Biggar is a small market town in South Lanarkshire, Scotland. Surrounded by the rolling green hills of the Southern Uplands and situated between the rivers Clyde and Tweed, it is bisected by the main route leading from Edinburgh to Carlisle and England in the south, thus it has long held a value of strategic importance. This is hill farming country, and in common with many such rural market towns holds an annual country fayre consisting of livestock shows, horse riding competitions, agricultural machinery displays ranging from vintage tractors to the latest GPS and Internet connected monstrosities, and of course dancing, food and the customary beer tent.

It was overcast and smirring when I left home. Smir is that fine rain that can lead the unwary into a false sense of security, it hangs in the air yet still manages to soak everything by stealth just as much as the heaviest downpour. After a short drive the car was parked, and I was in the fields on the edge of town where the event was taking place. I was greeted by organised chaos – farming vehicles of all shapes and sizes manoeuvring around the stalls and pens to offload their cargo of sheep and cattle. The first judgings were scheduled to start at 09:30, there was no way that was going to happen. However, someone knew what they were doing and as the deadline approached the vehicles all dispersed in an organised manner, livestock safely unloaded. Until then I had plenty of time to wander around and watch as the animals were prepared for the day ahead. A last-minute brush of the hair, bottoms washed and scrubbed, and a substantial amount of hay thrown around for feed and bedding.

At these events I usually like to concentrate on the Texel sheep. These are stocky, powerful beasts with a mind of their own, and occasionally drag their handlers around the judging pen which makes for great photography. However today I had to spready myself thinly, there were simply too many simultaneous judgings taking place over the dozen or so pens and rings. Various breeds of sheep and cattle, either as single specimens or family units (mum, dad and junior) all herded in similar fashion, then poked and examined until the judge indicates their chosen rosette recipient with a tap of the crook. Very few words are spoken here, most communication is done through a nod of the head and a tap with a crook.

Although the programme of events was scheduled to last late into the night, the livestock competitions were over by lunchtime, and that was the end of the day for me. Constant kneeling, bending, and running had taken its toll on both me and my clothes and it was time to go home. Hopefully the weather will be better the following weekend when we do it all again at the Carnwath show.