“Pigs!” Screamed Quinn, Henry and Phoebe at a pitch only children can reach. The pigs in the field looked up. “Piggies!” Quinn screamed again, and suddenly adorable black pigs were running toward us their floppy ears bouncing up and down. The black pigs against the green carpet of grass were quite a sight. We were all instantly enthralled. I pulled over and parked. The Lisas were certain this wasn’t the right house, but I wasn’t. I walked up to the door and knocked. A Reubenesque woman came to the door.
“I’m looking for Cascade Meadows?” I said as she peeked out the well-worn farmhouse door.
“Next door.” She said and pulled her head back in out of the freezing rain. I got the told-you-so look from the Lisas. Drat. The Lisas were right again. They went back to move the car while the kids ran giggling and skipping over as I walked the distance to the pale green house.
Soon Kirk was outside dressed for the weather. “If you guys were real farmers, you’d have boots on.” He laughed. I had boots in the car I thought silently but since no one else did I remained quiet. I was not the kid in the class who raised their hand and reminded the teacher no homework had been assigned.
Kirk picked up a 50lb. bag of grain and began calling “Here little piggies! Here little piggies!” as he walked out into a field. Big pigs, little pigs and pigs with enormous teats came from all directions to snack on the grain.
“Ahhhhs” came from everyone as the pigs gathered in the field around Kirk.
“Look Mama! We have that grain for the cows. We already have the kind of food they like.” Henry said, starting his sales campaign.
“They’re certainly not as big as the pigs at the fair.” My sister said approvingly. “And so engaging.”
“No.” Kirk said. “And some of these are four-years-old, so you know they are full grown.”
“Can you tell which are boys or girls when they’re young?” Quinn asked.
“Sure, it’s easy.” Kirk said squatting down to teach Quinn how to sex a piglet. Attentive, she was soon sexing all the pigs in effort to narrow down which ones we should take home with us. It seems this was her part in the multi-tiered campaign. Quinn who had expressed some concern about me taking on another animal had folded like a tent.
Kirk was very informative about his pigs. We discussed needing a health certificate to cross state lines and the sensibility of eating your own pig. We talked about the varying hair length their cold tolerance and breed standards.
“I just don’t think I could butcher my pig.” I said, although I am getting closer to understanding that if people don’t eat these breeds they will become extinct.
“Buying pork at the market is the same as plunging a knife into the side of this pig.” He said with hand gestures and drama. “I can kill my best friend on the farm. Sure I shed a tear while I’m doing it, but I know the animal had a completely happy life and until the moment I put a bullet in it’s head it has lived a good day. There is no trauma, no fear. It’s just been doing piggy things like eating and being with family until the end. I feel honored to eat it and have it become a part of me.” I glanced over at Awesomez. I could see by the look on her face, this logic was not sitting well with her. The kids while listening to this were distracted to a degree happily scratching pigs right and left. Smiles never leaving their faces they cooed to their new friends.
“Now, I’ve heard horror stories about pigs attacking dogs and kids, but I know you have a young daughter. Do you worry?” I asked thinking of Alfred the Awful and Maryruth’s stern warnings regarding swine purchases.
“I really don’t. Certainly you want to handle any animal with respect, but these pigs don’t eat the chickens. Many breeds would kill them, but these don’t. They’re pretty gentle it’s been bred out of them. They eat whatever, but they only eat dead things. I’ve never seen any of my pigs kill anything. They forage for most of their food. Just need some shelter from the weather some grain if they’re nursing.
“They’re easy keepers.” My sister said.
“Exactly! They’re easy keepers.” Kirk agreed readily.
“I’m an easy keeper.” My sister said shrugging her shoulders as Kirk fell victim to my sister’s wit.
“I’m an easy keeper too.” Kirk agreed.
