I held my breath. My eyes were clear and focused. My whole body was tense as a bowstring, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. On my right, Lindsey was sneaking along the pasture fence-line, stealthy as a lioness hunting her prey. Right in front of me, stood our quarry:
An 8 week old piglet escapee.
The little weaner was shivering and panting as it looked frantically for a way out. It only hesitated for a moment though — and then, without any warning, it suddenly perked up its ears and bolted.
Lindsey and I both leaped into action at the same time, but too late: the squealing little weaner pig dodged past Lindsey and then ran right between my legs!
I pivoted and dove towards it, and landed with a cloud of dust, but my fingers only brushed the end of the porker’s bristly tail as it sped on by.
It shot like a bullet through a gap in the fence and right into the goat pen…
We’d only had pigs for about a half an hour, and already things were NOT going smoothly.
Y’see, earlier that afternoon I’d met with a neighbor of ours — a family we regularly share our eggs with — to buy some piglets. Fifteen minutes and a handshake later, I was headed home with three beautiful little gilts.
Transporting them from our neighbor’s place to ours was a piece of cake. I just loaded the little squealers into our old blue dog kennel, threw it in the back of our truck, and life was good.
But when I got home and started looking at just how small the piglets actually were, I quickly realized that our makeshift cattle panel enclosure (the one I’d just finished building the day before) wasn’t going to work.
After a little grumbling, a few “dad-gummits“, and maybe even a “piece-o-junk” or two, our hastily constructed pig pen was hastily added upon (fastening sheets of leftover corrugated tin to the bottom of the panels) until it looked solid enough to hold just about anything.
Then, with my last-minute repairs finished, I reached into the dog kennel — which was standing on its end, with the door pointing straight up into the air to keep the pigs from scattering as I pulled them out one by one.
I picked up the first squealer and set her gently into her new home, and she calmed right down. I grabbed the second pig out of the kennel and was about to do the same, but then I hesitated…
Our 3 year old, who had been watching over my shoulder the whole time, was practically bursting with anticipation. I looked at her bright shining eyes and asked her if she wanted to pet the little weaner before I put it in the pen.
With a little trepidation and a whole lot of excitement, she ran over to me to meet her “new favorite” animal — and I called out to Lindsey:
“Hey Sweetheart, do you wanna take a picture of this?”
Lindsey looked dubiously at the propped-up dog kennel and asked if she should shut the door on it first. After all, there was still one more piglet left inside…
“No, don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s not gonna tip over.”
Just then, it tipped over — and for the next 10 minutes, Lindsey and I chased that dang little weaner pig all over creation!
But all’s well that ends well, right?
We eventually got the little piggy caught and deposited with her sisters, and the One Acre Lott is now the official home of three beautiful little bacon seeds — due for harvest sometime next spring.
Every day is an adventure around here, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!