"Statefar" a.k.a. The Ohio State Fair!

Once again, we packed up a sheep and headed for TBC(The Big City)  and The Ohio State Fair! This is a biggie in the fair biz. Texas might be bigger, Iowa might be better, but we have not only a butter cow, but a chocolate pig.

I, sadly, had made the decision to not ask for another day(or 5) off so that I could attend all the doin's at The Ohio State Fair! But, this year it was not an untenable decision, as Huz was not in China, but made himself available to be the OAP (Oldest Available Person) to make it all happen. On a Friday morning, Eldest and I left at a rather early hour to get her to The Ohio State Fair!, as she was doing her ambassadorial duty as a Ohio State 4-H Ambassador. This left Middlest and Huz to get the sheep and the sheep accouterments up into Blondie and to TBC- the venue of The Ohio State Fair!

Of course, we are not the only ones showing up in TBC with livestock, so getting in and getting unloaded is an all morning affair. I was able to help Middlest get Finn buffed a bit on the sheep stand(a hour of shaving picking, straw picking and general removal of "VM"-vegetative matter, followed by hand shearing the belly wool, and feminizing her legs, blocking her body and de-fuzzing the wool)before I headed off to work. I was sad to go, as Showmanship was in the evening, and I was going to work like heck to see if I could get back, with little hope. In fact, I was on fire at work, efficient and on time, but, alas, Middlest entered the show arena before my last appointment had arrived. I missed showmanship, but she was brilliant.

Here is the judge sizing up her technique. She was the lone showman showing in "breeding style", and I believe it may not of been the judge's cup o' tea, as she didn't place as high as her superior skills warrant (the unbiased opinion of someone who was not even there....)

The next morning was the Junior Sheep Show. I was at work. Again. But Huz was an excellent OAP, and Middlest had plenty of support while she showed Finn off in the Natural Colored Class. 

 The Ohio State Fair! has a band that marches around continuously, playing and doing a clappy dance move.

The sheep barn at The Ohio State Fair!

The Wiener Truck at The Ohio State Fair!

In the poultry barn, there are many cages of show birds and then, about 800 random geese and ducks. This is one of Middlest's favorite places to hang out at The Ohio State Fair!

The other place of choice is in the cattle barns at the Johnson Land and Cattle Company stalls, where Middlest's friend and teammate, Emma, can be found.

While all the sheep showing is going on, the wool show is also in progress. It is not as lively. Middlest took two fleeces with her this year to The Ohio State Fair!

 Eldest worked as a 4-H State Ambassador for three days straight at The Ohio State Fair! This is her "Super-Ambassador!" pose.

And, in the wool show, Middlest brought in a third place ribbon for Cesar's fleece! YES! Way to go Middlest! (and Cesar...)

Now, you may note there is a lack of mention about Youngest at The Ohio State Fair! That is because he was not there. Nope. The week before The Ohio State Fair!, Eldest and I had driven Youngest to the border of West-bygod-Virginia and Maryland, to hook up with Poppie, who was transporting Youngest back with him to Wing and Wing for a few weeks of Sailing Camp.  Summer Splendor!

Upon arrival on the Eastern shore, Youngest was soon joined by his gen. The cousins arrived en masse to cheer on Cousin Helen, who had decided to enter the junior division in the "Quick Draw" at the St. Michaels Plein Air Festival. Not only did she draw quickly, she sold her work! Wowza! (The artiste is left side, top).

Then the bulk of the cousins sped off once again, to let the campers do their thing. Youngest and Cousin Bea were the intrepid adventurers, spending 8 hours each day sailing about the Chesapeake.

The Miles River Yacht Club Dance was held for the sailors.

 Youngest was given the "Skillful Skipper" award for always being ready to go, helpful to others and generally indefatigable.

Back at Wing and Wing, he was rewarded by crabs entering the traps! Here he is with his early morning crab boil.

Poppie took the sailors out on Pagan, the boat on which Poppie does twice weekly races.

And Yummie didn't do much, she just looked good.

( I had to write that because anyone who knows Youngest knows that is the truth. Youngest never gets up before dawn to check the crab traps, and see if the Yum-Vee will start up for a race around the property, or for a bike ride, or for something to eat, or to put in the kayak for cove exploration, or a swim in the pool, or to find a partner to play insert game here...never. Yummie didn't have to spend her days packing up PBJ's  for the Yacht Club lunches, and as the OAP of the sailing school. She wasn't looked at with hopeful eyes that she would make crab cakes (without onions) with the picked crabs, or for mixing up Kool-Aid, or help in finding water shoes, sunscreen, and "where did I leave my hat?" and "Can I bike to the post office for the mail yet?"  Surely not.)

