DECORAH -- Some people are born to love contra dance. Others are born because of it.

"There was one dance where a pregnant woman was overdue for giving birth," musician and dancer Bill Deutsch says. "She came with the intention of inducing birth and had the baby the next day … "

The woman brought the child to the next dance a month later.

Enthusiasts in Decorah host contra dances -- a combination of North American folk and English country dance -- seven times a year.

Deutsch and some like-minded fans started the community's contra band about five years ago. Fiddles, banjo, mandolin, guitar and an electric string bass -- dubbed "Rob's special" by its inventor -- play traditional and contemporary folk music to guide the dancers. The atmosphere is described as always family friendly.

Pounding rain and flashes of lightning threaten outside the Decorah Community Building during the November event. Inside, however, dancers cast cares aside, like the wet jackets hanging on a row of mostly empty chairs.

On the dance floor, friends, relatives and strangers spin and pass each other. The sound of feet stomping to the music reverberates off wood paneling as couples move across the room.

A caller up front hollers dance moves over the band. A few basic steps are repeated throughout each session to form a pattern that moves swingers from partner to partner in an intricate chain. Depending on the dance, participants move in either a giant circle, a square or up and down parallel rows.

It's hardly a perfectly choreographed scene from a musical. Regulars join perplexed newcomers in the crowd of up to 40 people. More than one pileup occurs as dancers forget moves, misinterpret calls and switch to the wrong person -- or to no one at all.

Kids often seem the quickest to pick up moves, though youthful energy can work for, or against, the young feet.

"Oh, my gosh, that kid got so excited he slid right down," Kirsten Halverson says, surveying the scene.

Halverson, 22, a native of New Hampshire, discovered contra dancing as a student at Luther College.

"You can just dance and move and no one cares what you look like," she says. "And you don't need a boy."

The male-to-female ratio dips when a husband stays home or a mother fails to convince her son to tag along. Luckily, women don't have any problem volunteering to play their counterparts for a dance or two. They simply tie a thick red piece of string around their necks to signify a temporary gender change.

Not every male stays home. Families bring sons. A few men come stag. Others are lured by the appeal of a cheap date -- a $5 donation is suggested for admission.

Ketel Paulson and his wife, Betsey, joined the Decorah contra movement five years ago. Betsey got a 10 year head start by dancing at larger events in Minneapolis and Madison, Wis.

Like many husbands, Ketel jokes his wife drags him into the arena. But a smile on his face suggests otherwise.

"It's fun. After a long day at work, this is the last place you want to be, but once you come, you get the energy," Ketel says. "There are some real diehards who always come unless they're on their death beds."

The next contra dance will be Jan. 7 at the community building. Newcomers can learn steps beginning at 7:30 p.m. Dancing will begin at 8.

Contact Emily Anderson at andeem01@luther.edu.