Pigs.

Walking the livestock barns is like going back in time; the scene is likely unchanged in fifty years or more. Tethered cows being milked, sheep being clipped and groomed, pigs grumbling and snuffling and scrapping with one another, teenage boys and girls sleeping in folding chairs or on bales of hay, and the cacophony of bawling lambs, goats, and calves. Understanding my limitations, I won't attempt to describe the smells.

From 2004, under a red-striped judging-ring tent, girls leading pigs. (Hmmm... girls leading pigs. There's a metaphor lurking in there somewhere.)