Hey neighbour, it's time to toughen up, put on that stiff upper lip, and hold yer head high. It's Fall Fair time, and the competition is, as usual, fierce.
No more "howdy-do's" and "hi-how-are-ya's." It's community against community, family against family, nose to nose, toe to toe, calf to calf.
Where else can civilized folk acknowledge that primordial instinct to one-up the neighbours without violence or bloodshed, but rather with points! First place points, second place points, even participation points ... they all add up to show just who's the best this year.
Agricultural fall fairs have been held in our area for 170 years and longer, and remain the biggest annual event at which to meet and compete. “Ol' Charlie down the road may be a great neighbour, but by golly this year our wheat sheaf is going to show the judges who knows how to grow grain!”
As with so many residents of this county, both my parents came from rural backgrounds. Come time for the Orillia, Ramona or Severn Bridge Fall Fairs, the names of Hawke, Ayers and James were prominently scattered throughout the categories of livestock, quilting, houseplants and harvested vegetables. Up north in Bracebridge, the name Kaye meant fine horses were on parade for the judges.
While my dad (in his younger days) was showing his Hereford calf as part of the 4-H Club competition in Orillia, my mom (in her younger days) was demonstrating either her flair for Highland dancing or horse riding in the Bracebridge Fall Fair. Although they didn't know each other back then, it is a common thread of their rural heritage.
Within our collection of family keepsakes are silver trophies and colourful ribbons from the 1920s and 1930s of competitions won, or nearly won, as neighbours vied for the nod of the judges' hat.
My recollections of the Orillia Fall Fair are from the 1960s and '70s when it was held at the Lion’s Oval Community Centre. We used to go and look at fancy tractors nobody could afford (I mean, really, who had $8,000 to spend on a tractor?!), get a gob of cotton candy to eat, tour the midway (all eight booths!), and take a wander past the livestock pens.
Pigeons were my first venture into agriculture competition. I raised them as a hobby, in a big shack in the backyard. They weren't much, but they were mine, and I got pleasure in raising and showing them. One of the big pigeon shows was held at the Orillia Fall Fair and, being so close, one is more or less obliged to enter.
One of the musty concrete hockey change rooms had been converted into a show place for birds. Whether the pigeons were brought in stuffed within cardboard boxes or each resting within the custom confines of a carrying case, they were all placed in rows of wire mesh cages until the judge had time for them.
Owner’s names were quickly covered up by folding the entry card, but I knew the competition was from such breeders as Lightfoot, Leask, Koskitello, Walsh and Hopkins. The breeds included ice, lahores, rollers, tumblers, madonas and homers, each a marvel of pigeon breeding.
I can't remember a schedule being posted, or anyone really seeming to know what was happening when or where, but one by one my birds were taken from their cages and brought before a big, cigar-chewing judge. Dust was in the air, the smoke was thick, small feathers drifted by, men and boys crowded close to the judging pen. It was all so totally awesome for a 12-year old like me.
And, I don't know how exactly, but every now and then my birds won a prize! Sometimes a ribbon, sometimes a rosette, and once a trophy. "Oh yeah, who da Man with pigeons? Oh yeah!" The glory usually lasted until the next variety of birds were brought in, but for a moment there…
If you can attend a fall fair, do so! It's fun and country and a bit of city all rolled into one show. But don't let the cute faces of the children showing their calves, sheep or swine fool ya. Oh, they're having a great time for sure, but watch the moms and dads — that's where the real drama's taking place.
Ol' great grandad might have been a champion once upon a time with a fine lookin' Holstein calf in the annals of yesteryear, and it's the high hope that this year, just maybe, Junior, out there in the judging ring with his calf, will bring the trophy and honour back to the family name.
And this is only the beginning. Be sure to check out the flower show. Ever seen a contestant upset (and I mean really upset) that her prize worthy presentation of cut flowers was judged ‘out of class’ because the rules called for three blooms, and her vase contained three blooms and a bud, and when a bud shows colour it's classed as a bloom? Sorry, not eligible.
High drama. Emotional upsets. Check it out. And don’t forget to buy a cotton candy cone!
