bee-nappers took the bees at night, when all the bees were tucked into the hives for a snooze. The value of the bees and hives is about $1000. The beekeepers are offering a $100 reward for information leading to the burgled bees. 

The police say it’s a hard case to crack because all bees look alike. Here’s my suggestion: Go undercover as a clandestine honey hoarder to smoke out the bee-nappers. Wouldn’t it be sweet revenge to catch them in a sting operation? 

Read the article ® Thieves make off with several hundred thousand bees

Bull Run

“Bulls are bulls . . .”

Gemma Vaughan, PETA spokeswoman

Wanna run with the bulls? It’s not my thing, but some guys get a kick out of it. Used to be you’d have to go to Pamplona, Spain to get trampled by the bulls—I mean, run with the bulls—but if a gentleman in Cave Creek, Arizona (population 5,478) has his way, you won’t have to go any farther than this desert community to get your lick at the kicks.

The bull run is planned for October 14th and 15th. Originally, the town of Cave Creek was behind the idea. The mayor said the running of the bulls was on his wish list for the town—just the kind of activity this Wild West town likes to be known for—but when the promoter failed to come up with the required $3 million insurance policy, the town pulled its support. They don’t want to be in the hot seat if anyone gets hurt.

Still, the promoter is planning to go ahead with the bovine bolt. The event will be held on private property and will take place in an arena instead of through town streets. The organizers are planning to use rodeo bulls instead of Mexican fighting bulls—they say rodeo bulls are safer. I don’t know. I’ve been to a few rodeos and watched the half-ton bulls rocket out of the bucking chutes. All I can say is, that’s a lot of bull.

Read the article ® Cave Creek officials revoke bull-running sanction

Labor Pains

“It should come as no surprise that organizers choose not to invite elected officials who have openly attacked worker’s rights . . .”

Randy Radtke, Labor union official 

Wausau, Wisconsin

Remember the ruckus that had Wisconsin politicians up in arms earlier this year over state employees’ rights? Democratic lawmakers had fled the state trying to block the Republican governor from passing a law that would strip collective bargaining rights from state employees. The tactic didn’t work, and the governor and Republican-controlled legislature passed the law. Remember? There’s one group that remembers: labor unions in the town of Wausau, Wisconsin (population 37,796). And they’re using this year’s Labor Day parade to make sure Republican lawmakers remember, too. 

Thirty labor unions in and around Wausau get together each year to organize the town’s Labor Day parade. This year, still sore from the Republican legislature’s vote against state workers, the unions yanked the welcome mat out from under Republican lawmakers. The leader of the labor union group said that politicians from the Republican Party can’t expect an invitation to the upcoming Labor Day parade celebrating workers after their attack on workers’ rights. Republicans say they’d like to put differences aside and have some fun. 

That’s the thing about parades—like parties, you get to participate only if invited. And in this small town in Wisconsin, whether you get invited is all about the Party you belong to. 

Read the article ® Republicans barred from Wisconsin town's Labor Day parade

Common Cents

“We kind of just felt like the money belongs to

the residents of the town.”

Jay Tobias, Town Councilman

Photo by Beth Baugh

The town of Haymarket, Virginia (population 1,252) was faced with a nice little problem recently. In these days of budget deficits and spending cuts, Haymarket found itself with a surplus: $700,000. What’s a small town to do with all that money?

In this town, where common sense rules the day, the city council gathered to hash out the “problem.” First, they set aside a large chunk of the money for capital improvement projects slated to be completed this year. Next, they ran the numbers again and found there was still $150,000 in the coffers. Then, town leaders did the unimaginable: they gave the money back to the taxpayers. After all, the council members reasoned, it’s their money. 

Checks were mailed to 568 taxpayers in town. At first the residents were puzzled, calling the town clerk to make sure the money was really theirs. It really was. Since then, the residents have been tickled. Town leaders are hoping folks will do a little celebrating with their unexpected windfall—maybe go out to dinner or make a special purchase—something to give the local economy an extra boost. 

One of the town council members pondered that if a small town can do this, who knows what a big city could do? Of course, for that to happen big city leaders would have to borrow inspiration from this small town and put their “common cents” to good use.

Read the article ® Small Virginia town giving rebate checks; residents of haymarket surprised by windfall

Big Flush

“That’s not a good idea at all.”