Feeling Bucolicky

Someone said to me recently (I almost said "today", but it could have been last week, it blends)
 "You have done a lot to give your children a bucolic upbringing."
My first thought was "What a lovely word, that, 'bucolic'."
My second thought was "Most of the word 'bucolic' is 'colic', a painfully debilitating, potentially deadly intestinal emergency in horses. Also, the term given to acute digestive pains in babies, causing them to cry incessantly."
Does not sound like something for which I will recieve any thanks from my children. "Thanks for the bucolicky upbringing, Mom."
Then, again, do we ever really properly thank our parents for the decisions they made in an effort to maximally benefit our childhoods?
Did I ever thank my parents properly for the freedom of my horses, my own underage NYC career, or building my sister her own room so I didn't have to share a bed any longer?
Did my suburban friends get around to saying "Thanks for the summer nights when you let me play 'Ghost in the Graveyard' with the neighborhood kids, Mom."
And my city friends?
"Thanks for letting me hang out at the bodega eating chips and playing pacman, Mom."  (Okay, I'm sure I have a city-raised friend, but I'll admit their childhood experiences are beyond my imaginative capabilities.) The point is, I don't expect I'll ever get a proper shout out of appreciation from my kids, but that doesn't seem to stop my periodic agonizing that one day soon, they'll move out and find out they don't like cleaning chicken coops, and it isn't a requirement of the US Government.
Will they wonder what in the world I was thinking? Or, by raising them out here in the cornfields of rural Ohio, have I saddled them with the same love of pasture and crickets and frozen water buckets and wood smoke and open windows that wove into my fiber as I grew at Puckihuddle?
I suppose, with any luck, I'll find out.

Pony Club Camp

Photo credit : Jennifer Hilaman

As summer speeds on, I fondly look back to summers where I had time to can pickles, and use the dog to push on with my foot and swing the hammock, while my babies curled next to me and we re-read Ferdinand.
This blog is meant to chronicle what life is like at Cowfeathers, and there is no way to do that and actually blog, as sitting in front of the computer is not on the calendar. And as everyone around here now knows; "If it's not on the calendar, it isn't happening."
But there are too many exciting things to not share the highlights with my family and friends- and a handful of strangers from Russia. So, missed highlight of June.....
Pony Club Camp.
12 hours after moving out of The Fair, Middlest and I loaded up Patches, the horse, and headed for Dayton for 5 days of Pony Club Camp. Now, as my oldest friends will know, I was a long term "Pony Clubber." And enjoyed the heck out of it, but we had nothing like this week of camp in my Pony Club experience. It was held at Twin Towers Park, essentially a horse park, with two dressage arenas, a show jumping arena and an excellent and diverse cross country course. They also have a large barn where the " ponies" were put up in style. Across the arenas and down the hill, over yonder,  is a kitchen and an actual bathroom. Kinda a hike in the middle of the night, but our Pony Club had sprung for a porta-potti close to the barn and trailers. For this is where we stayed. The rest of the moms and kids had campers, or horse trailers with "living quarters"- that is to say, a horse trailer/camper. I opted to stay in the  peace and quiet of my horse trailer's tack room. I tricked it out with a fridge and microwave, and a fan, a queen air mattress in the goose neck extention,  and, in the trailer area in back, a clothes drying, face washing, tooth brushing station.  I even, with the magic of Scotch adhesive Velcro, rigged screen over the door to the tack room, so no bugs! In all, not roughing it. Some were worried I'd cook, but with the fan, it was fine. Indeed, for two of the days, the weather was so cool, I was glad for my pajamas and comforter. And, after the busy week of the fair, it was lovely to have down time, reading Shogun by the light of my cellphone. Middlest was invited to share a pull out couch in a deluxe air conditioned camper with her friends, and my set up was not a contender after that. She deserted me immediately. Much of the week, I only waved to her, took her picture and periodically got close enough to grab a hug. The important part was she was learning a lot, and having fun.

Photo credit: Jennifer Hilaman

The instructor for the week was Mimi Combs, Olympic level Eventer, out of Charlottesville. She has come up to instruct our Pony Club camp many times from what I gather, and all the kids were very comfortable with Mimi. My kid only knew her as "Mimi", and in order to minimize any anxiety or unnecessary intimidation, it wasn't until we were driving back to Cowfeathers that I filled Middlest in on Mimi's credentials. This made her feel really great that her week had gone so well.

