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Pig Tales

Luckily for me, I was able to take advantage of today’s balmy temperatures (upper 70s!) to continue my recent walking extravaganza. Even better, however, was my discovery that our pigs have survived the great culling – at least so far. Sadly, though, only one pig is frolicking in the field that’s close to the road.

Actually, we realized she was back yesterday, and we wondered if she’d been the only one to escape the butcher’s knife. But today we caught a glimpse of at least four or five of her compatriots in a field to the north of hers, frolicking with lambs and their mamas.

I cannot tell if this is my sweet #245 because the brass tag on her collar is too muddy to read. But she sure seemed happy to see us come into view. She tore across the field, not once but twice today to greet us with a vocal and vociferous “Hi! How the heck are you? Long time no see!”

Celebrating Her Return

The first time I saw her today, I was so thrilled and relieved to see her again that I gave her a couple of my organic dog treats. I definitely think she is #245, because her delight in seeing us was palpable, and she snarfed up the dog treats (ok, I gave her two) without a moment’s hesitation.

The second time around, though, I remembered to bring a carrot for her. Alas, I.M. Carrot went into the mulch pile several days ago, so I brought a wonderfully fresh, straight out of the refrigerator, organic carrot for my Piggety Pig.

As you can see from the top photo, she loved it. Indeed, after munching on it for a moment, she quickly ran away with it, as if making off with a prize that she wanted to hoard all to herself. Again, that’s not hard for her to accomplish since she’s the only one currently living in this particular field. Nevertheless, she was adorable in her zeal to eat that carrot with relish.

More Porcine Ponderings

Believe it or not, the delight we felt at both the return of my Piggety Pig and her absolutely thorough enjoyment of the carrot caused Karl and me to ponder:

“Do we feed the Pig? Or does the Pig feed us?”

We got a good chuckle out of our very Zen musing. (Don’t judge.) (And it actually is worth a ponder or two, if you think about it.)

As we said goodbye to Piggety Pig (aka #245) for the evening, we walked a bit further up the hill and caught sight of the rest of her kin playing and foraging in the distance. Prompted by the joy I felt in that moment, I did a quick bit of research. I’m sharing what I learned because it just seems like something we all should know:

“The name for a group of pigs depends on the animals’ ages. A group of young pigs is called a drift, drove, or litter. Groups of older pigs are called a sounder of swine, a team or passel of hogs or a singular of boars.”

So it gives me surreal satisfaction to surmise that our sounder of swine are safely ensconced and saved from the sadness of slaughter. So far so good (at least).

Making a getaway with the goods. Photo: L.Weikel

(T-963) P.S. It seems like we should be able to call them a passel of pigs, too – not just hogs. But what do I know?

Cuddle Pigs 29 March 19 – Photo: L.Weikel

Foiled!

I had a mission today. A mission that was foiled.

I was really looking forward today to bringing a most exclusive organic treat to the precious pigs that run across the field to greet us every day.

Back Story

Every once in a while I’ve shared an organic dog treat with my porcine brethren and sistren (is that even a word?). Remember, in Chinese astrology, I am an Earth Pig, also known as a Monastery Pig, so we have a bond. Even though I shouldn’t be, given their sweet and playful natures, I’ve been astounded by how gently these hefty creatures nibble the treat from my fingers.

Indeed, one in particular, “245,” was deemed by us to be the brightest of them all – because s/he would bound across the field when s/he saw us walking up the hill alongside their field. I was pretty sure s/he remembered the tiny dog treats I’d occasionally give her, although s/he also seemed to respond to my voice, which automatically and unconsciously immediately climbs three registers whenever I encounter babies, small children, or animals of any kind.

I’m referring to my favorite pig as “245” because that was the number embossed on the metal charm attached to her collar. I hadn’t yet discerned a name coming from her in our encounters. Indeed, I was focusing more on her face and didn’t think to check out the nether regions – and for that I apologize, since its causing me to vacillate on the whole gender pronoun thing in this post.

An Effort at Inter-Species Diplomacy

Today, though. Today was going to be special because I was going to bring I.M. Carrot, the Emissary from the Kingdom of Vegetable, and offer him to my sweet 245. It felt only fitting that the circle of life be played out before my eyes between my favorite organic carrot and my favorite piece of pork.

Ugh. Sorry.

I shudder at that. I do. I have not eaten pork in at least a decade – ever since I realized not only how smart pigs are but also that eating them lowers your vibration and thus should not be eaten before ‘doing my Work.’

And that is where my post is leading me. My cloven-footed friends did not bound across the field to greet me today, ears waggling and waving as they bounced toward the fence separating us. Not only didn’t they come to me – they were nowhere to be seen.

Instead, the door to their pen was ajar and there was what appeared to be a horse trailer parked beside it.

This makes me very sad. Indeed, Karl turned to me as we gazed at the empty field and said, “Uggggh. I hope they’re not being butchered for people’s Easter dinners.”

Butchered – What an Ugly Word

I know; I know. That’s what they were raised for; it is their particular mission in life to live happy lives foraging in an expansive open field, methodically (and quite efficiently) turning up the grass with their slightly upturned snouts to devour the grubs and worms lurking just under the greenery. And then, when the time is right, offering themselves as nourishment to be savored by us two-leggeds.

I understand. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Just in case, though, I’m going to bring I.M. Carrot with me tomorrow, too, on the off chance that maybe my friends just took a ride somewhere today. You know – an afternoon jaunt to view greener pastures.

I wish I had a photo to offer you here of 245 munching I.M. Carrot. That would’ve been epic. Giving diplomacy a whole new twist.

(T-969)