Benito Lara, Resident of Big Spring, Texas

Desperate times call for desperate measures. The drought in Texas is making folks desperate. Just ask the citizens of Big Spring, Texas (population 25,233).

More than 100 years ago, the town’s namesake served as a popular watering hole for settlers heading West. In the 1880s, when the railroad came through, the big spring was pumping 100,000 gallons of water per day. That was then; this is now. The big spring has long since dried up. It was reworked a few years ago to divert water from Comanche Trail Lake to area residents. But after the latest drought, which has seen only 3 inches of rain in the last year, the diverted water is drying up, too.

The town of Big Spring has been scrambling to save water: no more washing cars at home, watering lawns restricted to two times a week, and watering cans only, not hoses, allowed on flower beds. These restrictions aren’t enough. The town will run out of water unless it takes drastic action. And that’s just what it’s doing.

The town is building a $13 million water treatment plant that will turn sewage wastewater into drinking water. That’s right—the stuff that’s flushed today will come out of the faucet tomorrow (or thereabouts). The head of the water district says the treatment plant will provide 2 million gallons of water per day, and it’ll be good water people will like. The residents aren’t buying it. Some say they'll move if the town follows through on its wastewater repurposing plan.

For the folks who remain, they may need to reconsider the name of their town. Instead of Big Spring, maybe Big Flush?

Read the article ® Thirsty Texans turn to wastewater to ease drought

August Blizzard

Photo by NOAA

Folks in Madison, South Dakota (population 6,605) are no strangers to blizzards. They’re not fond of the kind that blow in in November and don’t leave until March, but they love the Blizzards dished up at their local Dairy Queen during the lazy days of summer. And when I say these folks love their Blizzards, I mean they hard-core love their Blizzards.

On Thursday of last week, this town of 6,000 people bought more than 25,000 Blizzards. Yep: 25,000. In one day. That comes out to roughly 4 Blizzards for every man, woman, and child (and maybe dog, cat, and chicken or two) in town. What in heaven’s name got into these folks? The spirit of goodwill, that’s what.

The local DQ was participating in a charity event that raises money for the Children’s Miracle Network Hospital. Called Miracle Treat Day, the 25,000 plus Blizzards sold last Thursday raised $60,000, which will be sent to Sanford’s Children's Hospital in nearby Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

How did the Madison DQ do it? With lots of community support. DeLon Mork, the owner of the DQ, called every business in the county weeks before Miracle Treat Day to take advance orders. On top of that, Mr. Mork and the police chief promised to skydive out of a plane if more than 25,000 Blizzards were sold. And to avoid exhausting his hard-working crew, Mr. Mork sold both Blizzards and coupons for Blizzards, which can be redeemed later­.

Coupons sound like a good idea. That way, when November rolls around and the winter blizzards are howling at the door, the good folks in Madison can slip away to the DQ and savor warm memories of their August Blizzard.

Read the article ®How one small-town business owner rallied his community for charity

So-fa, So Good

“Most of the investors couldn’t tell you the difference

between a sofa and a loveseat.”

Tom Bleile, Investor in Norwalk Furniture 

Photo by Norwalk Furniture

This story starts out like so many we’ve read lately: a hometown company that’s been making a high-quality product for generations suddenly shuts down because of the bad economy. People lose jobs, their pride takes a hit, and the town loses much of its tax base. But it’s here—after the shutdown—where this story takes a twist.  

Norwalk Furniture, of Norwalk, Ohio (population 17,012), has been making high-end sofas and chairs for more than 100 years. Over that time, the company grew to the point where it was running its own fleet of trucks and chain of retail stores. But in 2008, when the economy screeched to a halt, so did orders for custom-made furniture. In response, the bank cut the furniture maker’s credit line, and the company was forced to shut down. Things looked bleak. 

But a handful of families in the small town of Norwalk couldn’t let the story end there. Twelve of them banded together, and in just four days they put together enough capital to buy the company. None of the investors were experienced in furniture making, but they figured that if they kept things simple and went back to doing what Norwalk Furniture did best—making great sofas and chairs—they might just make a go of it. 

Three years later, they’re doing it. Norwalk Furniture employs about 150 workers and has zero bank debt. Its namesake hometown has seen its population grow, and other businesses are getting in on the action, too. A baking company a few miles down the road, inspired by the Norwalk Furniture example, recently decided to expand its operations. 

