Helen Says Moo

In 1980, as a seventh grader, I was swept up in the vibrant world of the 4-H Club, where my interests blossomed in a cornucopia of hands-on activities. Each week brought new excitement—whether I was perfecting the intricate art of sewing or gathering ingredients to bake a batch of warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies that filled my kitchen with the tantalizing aroma of melted chocolate. These experiences were not just about honing skills; they were about camaraderie, as I shared tips and enjoyed laughter with fellow club members during our meetings in the school lunchroom.

Perhaps the highlight of my 4-H journey that year was showcasing a yearling Holstein cow at the county fair. Since I lived in town, my friend Cathy Miller's parents allowed me to show one of their cows. From their herd, I chose a yearling whom I lovingly named Helen. Every day I would jump on my trusty, red ten-speed bike and pedal a mile out of town to their dairy farm.

Cathy and I met at the farm just as the sun began to rise, casting a warm golden hue over the dewy grass. The air was crisp and invigorating, filled with the earthy aroma of fresh hay and the distant sounds of cows lowing. First, we made our way to the feed shed, its wooden doors creaking gently as we pushed them open. With laughter and camaraderie, we loaded up buckets of feed, the grain spilling slightly as we carried them across the yard toward the pasture, where our gentle cows awaited. Their soft moos greeted us, an eager chorus begging for their morning meal. We poured the feed into troughs with practiced ease, watching as the cows ambled over, their tails swishing in contentment. While the cows enjoyed their breakfast, we filled their trough with fresh water, the cool liquid glistening under the brightening sky. The rhythmic sound of splashing filled the air, and as we stood back to observe the scene, a sense of tranquility enveloped us—two friends bonding over the simple pleasures of farm life, all while the world around us began to stir to life.

After a rewarding morning spent feeding the cows, with their gentle mooing echoing in the backdrop and the scent of fresh hay lingering in the air, we embarked on a leisurely 1.5-mile ride to Cathy’s house, the excitement of swimming bubbling within us like the sunlit waves we envisioned in her backyard pool. Pedaling along the highway, the warm sun kissed our skin while the breeze teased our hair, creating a perfect harmony of nature as we made our way through the countryside. Once we reached Cathy’s inviting home, the shimmering blue water of her pool called to us like a refreshing oasis. The moment we jumped in, the cool water enveloped us, washing away the warmth of the day and the remnants of our labor. We floated and splashed, laughter echoing through the air, until the sun began its descent in the sky to mark late afternoon.

Once we toweled off and changed out of our swimming suits, Cathy and I hopped on our reliable bicycles and pedaled back to the farm, exhilaration bubbling over from our sun-soaked adventure. The warm air was imbued with the earthy aroma of nearby crops, immersing us in a state of sheer happiness as we made our way along the familiar path back. Our laughter filled the fields as we took turns racing each other, the steady rhythm of our tires matching the lively exchanges we shared. Upon reaching the farm, we were welcomed by the soft mooing of our cows, their big, expressive eyes watching us with anticipation. We worked together to fill buckets with fresh feed, the fulfillment of our efforts blending with the delightful memories of our afternoon escapades. Once we had poured out the feed and refilled the water, it was time to part ways until the next day, when we would reunite for another wonderful day in the countryside.

As the crisp autumn air settled over South Dakota and the leaves began their vibrant transformation, it was time for the annual county fair, an event that stirs excitement in the hearts of locals and visitors alike. Cathy and I awakened early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, as we loaded up Helen and Nancy in the trailer, each young cow anticipating the day's adventures. The familiar scent of hay filled the air, mingling with anticipation that crackled like the vibrant colors of the season. Once we arrived at the Davison County fairgrounds, our senses were overwhelmed by the laughter of children, the aroma of caramel apples wafting through the air, and the sounds of livestock mingling in the distance. We carefully unloaded our cows into the barn, taking a moment to admire their glossy coats and well-fed frames, a testament to the hard work we had put into their care. As we settled them in, Cathy and I exchanged excited glances, knowing that the fair wasn’t just a showcase of livestock, but a celebration of our community, a tapestry of hard work, tradition, and the simple joys of rural life.

During that year's fair, in addition to showcasing Helen, I was also involved in the cookie bake-off and fashion revue. Yet, in every spare moment I found, I focused on preparing Helen for her presentation in the show ring. It was essential for me to regularly wash and groom her to eliminate all dirt and any yellowing caused by the hay. After that, I would use a baby wipe to clean her delicate ears, removing any unsightly wax. The Millers shared several other insider tips with me over the three days preceding Helen's show, such as using black polish on her naturally dull hooves and applying baby oil to enhance the appearance of the cow's udder. Finally, the moment arrived for Helen and I to strut our stuff!

Standing in the show ring with my yearling Holstein, adorned with her striking black and white pattern, filled me with a mix of pride and excitement as I crossed my fingers and hoped for the coveted purple ribbon, signifying a top rating and a spot at the South Dakota State Fair. The atmosphere buzzed with the energy of fellow competitors and spectators, but in that moment, all I could focus on was the gleaming coat of my heifer and the bond we had forged through hours of training and care. As the judge moved closer, inspecting her conformation and demeanor, I felt a rush of adrenaline; every grooming session, every morning and evening feeding her, and every minute spent socializing with her stood before me as a testament to our hard work. With dreams of gracing the state fair stage swirling in my mind, I forced myself to stay focused as we ambled around the ring and stopped before the judge for inspection. When the judge handed me a purple ribbon, my mind emptied and my mouth gaped open. But soon I jolted back to reality as the enthusiastic cheers from friends and family filled the stadium. This was a dream I had harbored since I first joined the 4-H Club, and now it was within my grasp. I clasped the purple ribbon tightly, feeling its cool fabric between my fingers, a tangible representation of victory.

Back in the barn, Cathy greeted me as she clutched a purple ribbon of her own. Our faces beamed with pride as we jumped up and down squealing, "We did it!" Within moments, our peers surrounded us, clapping and cheering, congratulating us on a job well done. The warmth of the community embracing us reinforced the very essence of what 4-H stood for—head, heart, hands, and health.

The day continued to unfold in a parade of joyous events—Cathy watched the fashion revue as I strutted down the makeshift runway in an outfit my mom helped me create. It was my first big sewing project, so I was more than satisfied with the blue ribbon I earned. Later, we received another reason to celebrate when both of our baked goods earned blue ribbons.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, I looked around at the fairgrounds bustling with life. The laughter, the voices, the endless parade of different colored ribbons tacked to boards and cages—all of it etched deeply into my heart. In that golden hour, surrounded by the sounds of celebration and the sweet scent of funnel cakes mingling with fresh hay, I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. 4-H was not just about the ribbons we earned or the competitions we won; it was about the friendships we built, the lessons we learned, and the memories we created as a community.