Just like any other Portuguese bullfight, the elegant rider deftly guides his horse around the charging bull's horns, before bending down to plant a bandarilha in its spine.
Except that no blood is spilled -- the small spear is velcro-padded, and sticks to a cushion attached to the bull's back -- and most of the spectators' cheers are in English.
The scene takes place in Turlock, a small town in the heart of rural California, where tens of thousands of Portuguese-Americans have lived for decades, keeping the traditions of their ancestral homeland alive, not least bullfighting.
But due to Californian law, there can be no bloodshed.
"Go to a bullfight in Portugal and it's the same thing," he said shortly before entering the arena to be applauded by some 4,000 spectators.
The majority of the crowd are of Portuguese descent -- mainly immigrants from the Azores islands, who began to settle this agricultural area in the early 20th century.
The community has been growing ever since, with its own newspapers, radio stations and associations.
- 'Our lifestyle' -
Some 350,000 Californians proudly claim Portuguese heritage, and often remain fiercely attached to their culture and language.
This is the case for Jose, 30, who came to watch the bullfight with friends.
Born in California, he switches from English to Portuguese seemingly without noticing.
"Sometimes it is easier for me to express my feelings or to joke in Portuguese. Portuguese is a very emotional language," he added.
Above the arena, the Portuguese flag flies alongside the American flag, and the Portuguese national anthem strikes up before its US counterpart.
The bullfight itself is organized by a religious group, led by Antonio Mendes, a cattle breeder in his 70s who revived the tradition in 1993.
"We're Portuguese and that's part of our lifestyle, especially the island that I'm from -- it's just rooted," he said.
- Grab by the horns -
Portuguese bullfights differ from the Spanish style, in that the animal is never killed in the arena.
But in traditional Portuguese events, the bull has been weakened by several bandarilha strikes by the time the "forcados" -- eight men with no horses or protection -- enter the arena to tackle the animal with their bare hands.
"Here the bulls weigh about 900 to 1000 pounds, because it's bloodless. In Portugal, they are 1300, 1400 pounds. Big bulls," said George Martins, a "forcado" captain.
Teams like Martins' are often dubbed "suicide squads" for a reason -- one of them literally has the task of grabbing the bull by the horns, suffering powerful headbutts to the stomach as his companions wrestle with the animal.
"It's not just brute strength... it takes a lot of technique," he said.
- 'It sucks!' -
Joao Soller Garcia, the "cavaleiro," enjoys both the classic Portuguese style and its Californian adaptation.
"Compared to Portugal, it is a little bit more danger because the bull is not hurt," he said.
But for Maxine Sousa-Correia, from a family of cattle breeders who have produced bulls for Californian fights since the 1970s, the use of velcro bandarilhas diminishes the spectacle.
"Unfortunately, this is a mere imitation... We invented the velcro pad and the Velcro on the end of the stick just so that it would at least add some color and some pageantry," she said.
Her husband Frank Correia added: "I think it sucks!"
"It should be done the way it is in Portugal. But we can't because we're in the United States of America and, you know, they don't appreciate the art."
ban/amz/bgs
© Agence France-Presse
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