At the fair: Lisa makes her pig-showing debut

Before the 76th Annual Chelsea Community Fair opened its gates to visitors, I went in search of the friendliest pig on the fairgrounds.

And, although there were lots of swine to pick from, “my” pig needed to be special. One that wouldn’t embarrass me too badly in front of bleachers full of people — many of whom either know me or know of me.

Showing a pig was part of a recent trend to try doing something new at fair each year. Two years ago, I showed a lamb and last year, I entered vegetables (and won). This year, I set my sights on showing a pig in the novice class.

The “novice” class is open to kids who haven’t shown, in this case, a swine before. But, most livestock clubs offer this class. It’s a way to let the young kids see what it’s like showing a goat or a lamb, for instance, and perhaps get them interested in raising a different animal for next year’s fair.

(And although I’m about 50 years past the correct age to be doing this, my 13 years of covering generations of livestock exhibitors does offer me a few perks.)

So finding the perfect pig was important. It took a lot of investigation, some serious discussion and  some arm twisting — because Sally had been promised to another child, who I found and apologized to later in the night.

Sally (although for some reason, I kept calling her Lucy) was the chosen one. And I was determined to show her.

She’s owned by Conner Zahn, 8, of Sylvan Township.

And Conner’s dad, Aaron, was in on it, too.

He told me that Sally liked marshmallows — and not just any cheap little ones would do. No, Sally preferred the Kraft campfire variety. So I bought a large bag and smuggled them into the fairgrounds. On ice in a cooler. So they’d be nice and cold and wouldn’t stick to the inside of my pant’s pocket. (As an aside, having food in your pocket is NOT allowed in the real competition.)

That said, I blatantly bribed Sally. Right off the bat in her pen upon our introduction. Plus, I told my sweet little piggy that there were plenty more marshmallows where the first few came from. (I think she understood me because I saw acknowledgment in her cute. little. dark eyes.)

After our introduction, I headed to watch the senior showman in the ring thinking I could pick up some pointers. Although I’ve covered swine showmanship for many years, I never really paid a whole lot of attention to the finer points of pig-showing technique. I’m always too busy trying to get nice photos, which isn’t easy because pigs and handlers are in constant motion.

I closely watched the senior showman — both classes of them — and I listened to what the judge told them about why they won or lost.

And I noticed that they walked on bent knee — always keeping the judge in sight. Never blocking the judge’s view of their animal, which, it turns out, is a lot harder than the kids make it look.

When it was my turn, I met Conner in the ring because he’d just showed Sally. He handed me a brush and a cane to guide Sally around with. And, he offered up a few tips. Like how to hold the cane and where to tap her  — the side of the neck forward — so none of the meat is damaged.

Then when I looked up, he was gone.

It was just Sally and me — in the arena. Alone.  Except for the judge, who I’m sure was wondering what the heck was going on. Then it was announced why I was there. And who I was.

I’m not sure what was said because I was in full-out pig showing mode, wondering where the other pigs and first-time swine exhibitors were. You can call it my moment in the spotlight.

Or, in this case, in the ring with the sun gently streaming through the barn doors, which as you can see, made for great photos. I was able to take a look around because, of course, Conner had done such a great job training Sally and she was so well behaved. Plus, she knew I had marshmallows in my pocket, because I gave her one.

And then it hit me. I was actually showing a pig. How many of you have had that opportunity?

That happy moment was quickly gone with the chaos of the other pigs arriving. With their novice handlers, all 40-plus years my juniors.

And that’s when everything began happening really, really fast. My sweet, docile pig — all 216 pounds of her — decided to go visit her piggy friends. And what began as a glorious moment of quiet bonding with my pig, turned into, well, a race to keep up.

It was like a flipped switch, Sally transformed from my friendly pig to a leading candidate for Miss Congeniality of the novice ring. She had to trot over to greet everyone. Leaving me in the sawdust to catch up and issue apologies to all the other kids as I tried to get her back to me.

And then it was over. And Sally followed me and the marshmallows back to her pen.

It was a fun experience. Although my knees told me otherwise when I crumbled out of bed Wednesday morning.

And Conner told me I did a pretty good job with Sally; that I held the cane properly and I kept up with her pretty well, although I could have done a better job keeping her attention. (By then, the marshmallows were stuck to the inside of my pocket so it was hard to get them out.)

Conner concluded that Sally had fun in the ring with me, too, and told me I could come back anytime during fair and visit her if I wanted to.

Which I did Wednesday. She was sleeping this morning when I arrived, but I woke her briefly, apologized for calling her by the wrong name, and fed her a few more marshmallows.

I patted her on the nose, and told her I’d come back and visit again. But her eyes were already closed before I left the barn.

I gained a lot of respect for the kids who show swine Tuesday night. They make it look a lot easier than it truly is.

And, it will be sad to see her auctioned off on Thursday night. If only I had a really big fenced field for her to play in.

Then again, I don’t think my dogs would not be amused.