The group of twelve investors who put their money on Norwalk Furniture might not have known much about the furniture business, but they sure knew how to take care of business . . . and how to take care of their hometown along with it. 

Read or listen to the story ® How locals saved a furniture company in Ohio

Orange Goo

“So this is natural.”

Jeep Rice, Scientist in Juneau, Alaska

Photo by NOAA

Invasion of the Orange Goo. Sounds like the title of a B-list horror movie, doesn’t it? Not for one village in Alaska. It’s reality.

Kivalina, Alaska (population 388) is being invaded by orange goo. The stuff first appeared bobbing in the town’s harbor, and within a day it had washed ashore. Residents were puzzled but not alarmed, until a day later when they found the orange glop floating atop the rain water normally collected for drinking and clinging to rooftops. That’s when they called in the experts to tell them what the heck was invading their town. 

The orange goo had the scientists scratching their heads, too . . . for a while. Right away they ruled out that it was a man-made substance or fuel by-product. They cast a suspicious eye on a zinc factory 40 miles away, but the folks there swore it wasn’t their stuff and the evidence bore them out. The scientists thought it might be an algae—it acted like algae. But last week, after putting the orange stuff under a microscope, they finally got their answer: eggs.

It turns out the orange goo is thousands of microscopic eggs clumped together. There’s a lipid oil droplet in the middle of each egg, which gives them the orange glow. Simple explanation, isn’t it? Funny how a little orange goo and fear of the unknown can make the imagination run wild. Some bloggers were even speculating that the goo might be alien life forms. 

But wait a minute. We don’t know what exactly is in the eggs, do we? What’s going to happen when they hatch? The scientists who identified the eggs admit they’ve never seen anything like them before. They’ve sent samples to other labs for further testing. I don’t know—I’m no expert, but I think I’d be sending a sample to NASA to get their opinion on the orange goo, too.

Read the articles:
·        Orange substance spreads in Alaskan Town, experts baffled
·        Identified: Orange goo that blanketed Alaska beach

Flew the Coop

“Roosters have become kind of Scio’s thing.”

Audie Heikkila, Resident of Scio, Oregon

Photo by Stacey Wilhoit

Chickens are in the news, again. There’s something about small towns and chickens that seem to go together. Or not.

First, I came across the story about Pateros, Washington—the town that pulled the welcome mat on chickens and said “not in our town” (Critters). Then, I heard about San Juan Bautista, California—the town that loved its chickens and made a tidy profit off chicken memorabilia, but finally had to hire a chicken wrangler to thin the flock when roosters overran the roost (Chicken Coup). And now there’s Scio, Oregon (population 812)—the town that lost its chicken. 

Scio’s town mascot is a rooster. For years the part was played by Big Red, a real crowd pleaser until he met his demise at the jaws of a dog a few years ago. Six months ago a rooster named Mr. Wheeler took over the part. Just about the time townsfolk were warming up to him, Mr. Wheeler disappeared. He stopped showing up for his daily feeding at the museum, and that has people worried. They figure one of three things has happened. Maybe Mr. Wheeler’s taking a little time off to do the things roosters do. Or maybe, someone grabbed him because he’s so darn beautiful. Or maybe, and townsfolk are hoping this one isn’t true, Mr. Wheeler has ended up on someone’s dinner plate. I don’t know, but I’d be considering a fourth possibility . . . and checking the local dog population for signs of feathers.

Read the article ® Scio residents search for missing rooster

Bowled Over

“‘You guys are in first place,’ and we all went hog wild.”

Matt Landis, Bowler from Walden, Colorado 

Photo by Stefan Grazer

Walden, Colorado (population 594) is so small it doesn’t have a stoplight, but it does have a bowling alley. And that’s all it took to get this little town on the map. Well, that and five guys with some wickedly good bowling abilities.

The five guys bowl together at the Paradise Lanes bowling alley in Walden. They decided to take their game on the road and pit their talents against the best of the best at the national championships in Reno, Nevada. This tournament is not for the weak or the impatient; it goes on for six months. The guys from Walden had their turn in March. They bowled a solid set—knocking down a score of 2,910—but then had to face the toughest part: waiting. Ten thousand teams across the country took their shot at the title, and the action wrapped up last month. When the final pins were counted, the five guys from Walden, Colorado came home with the trophy and bragging rights as the best in the country.

