Monday, May 11, 2009

Fair Week ~ Wednesday

Here is our lovely, Ashley, sitting in the bleachers talking with friends and fellow showmen. I always take pictures of her wearing her show number. I don't know why. I love the look on her face here. She is happy. She also looks a little mischievous.

"I hate being couped up! Let me out!"

This is Henrietta. Isn't she so glossy looking? She is really soft.

The fair was a happenin' place last week ~ week before ~ whenever. Yippee...

Wednesday was kicked off with the poultry show! If you are a "city slicker", that translates into..."carry a chicken/rooster/hen into a show ring and pretend you know what you are doing." OK - that was lame...

Ashley showed one of her hens at the fair this year. She has never, in her nine years of showing, showed a hen. (Actually, this is the first year she has even owned a hen.) When she told me she paid her entry fee for this species my first question was, "How do you show a hen?"
Her reply: "I don't know, but I figure I should do something with them."

Translated Meaning: They should earn their keep. For everything there is a reason...


I'll let the photos speak for themselves. I don't honestly know what she is doing...

She has a number for each species that she shows. Here she is in the Small Stock Barn getting ready to go show. That is her hen, Matilda, in the cage to her left.

There is just something about watching the kids from behind while they contain (attempt to contain) their animals. The kids have to carry their animals to the bleachers to sit and wait until it is their turn to show. This lovely lady, Clementine, escaped a minimum of three times while we were waiting to get started. The kids quietly joke with each other ~ they are suppose to be watching the other classes, but...when you are a senior and you've shown tend to lose focus. Since Ashley was showing her hen, Clarice, for the first time, she showed as a novice, therefore she showed last.
Good thing Gramps was around. He had a bottle of water and happily shared his drink with Henrietta. She was a thirsty little hen. She drank four capfuls before she was satisfied.

OK - the truth.

1. Ashley hasn't named ANY of her hens.

2. I name her hens to irritate her. It's a "Mom Thing."

3. She would never name her hens any of the names that I randomly selected here. (Did any of you catch on to the fact that this chicken/hen has multiple names?)

I wonder how long it will take before she reads this post and figures out what I have done. one tell her.

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