They yammered on about frequency of breeding seasons as I meandered over to where Henry was petting Abbey. She’d rolled over on her side so he could really pet her. She was engorged her teats enormous. I wondered if he was just feeling her up in some prepubescent way. As I got closer I could see he was shaking her while singing, “My milkshake brings all the hogs to the yard…” I walked on. Boys.
“Denise did you hear what Henry is singing?” Quinn demanded. I nodded as I turned toward Lisa. She stood silently in what was alternating between frozen rain and hail doing her best drown rat impression. Cheerily enduring the muddy farm. Truly a good sport I thought as I don’t think there is a drop of farm girl in her. It was more than obvious she didn’t want to cuddle the wet hairy pigs, but she earned my eternal devotion when she succumbed to the kids begging and pleading. The mother of three couldn’t say no. She walked over slowly, as I watched giggling to myself knowing a week ago Lisa, now Awesomez, never thought she’d be standing in mud on a pig farm petting a Guinea Hog, rare or not. I am convinced this visit marks more than one experience as a first. Dare I say she liked them all? Her beaming smile seemed to indicate she was having a good time despite her hesitancy.
It was just about this time Nubians showed up to see what was going on. Each goat followed the next sneaking under a gap in the fence determined to get some of the leftover grain. The pigs, on the other hand, having licked the bowls fairly clean, decided enough was enough. Grain or no grain they were going to seek shelter. So off they trotted with the girls skipping along behind them. Henry by now had a favorite pig. A little boy he kept picking up. I know he kept picking him up because each time he did, the baby boy pig would initially squeal. Lisa said the first thing you learn about treating pigs is the essential equipment: earplugs.
Soon, the baby pig was getting used to Henry and letting himself be handled and snuggled and cuddled and kissed while the mamas, Abbey and I, kept a close eye on the action.
The begging began to intensify as the three experienced lobbyists sat in the mud with the piglets. I held the line. It just wasn’t the time to get a pig I kept repeating in my mind trying to resist them and their charms. I had to concentrate on the reasons I wasn’t here to get a pig today. There are so many considerations like constructing the fence and gate, readying the barn, which I admit, is a small factor. Then there’s the money issue and the fact we’re leaving for Montana very soon, the goslings are coming and I need to figure out what to do with the pterodactyls, Cleveland and Alfred, Ruthie and Matilda so I held the line. Oh, I wavered as anyone who knows me knows. But much to everyone’s surprise I held firm, even when Lord Awesomez generously offered to sponsor the pig and its grain. I couldn’t wait to get in the car; I was ready to buckle at any moment.
The once happy faces of the three little cherubs were now full of loss and despair as they walked the last steps to the car their hopes dashed. Henry clutched baby boy pig almost in tears. “But Mama, he’ll be gone and taken to some butcher.” Henry said in a low tone the pig snuggled up in his arms as he spoke.
“And just before they cut his throat he’ll think of the Millers.” Quinn interjected. Great she’s a bundle of fun that one.
“Deniiiiiise why did you bring us?” Phoebe moped. “You should have bonded more with the pigs,” she lamented.
“Kids, I didn’t mean to upset you I thought you’d love this, I wanted us to have fun. I told you we weren’t getting a pig today. Maybe we shouldn’t have come. I just wanted to make sure we really wanted a pig at all and if we did if this was the right breed for us. I think it definitely is and so do your mom and Lisa, but I just can’t get the pigs right now. I want to be ready.” I explained logically knowing I could snap in a moment. I had to get out of there fast. I was starting to have thoughts of going to PetCo™ to get a carrier. “Kirk said they were going to have another litter this summer and we could get an even younger pig. We’ll have everything ready and it’ll be right.” I said with conviction.
“But he was my soul pig” Henry mourned. His soul pig? Stop. The Lisas looked at me. Three mothers knew there was only one thing to do. “Will I find another soul pig”? Henry continued moaning. We drove off and headed right for “Basketball Robins” (Baskin Robins™) where a scoop of chocolate ice cream or rainbow sherbet (if you’ve given up chocolate for Lent) in a waffle cone can still right the world once again.
