Cassandra Gardiner returns with this week’s offering. Guest opinion articles do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication. Ed
Recently we went to a poultry show in Porchfield Village Hall. Arriving by car a little late, I reassured my daughter, and myself, proceedings will begin once everyone is in and settled. Outside the road was full, the only alternative was the pub car-park. Another car followed us in. As the other driver left her car, I offered to check leaving our cars was OK with the bar staff.
Place your bets
Inside the pub the atmosphere was lively. Leaning over the bar, explaining our situation, the barman accepting my request smiled and laughed. Arousing interest, drinkers at the bar began throwing questions and comments around about ‘The Bird Show’.
With a giggle I suggested all were welcome and bets are running on the best bird. Leaving the merriment I headed to the hall.
Ruffling raffle
Inside a couple of ladies took payment before issuing a raffle ticket with each entry. With a ticket stuck to the carrier, we placed the boxes amongst the gathering stock of crates, cat baskets and bird pens. Apart from three large geese (one very odd looking), it was hard seeing the other competitors; most boxes were solid except for vent holes.
Watching on, roughly every minute, the geese sent an ear-piercing screech whistling through the room. Occasionally squawks, quacks, cock-a-doodle-do’s and rustling emitted from the fifty or so boxes waiting to be seen.
More tea vicar?
At the back of the hall, buzzing with chatter, a large table was filling with home-made cakes. Taking the opportunity to have a closer look, I found myself offering to help with the food, replacing a server stuck on the mainland.
My daughter focusing on the pens and array of containers stacking-up, sat at the front. Chatter and squawking competed as the event turned to a social gathering, no judge in sight. Half an hour passed as cups of tea and burgers were ordered.
Getting down to business
Returning to our table, having found out the judge was currently untraceable, greeted by a frustrated stare, I tried consolation, then bribery, cakes, burger, drink? Taking my seat, in walked the judge. Wafts of appreciation lifted the tone. Held-up getting his birds in, he swapped his jacket for a white cotton coat.
The hall, now standing room only, watched as each assistant drew a raffle ticket, located its matching number, then took the bird for judging. Expertly, turning the bird upside down, lengthening each wing, feathers opened, talons felt, as colour and character were assessed, judging was systematic and brisk.
As proud as Partridge
First out, a small gold and brown bird, slightly larger than a blackbird. Asking one of the entrance ladies, instantly it became clear there is more to poultry than chickens, geese and ducks, this was a game bird.
Feeling a pinch, my daughter announced its Partridge. The brown, grey, and white bundle of feathers rotating in the judge’s grasp was our Pekin Bantam. After a series of checks he signalled to an assistant and Partridge, replacing one of the game birds, went in the Judge’s Pen. Puffed up, looking adorably elegant, she stood on the clean white paper for all to see.
Several birds came and went, the geese clacked on, whilst our little one held top-spot. Out came a small, very sleek, auburn cockerel, immediately we could sense the challenge. An assistant was beckoned and Partridge returned to her box. The white paper was rolled on and the newcomer took pole position.
“That’s a nice bird!”
Challenging the sleek rooster was a very smart, jet-black, Pekin Bantam. As other birds took the second hot-spot, the all black Pekin stayed nearly to the end, eventually ousted by a traditional fighting cock. Blazing red, with greens and a shimmer of gold, straight from an oil painting, the rooster oozed champion.
Our last hope Pearlie, hadn’t made the grade. Though to our delight, a huddle of dark-haired, weathered ladies and gents, wearing gold rings and bracelets, exclaimed as Pearlie was examined “That’s a nice bird!”
To read more of Cassandra Gardiner‘s work, visit her blog.
