EIGHT MAIDS A-MOOING

Hymers, Ontario is a tiny place - for all but once a year. 

Come Labour Day Weekend, the empty field at the edge of the community suddenly sprouts tents and booths and amusement rides, the exhibition buildings fill with the prize produce of local farmers, the barns come alive with the sounds and smells of champion livestock and cars packed with people from every community within a 100-mile radius circle the grounds in search of a parking spot.

And it all adds up to one of the most appealing Fall Fairs in the Province.

Most of that appeal, I've always thought, comes from the fact that the Hymers Fall Fair is the genuine article. It features not only judging and competitions for riding horses but for draft animals, as well. Most of the refreshment booths are local - as is the musical talent. And the turkey dinner served in the old hall is home cooking at its best.

I took a friend from New Zealand there one autumn and will never forget the shock she felt when we entered the cow barn. There was a Jersey hunkered down comfortably in one of the stalls. And when my friend rounded a corner and spotted the animal, she took a sudden step back.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"I never realized how BIG cows were!" she stammered. Or how beautiful, either, I suppose. 

The competition in Hymer's Bovine Beauty Pageant is fierce - as fierce as the Cow Calling and Milking Contests are fun. After all, what could compare to a group of city folk having their first try at milking. And, of course, cow calling is a sort of dairyman's joke. You don't call a cow. They come when they damn well feel like it!

I remember, as a young boy, making a tour of my Uncle Leonard's barn at milking time and remarking in my innocence that he must really love his cows. He turned and gave me that gaunt, Abe Lincoln look of his and said, "Son! Nobody loves a cow!"

Watching the crowds at Hymers, you could have fooled me!

I used to compete myself in the old days at the Fair. We called it a Liars Contest, but my opponent, Doc Skinner (a self-proclaimed Professional Liar and Certified Fish-ician) always won. And we both participated not so much for the small honorarium they gave us or even for the free turkey dinner but mostly for the fun of getting together and working to the toughest crowd there is: a bunch of farmers.

One year, I arrived for the gig and discovered that Doc hadn't shown (a mix-up in dates he later claimed). That meant I was required to stretch the material I'd prepared to cover his absence. But  I didn't mind, because I knew that this time I finally had first prize locked up.

So, you can imagine my surprise when they announced that, despite failing to appear, Doc would be declared the winner at any rate.

"After all," the emcee explained, "He told the biggest lie of all. He said he was going to be here!"

At that point, I gave up all hope and consoled myself by going off to watch the city-slickers make udder fools of themselves.

(Scroll down for any days you've missed. Tomorrow: Day Nine of THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS - ME BELLY DANCING!)