TROY, Mo. — Before their big contest on a recent Saturday, two pigs were being fussed over by their owners, 18-year-old twins Bailey and Jordan Shields, and a few friends.
The glam squad brushed off Tammy, a brunette, and raven-haired Patty. They hosed down the porcine pair, coated them with conditioner, spritzed on holding spray and took a couple more passes with the brush.
Every detail matters on the pig circuit.
“If this doesn’t get your blood pumping, I don’t know what will,” judge Willie Kirkpatrick told the crowd of about 75 on the bleachers at the Lincoln County fairgrounds.
From April through June, Show-Me State swine can seize their moment of glory on the Missouri Pork Council’s pig circuit. The competitions, held in a different town each weekend, have swelled since their introduction 15 years ago. And, as with youth activities from club soccer to spelling bees, the field has grown fiercer.
People are also reading…
Social media provides a pathway to the best breeders, nutrition and training techniques. Kids — and their parents — are willing to invest plenty of time and money to boost their chances of winning.
Show pigs are purchased in late winter and cost from a few hundred dollars to well over $1,000. Every day, they have to be fed and groomed and exercised. Their pens get swept and filled with clean shavings. Their owners keep tabs on their weight — most will top 300 pounds — and teach them how to walk: head up, steady pace, not too close to the other pigs.
Bailey and Jordan — identical down to their long brown braids and preference for lightning bolt earrings — were turned on to the hobby by their older sister.
They are fourth-generation farmers, living on a 200-acre cattle ranch on the edge of Winfield. The twins, who graduated in May from Troy Buchanan High School, have been raising pigs for half their lives.
“It’s helped me grow as a person,” Bailey said. “It brought me out of my shell.”
As little girls, they learned how to “drive” the pigs, coaxing the animals with a whip. After school, Bailey and Jordan would relax inside the pen their dad and grandpa built, rubbing the pigs’ bellies and feeding them mini marshmallows.
“Their pens are probably cleaner than (the girls’) bedroom,” said their mom, Melitta Shields.
They entered state and county fairs each summer. This year was their first venture onto the spring pig circuit.
The twins, who maintained a 3.9 GPA, quit softball to carve out room in their schedules, which also include part-time jobs and leadership roles in 4-H and the local chapter of the National FFA Organization.
“We don’t have a lot of down time,” Jordan said.
Tammy, a Tamworth breed, belongs to her. Bailey has Patty, a Poland China. Six crossbreeds — Hayden, Bre, Emma, Sloan, Laney and Betsy — round out the Shields’ drove.
The twins know that the relationships with their pets will be short-lived. In late summer, after the last of the fairs, they sell the pigs at auction. What happens after that is out of their hands.
“Growing up on a family farm, my parents preached to me: Animals come and go,” Bailey said. “It’s always hard. But in a few months, I’ll be getting more.”
Shiny hair, smooth skin
Anyone 21 and younger can participate in the circuit, but only members earn points toward prizes: banners, belt buckles, camping chairs and cash. When the Missouri Pork Council started the spring circuit in 2009, it had fewer than 50 youngsters as members. This year, there were close to 200.
Pig show mornings arrive early. In Troy, trailers had begun encircling the swine pavilion on the fairgrounds by dawn. Some of the contestants grunted and squealed as they waited; others napped.
About 175 pigs were divided into 18 classes of female gilts and 18 of male barrows. There were auburn Durocs, Berkshires with white-stocking feet and Hampshires patterned like Oreos. The pale pink Chesters were a spitting image of Wilbur from “Charlotte’s Web.”
The show was an all-day affair, and Bailey’s and Jordan’s entrants were near the end of the gilts. But the hours spent in the stands had their own value.
“You learn so much from watching,” Jordan said.
Judges at pig shows don’t follow a rubric. There is no grading scale for conditioning, color or gait. Winners are determined by an overall impression, a gut feeling — and a well of experience.
Jesse Heimer, of Taylor, Missouri, about 140 miles north of St. Louis, grew up on a pig farm and showed pigs as a teenager. Now he runs his own farm and judges competitions.
Since the 1990s, when he was a kid, opportunities to show have become more widespread. Tutorials are available on YouTube; a video on “Selecting and Feeding Your Show Pigs” has garnered almost 100,000 views. Diet plans and grooming products — like Jimmy Juice essential oils and Show Glo shine spray — have improved.
All of that means it’s harder to helm a swine dynasty.
“Competition has skyrocketed,” Heimer said. “There’s not many secrets anymore.”
These days, it’s not only a pig’s shape, stride and step that matter. Judges also look for glossy hair and smooth skin to help sort out the front-runners.
“Showing pigs competitively is not that different from travel sports,” Heimer said. “You have to put the time in to be successful.”
Inside the ring
The first round of the Troy pig show was for novices as young as 5 who were just finding their footing. Kirkpatrick, the judge, evaluated who could keep one eye on him and one on their pig during the slightly chaotic promenade.
The judge wanted to see a “pig sandwich,” where the animal is always positioned between him and the handler. If the pig switched direction, its handler quickly shifted to the pig’s other side — without getting in anyone else’s way.
“They’ve got to be very attentive when they come into the ring,” said Kirkpatrick, who flew in from Oklahoma for the show.
The third-generation livestock judge has been overseeing contests for 30 years. He travels a couple of weekends a month, stealing time from his family farm duties because of his affection for the eager participants.
“I love working with the kids,” Kirkpatrick said. “I love the responsibility it teaches them.”
The animals at the Troy competition were grouped by breed and weight. Five or six at a time entered the ring with their owners as Kirkpatrick squatted, hands on knees like a baseball umpire. He squinted and stepped back, pulling a microphone from his pocket.
He spoke with the cadence of an auctioneer. To a first-time observer, the pigs look the same. But not to Kirkpatrick.
“She’s built for speed,” he said of one.
“I like her foot size,” he complimented another.
“She’s a big league one. She just hasn’t put it together yet,” he told the owner of an also-ran.
The class victors returned to compete for best in division. The division winners, all different breeds, participated in a “final grand drive” to become the show’s top gilt or barrow.
Jordan was up first, with Tammy.
Within a few minutes, Kirkpatrick delivered his decision.
“She overpowers the crew,” he said of Tammy. “She’s got a great set of running gears.”
Bailey’s Patty took first in her class, too. Later, the twins also triumphed with crossbreeds Sloan and Hayden.
But even with all the preparation and primping, the four pigs fell short in their divisions. No one could touch the premier gilt, a brown-and-white Spot that Kirkpatrick deemed “timeless.”
The Shields’ pigs returned to their trailer after one more hose-down from Bailey and Jordan. They chewed a little straw and nestled in for a rest, unfazed by the day’s results.
They are thick-skinned, after all.