Oklahoma might be the only place in America where you can legally call a watermelon a vegetable, dig for crystals that exist nowhere else on Earth, and eat a state-sanctioned meal that clocks in at 2,700 calories. With over 50 official state symbols, the Sooner State has turned the typically boring business of government designations into something surprisingly entertaining—and occasionally controversial.
The Natural World Gets Political
When it comes to state symbols, even birds can spark legislative drama. Oklahoma's journey to selecting its state bird reads like a small-town political thriller.
How a fancy-tailed bird beat the people's choice
Back in 1932, Oklahoma school children voted overwhelmingly for the Northern Bobwhite as their preferred state bird. Democracy in action, right? Not so fast. The Audubon Society and local garden clubs had other ideas. They spent nearly two decades plotting their comeback, and in 1951, they launched a full lobbying campaign for the scissor-tailed flycatcher.
Their argument was surprisingly economic: this bird with the ridiculous tail feathers ate harmful insects, making it valuable to farmers. Plus, no other state had claimed it yet, which apparently matters in the competitive world of state bird selection. After two failed attempts, House Joint Resolution 21 finally passed on May 26, 1951. Sorry, kids—sometimes democracy means waiting 19 years and then losing anyway.
The scissor-tailed flycatcher does put on quite a show though. Males perform elaborate aerial dances during mating season, diving and climbing while their forked tails stream behind them like ribbons. Maybe the garden clubs were onto something after all.
From near extinction to state symbol
Oklahoma's official state animal tells a more uplifting story. The American Bison earned its designation in 1972, but the real victory happened decades earlier. In 1889, only 300 to 500 bison remained from the millions that once thundered across the plains. Today, stable populations graze throughout the state, representing one of conservation's greatest comeback stories.
The legislative resolution specifically honored the bison's importance "in the cultures and ceremonies of many of the Indian tribes who lived in Oklahoma." It's a rare moment when government paperwork actually acknowledges the deeper meaning behind a symbol.
Rocks that bloom and crystals you can keep
Here's where Oklahoma gets genuinely unique. The state rock, designated in 1968, is the rose rock—barite crystals formed 250 million years ago that look remarkably like red roses. Cherokee legend says these rocks represent the blood of warriors and tears of maidens from the Trail of Tears. The town of Noble, never one to miss a marketing opportunity, declared itself the "Rose Rock Capital of the World."
The record holder? A 788-pound specimen that probably required its own moving truck.
Even more exclusive is Oklahoma's state crystal, the hourglass selenite. These translucent beauties form in exactly one place on Earth: Oklahoma's Great Salt Plains. Thanks to persistent elementary students from Bryant and Red Oak schools in Moore, these crystals earned official status in 2005. The Salt Plains National Wildlife Refuge remains the only place in the world where the public can dig for them, attracting over 100,000 visitors annually who come to play in the mud for science.
Food Fights in the State Capitol
Oklahoma's relationship with food symbols ranges from prideful to perplexing, with a healthy dose of controversy thrown in for flavor.
America's only official state meal (and its 2,700-calorie challenge)
In 1988, Oklahoma did something no other state has done before or since: it designated an entire meal as an official symbol. Not just a dish, mind you, but a full spread that would make your cardiologist weep:
- Fried okra
- Squash
- Cornbread
- Barbecued pork
- Biscuits
- Sausage and gravy
- Grits
- Corn
- Strawberries
- Chicken fried steak
- Pecan pie
- Black-eyed peas
The complete meal packs approximately 2,700 calories and 125 grams of fat. When Senator Brian Crain tried to repeal it in 2010, calling it a health hazard, Oklahomans basically told him to mind his own plate. The meal survived, and Isla's Kitchen in Tulsa now offers brave souls 46 minutes to consume the entire spread. No word on whether survivors get a medal or just indigestion.
The great watermelon debate of 2007
If you want to start an argument in Oklahoma, just ask whether watermelon is a fruit or vegetable. In 2007, the state legislature officially declared it a vegetable, sparking international mockery and local outrage.
Senator Don Barrington defended the classification with the argument that watermelon "comes from the cucumber and gourd families, which are classified as vegetables." This conveniently ignored the fact that cucumbers are botanically fruits too, but who's counting? The decision attracted coverage from news outlets worldwide, presumably during a slow news week. A newspaper poll showed 89% of Oklahomans disagreed with their legislature's botanical rebellion.
In 2015, Senator Nathan Dahm tried to restore scientific order by stripping watermelon of its vegetable status. He failed. The watermelon remains, legally speaking, a vegetable in Oklahoma. Several towns now host watermelon festivals that lean into the controversy, because if life gives you questionable vegetable classifications, make tourist attractions.
Recent additions to the menu
Oklahoma continues adding food symbols that actually make sense. Strawberries became the official fruit in 2005 (yes, correctly classified as a fruit), with the annual Stilwell Strawberry Festival drawing 30,000 visitors since 1948. In 2019, the ribeye earned designation as the official state steak, reflecting Oklahoma's rank as third in the nation for beef cattle.
The soybean joined the party in 2024 as the state legume, because apparently Oklahoma needed an official legume. At least nobody's trying to classify it as a mineral.
