Competition in 4-H

By having our Father as our 4-H advisor, we were under a lot of pressure. His kids had to be examples and the best. It was serious business. And, each year it started when the calves were ready to choose. Maybe some projects were bought at other farms, but our projects had to come from our own farm. I was the oldest, so the first year I was the only one and I got the best calf. Then my second year was J's first, so he got first choice. The next year, S got to choose first. We took turns that way each year. So there was competition between us to see if the one who chose first actually got the best steer. Of course, winning your class didn't mean the Judge was right! You could still believe you had the best. Maybe I didn't take it serious enough, I don't remember who had the most winners. Bet my brother could tell you. Competition at the fair was breed against breed. And, each breed was divided into heavy and light weights. Then the best of each class in each breed competed for Grand Champion. When we competed there were three main breeds and a mixed class. Angus, Herford and Shorthorn. It's much different now. And the things we looked for to win our class have even changed. I tried to go back to the fair a few times after I'd grown and had kids, but it just wasn't the same. With Dad pushing us, we learned how to pick the best steers and we always placed high in each class. Showmanship was also very important to Dad. In this class, you competed in showing your animal to make it look it's best. Each Judge seemed to have some very different ideas and this class could be frustrating. I was in a class once when the judge took the halter of an animal and sent the kid back to the animal behind him and this continued till each kid had a strange animal. Then he mixed us up by moving us all around. Next he took a halter and told the kid to go find his own animal. This continued till we each had found our own animal. I suppose his purpose was to see if we had spent enough time with our project to know our own animal. How silly. Or so I thought. Later I heard one of the boys say he only found his own because of the halter. He didn't know his steer, but he knew what his halter looked like. All I could think was how angry my Father would have been if that had been one of us. Then I heard others say they knew who had their steer. I guess if the judge had switched the animals more than once, some kids would not have found their own. 4-H competition was at your own county fair. Unless you took your project on the the state level. But, our Father also showed in open stock competition. So, we started at nerby counties and continued to show Angus cattle till the day before school started. That put us in contact with a whole different group of people than the Church and School kids we knew. Each county was different and then there were the others who followed the county fairs like we did. My friends loved to go to the fair with me. But, that meant that Dad could rope them into showing an animal if we had too many in one class. That was enough to keep some away, but I had two friends who loved it. We usually sold our 4-H steers at out county fair. We had heifers we could take to the State Fair. I only competed once at the state level. I'd won in every county and was no longer allowed to compete. (Daddy's little girl) I must have been 15 or 16 the year I tried at the State Fair. You had to get your own animal ready. That meant misting them and currying a pattern to make them look wide and smoothing their bellies so they didn't bulge in the middle. You fluffed and teased the tail. You made the hooves of the Angus shine black. You put a clean halter on and took your show stick. You needed it to make them stand with all four legs squarely under them, so their backs were straight and they weren't twisted. Heads were held up and they had to look alert. (Goodness, I haven't thought of those things in many many years. I think I got it right.) Anyway, after all that we headed for the show ring. We were shocked when we entered the ring and the Judge sent the best of us back to the barn before we could even show our animal. What an uproar. Those of us on the way back were not even told why. We learned later that this particular Judge had the idea that the animal should be dry. The kids who had done nothing to get their animal ready were allowed to show and the kids who knew what they were doing were sent to the barn in humiliation. Parents and Advisors made sure that judge never judged again. But, that didn't help me. I never showed in showmanship at the State Fair again. Except for that fiasco, I can honestly say I won every county during my years in 4-H. I even won a heifer calf at one fair. That contest brought out every showman in every county that was eligble. The class was so big, we couldn't even get in the show ring. They started us on the race tract, and sent kids back to the barn till they had a managable class. My biggest memory of that class was how long it lasted. My arm was killing me from holding up the head of a hot and tired calf. A few kids were eliminated toward the end because their steers actually laid down. It got down to three of us and I was the only girl and the youngest. Each time I was ready to give up, all I had to do was glance at my Father. He was bursting with pride, and I couldn't quit. We took the prize calf home.

J took showing as seriously as I did. He was a winner too. I think we both took pleasing Dad as serious business. But, not S. He couldn't have cared less. I remember the year S showed a steer by taking turns leaning on the animal and the animal leaning on S. His projects were more pets than projects. He spent as much time with them as we did, but it wasn't a business with him. S was very good with any animal. He could train them to do just about anything. But, he also knew exactly how to frustrate our Father to distraction. And it seemed that was exactly what he wanted to do. (Am I right, S?)