Turkey Straddling Time

We're still at the Washington County Fair over Labor Day Weekend. 

By some incredible stroke of serendipity, Shila and I arrive to find ourselves in the exact place and at the exact time we did two years ago: At the moment of the turkey sale. Which means that in the Small Animal Barn, there is a line of young people straddling big white turkeys. If there were anything to delight a couple of  offbeat photographers with a penchant for the surreal,  turkey straddling would be it.

This turkey isn't going anywhere. At least not fast. There is a great cost that comes with being bred to have a giant set of breast muscles and heavy legs, and it's written in his toes. Sometimes I think we are breeding domestic animals to look and function more like us. Which is not very well, any more.

But there was also great beauty and poignancy in this tableau.

I watch and note the choice of clothing each exhibitor wears.

This girl's turkey displayed the whole time. Maybe he was trying for a little flash, too.

Pfffhut!! he'd say, then walk a few quick steps forward, rattling his primary quills together.

I waited for the back view, which always makes me giggle. It's not all that much better on a peacock, either.

I was so impressed by these two kids, who seemingly did not need to touch their turkeys to gain their cooperation.

This lovely girl shyly posed with her medal--clearly her well-behaved and well-balanced turkey had won the highest prize.

I also got a kick out of this girl workin' her gingham dress and boots. Oh look. There's Shila, camera in hand, smiling at me as I capture the scene. Shila and I are cooking on all burners this afternoon.

Her turkey needed somewhat more firm guidance.

I love this shot so much. To me, it's straight out of the Renaissance--the contraposto pose of the girl; the static pose of the bird; the chiaroscuro...just love it.

But there was a boy there, one of only two in the line of girls, and he and his turkey stole my heart. 

His manner was so gentle, he barely touched the bird. No, the turkey touched him.

  

The great white bird solicited caresses, which he gently gave--they were in their own world.

And so was I.

I Love the Midway

You can buy the coolest stuff on the midway at the Washington County Fair.  Take this chimp salt and pepper set.  Please.

I preferred the rattlesnake. This would be a good gift for someone who has to limit his sodium intake.

I'm suffering a little non-buyer's remorse here. But I was in Look mode, not Buy mode.  Dang!! That's pretty awesome.  Ssssss!

This guy was carving a bear holding a Welcome sign. I got the feeling he had carved a few thousand of those bears. 

Watch those Bloomin' Onions, hon. They'll gitcha. I oughta know.

I was glad to see my friend Lard in a jar. I use a lot of lard in the winter for my Zick Dough.  Remember the baby turkey chicks we found wandering lost in our yard? The family who canned this lard is the one that took the chicks and successfully raised them with a bronze heirloom hen. I usually recognize most of the names on the tags at the Washington County Fair. They're my kind of folks.

There was much more to see on the midway, which will come in later posts, but we needed to find some crafts and flower arrangements.

I always look for the snake gourd arrangement. This one reminds me of a ruddy duck. 

I also like to look for the flower arrangement in the collection that seems to have the least to do with flowers. This one will do nicely.

And then there are the hapless scarecrows. This lady, with hair of real metal shavings from a lathe, is by far my favorite ever. But I find a new favorite every year. I really like that dress!

Her pals were pretty keen, too.

So Shila and I are hearing all this stuff about swine flu being passed around at Ohio county fairs. And before we go we make a pact with each other not to hang out around any hogs. 

So we shoot quickly and go at the spotted Poland China babies, who were fighting savagely over teat rights. I would not want a pig mad at me, not even a baby Poland China.

And then while I'm absorbed in photographing the guy carving a bear with a torch Shila comes hurrying over saying, "Julie. There's something here you have to see."

Indeed. A woman with a pig clamped between her thighs. I do need to see that.

It's a five-pound "teacup" Vietnamese pot-bellied pig, 11 months old. Named Lucy. This lady runs a concession called "Chase's Racing Pigs." It's a hand-built self-contained course of obstacles and water hazards.  She and her husband are carpenters by trade, doing kitchen renovations in the off season when they aren't going fair to fair. And little pigs run around the course while people root for them for a small fee.  Lucy is the mascot, her owner explained, because she "isn't right. She's underweight and she has respiratory problems, I know that for a fact, because you can hear her breathing."