A Soundtrack for Every Occasion
Most states content themselves with one state song. Oklahoma has eight, because why settle for a single tune when you can have a whole playlist?
The Broadway hit that conquered the capitol
"Oklahoma!" from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical replaced the original state song "Oklahoma, A Toast" in 1953. The original was apparently too depressing for a state that preferred its soundtrack with more pep. The legislature got a full Broadway-style performance from actor Ridge Bond before voting, proving that sometimes politics really is just theater.
Songs of struggle and hope
The most historically significant of Oklahoma's musical designations is "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," named the official gospel song in 2011. Written around 1840 by Wallace Willis, who was enslaved by a Choctaw Nation member, the spiritual was composed in Oklahoma cotton fields after the Trail of Tears. It's a powerful reminder that state symbols can acknowledge difficult histories while honoring resilience.
Rock and roll meets political theater
The state's attempt to designate an official rock song turned into a comedy of errors. In 2009, "Do You Realize??" by The Flaming Lips won a public vote with 51% support. Then someone noticed a band member wearing a hammer and sickle symbol in a photo, and suddenly the House wanted nothing to do with those commie rockers.
Governor Brad Henry, apparently a bigger fan of psychedelic rock than Red Scare politics, signed an executive order designating the song anyway. His successor, Governor Mary Fallin, let the designation quietly expire in 2011. The Flaming Lips took it well, later joking that they were "too weird" for Oklahoma. The state remains without an official rock song, though unofficial votes lean heavily toward "anything but communist."
When Kids Take Charge
One of Oklahoma's most charming traditions is letting school children successfully lobby for state symbols. Turns out, elementary school students make surprisingly effective political activists.
Young citizens, real results
The list of student-led victories is impressive:
- American Bullfrog (1997): 7th graders at Brushy School
- European Honey Bee (1992): Worth $365,000 in annual pollination
- Strawberry as state fruit (2005): Elementary student campaign
- Hourglass selenite crystal (2005): Bryant and Red Oak schools
- Red-tailed Hawk (2018): 10-year-old Ephraim Bowlins
- American Quarter Horse (2022): Inspired by Rep. Randleman's granddaughter
- Soybean as state legume (2024): Student-led initiative
These campaigns teach kids that government can actually listen to regular people, even short ones who can't vote yet. It's civics education with actual results, plus the students get a great story for their college applications.
The Quarter Horse campaign that made economic sense
When Representative Randy Randleman's granddaughter Julianne noticed Oklahoma didn't have a state horse, she didn't just complain—she researched. Turns out Oklahoma has more registered Quarter Horses per capita than anywhere else on Earth. The industry generates $3.6 billion annually and supports 35,000 jobs.
Oklahoma City alone hosts championships that create $126.5 million in annual economic impact. The American Quarter Horse designation in 2022 wasn't just a nice gesture to a kid—it was smart business recognition.
The Weird, the Unique, and the Heartwarming
Some of Oklahoma's symbols exist in their own special category of "wait, that's a thing?"
First in the nation
GUSTY, a tornado-like character created by meteorologist Don Woods, became the first official state cartoon character of any U.S. state in 2005. Because if you're going to live in Tornado Alley, you might as well make your weather disasters cute and trademark them.
In 2021, Oklahoma became the first state to designate "rescue animals" as the official state pet through "Cali's Law." Rather than picking a specific breed, the state honored all shelter animals. It's probably the most wholesome thing a legislature has done in years.
Preserving the past, one horse at a time
The Oklahoma Colonial Spanish Horse, designated as the heritage horse in 2014, represents more than state pride. With only 300 remaining, these horses maintain 100% Spanish genetic markers. They're living history—these horses carried Native Americans on the Trail of Tears.
Looking to the stars
In 2019, Oklahoma designated the Rosette Nebula as its official astronomical object. Located 5,200 light-years away, it connects to other rose-themed symbols while promoting STEM education and dark-sky tourism in the Panhandle. It's probably the only state symbol you need a telescope to see.
The Bottom Line on Sooner Symbols
Oklahoma's extensive collection of symbols does more than fill pages in government documents. They preserve stories—from the Trail of Tears to student activism, from near-extinction to revival. They recognize economic engines like the Quarter Horse industry and agricultural products that feed the nation. They spark debates about science, health, and whether communists can write good rock songs.
The failed proposals are just as revealing as the successful ones. Every attempt to repeal the state meal, reclassify the watermelon, or reject a rock song shows a state grappling with its identity. Oklahoma sits at the crossroads of Native American, Southern, Western, and modern American cultures, and its symbols reflect all these influences.
Perhaps most importantly, these symbols show a state that takes itself seriously enough to preserve its heritage but not so seriously that it can't embrace the absurdity of a vegetable watermelon. In a world that often feels divided, there's something oddly comforting about a place where elementary school kids can successfully lobby their government and where people will defend their right to a 2,700-calorie meal.
Oklahoma's symbols tell us that identity is complicated, democracy is messy, and sometimes the best stories come from the most unexpected places—like a legislature that decided fruit classifications were more like suggestions than rules. For a complete journey through all of Oklahoma's symbols, the Oklahoma Historical Society maintains the official list, though they wisely avoid taking sides in the watermelon debate.
