Do they need all these city slickers to help them light the prairie on fire? No. But they started this as a way to spread their ranching heritage, educate about this centuries-old practice and are crazy enough to let fire-crazy people like me light the fields afire.

It was all so disorienting. All our lives we’re taught to fear fire. “Stomp that fire out!” “Put those matches down!” “That candle’s going to burn this whole house down!” “Stop, drop and roll..” “Forest fires, raging across the state!” And yet here we were, to light things on fire. For good. The night we arrived in the Flint Hills and checked in, we were all so giddy for the next day, we couldn’t sit still. And then we saw the flames pop out of the dark distance. We squealed like little kids, grabbed the big kids’ cooler and ran outside to watch. In awe. First, the orange glows started small, like a flare, then grew fast around the ridge lines of nearby hills, popping up everywhere between the close trees. Soon, great walls of orange lit up the distance, like one big fire fence. It was all so eerily quiet, all that hell brewing over there. We grew silent. Nothing but distant wails of trains to break the awe. “Beer me!”

It makes you giddy, really. They hand you a rake and a box of Flying W matches and you head out into the field. During the daytime, they do a test fire in a small field to show everyone the proper techniques… and how not to light yourself on fire. Freeing, it was. To do something you were always told not to do. “Hurry up, get that other patch goin’ we want a clean line all the way down to the creek.” We had permission. Hoohahaha…

And just like that, it’s over. With wind, in 5-7 minutes this whole field went. And then went out. Just like that. Now, ready to grow back strong. Our job here is done. On to the next burn…

We were absolutely giddy pyros…all 200 of us. Grinning, lighting and snapping pictures.

There’s actually a technique to lighting things on fire, we learned. You throw the match to get things jammin’, then you take a rake (provided) and drag that business around, Picasso-like, all over the ground. It gets busy, fast. The stuff lights up like it has gas on it… because, well, it’s fire. (Don’t try this at home. 😬) You monitor your perimeter and don’t go willy-nilly draggin’ it around — you don’t want to burn up your friends. And you’re trying to look like you got it for the cool cowboys (and cowgirls!) My buddy @marktarry with the rake, a famous art director, mastered it instantly, like he always does, painting pictures with big broad strokes of fire, coloring inside the lines.

Looks like a reverse lava flow. But it’s Kansas. Instead of the earth having acid reflux, we did this.

Maaan, these horses are cool. You often see “fun horses” — on trail rides, your rich friend’s hobby, pulling a carriage, in parades. You always hear about horses easily getting spooked, but these are “working horses”, they’re used to cutting cattle, snake-steppin’, bison-scootin’ and fearlessly taking on anything. Almost like a Kansas version of Street. The way they calmly moved in and out the flames was just so cool. Fearless. Strong. The real deal. That good looking, stoic cowboy from Central Casting is the patriarch of the family, Dr Jim Hoy, a PhD, college professor, author of nine books, expert in Medieval English history, the Australian outback and a cowboy folklorist, especially about these Flint Hills. He was just honored as Kansan of the Year, you should see his cool Facebook page….

And as we all leave, choreographed like a Frenchman did it, all the hills were ablaze as we drive back to our hotel, torched hilltops leading the entire way, for miles.