Hey guys, now that you’ve won the national bowling championship, what are you going to do? Going to Disney? Nope, not these guys. They’re planning a trip to a tattoo parlor to commemorate the occasion, as soon as they can agree on a design.

Read the article ® Small town of Walden home of national bowling champs

Growing Pains

“I wish we had something besides a strip joint coming to town,

like a YMCA or a movie theater.”

Deborah Dobie

Superintendent of Schools, Carrizo Springs, Texas 

Photo by Billy Hathorn

Careful what you wish. For Carrizo Springs, Texas (population 5,325), located in one of the poorest counties in the nation, it was a dream come true when oil company Eagle Ford rolled into town last year. Eagle Ford brought with it oil-drilling jobs—6,800 in 2010 and thousands more expected by 2020—and spurred an increase in demand for local goods and services. Both county and sales taxes doubled, t00. The little town that was going bust suddenly boomed.

But with the boom times come growing pains. A two-bedroom home that rented for just $250 per month a year ago is now fetching $1,200 per month. Grocery stores are struggling to keep their shelves filled and restaurants are scrambling to find more space to accommodate the crowds. And, as always happens when demand outpaces supply, prices are on the rise. Yes, these things can be a pain, but what really has the folks around Carrizo Springs up in arms is what wants to come next: a strip club on the outskirts of town.

The county received a request from out-of-town strip club operators, and before they knew what hit them, the county commissioners realized they could not block the club. Maybe not, but they didn’t have to welcome it with open arms, either. So instead, the commissioners created a committee to regulate everything from the kind of drinking containers allowed to the number of security guards on duty. The rules also ban smoking and gambling and burning garbage (?), and spell out in uncomfortable detail exactly what constitutes “sexual activities.” So far the cold shoulder seems to be working. The county hasn’t received any further inquiries.

But perhaps this is much ado about nothing. A strip club opened down the road in Encinal, Texas (pop. 600) earlier this year, and business has been slow. Locals don’t want to pay the $10 cover charge and $5 per drink. Things have gotten so bad that the strip club converted its operations to catering during the day—to feed the hungry oil workers—and still dabbles in exotic entertainment at night—apparently hoping to satisfy the oil workers’ other appetites.

Back at Carrizo Springs, the town is considering following in the footsteps of its county counterparts and creating a laundry list of regulations governing adult entertainment. Although no strip clubs have approached the city about doing business, city leaders figure they’ll be ready, just in case. They’ve learned the oil boom can be a good thing, as long as you’re careful what you wish. 

Read the articles:
·        Boomtown today, sin city tomorrow?
·        Eagle Ford's calling card: Help wanted

Last Roundup

“You could milk a cow and drink it, slaughter a cow and eat it.”

Brian Wangler, Abbot at Assumption Abbey

USDA Photo by: Larry Rana

A proud ranching tradition in an untraditional ranch setting is coming to an end. The Assumption Abbey in Richardton, North Dakota (population 577) is gathering its herd for one last roundup and selling off its 260 head of cattle.

Assumption Abbey has been in the ranching business since 1893. Ranching, along with raising pigs and chickens, has allowed the monks to remain self-sufficient for more than a century. The pigs and chickens are long gone, and now the cattle are going, too. The abbey has had to face a double dose of reality: both cowboys and monks are a vanishing breed. Among the monks at Assumption Abbey, only one is an experienced cowboy and one is a greenhorn, and it’s up to the two of them to run the entire cattle operation. Brother Placid Gross, 74 years old and with more than 50 years of ranch experience under his belt, says he’ll miss the cows, but not the hard work.

The monks say they’ve stayed in the ranching business 30 years longer than most abbeys. And that’s a tradition to be proud of.

International Law and Order

“Help! Our cat steals!”

Margrit Geiger, Owner of Speedy, the cat burglar

Image courtesy VintageHolidayCrafts.com

It’s time to take a little trip across the pond to see what our small town European neighbors are up to. This week I came across a handful of law and order articles I thought you might enjoy.


