Fair’s Fair
at the Country Fair?
By Kent Barker
In the end it was the Ferrets that got me. But that was at the end. First we had to get past performing hamsters,
sedentary raptors and the man from the Freemasons.
If you haven’t guessed – and why
would you – we are at the Kent Game and Country Fair. This is not normally an
event I’d attend. The word ‘game’ puts
me off, with images of dead pheasants and the Countryside Alliance petitioning
to bring back fox-hunting. But it wasn’t
like that at all. Or at any rate not too
much like that. There were quite a lot
of people with shotguns blasting away.
But at clay-pigeons rather than live birds. They made an awful noise, but if people want
to spend the best part of a pound a go attempting to smash a bit of clay then
so be it. (I’d personally prefer a boozy evening smashing plates in a Taverna –
it wouldn’t do anything for my headache the next day but might help,
marginally, to revive the Greek economy).
Anyway this Country Fair was on at a
local park and I’d never been to one before, plus I thought you might be
vicariously interested, so we trooped along with Myrtle, having been assured
that dogs were not only welcome but pretty much de riguer. The trouble was
that she took an instant dislike to the interior of tents and marquees – which
proved a bit of a disadvantage since quite a number of events were inside. First up was the Hamster Display. Since my partner is a bit soft on small furry
creatures, this was, clearly, unmissable. But what a disappointment. I imagined the little rodents demonstrating prowess on their wheels, possibly competing on
an obstacle course with see-saws and hurdles, before leaping through flaming
hoops. But not a bit of it. They all seemed to be fast asleep, either
curled up with each other or alone on a sort of hammock. I’d clearly got the wrong idea of what was
meant by ‘display’.
So while others billed and cooed,
Myrtle and I made our way to the Raptor tent.
Which she again refused to enter.
But from the opening I could glimpse the birds standing sentinel on
their perches. And what a magnificent collection, including a Bald Eagle and a
huge Stella Sea Eagle. The only problem
was that they didn’t seem to be doing much.
In fact there weren’t doing anything except standing there. Now hawks and falcons are wonderful on the
wing and in the wild. But in a tent at a
showground they were rather sad. A bald
eagle should surely be soaring over the Rockies not being gawped at by
passers-by.
So we departed for an arena where
horse riders were towing youths on glorified skateboards. This sport, apparently called Horse Boarding
had, hitherto, entirely passed me by.
However I suppose I could see the attraction if board rider and board
parted company on a fairly regular basis. But instead they all remained
tenaciously attached.
Next, a couple of the birds of prey
were allowed out of their tent to entertain the crowd, swooping over the
arena. This was more like it. But I confess to having most sympathy for the
hawk which, having been unchained and un-hooded, immediately flew off over the
adjacent woods, refusing to return.
The raptors were replaced by a rather
fine pack of bloodhounds with their vaguely woebegone faces. Perhaps they were
pining for some humans to track. Any volunteers from the Countryside Alliance? Myrtle,
who was being pretty tolerant with all the hanging around, perked up a bit and
tugged on her lead in the general direction of the World of Dogs. This involved
every sort of pooch imaginable competing in every type of contest – though usually
chasing some fake furry object. After
childhood ignominy of finishing last in various egg and spoon races, I’m not a
great one for these events so we chose to observe rather than take part. But we
enjoyed overhearing a couple competing with each other over how well their
respective retrievers were doing. “WE managed a perfect round,” he
boasted, patting his pet. “Yes, but I think you’ll find WE’RE ahead on cumulative
points,” she replied icily.
Before they came to blows we departed
for the Ferrets. These are gorgeous
creatures, full of mischief and guile and this proved the highlight of my day. Though the one I risked a pound on came a
poor second in the race over the obstacle course.
It was time for home and on the way
out we again passed the man trying to recruit people for the Freemasons. That his incongruous activity seemed to be
producing little result did nothing to dispel my inchoate impression that
there’s something slightly odd about the whole concept of ‘Game and Country’
Fairs.
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