Monday, October 03, 2005


Pig Story, with Goat Addendum

I want to pass on a story, call it a folktale, about a pig.

If seems that the New Homesteader (i.e., a tree-hugging amateur farmer) had gotten this little piggy, and now she was a sow so something had to be done. After all, the purpose of sows is to make more little piggys, isn't it? So he called the Old Farmer he bought her from.

(They always do. It is in the unwritten part of the contract.....)

Old Farmer explained that people may do it any time, but farm animals do it when their bodies are ready, and that's called "coming in to season", and that it doesn't take if the time isn't right, and other swinley facts.

The New Homesteader absorbed all the advice and one morning, when she reemcd to be acting a little hyper. he called the Old Farmer. The Old Farmer says to bring her to the boar.

The New Homesteader put her in his wheelbarrow and trundled her down the road.

She took one look at the boar and ran away screaming "I'm not that kind of girl!" (In pig, of course, but the body-language made the translation easy.) Nothing left but to put her in the wheelbarrow and trundle her back home again.

Next morning there was squealing from the pigsty, and she waa making little dashes back and forth, so there was another call and back in the wheelbarrow again. This time she let the boar do a little sniffing. but every time he'd try to mount she'd skitter out from under. The New Homesteader worried if she didn't have some kind of sexual maladjustment.

"Naw" says the Old Farmer, chewing on a straw for emphasis, "You can think she's in season, and I can think she's in season. but that don't mean a damn to her. She'll know when she is, and when she is she'll stand for the boar. Don't worry about it."

But that's eary to say and hard to do. The new Homesteader worried as he trundled her home in the barrow. and he worried during the day. and he warricd when he went out to the sty at dusk to tale a last look. She was his only sow, after all.

And he worried first thing he got up in the morning, so as soon as he was dressed he went out to the pig-sty.

As he walked in the dawn chill he heard the birds twittering in the trees.

He stopped.

Twittering? Bird noises?

Where were the pig-noises? He broke into a run.

"G-D, Almighty" he ejaculated.

The pen was empty! What happened? Where could she be?

Pig-nappers? He dashed back and rousted out the family and they searched everywhere.

Back and forth and in and out and around the barn and no sow.

Then one of the kids yelled from the front yard.

There was the sow, calmly sitting in the wheelbarrow.

That was the story as I heard it, more or less. I thought it was cute and that l'd have to use it one day when 1 didn't have anything real to write about.

Then there was this fellow from Seekonk way who wantcd his doe bred to one of our bucks.

He brought her over and she looked to be in season, but when the buck sniffed her she like to leaped out of the window. I said I thought she might have been coming out of reason. and that we'd have to try her again in 18 days or so.

I walked him out to his car and was surprised when he put the goat in his trunk! Well, we have a van that they can stand around in and sometimes just traveling in that will put them off season (gives them a headache, maybe) so I wasn't encouraged by the goat being locked up in the trunk.

But I could understand that since he was alone he didn't want her jumping in his lap while he was driving. I told Sally and then forgot about it.

Little less than three weeks later we got a call and over they came again. She wouldn't stand. She was a little calmer, though, so I figured she was just coming in to season, so I asked if he could bring her back the next day. and it was Sunday, so he could.

Sunday morning he brought her into the barn, and I let the buck loose and she stood and was bred - all in lest than a minute.

We let them fool around for a little until they bred again.

When Peter started sniffing for the third time it was clear she had lost interest So I put Peter back in his stall.

I walked them back to his car. As we got there he said "Funny. Every other time I've come over I've had to drag her to the car and stuff her in the trunk. This morning the jumped in by herself."

Thus does life imitate art.

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