Wow ... a favorite memory. I have so many! Between my sister, her boys and my own children, we've lived in the barn at the County Fair every summer for ages. Believe it or not, I always enjoy the storms! We always have at least one good "weather event" each Fair Week and the 4H kids gather in "Barn C." They have it down to a science, so we're always dry, well fed, entertained and HAPPY. Lemme tell you - if you're stuck at the Fair during a thunder storm - the Dairy Barn is the happening place to be! Still, if I had to pick a single "Best Memory," It was the night we were "stuck" in the barn til three in the morning.
First - a little background:
Show rules state clearly that all 4H cattle must stay onsite until released on closing night. That's usually just after the demo-derby ends. As soon as the notice comes down, the Dairy Barn kicks into high gear. It's a well-choreographed ritual practiced for decades. Trailers double-line the pathways, If you're not walking an animal out or pushing an over-loaded wheelbarrow to the straw-lot, you stay out of the way. It's amazing to watch - almost like a dance. In under an hour, all of the animals are on their way home, the gear boxes (packed earlier in the evening in prep for the rush) are gone, the floors are swept clean and the only people left are the ones dismantling the massive fans.
It happens exactly the same way ... Every. Single. Year. Even the year of my "Favorite Memory," except that on that particular Saturday night, when all the dust and chaff and cow poop had settled, there was one cow left behind. Salty Talk, my nephew's prize Guernsey, was in labor!
Before anyone jumps on to fuss, no one expected Salty's little surprise. She wasn't due for over a week and first-time heifers tend to run late, not early. As soon as he realized what was going on, my nephew requested an exception so he could take her home early. By the time the Fair's vet authorized her early release (mid-afternoon,) it was not a good idea to move her. Once breakdown was complete, he tripled Salty's stall area, bedded her down deep in clean straw, then we settled in to wait her out.
Word spread quietly. By the time the Fair officially closed, a small crowd had gathered. Most of the dairy people had left with their animals, but there were others - some rabbit exhibitors, a few from the goats, and two "outside" families who had wandered in after the derby and asked permission to stay. Food vendors stopped by with leftovers to share and someone brought a cooler of cold water. All of a sudden, we had a party!
It was the quietest, most respectful party I've ever attended. As this was a new experience for most, there were lots of stories and lots of questions, My sister, always the teacher, handled them like a pro. She explained everything that was going on as it happened. A lot of people learned a lot about how farming works, where their milk comes from and how the miracle called "Life" begins. Salty Talk's first calf made her debut, just about midnight, to the sound of the most beautiful, audible sigh I've ever heard. The baby's name? "Showstopper," because that's what she did!
Showstopper made the front page of the local paper that weekend - a picture of my nephew carrying her out of the barn to go home the next day. That was ten years ago. Showstopper is still part of the family's milking herd. She knows her name, comes when you call her, and pushes into your hands for head scratches. I swear, Guernseys are the biggest Golden Retrievers on the planet - and she's one of my favorites, by far!
EDIT TO ADD: Here's the newspaper pic of my nephew and Showstopper. She was just hours old!