I'm here to tell you that yesterday at the local county fair, I saw a pig swim. This may not be amazing to those of you who have already seen this stint, but I was impressed. One, that the big pigs (though not as big as the sow in the livestock section...more later) with their tiny legs could manage to generate enough momentum to stay afloat and move forward, and two, that the little pigs had enough leg power to keep themselves up and move forward. Highly entertaining.
Which just makes me wonder how close we really are to teaching pigs to fly. If the phrase holds true, then there's a whole heapin' mess of stuff that's supposed to happen on the occurrence of said event. And I wish I had taken better note of all the things that will happen "when pigs fly", but I guess I'm going to be surprised. Which may actually take away the shock of flying pigs.
On to the livestock. I've discovered that cows understand English (and, if you ask my brother, they appreciate good music too). Again, I'm sure there are many reading this (all two of you) who are not suprised by this revelation. I've been blissfully unaware of such developments through an intentional seclusion in suburbia. However, as my friend and I stepped gingerly through the urine-matted straw path between the feeding cows, she was conciously aware of the fact that she enjoys the occasional hamburger. So, in a moment of sensitivity (to both my friend and the cows we were walking among), I started to mutter under my breath the name of hamburgers from our favorite hamburger place (mmmm....whiskey river barbecue...mmmm...banzai burger....mmmmm). All the while maintaining that I partake of the poultry sandwich offerings so was immune to any guilt. Right about the time we made it to the middle, one cow decided that was enough of my muttering and proceeded to make a minor rukus everytime I opened my mouth. Unfortunately, the only lesson I learned was that cows understand English.
The sow we saw would in no way be able to swim (or fly) ever. In fact, I'm doubtful she could move or be moved. The birds were raucous. I'm not sure how to judge any of these animals, but there were some birds that were real beauties and others that looked like they just rolled out of bed. Several looked like they were ready for some peace and quiet. I'm pretty sure the one that we saw trying to nest in the dust was actually trying to create a hole in the bottom of the crate so as to escape or to blend in with the covering so people would stop staring.
Finally, I stopped to buy ice cream and my friend pointed out the deliberately placed landscaping at the front of the booth. Really? Landscaping? Isn't a county fair a drop and go sort of operation? What impact does landscaping have on the general population? I can tell you I went to the booth because I wanted ice cream not because there were flowers in front. And how do you manage to do that on asphalt? Maybe that's what happens when pigs fly: flowers grow on asphalt. Watch your head today.
All in all, I had me some funnel cake (which, in a moment of lapsed memory, I exhaled to laugh and blew powdered sugar everywhere), I watched me some pig swimmin' and I rode me some swings. A quality county fair experience. Highly recommended.