Courtney's Chronicles
As county fairs are here, I find myself thinking about the livestock auctions. While many people look forward to the food, rides, entertainment and traditions that come with fair week, for hundreds of 4-H members, one event stands above the rest—the livestock auction. And if I'm being honest, I'm worried.
Over the past several years, I've watched the level of support at livestock auctions slowly decline. Fewer buyers. Fewer businesses. Fewer people showing up to invest in the young people who have spent months preparing for that one moment when they walk into the sale ring. The hardest part? The kids notice.
I don't think many adults realize just how much those young exhibitors pay attention. They notice when the seats are empty. They notice when businesses that once supported the auction are no longer there. They notice when bidding is slow and buyers are few. And as a parent, a former 4-H member and a fair board member, that reality is incredibly discouraging.
When I was growing up on our dairy farm, the livestock auction wasn't something we simply attended. It was one of the most important events of the entire year. I can still remember the coveted spotlight auction. The grand champion animals would be prepared for their big moment, and exhibitors would lead them into the arena under bright lights during an evening event that felt larger than life. Every 4-H member wanted the opportunity to participate at least once during their career. I know I did.
There was something special about it. It wasn't just about selling an animal. It was about seeing your hard work recognized. It was about representing your family, your project, and your years of dedication. The spotlight auction represented the very best of what 4-H stood for.
But before auction day ever arrived, there was another tradition in our house. The phone calls. My parents would hand my siblings and me a list of businesses they worked with through our dairy farm and tell us it was time to start making calls. Looking back, I realize my parents weren't simply asking us to seek support for our livestock projects. They were teaching us life skills. They were teaching us how to communicate and advocate for ourselves. How to respectfully ask for support. How to shake hands, make eye contact and represent ourselves well. The livestock project was never just about the animal. It was about developing young people. That remains true today.
The kids showing livestock in 2026 are learning the same lessons we learned years ago. They are getting up before school to feed animals. They are spending evenings in the barn while their friends are at the pool. They are balancing sports, jobs, family commitments and livestock responsibilities. They are learning accountability because animals depend on them every single day. They are learning perseverance when projects don't go as planned. They are learning financial responsibility through feed bills, supplies and recordkeeping. These are the very qualities employers tell us they are struggling to find.
Yet here is the uncomfortable question I keep coming back to: If we claim to care about the next generation, why aren't we showing up to support them? I know budgets are tight. I know businesses face challenges. I know every dollar matters. But I also know this: Many of the same businesses that proudly advertise their support of youth, community development and local agriculture are nowhere to be found when the livestock auction begins. That may sound harsh, but sometimes the truth is uncomfortable.
Supporting a livestock auction is one of the most direct investments a business can make in local youth. Unlike many donations, you can literally stand in the sale ring and watch the young person you're supporting. You can shake their hand. You can congratulate them. You can look them in the eye and tell them their hard work matters. What better investment is there?
Every year I hear people complain that young people don't work hard enough. Then fair week arrives, and some of the hardest-working young people in our county walk into the sale ring. The irony isn't lost on me. The kids are doing their part. The question is whether the rest of us are doing ours.
Because here's the reality: if support continues to decline, fewer families will be able to justify livestock projects. Fewer kids will gain the life lessons that 4-H provides. Fewer young people will have opportunities to learn the responsibility, work ethic, and leadership skills that come from caring for livestock. And that should concern every one of us.
I don't want my children growing up in a community where livestock auctions become an afterthought. I want them to know their community values hard work. I want them to see local businesses filling the seats and raising bidder numbers. I want them to understand that when a community says it supports youth, those aren't just words, they're actions.
So, here's my challenge. If you're a business owner, show up. If you've supported in the past, come back. If you've never purchased before, learn how. If you're a community member, attend the auction. Be present, bid if you're able and encourage the 4-H exhibitors. The future is walking into the sale ring. And if we aren't willing to support them now, then who will?