ALTAMONT — A gaggle of 4-H kids tend to their goats early Tuesday morning. The gates have not officially opened for the first day of the Altamont Fair, and a steady rain falls outside, making the muddied roadways even slicker.

But the mood inside the barn is one of warmth and excitement. Superintendent and 4-H leader Sue Dionne is strewing golden wood shavings over the puddles on a well-worn path between the barn and the competition ring.

Fourteen-year-old Laurel Ticer is scrubbing the hooves of her goat, a Lamancha named Baby Buggy. “Her mom’s name was Buggy,” she explains.

Laurel, who lives in Ravena, saw one of her mother’s friends show a goat and decided it would be fun. Laurel says it takes her just five minutes to milk a goat.

As her goat nibbles on an onlooker’s leather backpack, Laurel smiles and gently pushes Baby Buggy’s head away. “She’s like a 3-year-old that never grows up,” Laurel says. “Goats put everything in their mouths.”

John Giarrusso is shaving the white chest of his goat, a Saanen named Eme. Asked the goat’s gender, he says, “There are no bucks here. They are all does. That’s for safety. Bucks can be stinky and dangerous.”

When John, who is 12, was younger, he went to the fair and saw goats. He liked them — a lot. “So when my eighth birthday came, I told my parents, I didn’t want a party or anything else. I wanted a goat.”

John now has 25 goats, he said. He also has pigs and 65 chickens at his Westerlo home. “My parents help me,” he said of caring for the animals.

Kate Augar, who lives near Clarksville, is 13 and says she has three horses, a pot-bellied pig, and chickens. Her goat, also a Lamancha, is named Goldie for its color. Lamanchas are the only breed of goat developed in America, descendents of the Spanish LaMancha goats.

“She doesn’t like going in mud,” Kate says of Goldie. “She’s a princess. She’s always got to have her own grain bin.”

When the kids are asked what’s the hardest part of raising their animals, none of them complain about the constancy of chores.

Kate says in a suddenly serious tone, “It’s going to be really hard if you have to put one down. You have to prepare yourself.”

In an equally solemn tone, John quietly chimes in, “I lost a goat this year. She hung herself in the hay rack. She was just four months old.”

After a moment of silence, he goes on about his animals, “I’m attached to all of them. It’s just what happens when you have a farm,” he says of animal deaths. “Like with humans, you just can’t prevent it sometimes.”

As their time to enter the ring approaches, the kids say they’re not nervous.

“I want to do better than last year,” says John. He notes that the winning goat will be “the one that looks best and is easiest to handle.”

“I hope I do good,” says Kate, sharing that her goal is to one day be master of show. “You have to show goats, rabbits, sheep, cows, and chickens,” she says. Kate adds that she gets attached to all her animals.

The judge

As the kids change into all-white apparel and make the finishing touches in goat grooming, judge Karen Smith is already in the ring.

A slender woman, with a friendly manner, she has cajoled a fourth participant, Brian Graham, to joining the senior class that had had just three women.

“I’m a gypsy at heart,” Smith tells The Enterprise. She lives in Tennessee and has traveled all over the country, to every state but Hawaii,  judging goat shows.

She’s licensed with the American Dairy Goat Association and has been judging for 15 years. Smith is also a linear appraiser, traveling to farms to score their goats; a perfect score is 100.

From her judging position at the center of the ring, she also serves as a teacher. “I love working with kids,” she says. “I talk to them, try to get them to relax. You spend so much time and money to raise goats, this should be a fun thing.”

The sound of bleating sheep from the nearby barn is louder than Smith’s precise directions to those competing in the ring.

The metal bleachers are filling with kids dressed in white, many of them hugging or petting their goats. Thomas Wheeler, a boy with wide brown eyes sits in the first row, watching the competition in the ring while his arms are wrapped around his goat. “Her real name is Honey but I call her Esther … in memory of my departed sister. She was just a baby,” he says.

As the adult showmanship class ends, Smith hands out the ribbons, offering a positive evaluation of each competitor’s work in the ring. Brian Graham, whom Smith had recruited at the last minute, takes the top prize, the blue ribbon.

“Brian showed the most skill so I could see the best part of the goat,” Smith announces.

Of the woman who came in last, Smith says, “She smiled through the whole thing.”

As Graham leaves the ring, Smith calls out playfully, “Brian, I get half that money.” She adds, “It’s supposed to be fun.”

The competition

The next competition sees Laurel usher Baby Buggy in to the ring as Kate escorts Goldie, and 13-year-old Peyton Graham — Brian’s niece, from Chenango County — walks with her goat, Eugenia, into the ring.

“What did you do to get her ready?” Smith asks Laurel as she shows her goat’s hooves.

Smith lifts the tail of another goat and notes, “It’s important to have her neat and clean.”

“Where are her withers?” Smith asks as Kate strokes the highest point of Goldie’s back.

“Where is her hock?” Smith asks as the place on the goat’s hind legs where a knee would be if it were facing the other way is pointed out.

Smith then has the girls walk with their goats in various formations, sometimes close together in pairs.

At the end of each exercise, the girls stand beside their goats, setting them into perfect, or near-perfect posture.

“When you set up a goat, you set up the legs closest to the judge first,” Smith advises.

In the end, Peyton is awarded the blue ribbon as Smith pronounces she was “most correct in moving that goat around.”

Kate is awarded the red ribbon for second place and Laurel is third.

All three girls leave the ring with smiles lighting their faces.