Oh.

Kisses, anyone?

Let's Go to the Fair!

Every year, Shila and I go to the Washington County Fair. We go to look at the animals and people. And more and more, we go to take photographs. It is as if it were all set up for our photographs. People turn out and animals are tied up and waiting for us. Perfect.

Can you get me the heck out of here? I hate this. I'm on a 2-foot lead for four days. And I can't get away.
                                   I would love to, beautiful steer. But you are not mine to free.

I have a problem of empathizing heavily with the animals. So does Shila. We have to suspend that to do our thing. We're just there to record it all.

A Lineback. Such a pretty pattern! They come in a bunch of colors, but all with an unpigmented back.

             I marvel at the bodies of cattle. How we've shaped them to our needs and wants. Here, we want a lot of muscle.

A giant Gelbvieh bull. I love these guys, especially the red morph. So packed.

 

Each year, I exclaim anew at cow pelvises. Really, there's no animal in which I can see the pelvic structure so clearly. And that giant udder...my gosh. This animal simply couldn't survive outside of captivity and domestication. It could never get away from predators with a gigantic milk dispenser dangling between its runners.

Your blogger, humbled and awed by what we've done to Bos taurus. At one time, it was a fleet-footed ungulate, not a patient and long-suffering ever-refilling dispenser of liquid protein. Takes me back to when my kids were nursing. I loved it, but it does fool with one's body image. You forget for a few years that you're anything other than a dispenser.

photo by Shila Wilson

Shila and I stopped to ask this girl about her Jersey calf. She was showing it for her brother, who couldn't attend the fair. When she came into the stall the calf turned toward her and nuzzled her. It was so sweet to see their relationship and the trust and love between them.

It was much the best-looking Jersey calf there, too. 

A Boer goat. Bred for meat. I am sorry. This animal is entirely too doglike to be considered edible, at least by me. I am in awe of 4H kids for their ability to bond with an animal like this, then sell it at the fair. It is a necessary mindset, but one which would surely desert me at the crucial moment. Noooooo! I want to take Jimmy back Hoooooome!!

On to the wabbits. Of them, I prefer to kootchy-koo the ones that are bred for their looks. 

Netherland Dwarf, selected for cute.

A compact packet of rabbit. At about this point my nose starts to tickle so I quick hurry up and take some more bunnyshots before the eyes begin to stream. I once hugged a woman, got instant nosetickleeyestream action, and asked her if she kept rabbits. "Yes! I just cleaned their cages before I came over." Oh.

That's your problem, innit?

Gah, I'm sneezing just looking at these.

Always feel a bit bad for the rabbits, hanging there in their cages with lots of loudspeakers and bustling all around. 

Then I saw Owen and Josh who are my Science Club pals and Owen showed me how his Reserve Champion rabbit gives him kisses when he asks for them. And it did, twicet.

That was nice.

My fascination with chickens continues. I never tire of ogling chickens. 

Apparently they enjoy ogling me back. 

I was too excited to get the names of most of them, but I'm pretty sure this is a buff Orpington rooster.

Ever my favorite, the compact and perky Japanese bantam. The Japanese do cute very well.

A Polish crested who seemed intent on pulling out every last feather he had. Can't say as I blame him. I'd start with the ones over my eyes.

No idea what this little creature was, but look what they've done to his legs. Good grief. 

The whims and caprices of man, writ small on a poultry wall.
(I'm advised by a reader that it's a Mille Fleur D'Uccle bantam, a hen. She'd have a comb if she were a rooster). 

This was my favorite chicken, a bold and confident Foghorn Leghorn kind of rooster. We got ourselves a croon going and exchanged some pictures and thoughts. I had a hard time pulling myself away from him. I can't say I know what he was thinking, but it was a connection, that's for sure. Baaaawwwwwwwwwwwk.

More fair animals to come. The best kind.