Rich in phytonutrients and antioxidants, carrots have long been known to have cardiovascular and anticancer benefits. They’re good for the eyes, too. Recently, researchers at the University of California at Los Angeles determined that women who ate carrots at least twice per week have significantly lower rates of glaucoma.
In modern times, carrot seed oil has become a popular wrinkle-fighting skin treatment. You can add a few drops to an ounce of olive or rosehip seed oil to use as a facial oil. If the carroty scent is strong and you find yourself being pursued by rabbits, you might try diluting it with a few drops of lavender oil.
“Anne’s Flower”
China Bayles
Pecan Springs Enterprise
Caitie was up before dawn on Thursday morning. I could hear her singing happily to herself in her bedroom, and when she came downstairs, she was wearing her pink Have You Hugged Your Chicken Today? T-shirt. She skipped outdoors before breakfast to give her contestants some last-minute loving attention—cleaning their feet and polishing their toenails, removing all traces of poo, and fastening on the numbered plastic leg bands she had received with the entry form. Then she came back in the house and got her stuff together: the birds’ feed and water dishes; the vet’s Pullorum-Typhoid testing report, showing that the chickens were disease-free; and her emergency repair kit (baby wipes, olive oil, manicure scissors, nail clippers, and tweezers). She also unplugged her chicken cam from the bracket in the chicken yard and packed that, as well.
“You’re taking your camera?” I asked doubtfully. “Why?”
The camera livestreamed a video feed to Caitie’s Texas Chix blog, enabling people around the globe to see what her chickens were doing. It could also save sound and video to a flash drive and allow for cell phone monitoring, but I didn’t think it was necessary for Caitie to keep an eye on her chickens while they were at the fair.
As usual, however, she had a logical answer. “I want to take the cam so I get a picture of the judges pinning a ribbon on the cage,” she said reasonably. “Plus, I think people who visit my blog would like to see what goes on at a poultry show. I won’t try to do a live feed, because I’d need Wi-Fi and that might get really complicated. But I can record the video to the flash drive and put it on the blog later, or upload it as a video.” She slid me a glance. “I asked Dad and he said it was okay. He was going to help set it up in the poultry tent.”
When you’re surrounded and outnumbered, all you can do is give in as graciously as you can. “Well, okay, then,” I said. “But here’s the thing. Your dad’s not here to help, and I’m clueless when it comes to electronics. Can you set it up yourself? And did you check to be sure that there are no rules against video cameras at the show?”
“I’m sure I can do it. I helped Dad when he installed it in the chicken yard.” She frowned. “But I didn’t think about rules. Why wouldn’t they want people to put up cameras?”
I could come up with a half dozen reasons, but it would be quicker to check. “How about if I call Mr. Banner,” I said. “He’ll probably know.”
As it happens, our nearest neighbor, Tom Banner, is a reserve deputy for the Adams County sheriff and also manages the security team at the county fair. I caught him on his way to the fairgrounds and asked my question. A few moments later, I was able to tell Caitie that there were no rules preventing her from keeping an electronic eye on her chickens—but only, Tom said, because nobody had ever thought to ask. Next year, they’d probably make a rule against it. In the meantime, he offered to help her set it up. He’d meet us at the poultry tent.
“Cool!” she said when I told her about the arrangements, and we finished packing. We ate breakfast, toted Caitie’s gear and her chicken contestants (in Winchester’s doggie carrier) out to my white Toyota, and we were off.
The Adams County Fair is the biggest event of the summer in Pecan Springs. It’s held at the fairgrounds a couple of miles west of town, where nobody minds if the carnival stays open until midnight and the country music and old-time fiddlin’ go on until the wee hours. The weather is always hotter than firecrackers, but folks don’t seem to mind that, either. They look forward all year long to the carnival rides, the Cowboy Breakfast, the calf-roping and pig-wrangling contests, and the chance to win a blue ribbon for their canned peaches or strawberry jam or embroidered pillowcases. If you live in the city and are accustomed to sophisticated entertainment—off-Broadway shows, foreign-film festivals, opera and the ballet—you may find our down-home doings just a little too folksy for your taste. But for people who live in Pecan Springs, this old-fashioned country-style entertainment seems exactly right. It seems right to tourists, too, which is why the Chamber of Commerce gives it a double spread in the new four-color Why You’ll Love to Visit Pecan Springs brochure.
The poultry tent is located between the 4-H tent and the food tent, on the west side of the fairgrounds, but close enough to the carnival that we could hear the cheerful hurdy-gurdy music as we waited in line at the poultry check-in booth. That’s where every bird is carefully inspected for bugs, dirt, germs, and communicable unmentionables before being allowed into the company of other people’s chickens. Although there have been no recent cases of avian influenza in Texas, it’s still the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. We’re smack in the middle of the Central Flyway, the
