Pigs in a blanket finish

Jeff Benson

Children anxiously bumped up and down on hay bales in anticipation of

Sunday’s second All-Alaskan Racing Pig tournament, their parents

quietly roasting in the sun at Pig Meadows. Then the catchy

pig-racing jamboree music droned out all the white noise.

In the air-conditioned pig trailer at the Orange County Fair, it

was a different story. All sorts of snorts and squeals and oinks and

grunts weren’t audible for anyone sitting beyond the first section,

but they were there.

Trust the handlers, the ruckus is always there.

“When the pigs hear the tape start up, they start to get geared,”

trainer Steve Seneca said. “They’re in there squealing, and they try

to jump out. And there’ve been a couple times where they have jumped

out. They’ll even cheat once in awhile and go to the front of the

trailer.”

Yes, even the pigs have found a way to beat the system lately. But

just what can inspire so much panic among a dozen swine that enjoy

relaxing all day in an air-conditioned trailer? Is it because they’re

Alaskan and can’t stand the California heat?

“It’s not the heat. They’re farm pigs, just like any other,”

Seneca said.

The trainer added that as much as the pigs adore the thousands of

raving kids sporting racing pig T-shirts, pink sweatshirts and fluffy

key chains, they’d never upset their fan base either.

The object of their affection lies in cookies. Ah yes, food, the

basis of survival. They all get to eat, and quite well of course --

but nothing beats the tantalizing texture of an animal cracker or

Oreo DoubleStuff cookie. And 3-1 racing odds are good enough to drive

a dozen lazy pigs around in a 50-meter circle, trampling their

brothers and sisters in pink piles of pork -- all for a snack high in

carbs. That’s life smack-dab in the middle of the food chain.

Darren Noll, 19, announces for the show that his father began 18

years ago in Fairbanks, Alaska. He and Seneca team up to do nine

fairs per year, from May to October up and down the West Coast.

“We love making people laugh,” Noll said. “That’s the thing. We

know we’ll draw maximum crowds every time we perform, and you’d be

surprised by how many people say they come to the fair just for the

pig races. It makes it all the more fun to do this job.”

Noll, who has been around carnival life since he was born and has

trained pigs since he was 10, already has a long career in the biz.

But the puttering porkers’ careers will be short-lived. The eight

“older” pigs will “retire” to Club Mud (an actual place, Noll said)

in Alaska after this season, each at the tender age of 4 months.

Taking their places, Seneca said, are four 5-week-old rookies who

debuted at the Orange County Fair only days ago.

The littlest piggies have a ways to go before gaining that

professional experience. They’re not supposed to pile into the same

starting gate like they did Sunday, and they’re not all supposed to

strut Deion Sanders-like down the backstretch after working so hard

to get there -- especially the leaders. Seneca said they most likely

haven’t appreciated the fine cookie cuisine enough to get it right.

Riverside resident Hanna Weaver, 9, said she appreciated each of

the pigs, and enough to volunteer to be a cheering-section leader for

her pig, “Ham Solo.”

“I picked him because everybody was cheering for him and because I

always eat ham,” she said. “The kids behind me didn’t cheer loud

enough.”

The kids didn’t scream loud enough for Westminster resident

Samantha Agamaite’s tastes, either. But the 9-year-old’s dad was

proud of her and let her take her picture with “Soapy Smith,” the

biggest pig and the trainer’s choice for “Most Photogenic.”

The All-Alaskan Pig Races are held at 1, 3, 5, 7 and 9 p.m.

Tuesday through Sunday near the Livestock Arena.

* JEFF BENSON is the news assistant and may be reached at (949)

574-4298 or by e-mail at jeff.benson@latimes.com.