County Fair Memories and Comfort

It seems lately, that our society is in a state of decline. Each night the news brings us terrible acts of violence whether local, national or somewhere in the world. Watching TV isn’t much better, it seems as though the fabric of our society is being ripped up. It is easy to wonder what this world is coming too. All of this is not a very comforting thought and this is why most of us seek a place of comfort where all seems right.

To me that place is a county fair. I judge several county fairs each year even though they come at a very hectic time of the year for me and I really do not have time to be gone I cannot turn them down. Each year my poor father asks me how many fairs I have signed up to judge and I can see him calculating how many hours I will be gone from the hayfield. I know that I will feel a twinge of guilt when I leave early to get on the road and if something is going to break it will be right before or right after I leave. However, I also know that something will happen at each show to remind me of why I enjoy judging them so much.

I am reminded of bucket calves named Tug Boat because they resemble their namesake. One of my favorite stories is a young man who when I asked him if he had anything else to tell me about his bucket calf (over the microphone and to the entire crowd) proceeded to confess a secret. He and his Dad were working with his calf, a calf that was especially spirited and the calf swung around a kicked, putting a dent in his mother’s new car. When I asked why he told me the story over the microphone and in front of the crowd, he told me it was so there were more witnesses.

I enjoy judging bucket calves because most of the time that is where the best stories are but not always. Once during swine showmanship I asked a junior showman what feed he fed his pig. He immediately ran to the fence and called for his father. When Dad rushed to the fence to see what was wrong, junior told him to get a bag of feed because the judge was wanted to know what kind they were using.

There were other times when it took a little longer to see the humor in a situation. One beef show I was judging a steer class and I went in to handle the fat cover of one particular steer. He acted a little fidgety and I asked the young man holding the lead rope if his steer kicked. He told me no, I handled the steer and was immediately kicked in the knee cap. As I looked at the young man though pain-filled eyes he simply said, “This is not my steer, my steer does not kick.” He did not lie; I had not asked the right question.

My favorite part of any show is afterward. I know that seems a little backward. Most judges want to get on the road right after the show so they cannot be chewed out. Maybe it is experience and maybe it is because I am not fast enough to out run anyone, but I most enjoy talking with the kids and parents about their projects. After the show is when you find out about their market lamb being out of last year’s ewe.  The pride of seeing a project from birth to completion is what it is all about.

Sometimes it is the winners that stay and chat but often it is the kids who had animals that placed a little farther down the line. They just want to know what they could do better next year. I try to help as much as I can, but often I just listen. It’s those interactions with parents and kids that I find most rewarding.

Yes, it is easy to spend a great deal of time worrying about what our society has sunk too and worry about the future. It is easy, if you don’t take time to find the good and I guess that is why I cannot make myself retire from judging county fairs. I know I get as much or more than the kids do from those shows. If you don’t believe me, just go spend some time at a county fair and I bet you will feel better.

The Quickly, Ever Changing World of Agriculture

We rotated cows onto fresh pasture last week. It is sure more fun this year than last year. I feel incredibly blessed to have gotten the rainfall and the subsequent grass production. It is so much more fun to go out and see the cows belly deep or deeper in grass. Checking cows has once again become one of my favorite things to do.

Last year it was not nearly as much fun. The grass did not grow or stay ahead of the cows like we had hoped and planned on. Water had started to become an issue and to top it off the bull at my place did not want to stay home. Checking cows had gone from being one of my favorite things to do, to something I started to dread.

This year things are dramatically different. We are behind in rotating cows but it is because they are not putting a dent in it before it is time to move to the next pasture. The cows are sleek and fat and their calves are growing rapidly. To top it off, literally, the ponds are full and the creeks are running. That leaves only making sure the bull is home as the only stress this year.

This brings me rotating the cows last week. Jennifer and I pulled into the pasture with the idea of checking the herd and even moving the afore mentioned bovines if everything worked out perfectly. First things first, we needed to find the bull. Oh, to add to the drama we saw a lone, black bull making his way across the neighbor’s pasture. This put our bull radar on high alert.

 A quick run through the herd revealed all the cows, all the calves and no bull. Thinking that maybe we had just missed him among the mass of moving beef, we retraced our steps again. The second and third time through came with the same results, bull 77X was nowhere to be found. Our thoughts of moving cows and getting things done now seemed like a pipe dream and we started to think about the distasteful task of separating and returning the misplaced bovine.

The neighbor’s cows could be seen on a distant hill and we decided that I would make a scouting trip on foot to look the situation over. Jennifer decided that she would continue the search while waiting to hear from me. I departed the pickup, grumbling about the bull and wondering if his future was quarter pounders, hotdogs or jerky. Jennifer dropped me off near the fence and started back toward the herd.

I began to cross the fence and at the most critical point in that maneuver I noticed a set of ears sticking up above the grass just fifty yards away. I quickly and carefully reversed direction and made my way to the ears. Sure enough bull 77X was lying in the bottom of the terrace channel, eyes half closed, chewing his cud. He seemed blissfully unaware that a search was being conducted and future plans were being made for him.

My concerns quickly changed from finding a retrieving the bull to figuring out what might be wrong with him. Was he crippled or maybe sick? All of these thoughts crowded into my head, I really did not want to have to buy another bull at this point in the pasture season. We had had rotten luck with bulls this breeding season and this was just going to add to the misery.

However, as I approached said bull, he stood up, stretched and began to amble over to the herd, which was about seventy-five yards away. He looked back at me with a mixture of boredom, skepticism and disdain. Clearly he did not share my concern and worry about his health and well-being, instead he seemed almost grumpy about having his alone time and nap disturbed.

In the meantime, Jennifer started back to me with the pickup and the cows started to follow her. Sensing that this might be the opportunity we had been seeking to move the cows, she reversed her course and headed for the gate. Out the gate Jennifer went, a well trained herd of cows eager to be rotated to fresh grass in tow and the bull and I bringing up the rear.

In just a few minutes our evening had went from hopeful, to fearful, and finally to productive. I am happy to report that this story has a happy ending with cows on new lush pasture, a healthy bull in the right place and a mission accomplished. It is amazing just how fast things change in the wonderful world of beef production.