Stormy weather

Well there's an apparent genetic predisposition amongst the McP progeny to flat-out love watching enormous four-legged animals attempt to pull sleds loaded with tons of concrete blocks. I sat next to Little Brother at the oxen pull at the Deerfield Fair on Saturday and he was into it, yelling "digdigdigdigdigdig" and whooping with the crowd when the underoxen (led by a young guy who jumped up and down like Rumplestiltskin when the team got going) won.

But there was a touch of melancholy to the competition, and it wasn't just due to the rain. The stars of the fair when it comes to oxen are a team of huge white muscled creatures who are well-behaved and gentle and beautiful. They belong to an uncle of one of Dr. Moo's friends. He was killed in a farm accident earlier this year; I think his head got squished.

There was a minute of silence (which is longer than you'd think) for him before the competition got started and while his team (handled by his brother) pulled the first sled like it was loaded with kittens, they were quickly eliminated.

Later, when I went to give one ox a scratch, I overheard the brother remarking, quietly, that they hadn't done much pulling that year.