Yep, I’m talking about farm animals, folks. While at the State Fair, Abs and I headed over to the Pavilion for the Rooster Crowing Contest. We weren’t sure what to expect (spoiler alert). I am not a country girl, I’ve lived in the suburbs outside the city my whole life. Granted, Louisville can’t really compare to larger cities like Chicago or St. Louis but never mind that, it’s still a city. Anyway, I tend to get excited about farm stuff because it’s different from what I’m used to. And for some reason beyond my understanding, I was excited about the roosters.
Abby and I thought this “contest” would be based on quality: Can you make your rooster crow on command? How loud does your rooster crow? How long does he crow? Are there different kinds of crowing?
I mean, this guy was talking to his rooster, encouraging him. I was thinking, “This may be better than I thought. I know they say chickens are dumb animals but if he can make that rooster crow on command, I’ll have to shake his hand… after he washes it.”
But no. That is not what it’s like. At all. Quality is no concern of theirs; it’s all about quantity. So we watched four cocks in four cages crow for 10 minutes while two judges tallied the squawks on a notepad. Can we say boring? For 10 minutes, this was the view. Yeah, boring.
In case you’re wondering, Rooster #2 won with 22 crows. Rooster #1, the one that got the pep talk, crowed five times. It seems the contest got in the way of his nap time. Contest aside, there were so many different kinds of roosters caged around the room and some were very pretty. Who knew there were that many kinds. Little ones. Big ones. Loud ones. Sleepy ones. Some with feathery feet. Some with normal bird feet.
This poor quacker was stacked with the roosters. Maybe he thought he was a rooster. He sure as hell made as much noise as his squatting neighbors.
On the way out of the Pavilion, we passed some baby critters. These piglets were adorable. There were a few digging around for lunch (you can see their little tails on the right) but these guys were tuckered out.
And then the cows. I love cows. For the longest time I wanted a pet cow (reminder: not a country girl) but then I changed my mind and wanted a pygmy goat. I settled on the canine breed.
But while I was snapping away with these two bovine models, the calf started moving it’s head. I said, “Ah crap, he moved.” Not missing a beat, Abby said, “No he didn’t. He mooooo-ved.” And that’s why I go to the Fair with my Abs.