From The Mouths Of Babes

Every year, a 4H Fair is held in a nearby town at the end of August.  I have been taking my kids to it since they were very small, mostly to see the animals but more recently for the rides and evening fireworks as well.  It has become a late-summer tradition for us.  This afternoon, Thing Two and The Girl and I went over to the fairground to check out this year's setup.

On one side of the fairground, there are four large barns in a long row, housing goats, sheep, horses and cows respectively.  The kids took a good 45 minutes to go through those barns today, and while I watched them interacting with the animals (this is permitted under supervision) I happened to think about a conversation I had with one of the 4H kids years ago, the first time I ever went to the Fair.

I've mentioned before that I grew up mostly in cities and suburbs.  To the extent that there were backyards involved with my upbringing, they did not contain domestic livestock of any kind.  To say that I am unfamiliar with farm animals, even now, would be a major understatement.  Then, I had not the slightest clue.

The goats at the 4H Fair are almost invariably beyond friendly.  They all but climb out of their pens in their eagerness to greet visitors.  That first year, I stared at one of these enthusiastic goats dubiously, understanding that it wanted attention but not having the slightest idea how in the world to go about petting a goat.  (For the record, they like to be scratched on the head.)  I was saved by the goat's owner, a cherubic child of perhaps five with big blue eyes and blond curls, who happened to be in the pen with her goat at the time and delivered a comprehensive and impressive lecture on goat care and husbandry in response to my questions.  That was pretty cool in and of itself.

Then she mentioned that she had another goat at home, one that she couldn't bring to the Fair that day because it was within 24 hours of giving birth.  (Squeamish sorts, perhaps you should skip a line or two here.)  As a mother myself, one whom on several different occasions would really have found it helpful to know when I was within that birth window, I of course had to ask how in the world she knew that.  Apparently it has to do with the position of certain ligaments, which of course human females don't have.  So much for prediction in humans.  But it was still very interesting, especially coming in so matter-of-fact a manner from such a young child.  This kid had her info down cold.  I think her goat won a blue ribbon that year, too.                

Every year since, I've gotten a real kick out of watching the 4H kids at the Fair with their animals.  This is a very rural area, and I am looking at tomorrow's farmers.  I want to support them and their industry any way I can.  But I have to admit that I am just waiting for one of my kids to start asking for a goat or sheep and cringing at the thought...it might save us some money in lawn mowing, but cleaning up after The Hound is bad enough!