A few years back, I took one of my sons to the Georgia State Fair.

On a Monday afternoon in the midway, he plopped down 50 cents to steal a glance at the "World's Smallest Woman." She was 29 inches tall and wore a size 2 shoe.

For another 50 cents, on the same midway, was a "Giant Killer Rat." If there is truth in advertising, this mutant rodent was supposed to weigh 100 pounds.

I didn't think it was a good idea for my young son to observe Mickey Mouse on steroids, so I drew a line in the sawdust.

Then again, that's the wonderful thing about the fair. There is stuff you don't see every day. There are foods you don't usually eat and smells that don't normally shimmy up your nose.

In Macon, we've been doing this for 150 years now. The Georgia State Fair is the oldest in the state, and our Granddaddy is celebrating a milestone birthday in Central City Park this week.

The first fair in Macon was held in 1851 at the old fairgrounds just south of Seventh Street in old Camp Oglethorpe. It was about a half-mile west of where the fair is now.

I've often wondered what that first fair might have been like. After all, the Ferris wheel hadn't been invented. Cotton candy didn't come along for another 50 years.

Fairs back in those days were almost totally consumed with agricultural exhibits. You went to see who had grown the biggest turnip and check out the girth on the pigs.

Obviously, Macon was a much different place back then. The census listed the population at 5,763. In 1851, the mayor announced all the city's debts had been paid. He said Macon could expect a prosperous year financially and not be "embarrassed." (Incidentally, the mayor's name was George Logan, not C. George Logan.)

The crowds at the 1851 fair were estimated at 6,000 to 10,000. It probably could have been more had the good folks at the Macon Exchange Club been around to sell tickets and count heads.

Some of the main attractions were ducks and chickens from India, partridges from California, geese from Egypt and polecats from Lizella. (OK, I made up the part about the polecats.)

There were collections of grains and fruits and, according to The Telegraph, three splendid steam engines on display.

"The concourse of visitors is not only immense," the newspaper reported, "but the array of articles on exhibition will astonish the most sanguine."

I have always been known for my sanguinity.

What really grabbed my attention was a story about a horse with no hair. Who needs a giant killer rat when you can view a horse with a head like Erk Russell?

According to The Telegraph, the animal was "an extraordinary specimen in the way of horse flesh, which was brought to town by some Yankee showman and exhibited to the sovereigns at 25 cents per head. This singular animal is said to have been captured on the plains of Venezuela by a party of American hunters, headed by the well-known traveler, Juan Perty and Capt. Hall. It is 15 hands high, of great beauty and symmetry, and without one particle of hair on any part of the body. The skin resembles India-rubber, and is almost as soft as velvet."

The owner reportedly intended to stay south for the winter, since the poor beast had no coat.

Ah, that's what I like about the fair.

It's a horse of a different complexion.