The 60th Morisset Show took place over the weekend. The MOTH and myself spent a relaxed afternoon amongst the agricultural sounds and smells of all that is country. We wandered from event to event to the accompaniment of crowing roosters, braying donkeys, neighs of small and large horses and the smells … all kinds of animal smells, pungent enough to sting the nostrils. I couldn’t help give a thought to all that lovely pooh nonchalantly dropped about the show when it could have been composted down and fed to my garden.
The day offered something for everyone and if you weren’t inclined to enjoy the agricultural aspects there was plenty on offer in the competition halls. The country women had been busy baking, quilting, arranging flowers, painting and taking photographs (well maybe a few men had a go too) and it was all on show. We filed up and down the aisles stopping to see who won first, second and third and the person who had the highly commended rosette. I’m amused why we stop to see who won – we may live half an hour up the road but I’d be amazed if we knew anyone there. It’s totally country … and we’re total townies. I did like the melted wax paintings; I wouldn’t have minded a go at them, they looked tricky to do but the colour blends made them quite beautiful. Alas, ’twas not to be, the MOTH had headed off in the direction of the goats.
We didn’t make the goat judging event but we did find this elderly soul with a badass attitude – how about those eyes! It wasn’t until it stood up that we could be sure of its sex … and y-e-s, definitely male. The dangly bits seemed unnecessarily large and I could only imagine how uncomfortable it must have been to wander about with that gear hanging off his undercarriage. However, being an old goat, he’d managed thus far, so all things are possible! The other goats were smaller and more colourful yet lacked the Billy Goat’s gruff ‘tude. I didn’t know that goats were the first animal to be tamed by humans 9, 000 years ago, or that they are a member of the cattle family. However, I did know they are sociable animals, lively, curious and independent. I’ have known one Nanny Goat and a Dunlop (bill goat) and both have mischievous personalities, are playful, bun tingly boisterous and socially known in their neighbourhoods.
By the time we were looking for somewhere to take a breather we found the woodchopping arena, and two spare seats. The area scattered with hardwood chips, standing blocks, discarded axes and sweaty bodies in singlets strutting manfully about the arena. It’s such a blokey sport: sweat, swagger and swearing. Before the event the men chiselled out the scarf (where their feet go, thank you Wikipedia) with axes so sharp they could shave off the thinest sliver of wood to make sure their feet were positioned to give them optimal stability. The sport had its genesis in Tasmania when two Aussie blokes placed a wager to see who would be the first to fell a tree. That was back in the 1870s. Woodchopping is now a recognised sport in most countries where forestry is a significant part of the economy: Canada, America, New Zealand, Germany, Australia and others … the things you learn from Wikipedia.
It was a different afternoon for two townies who crossed the tracks to visit the country folk.