Cat Burglar
A crime wave has hit the village of Wiesendangen, Switzerland (population 4,805), and it comes in a small, furry package. For the last three years, Speedy the cat has been stealing into neighbors’ homes and hauling off booty: badminton shuttlecocks, gloves, scarves, shirts, socks, and even a woman’s bra. Speedy’s owners are desperate to return the burgled bounty. They’ve posted signs around town alerting people to their klepto-kitty and inviting anyone who thinks they might’ve been hit by the cat burglar to come sift through Speedy’s spoils.
Read the article ® Swiss town hit by serial cat burglar—literally


Candid Camera
Officials in a small town in England are camera buffs. They’ve equipped every street around Royston (population 14,570) with hidden cameras to snap photos of all cars, and their license plates, as they enter the town. The cameras are connected to a national police database, and in the blink of an eye the “bobbies” will know if you’re driving a stolen car, been involved in a crime, or simply failed to insure your car. It’s not just town officials who are keeping an eye on visitors; local businesses ponied up to help buy the cameras. They say they’re doing it to keep everyone safe; they’re even throwing around the T word—“terrorism.” Citizens are not pleased with the cameras and are more concerned with the P word—“privacy.”
Read the article ® Big Brother watching every car passing through English town


Butt-less Beach
This story is set on a Mediterranean beach in France, but no, it’s not about bottom-less sunbathers. It’s about the first nonsmoking beach in France—in fact, the only nonsmoking beach in Europe—and the folks around La Ciotat (population 33,790) are loving it. In a country that has traditionally held a laissez-faire attitude to smoking, smoking bans are popping up in more and more places. And a poll shows that three-fourths of the French people support a nonsmoking beach, even the smokers. But as one woman smoking a cigarette just beyond the beach boundary opined, one smokefree beach is fine, as long as it remains the only smokefree beach.
Read the article ® French beach goes butt-less with smoking ban

Who’s a Pepper?

“Dr Pepper is a good thing for Dublin and 

I think the town has been good to Dr Pepper.”

Eddie Raley, Resident of Dublin, Texas

I’m a Pepper. Dublin, Texas (population 3,779) is a Pepper, too. I love to drink Dr Pepper; Dublin loves to make it. Folks there have been making the stuff since 1891, the oldest Dr Pepper bottling plant in the world. Generations of Dubliners have grown up working at the plant, and a local bank even hands out free eight-ounce bottles of Dr Pepper to anyone who walks through its doors. So why is Dr Pepper the company suing Dublin Dr Pepper? 

The name says it all: Dublin Dr Pepper. The bottling plant in Dublin prints “Dublin Dr Pepper” on all of its bottles. Dr Pepper the company doesn’t like that—says the Dublin bottler is using an unauthorized logo. The folks running the Dublin Dr Pepper plant say printing “Dublin” on the bottle lets people know they’re getting the real thing. Dublin still makes its Dr Pepper with pure cane sugar; most other bottling plants switched to cheaper corn syrup in the 1970s. Dr Pepper aficionados appreciate the difference. Over 70,000 make the pilgrimage to Dublin each year to slurp up the sweet soft drink.

Dr Pepper the company also says Dublin Dr Pepper is using the Internet to market its pure cane product. People from around the country log on to buy Dublin Dr Pepper, and Dr Pepper the company says that’s not fair. It violates the terms of the Dublin distribution contract, which states that Dublin-made Dr Pepper can only be sold within a 44-mile radius of the town. 

So let me get this straight: Dr Pepper the company is miffed at Dublin Dr Pepper because it’s found a way to attract a large and loyal following for the Dr Pepper brand and because it uses modern technology to boost sales of Dr Pepper. Sorry, I don’t get it. I guess a judge will have to sort it out. 

I’m a Pepper. Dublin’s a Pepper. Hopefully the judge is a Pepper too.

Read the article ® Fans of Dublin Dr Pepper rally in support of small-town bottler
Photo by Brian Oberkirch

Shhh, Don’t Look

“We, the sensible people of Elk Rapids, honor

the desire of celebrities to experience

small-town life as ‘normal’ citizens. . . .”

Celebrity Hospitality Code of Ethics

Elk Rapids, Michigan

Finally, there’s a place where the rich and famous can go and be treated as “normal” people. But who would’ve thought it’d be Elk Rapids, Michigan (population 1,650)? Probably not the rich and famous.