The accommodations for the ponies.

Mrs. Stalter and her husband had made these awesome kits so each kid could assemble their own groom box. Which they then painted. Clever, useful, an A++ project!

A traditional event at camp is the "Painted Ponies" contest. Each team chooses one of their horses, and decorates him or her up with a theme. Middlest's team chose to decorate Hawkeye with a Buckeye theme. (It's an Ohio State thing...)

This team decorated Mickey with a sunset on one side, and a sunrise on the other. Tropical Paradise!

These girls dressed Zac for bed; "It's Pasture Bedtime"...harhar!

And, Tupelo got lipstick and a crown to become a bedazzled "Miss Hunters Run Pony Club".

Not all just fun and games, they also had just fun! Cross country lessons were Middlest's favorite. Here Anna and Zorro jump down into the dry pond.

Middlest's green body armor vest makes her easier to spot.

Patches and Middlest showed off, jumping the ditch. This is a tricky kind of fence, because, as you can see, it doesn't look like much until you're right on top of it. Then the horse realizes it is a scary chasm into the earth. Only Patches didn't find it too intimidating. Not so for some of the others who saw no reason to go over when you can simply go around!

Young's Dairy is a local Jersey Farm, but it is also the hot spot for evening ice cream! The club journeyed out for sweets, and then to visit our little shut in- one of our team who had suffered a nasty fall (that sounds so passive...a naughty pony bucking until she flipped off is more accurate) earlier in the day and was being held at the hospital overnight.

By the time we had all snuck into the hospital to bolster spirits, it was rather late. Middlest turned out to be a comfy-ish pillow for a zonked out kiddo.

Next morning was more cross country lessons.
Photo credit: Jennifer Hilaman

And, it is a good idea to learn how to fall properly, so Middlest gave it a shot. She did rather well, considering. Did not manage to hold onto the reins, but a cooperative Patches was easily and quickly caught by Middlest and she was back on. The unseating was brought on by a bird flying out of a otherwise inanimate fence. Poor Patch got startled!
Photo credit: Jennifer Hilaman

But it was just a little bump in the road, and they had a wonderful time.

In the heat of the afternoon, a few of us snuck out between lessons for a cool down in the community pool. But not a break from riding. Here the girls play "Kelly and Greatness" their new bucking bronco game.

The bulk of the Pony Club Campers pose on one of the cross country fences. The girls on the top are spelling "HRPC" for Hunters Run Pony Club. This was not a foreign concept for them, as at an early age all Ohio children are well versed in body spelling "OHIO"...it's an Ohio State thing.

I would caption this, but I'm not sure what to say.
Photo credit: Jennifer Hilaman

Camp brings strong friendships. Middlest hugs K.VW. whose post-camp adventure was tripping to Peru on a mission.

My Middlest Fashion Plate, in the belted Ohio State football jersey. The last night of camp.

But not the last lesson! They snuck in one more the next day. Here Mimi is explaining to Middlest (out of lens view to the right) how she wants her to take her corner and apporach the fence. Next to Mimi is the hard working, and now, well tanned fearless leader of the HRPC.

What a great week! We're already looking forward to camp next year. Only, I might not mind if we had more than 12 hours to prepare in 2013...

Finally, Finn-ish The Fair!

