September 19, 2014

Pig Herder

The Great Frederick Fair is an annual ritual in our household, as it is in most households around here. Whether its the food or the animals or the rides or the shows, there is something for everyone. Country and city come together for a week, sometimes with unpredictable results.

A couple of years ago I was at the Fair with my daughter making our annual trek through the animal barns. Cows, sheep, goats, and pigs were held in stalls awaiting judging at their respective competitions. (Yes, Virginia, there is toenail polish for Guernsey cows.) Each animal class has its own show ring, and there are handlers -- usually 4H kids who have raised the animals on their family farm -- to lead them to the ring from the holding stalls.

We were in one such area near the pigs. Now these pigs weigh in at several hundred pounds, so handling them can be difficult. Such was the case that day, as two teenagers were trying to convince two unwilling pigs to move from their stall to the show ring. They were holding half-sheets of plywood as temporary fences to guide the pigs along. My daughter and I were standing nearby, along with a few other adults and children, as the pigs slowly made their way into the ring.

Suddenly, and with surprising swiftness, the two pigs made a break for it, heading straight towards those of us watching. Seeing as how there were children in the area, I decided to try and block the path of the pigs. One of them saw me standing in his way and paused long enough to allow his handlers to regain control and steer the pig into the ring.

The other pig continued on towards me as I backed up against a half-open gate that led out to another area of stalls and from there ... freedom. We both arrived at the gate together, the pig managing to get its head in the opening before I could completely block it. If you have ever felt several hundred pounds of determined pig pressing against you, then you will understand the urgency of the moment. It was man against porker, but truth be told, it was no contest. Rather than risk having my leg crushed or snapped like a twig, I stood aside and watched as the pig trundled off.

To add insult to injury, someone came up and asked accusingly if those were my pigs. My pigs! Jeez. Not hardly, I replied. Do I look like a pig herder? With that, we resumed our sojourn through the animal barns. I later ran into one of the young ladies charged with maintaining order in the pig barns and asked if our errant porker was recaptured. Yes, she replied, although she declined to provide details. With that, I settled happily into retirement from pig herding.

Part of the Big Loop at the Fair Grounds

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