I'm a chicken superintendent

My name is Mike Weland, and I'm an unrecovered volunteer.

I'm still not sure how it happens, or seems to happen so often.

Without the slightest bit of education or training, I am now the poultry superintendent for this year's Boundary County Fair, as I volunteered … again.

I should know better. When I was in high school, I was once convinced that I could referee an important basketball game between two teams of local elementary kids. I didn't know it, but a county title was on the line.

I'd watched a few games but had never made the team, but the people who needed a volunteer had no problem with that and assured me that I would do just fine.

I had absolutely no idea that a referee was important to the game until I blew the whistle in the fourth quarter and called an obscure foul I'd once heard at a game I'd previously attended, just because I thought it fit and it sounded cool. Too long in the lane or some such. Problem was, I wasn't entirely clear on what a lane was.

Down by one, the other team exulted. Up by one, the player I called the foul on immediately jumped in my face, and he was quickly joined by his team-mates, his coach and the parents in the stands.

I was quickly informed, just shy of physical abuse, what a complete and utter idiot I was. “Who is this bum?” was among the more polite admonitions.

I explained my way out of it by saying, “Hey! I'm just a volunteer!”

Few souls were assuaged.

Back to the fair. As part of my day job with the county, I have the privilege of working with fair board administrator Sandy Schnepf on occasion. She is wonderful, and it just feels good to me when I'm able to be of help to her.

I'm a sap.

During one of those recent occasions, she mentioned that no one had yet volunteered to fill the role of fair poultry superintendent, and, like an idiot, I mentioned that I'd just moved my first batch of chicken peeps from our spare bedroom, which they had by then destroyed, into their own enclave, which I'd taken much too long in building.

My wife is still working to clean up that mess, and doubting my ability as a raiser of birds.

No matter.

Sandy assured me I had the necessary qualifications to be a chicken supervisor … apparently all it involves is knowing what a poultry looks like. I doubted her sincerity, as I haven't had much luck supervising any one of my birds, but hey … I'm just a volunteer.

I said “ok.”

On Friday, she handed me a manila folder outlining my responsibilities as the supervisor of poultry. Having read the entire packet, I still don't know what I'm supposed to do beyond showing up at the appointed place at the right time.

I have no clue what I'll have to do should a chicken wander into the wrong lane and stay there too long. I don't know if I'm supposed to call a foul or a fowl.

I am grateful I haven't yet been issued a whistle.

I'm praying that the people whose fowl are being entered and judged will understand this, and accept my shortcomings. Even though I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing, I will give it my best, all the while praying, “please, please … don't let me mess up.”

Last week, I attended a meeting of the Paradise Valley Fire District, and amidst my wanderings I bumped into an old friend, district secretary Jennifer Watts, who used to work just down the hall. After the pleasantries, she innocently asked if I knew anyone capable of taking notes, as she was too busy to continue in her role.

“I get along well with everyone here,” she said, “but I've got so much going on I just can't give this job as much time as I need to.”

I am good at taking notes, even though my notes sometimes stir controversy. Though I should know better, I said, “I can take notes!”

A short while later district chair Orrin Everhart came over, and Jennifer happily informed him that I could take notes.

“You realize this is voluntary?” he asked.

Like an idiot, I said “yes.”

Then he said something I've known since I came to Boundary County two decades ago but never put into words … “If it weren't for volunteers, I don't think this community would continue to function, let alone thrive.”

My name is Mike Weland, and I'm an unrepentant volunteer, as I am proud to be part of this community … even though I'm not always perfect.

If you would like to help make this years' fair a success by being a volunteer, give Sandy a call, (208) 267-7041.