Okay, okay, The Fair is old news. We have done so much since then, so much that sitting in front of the computer telling folks about it is not an option. Pony Club Camp, Ambassador work at Livestock Judging Camp, Mike (horse) taken to a barn to be ridden, and hopefully sold, 3 days without electricity (not too much of a hardship for us, as we don't air condition, but the real story for me was trying to get fuel!), a dressy affair for the OSU Veterinary Resident Banquet- prepared for sans electricity, two 4th of July Parades for the band kids, a 4th of July party, a trip to the Orthopedist to be proclaimed "HEALED!" of the broken scapula...now just the challenges in the shoulder separation, my 44th birthday, a week long vacation with the entire contingent of in-laws, all 19, and then back, to Cowfeathers. Oh, how I wish I could say I was going nowhere and doing nothing of consequence for a while.
But, I feel like I need to put a finish on The Fair, as this year was a unique one for our family. It was the first time in our eight years of county-fairing that the kids sold animals in the ring that were off to market. At our fair, the show is "terminal". Meaning, if you show a "market" animal, it isn't going home with you. They leave on a truck. There are two ways of getting on the truck. The first way is to chose to send your animal by "packer bid". This means that the company that had the highest bid to take those animals to slaughter collects the animals, usually in the very early morning, right out of their pens, and off they go. The child who brought the animal to the fair gets paid by the pound for their animal.
The second way to get on that truck is "through the ring". This means that the child takes his turn walking the animal around in the ring while the auctioneer "sells" the animal to a bidder. The bidder can opt to actually get the meat from that animal, and will pay the packer for the processing of the animal, but most bidders are mostly there spending money just to support the community. Local businesses, big and small, come sit in the stifling arena for a very long day in the heat spending money. The highest bid gets then paid to the child showing the animal, as well as the packer bid amount. For instance, Youngest's hog had a packer bid of $0.70? (I think) a pound. Our feedstore, Faler Feed (see previous blog about Faler's) was the high bidder on Youngest's hog. So, Youngest will get the amount generously bid by Dave Winecoop from Faler Feed, plus the packer bid of $0.70 per pound. Eventually, Youngest will get a check from the Sales Committee for the final amount. Then, we will check this against all the receipts for the purchase price of the hogs and the feed and the dewormer, and see if he made any money!

Each child can choose only one animal to send "through the ring". The other market animals they bring to fair will all go by "packer bid". Youngest chose to take Willis through the ring, thus Wilbur disappeared in the night on Thursday of The Fair. Youngest had tears and sadness that night, sorry to see Wilbur for the last time. By Saturday, which is Sale Day, he was resigned to the task before him, and was chin up for the whole process.

 Youngest, parading around the ring with Willis, bemused by the whole process, one pant leg in and one pant leg out. If Mereth is reading this, she will remember Randleigh Dairy's Charlie, who had the same routine.

 Youngest in the ring with the auctioneer in that loud, staccato, number gibberish voice getting folks to raise their hand and spend some money on the boy.

The Sheep Kids of Saddle and Sirloin 4-H Club!

 Sheep were late in the order of the day for sale. This is particularly unfortunate, as most bidders give up after several long hours of sweating, and they've spent their money anyway. Middlest seemed to be holding it together, but February was a special pal, and hers from birth. It wasn't going to be easy. As a family we tried to surround her and support her, but she was rather snarly. She seemed to do better with her friends, and ones that have been through the experience before were the ones  she chose to help her through.

Middlest with February, almost time for the sale. Mother can see how close the tears are in this photo.

Showing him off like a champ! To a very sparse crowd.

But, always there with support for showmanship, Mr. Johnson of Johnson Land and Cattle Co. was also there with support in purchasing February. Thank you to the Johnsons!

And that was the fair. We packed our stuff right up, and at 11 pm collected Finn, the remaining ewe- Grand Champion Breeding Sheep, don'cha know! Also the first and second place fancy chickens, and the second place fancy ducks,  piled it all onto the truck, crates and boxes and feathers flying and baaaing, and headed home, just like the Clampetts in The Beverly Hillbillies.

In 12 hours, Middlest and I headed out again, with the horse this time, to spend 5 days at Pony Club Camp. No time for mourning sheep, we've got riding to do!

Day 3- The Fair. Gazpacho and hogs.

A Fair Wednesday.

Usually one of our lighter show days, with the advent of Wilbur and Willis- the hogs, it became just another busy day at The Fair.

The day began in the Grange building, where the miscellaneous project judging was being held in foods and the creative arts. Five projects out of our household were to be judged in the morning. Eldest was up first with her offering from the project " You're the Chef!". She has taken a food project yearly for many years and has become somewhat disenchanted by the material in the project books. This year was no exception. The first element in the project was to go to the store and buy a meal from the deli and serve it for dinner. It was expensive, tasteless and unappetizing to look at...my own dietary restrictions meant I was saved from having a taste-test opinion, but that meal, served in January, brought a long drought on her interest in the project. A few weeks before the fair, no progress had been made, and she was wanting to drop the whole thing. I looked through the book, and really couldn't blame her. So, I encouraged her to change the project up- make it worth her while, learn something. Since her career interest right now is in the medical field, she decided to take each section, disregard the project entirely, and re-write her own way, choosing a different medical related dietary choice for each one. She then researched the nutritive needs for each medical condition and re-wrote the menus to reflect the need. So, she did diets for low-salt requirement as in heart and kidney disease, a diet for diabetes, celiacs disease and so on. The meals she made were tasty and quite edible. For judging, they are to show up with one dish, plus a table setting and menu for the entire day, plus a cost-analysis per serving.

