The pigs were great today. Emma was home with a cold so she went with me and babysat them while I worked on widening the path and making wreaths. I need a nice swath clear of multi-flora roses before I bring my cow back there. Since I got whapped a few years back, taking a thorn between two knuckles, sending a red line up my arm within hours I am a little paranoid of multi-flora roses. Didn’t help that while I was buying arm length rose-trimming gloves a nice lady stopped to tell me her husband had died – DIED! from a rose thorn infection.
The image of my dear Bonniebelle dragging me through a path of roses and killing me keeps me widening that path!
This morning I didn’t feed the pigs anything before we went into the backfield. The little dears were competing to see who could follow me best. We were quite the sight. Dory in the lead. Then me closely followed by the pigs, with Emma taking up the rear. When we got settled. me with my clippers, Emma sunning in white plastic Adirondack chair, the pigs happily poked and rooted around – perfect! Per has this know-it-all attitude now. He is so proud of himself when he comes when we call. His legs and length are so much longer than Abba’s he is always in the lead – which he is sure makes him my new favorite. Abba just about kills herself running to keep up, poor thing is going to be fit! Good thing she is for breeding not eating.
I sprinkled bits of fine cracked corn here and there – they had good fun finding it and digging it up. Emma did a good job checking on them and calling them in if they ventured too far. Made it easy for me to work.
After a while Emma headed back to the house, the pigs quickly decided to take advantage of being unattended and wandered off pretty far. I didn’t call them but stood watching the grass wave well over their heads as they meandered through the meadow. They weren’t eating at all, just enjoying their freedom. When I called they grunted and came running.
I got them back into their pen with no problems, giving them a quart of clabber and a little grain.
Poor Per will likely have a little surgery this afternoon. I picked up the ‘tools’ to castrate him.
I’ll let you know how that goes.