There are almost too many things to love about these races. Pigs with punny names, like Lindsay Loham! Pigs eating frosted oatmeal cookie treats halfway around the track! Pigs! Wearing racing numbers! Being pigs! Wearing little curly tails because they're pigs!
Luckily, my friends shared my pig racing enthusiasm, as well as my enthusiasm for New Glarus' Spotted Cow beer.
Why the Hawaiian shirts? Weird Al performed at the fair that night!
We came back to the racing grounds a few hours later for my first-ever duck race.
The ducks chilled out in this cozy pen, where spectators tossed them little pellet treats, until a border collie herded them into their racing lanes.
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| It's blurry, but I think you can still see my joy/incredulity here. |
The announcer must have known on some deep, psychic level, that my first word was "duck," as he picked me from the crowd to be a third-round duck racer!
My duck was soft and calm, and when I held her above the water, her little feet started to paddle, even though she was nowhere near the surface.
As the announcer suggested, I splashed her with water as she swam -- and she won the race!
Because my duck won our round, I got to return for the championship race. I was given another duck this time, and was encouraged to name him and announce it to the crowd. What did I choose? Carl Quacksell.
I kept my Duck Racer sticker and stuck it on my planner, where it still gives me a little thrill every time I see it. If anybody out there has a pet duck, he or she is welcome in my home anytime.
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