For her judging she made a fresh summer berry gazpacho, with a reduction of Riesling and fresh mint- fruity, light and delicious. She served it picnic style, with a whole grain baguette, aged Gouda cheese and summer sausage. As she assembled the required items the night before judging, she said "I don't know why I'm doing this! The judge is going to hate it. It isn't even close to the project I signed up for!" Rare negativity from Eldest, but I think she had really invested part of herself, and was preparing for the possibility of going out on a limb, and having it cut off.

We arrived just as the judging was to start. I saw a man in a chef's jacket and pants settling himself at the far table. On the placket of his coat it says "Berger Health Systems"- the chef for the local hospital! I pointed him out, and said " Darling, if you get him as a judge, he's gonna love it!" She came back from judging with rave reviews. He had told her he was very impressed.

Next one of mine up at the chef's table? Youngest with his offering of salsa and blue corn chips from his project "Party Planner". He had set up his table (cloth strewn in a lump across the center, bowl of chips) and sat, not-so-patiently waiting for the chef to finish with the child on the other judging table and eating the chips surreptitiously under the table. But let me tell you, the kid can talk.

Middlest had the competition in the large contingent of scrapbookers. She had made a scrapbook of our spring break trip to Maryland. The book is a sweet little joy of color and praise for my parents beautiful home and menagerie.

And when the judgement came down? Eldest pulled in first place and the state fair representative seat for "You're the Chef!", and second place in the Scrapbooking project. Her scrapbook was one she made for her best friend as a high school graduation gift. I sure hope the girls are friends forever, because that book will be a great thing to pull out on a "girl's trip" to Kansas City in 2042.

And, Youngest earned a second place for his bowl of chips and salsa- but more for his efforts at party planning and party throwing!

As afternoon rolled on, it was time for the hog-rodeo to begin! The pig show is an extravaganza. 20 classes of pigs with about 14-16 pigs per class. Youngest's pigs were about mid-weight, so were in class 13 and class 16. He got dooded up in his Texas-starched shirt, jeans, boots and belt buckle featuring a  black and white enamel Hampshire hog. Dee-luxe.  He informed me that this meant someone else needed to bathe his hog just before entering the arena (already bathed twice today, but it is a hog...).

I thought this seemed like a nice job for Huz, my toes inside my wet boots just beginning to unwrinkle. Karma is a little devil. Just after I took this photo, a chestnut red  Duroc hog came wandering down the wash aisle. As she sauntered past, she started spraying poop like a sprinkler. It shot up right over the white-ish wall and across it with each step she took. To my dismay I realized when she reached the end of the wash rack she would turn to the left and her bottom would rotate to the right- and I was doomed. So, I lifted my dress up and covered my camera and took karma right up the leg. Good thing I was in a wash rack, so much for unwrinkled toes.

Youngest worked hard to get his pig into the holding pen. Each time he'd open a pen, he'd have to go get the hog to turn it and walk it towards the pen he'd open, and by that time another kid and hog were within. There were adults pen-side ostensibly there to help, but, evidently, not there to help him. Eventually, when nearly every pig had already entered the ring, a small girl hopped the fence to open a pen and help him.

A moment alone to give a scratch of encouragement and then in to pig "pandelerium".

Youngest is the little guy, left side of photo, trying to get the judge to look at his pig, and failing. I don't think the judge bothered to check him out. To be fair, it was obvious that Youngest was showing non-show pigs. Wilbur and Willis were market hogs raised on the market for bacon and ham, being shown against hogs developed and fed specifically for the show ring (that will still be bacon and ham). In this photo, about four of the hogs that are in the class have already been "penned", or set aside to compete for a placing. Youngest got in the arena for only a minute or two before all the leftover hogs were dismissed. It was a disappointment to him. But, taking a hog in Ohio means you're now on the big-kid's playground. No ribbon, no recognition. But, more importantly, his project is a success. He has made it all happen himself, from calling around to find a farmer to sell him his hogs,  negotiating a price, borrowing a feeder and waterer, and then feeding, watering, walking and cleaning up after his hogs. "Making weight"...the delicate balance of having the right sized hog on the day you show up at the fair, and then showing well behaved hogs in a hot arena on show night. I am super proud of him. He was superb!