I have been to the sale barn before when first entertaining the idea of getting chickens. I was fascinated by the auctioneer calling, farmers greeting each other and settling into stadium style seating; the mild barnyard smell.
I have been there as a spectator; as an ever curious journalist/observer of life. The people around me bid against each other, prices climbing higher, trailers ready to take home their live, and often large, purchases. If it’s a smaller animal like a guinea pig or a rabbit, it gets handed over the fence, directly to the buyer.
So when the heavily promoted Exotic Animal Sale came up, I invited a friend. She has lived in the Ozarks much longer than I have, but had never been to the sale barn before. The day came and we couldn’t believe how crazy parking was. There’s just a large crushed gravel lot with no system other than loosely formed rows with all manner of truck and trailer, some a bit dinged up. I avoided parking on the end of a row and guessed the spot I made around back would be okay.
We got our wristbands at the front door. As we entered, half an hour ahead of the exotics time, it was clear that finding a seat was going to be a challenge. Three of the four sections were reserved seating and the open seating was full. My resourceful friend saw a balcony over the show area, not the best view, but cooler and not terribly crowded. Up we went.
After an hour, the usual animal sale, and the trailer and hay portion outside ended; the exotics came out. We oohed and aahed over the ring tailed lemur. A baby kangaroo snuggled in a cotton bag in the lap of an audience member.
We sucked in our breath at the ball python, the alligator and the banana ball python. A nine-year-old girl standing next to me, answered our “What is that?” questions a few times. She confirmed my guess that she was going to be a veterinarian when she grew up.
During a break, and many people exiting to get food, we headed over to the open seating, but every last chair had a sign or a hat or a protective friend.
We ended up on the step in front of show area. Not the most comfortable seat, but a great view. I sat next to two women who owned farms and were from the same small town, hours away (it was really well advertised). One of these ladies had a sale barn of her own.
Some of the handlers were gentle, petting the animals to keep them calm. One couple went up and were handed four baby goats. They were the size of medium dogs and somehow the man managed three (two under one arm) and his wife took the last one.
When some of the larger animals came out, especially the bulls, our seatmates told us to be careful; one said she’d seen them jump fences before. I hoped she meant on a ranch.
This was an auction, so I learned to turn when I had an itch, as one such scratch of my forehead caused me to be looked at as a bidder. Much later, my friend, in excitement, waved and yelled to a neighbor that she spied across the way. The woman behind her said, “Honey. You know you just bought an animal, don’t you?” She shook her head no to the auctioneer and ducked her red face behind me. We had a laugh about how we’d fit a buffalo into my car.
I admired a teenager’s control over a horse who turned in swift circles in the fenced in show area that shrank as it strode in.
Many donkeys, emus and reptiles later, it was time to go. A few of the kids that came out with the horses and ponies reminded me that the rodeo would be in town soon enough.