This morning started off beautifully. After morning chores I decided to venture into the backfield with Abba and Per. Still not quite ready to take Bonnie. I took along a dish of corn, a hand saw, scissors, and the nippers. I could not find Dory so she missed out. (Later found that she took advantage of the bantams having a day to free range, went into their pen, and ate their pellets.)
The second the pigs’ pen was open they took off with squeals of delight. Headed straight to the barn. With a little coaxing, (read a trail of corn), they followed me to the backfield. I was so proud of Per. I didn’t take the leash along and he was right next to me the whole way. Once we got going they didn’t even stop.
When I started making wreaths they wandered a bit. Then they found a nice spot to root around. Small rotted logs. I kept glancing at them to make sure they didn’t go far. They didn’t. Until I got busy untangling a particularly large mess of vines and dead branches. By the time I glanced up for them again they were gone. Not far I supposed.
I finished off a wreath and then went looking for them.
Nothing. Not a grunt or a rustling bush to be found.
My first thought was that they must have gone back to the barn. I walked back to the bottom of the pasture and stood. Called them, watched the barn area for quite awhile and decided to go back and look for them in the woods. Our property is only one hundred feet wide, so though we are almost four acres it doesn’t take many steps for one of our creatures to find a neighbor.
I walked back up the path to the backfield, stopping every few minutes to call them and listen. No pigs. I walked back towards the pasture. Eyeing the ground. Wondering if I could track a pig. My dad is quite a hunter – surely I could track a domestic pig or two. The next muddy spot was riddled with footprints. Deer, mine, and the pigs. Tiny cloven hoofs, not too deep. Headed to the backfield. And headed back to the pasture. We hadn’t been out since Wednesday so they must have gone back to the field and barn.
I collected my tools, hat, and gloves, and the two wreaths I had made and headed back to the barn. No pigs. Not in their pen. Not in the cows pen. Not in their favorite spot to till – the pile of poop in front of the barn. I called them. Per answered.
From the manure shed on the other side of the barnyard. He ran to me, I knelt down to pet him, was barreled over by an overjoyed-to-see-the-missus Dory. Then along came Abba from under the horse trailer. With just two hands I tried to greet all three critters fairly. Pretty soon Abba was distracted by bits of pumpkin and Per was distracted by his new find – the manure shed. Pig heaven. He was as happy as could be, happy as pig in …. oh well. How crudely said but, yes it is another old saying that is absolutely true. Those darn pigs chose to leave a couple acres of dirt and greens and weeds for a pile o’poop.
Following up: We never got away over the weekend- we were to meet up with my siblings but one of them had a minor crisis so couldn’t go. He is okay- ish. Instead we had a nice weekend here, the weather couldn’t be better. Even got in one more trip on the boat on Sunday. Water was a bit rough but what a nice ride.
And.. my doctor’s appt re my face was okay. The docs are not going to operate. Perhaps sooner or later a nerve will have to be killed but it seems that this face/tooth problem is something I am going to have to live with. And can.