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This little piggy . . .

Teenagers showing hogs at the Florida State Fair know a simple but hard truth about their months of hard work and dedication.

By LESLIE PAREDES
Published February 20, 2005

NORTH TAMPA - Tubby has his nose in the dirt again. Rummaging through the gray earth of a practice ring at Chamberlain High School, he's making his pink snout a muddy clump, but he doesn't seem to mind.

Neither does Melissa Navarro, a Chamberlain junior who has raised Tubby since she bought him as a young hog.

"When I tap him on the shoulder, he's supposed to walk, but as you can see, it's not working," says Navarro, 16, a member of the school's Future Farmers of America chapter. She shrugs and smiles down at the contrary Tubby, who has now decided to plop down for a quick rest.

Navarro and Tubby are one of 200 student-swine teams from area high schools - including Chamberlain, Freedom, Gaither and Sickles - who have been competing at the Florida State Fair. The students' goal: to have the champion pig and the $1,000 grand prize.

Many of these teenagers are aiming for careers in veterinary medicine or agricultural science. For them, this contest is the culmination of months of hard work and dedication. And all along, they've known a hard but simple truth: After the competition, their pigs are destined for the slaughterhouse.

Beneath the yellow glow of warming lights, the small animal arena at the fair's agriculture tent is pristine, its thin layer of wood chips and sawdust settled evenly.

Not for long: The swine, released from their pens at the arena's perimeter, shoot out bucking and squealing, snorting and sneezing, kicking up dust as if a snow globe is being shaken.

In the audience, 4-year-old Kristian Groves squeals too: "Piggies! It's a pig show!"

This is the "showmanship" part of the contest, where the students seek to demonstrate how well they can control and show off their animals.

They trot - or occasionally sprint - behind their hogs, guiding them around the ring and through obstacles.

All the while, they're intent on their judge, Warren Beeler, who works for the Kentucky Department of Agriculture and has been judging the fair's swine competition for three years.

The hogs wander to and fro. Beeler walks a meandering path through the ring, telling the competitors to keep their pigs visible.

"I got eyes in the back of my head. When you think I'm not lookin', I'm lookin'," he warns. "I'm always lookin'."

Competitors who don't make it past their heats get an explanation from Beeler on why they're being eliminated.

For example, Sickles FFA member Michelle Ruda has a little trouble with her pig, Wally Jr., who insists on following the arena's rail. Beeler shrugs and says, "The No. 84 pig just wouldn't get off that rail no matter how hard this lady tried, and that's the pig kind of having his own way."

Others advance to the final round.

"I can't believe this. This is the best I've ever done," says a flushed and breathless Robin Sylvester, a Gaither senior and president of her school's FFA chapter. She's competing with her hog, Hoss. "I'm not the most experienced, so I'll take anything I can get."

Shawna Newsome, an FFA member at Durant High School, wins the prize for showmanship. Only one award remains: the best pig.

Once the students first got their young hogs, they persevered through four months of feedings, health screenings and general maintenance.

At the fair, they went through rounds of judging in events such as question-and-answer sessions with an audience, a written exam and skill tests.

They were competing for ribbons, prestige and - for the top four winners - savings bonds ranging from $250 to $1,000.

John Hall, the FFA adviser for Sickles, hoped they'd gain more than monetary rewards: "I want these students to say later about any job they do, "Boy, that's hard work, but that hard work pays off.' "

The swine competition culminated last weekend, with the finals on Sunday afternoon.

Beeler, the judge, was less vocal on this day; he had a plane to catch and 200 hogs to examine. He was looking at size, shape, muscle tone and various characteristics. The ideal pig: not too fatty, not too lean.

The students, although no longer being judged, still stared at him while he examined their swine. They paced with their pigs as they did the day before, but this time with the purpose of proving theirs was the best pig out there.

As he eliminated pigs, Beeler once again doled out explanations.

"The jowls are too loose on the No. 61 hog," he said into a microphone as referees guided that pig back to his pen.

The No. 61 pig was named Jimmy Dean. His owner, Gaither FFA member Tyler Metcalf, was competing for the first time and won the only red ribbon in his weight class.

"If I'm disappointed in anyone, it's myself," he said, crunching the ribbon in his hand. "I'm proud of him, and I'm glad I came."

For many of the students, there seemed to be a more weighty issue at hand than winning. After the 1 p.m. finals, they were only allowed to stay with their pigs until 5 p.m.

The hogs had all been bought by a livestock company at market value. The next morning, they'd be sent to packers in other states for slaughter.

The students knew their animals would be slaughtered long before the process started. Some took this into consideration when deciding not to name their pigs; or to name them appropriately for their fate.

"I named him Jimmy Dean because I didn't want to forget what he was for," Metcalf said. He explained that it was a part of nature for the pigs to die.

While those such as Navarro who were no longer competing for top awards spent time in the comfort of their animals and friends, the judge announced the champion hog, owned by Durant student Erin Zimmerman.

She won a ribbon, a plaque and the cheering roar of eight bleachers full of onlookers who rose to their feet.

Just a couple of hours before having to say goodbye, the idea of having to part with their animals left many students sad, yet accepting.

"I just finished crying," said Navarro, the junior from Chamberlain, her eyes red and welling with tears.

"I do understand he was for slaughter, and he led a good life with me. But Tubby won me two blue ribbons, so it doesn't seem fair he should have to die now."

Then she smiled.

"Even though I'm sad, I'm still thinking about next year. I have to get a better quality pig next year."

[Last modified February 19, 2005, 08:08:05]