Starting in the early hours Wednesday, the La Plata Fairgrounds was undergoing a transformation for the first day of the county fair, “where farm meets fun,” according to a fairgrounds sign.

By 9 a.m., vendors were descending on the mouth of the fairgrounds, erecting rides designed to induce thrills in children and nausea in adults. Stands selling popcorn and candy apples were ready for business by 11 a.m. And in the morning sunlight, even the deceptively simple games that offer cute stuffed animals as reward for throwing precision seemed not like scams that prey on couples, but like touching metaphors for the long odds that face all young love.

By noon, it seemed the fairgrounds’ amusement park was just hours away from being overrun with families.

Then, in the afternoon, came the rain.

The Ferris wheel hopelessly rotated, its buckets empty of people but overflowing with water as the sky unleashed torrents all over Durango.

Though county residents boycotted the amusement park, hundreds braved the storm to watch the fair’s real, heart-stopping event: watching 4-H children and the beasts they’ve raised compete for prizes in the ring.

Emily Meismer, a county fair volunteer, said she counted 234 livestock entries in competitions that will take place during the next few days.

In the massive roofed building that held the competition, humans’ dominion over animals was clear: Pigs snuggled sociably in their pens, dozing, while goats bleated inconsolably. Meanwhile grown men sat in bleachers, aghast and silent at the feats of agrarian skill on display beneath.

As raindrops pattered on the roof, young girls dressed in jeans, sparkly belts and braids expertly paraded oblivious goats before a judge, who said he was looking for “angles,” “the way a goat feels,” and the “something special about the goat.”

The children in the ring exemplified steely determination and practiced confidence.

In a competition of six girls and their sheep, one young blonde girl who wore a white bow in her hair appeared to be about a third of her sheep’s size. Nonetheless, she sallied on, clutching her animal around the neck, willing it into pert stillness as it seemed to suffer a protracted sneezing fit.

In the stands, parents leaned forward, some maniacally photographing, others hugging their knees with worry as the judge appraised their daughters’ ability to brace the animals.

At 5.20 p.m., Michael Semler, the tall, graceful son of Melody and Wayne Semler of Bayfield, was washing his pigs, Miss K and Phil, in preparation for the Senior Swine Showmanship competition.

As cold water cascaded over Phil’s haunches, he let out cries of indignation, and Michael, still holding the offending hose over Phil’s back, expertly patted him behind the ears.

Michael, a veteran county fair competitor who got second place last year, said he was nervous to get in the ring but excited.

The basic idea of swine showmanship, he said, was to exhibit one’s pig “to the best of your ability.” He said he would show Phil in the ring because Miss K was too fond of running – though he feared Phil might get into an altercation with another pig.

Melody Semler, who sits on the La Plata County Fair Board and serves as a 4-H adviser, said the competition in senior swine showmanship was “very, very tough,” as a sad-looking young girl passed by, dolefully clutching a purple ribbon.

And she said the children wanted it bad.

“There are belt buckles involved, after all,” she said.

In the end, Michael became reserve champion for senior swine showmanship – again, he’d taken second place.

Sounding defeated but chipper, he said he felt “all right.”

“You know, it’s cool to be in the top two for the last three years, but you know, I’m always a really competitive guy,” he said. “It was fun.”

Michael said he was sure he would compete again next year.

“There’s always room for improvement,” he said.

Randi Dittmar, a 16-year-old Durango High School student who brought two steers – Earl and Lester – said she was nervous ahead of her Friday competition. Her parents, she said, hadn’t been “super excited” about the idea of her raising two $1,000 cows, fearful that it would “be a lot of work.”

“But I talked them into it,” she said.

The steers each weigh about 1,000 pounds. She said the fair “is really a hair show,” and the steers’ beauty regimes involved daily rinses and applications of cow conditioner, then extensive combing and brushing and blowing to train their hair to lie forward.

Randi said Lester, her smaller steer, enjoyed the grooming.

“He really likes being pampered, when I rub him down,” she said.

But Earl, her larger steer “acts like he’s above it.”

“He seems irritated by my making him smell nice,” she said, as Earl, looking rather queenly as he lay on the ground, turned his neck to look at her like a haughty sphinx.

Dittmar said she had appraised the competition. Two steers made her nervous. One was a giant Charolais with an extraordinary dull brown coat – number 220.

The other, 213, was a handsome black steer.

It belongs to Michael Semler.

cmcallister@durangoherald.com