2015 Hood River News Staff Fair Moments

I’m not going to lie — cows freak me out.

They’re huge, for one thing. For another, they seem awfully unpredictable.

So it was with a little trepidation that I attempted to photograph the beef and dairy judging at the fair July 22. How close was I going to have to get to these things?

Well, close enough, even with the arena bars between us.

But as I took my photographs, I couldn’t help but be impressed with the young men and women showing their cattle. Some of those cows seemed perfectly content to stand there getting belly rubs with what looked like longer versions of the back scratcher. But others … well, let’s just say that there were cows who just weren’t feeling the whole ordeal.

One of the smaller kids in the arena — and I wasn’t able to get her name — had a particularly rough time with her calf, who decided in the middle of judging to just lie down in the dirt and be done with it. No one, not the girl, not the older kids, not the adult who came to help, could get that calf up. It reminded me of a three-year-old who decides to flop down on the ground (in public, of course) and throw a good fit.

But with a three-year-old, you can scoop them up and take them out. What do you do when your calf — who probably weights over 10 times what you do — decides to pull the same thing?

The calf was finally coerced into standing up again, and I had to admire the tenacity of the little girl, to stay in the arena and show that calf and not give up. No matter where she placed, I pegged her as a winner.

Not that I’m over my fear of cows now, you understand. Next year, I’m volunteering to photograph the rabbits.

Benny Beaver bombarded

By Patrick Mulvihill

I witnessed a form of animal abuse at the fair Wednesday afternoon. Oregon State University was hosting an outreach day, highlighting college attendance and health programs through the OSU extension office. They set up booths by the small stage and the senior expo center inside the gym at Wy’east Middle School. Along with these festivities, word had spread that Benny the Beaver, official mascot of OSU, would be gracing the fairgrounds. I confirmed the news with friendly event coordinators, who said Benny was on a bathroom break but he would be back soon. I posted up by the OSU booth and waited for the grand rodent’s arrival. He emerged moments later, waving to fairgoers young and old like a big ham. Parents heralded his arrival, saying, “Look, it’s Benny!”

One young, gentle soul named Hudson Farmer, 2, of McMinnville, smiled and ambled up to mascot. Benny gave Hudson a high five, then swiveled to face a new group of children approaching. Things took a turn for the tragic.

The kids froze for a second when they spotted Benny, as if deciding how best to react to the furry colossus, then they swarmed him and lashed out with their balloon swords. The weapons were harmless, supplied (for less malicious purposes) by trickster Professor Bamboozle, but Benny still felt an emotional sting, I’m sure. Here were children who were supposed to be fawning over him, bludgeoning him repeatedly and senselessly with mock swords. I could practically see alarm in the Beaver’s lifeless, painted eyes as he decided how to react. To his credit, his response was graceful. He tragically gripped his heart and pretended to die.

Part of me — the Class of 2014 University of Oregon grad part (yes, I’m a Duck) — was deeply amused. Not that I’d like to see a poor animal slain at the hands of mob mentality, but I harbor a small piece of school rivalry in my heart, and it flared up that day.

If it allays your fears, I later saw Benny at the Senior Expo center, meeting up with the OSU reps there, and he seemed in perfect health. He bounced around the room, spreading smiles, and he even gave me a high five.

If there’s a lesson to be learned from all of this, it’s that mascots should always be armed with inflatable shields in case of emergency.

You must be this young to ride

By Ben Mitchell

I used to be the kind of teenager at amusement parks who would think nothing of riding the same roller coaster 12 times in a row. The one whose stomach was made of the same steel as the rides, the one who would pound funnel cakes (or is that funnel pound cakes?), chug a Mountain Dew Code Red, eat some curly fries and then jump into a coaster and fly upside down, the contents of his gut blending to form a diabetes smoothie. The kind of kid who would sit in the first car of the roller coaster, flip the bird to the ride camera, then go no-hands as the car went over the first drop, smiling as the earth rises to meet him.

You know: just your typical, really cool teenager.

But as I near the ripe old age of 29, those days are pretty much behind me. Granted, I still frequently eat like garbage, but I’ve begun to let vegetables into my life. And most of my riding these days takes place behind the wheel of a Honda CRV (I’m a wild-man who can’t be tamed), while the closest I’ve gotten to an amusement park ride in years is a trip down Ehrck Hill Road.

And at the Hood River County Fair Thursday night, I apparently wasn’t the only one who has seen their best thrill-seeking days pass. As I went through my photos of the midway, particularly the YoYo ride (or the swing ride, or the chairs, depending on who you talk to) I noticed something: of the three YoYo rides I photographed, there was only one single adult (that I saw, anyway) in the procession of teenagers and pre-teens swirling in my lens. I walked around to a few other rides and it was more of the same. I maneuvered myself through the sea of people at the midway to look at the lines. Kid after kid stood in line, bouncing in anticipation, moving restlessly, waiting for their turn while their guardians stood back and got ready to wave.

It’s not a particularly astounding discovery, I know. Kids like rides, adults do too, and even more don’t. But it edified in me the notion that far more time elapses between ages 18 and 28 than just 10 years. I wonder if anyone else had the same thoughts on the midway, remembering when they were kids, and waving goodbye as the earth and the young ones spin gleefully into the night.

Bonding with the lambs

By Kirsten Lane

On Thursday evening I was amused, with others, watching Brendon Bailey bonding with his calf in the show ring. Brendon would run around the ring while the calf hopped behind him, trying to catch up. It brought back fond memories for me of raising animals for fair.

I wish I could have gotten into FFA about two years earlier than I did, but I am happy I still participated for two years. Being new to FFA, I choose to raise a lamb my junior year of high school. When my family and I heard lamb, we were thinking we were picking up a sweet, tiny little lamb. That was not the case. I arrived to choose my lamb and they are like trying to catch a deer in the wild. Finally we get this “lamb” into the crate and head towards the high school.

We arrived just in time for the lamb to escape the crate and take off around the high school grounds. The lamb then proceeded to run the football field, baseball field and both trails located around the high school. We were calling my friends and family to come help catch my lamb. Let’s just say it took about two hours before my dad was finally able get control of the lamb.

With many months of LOTS of patience and hard work, I finally got to take my lamb to fair and brought home the title of Champion market lamb.

Having the responsibility of taking care of and working with a fair animal is a great experience for any age. You can choose something as small as of gerbil or as large as a steer to take to fair. The responsibility and hard work is something that will make anyone appreciate the agricultural community.

Watching Brendon on Thursday evening brought a smile to my face and many laughs to my friends and family as we told the story of my first FFA market lamb. Thank Brendon for putting a smile on many faces.