Something to crow about

Poultry officials at the Northwest Montana Fair uncovered on Tuesday the secret to silencing roosters: Hold a crowing contest.

The new event started just after poultry judging with an enthusiastic group of youths gathered around to draw numbers for their roosters’ debut. Apparently, position in the line up confers some sort of crowing advantage — but not on this day.

In a flurry of flapping wings and flying feathers, the young people dutifully retrieved the roosters and stuffed the lucky first four into the cages. Volunteer counters assumed their places in front of each cage, pencils ready to score the number of times each one crowed.

But as the timekeeper signaled the start of competition, silence reigned in the show ring.

Crowing rang out from across the poultry barn but the roosters in the performance cages stood quietly, curiously cocking their heads and staring back at their owners and others hopping about and crowing at them.

Minutes ticked by.

The time expired and was extended a minute. There was no crowing from the contestants, but one lusty cock-a-doodle-do from a wanna-be  barnyard idol.

“That’s my rooster,” said Bill Bramlet, owner of a contestant-in-waiting.

New numbers were called and four more hopeful youths scurried off and wrestled four more squirming roosters into place to vie for the crowing crown.

Poultry superintendent Tammy Johnson called for the timekeeper to launch the second round.

Again, the cocks stared in seemingly stunned silence at the antics of the people gathered around the cages.

“They’ve been crowing like crazy,” Julie Bramlet, Bill’s mom, said, voicing the humorous frustration of all.

Clearly, it was time for Johnson to regroup.

Roosters were ordered back to their home cages in the building.

“Go stand by the cage and when he crows, hold up one finger,” Johnson said to the owners. “If he crows twice, hold up two fingers.”

The timekeeper switched on the clock, set for three minutes. With each sound, all eyes swept down the aisle, looking for the uplifted finger, but none appeared.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity in the stifling heat, a crowing sound rang out loud and proud and a finger was raised in front of Lincoln May’s rooster. Then he sounded off again, gaining a seemingly insurmountable two-crow advantage.

Minutes ticked away and then Heather Ross’ rooster erupted with a mighty cock-a-doodle-do. Then he crowed again, tying the contest for a nail-biting finish as the final seconds ticked away.

In a micro-second before the contest closed, the Ross bird gave Heather something to crow about as a tie-breaking blast of rooster bravado echoed across the barn. Heather, 9, of Lakeside, collected the grand champion ribbon for Goldie’s historic victory in the first crowing contest.

A young woman of few words, she was modest in accepting her Ameraucana’s ribbon. She has a simple explanation about what makes Goldie crow.

“It’s when the hens start making noise,” Heather said.

Lincoln, 12, of Bigfork, was proud to take home the reserve champion ribbon for his rooster. He said he made a last-minute decision to bring his rooster of uncertain heritage to the fair.

He was philosophical about Goldie snatching the crowing glory in the final second.

“I just brought him down here for fun,” Lincoln said with a laugh.

Reporter Candace Chase may be reached at 758-4436 or by e-mail at cchase@dailyinterlake.com.