Elk Rapids, flanked with lakes on two sides and a bay to the east, is a charming harbor village that attracts thousands of visitors each year. Recently, the village council unanimously passed a Celebrity Hospitality Code of Ethics instructing its good citizens on how to treat the infamously famous. The citizens, in large part, are not pleased. 

This story begs the question: why a Celebrity Hospitality Code of Ethics in Elk Rapids? Is the place overrun with VIPs? A quick search of the Internet shows that a handful of celebrities do have homes in the area: Kid Rock, rapper Eminem, filmmaker Michael Moore, former Detroit Tiger Kirk Gibson, and actresses Christine Lahti and Julie Kavner. Do these celebs fear being mobbed by villagers while strolling the streets of Elk Rapids? Probably not.

So, again, why the Code of Ethics? A closer look at the code reveals that it’s not so much a primer on how to treat celebrities as it is a pitch to woo celebrities and other visitors, perhaps wanting to spot celebrities, to the coastal village. True, the code does promise to treat celebrities as a “nobody” while in Elk Rapids, but much of the 148-word pledge is spent touting the benefits of the scenic village:  “a town with 80% of its perimeter touching water, sweeping agricultural landscapes, fresh produce, fragrant woodlands, world-class restaurants, art galleries, antique and gift shops, historic sites and a museum, cultural events . . .” 

Now, when you have the good fortune of living in a charming vacation spot, it’s not wrong to toot your own horn. But you might want to make sure the tune is clear and true, or you could find it strikes a sour note with the “normal” people hearing it.

For the full text of the Code of Ethics, read the article ® Celebrities safe from fans in Elk Rapids

Not Your Typical Festival, August 2011

“We are going to go out with a bang.”

Eric Johnson

Mayor of Hamberg, North Dakota (aka Mr. January)

I updated the Not Your Typical Festival calendar to add August festivals today. Check it out when you get a chance. Here are a handful of July festivals that didn’t make last month’s list but they look like good ‘uns.

Kick Ash Summer Bash
After suffering through the destruction of the Wallow Fire—the largest fire in Arizona history—earlier this spring and summer, the townspeople of Greer, Arizona (population 177) are putting the pieces back together again. Largely dependent on tourism (roughly 200,000 tourists visit the area each year), the town held a fundraising festival July 22-24. Called the Kick Ash Summer Bash, the festival featured Old West shoot-outs, wagon rides, a fun run, fishing derby, and music festival with 15 bands. Kick-Ash T-shirts were sold, with all proceeds going to fire victims. If you want to order a T-shirt or donate to Greer’s rebuilding efforts, click on www.GreerWallowFireRecovery.org.

Last Hurrah
Hamberg, North Dakota (population 14) is celebrating its centennial this year, but residents don’t expect the town will survive another 100 years. It’s been steadily losing population, and all that remains are 10 bachelors and two couples. But instead of throwing up their hands in despair, the residents threw one Last Hurrah July 23-24 to celebrate the town's 100th birthday. There was a parade, flea market, beer garden, photo gallery, and dance. To raise money for the Last Hurrah, the town talked 9 of its 10 bachelors, along with a few guys from the outlying areas, into posing for a calendar. The bachelors range in age from 27 to mid-70s, and all are in natural, everyday poses (nothing naughty here). On sale for the bargain price of $5, the calendars have been selling like hotcakes. If there are any left, you can snag one for yourself by contacting the mayor of Hamberg, Eric Johnson (aka Mr. January) at hambergmayor@hotmail.com or centennial organizer Carol Schneider at jschneider@gondtc.com.
Read the article ® Hamberg’s last hurrah

Horsefest
Taylor, North Dakota (population 144) likes horsing around. The town threw its 18th annual Horsefest July 30-31 and expected to attract 4,500 visitors, more than 30 times Taylor’s usual population. Always a big draw for horse lovers, the festival features a horses-only parade (no motorized vehicles allowed), trail horse competition, horsemanship seminars, and exhibits of horse-drawn equipment. In addition, this year’s entertainment committee put on a musical extravaganza called A Tribute to Lawrence Welk and North Dakota, in honor of the state’s most notable musician. Sounds like a “wunnerful” time.
Read the article ® Taylor Horsefest draws big crowds to small town