A Pig Tale

Last night I went out to the pig field to slop the boys and make sure they had enough water in their "wallow" to get some relief from the heat. It was almost 100 yesterday, just ghastly hot. The boys have igloos on concrete in the shade, and a room adjacent to the barn where they can dig down into the cool earth, I like them to have some wetness to cool their piggy skin. I called PIG-PIG-PIG-PIG but only two boys came running out to get their goodies, which includes a pan of sweet feed - something they adore. Uh-oh. Where is Winken, the biggest of the three? I expected to find a piggy carcass, keeled over from the heat, or something he ate from digging in the ground, or other. Farm life has taught me to hope for the best and expect the worst. Once the two present pigs were chowing down on their slop, faces buried and grunting with delight, I climbed over the fence to look around. No Winken. I walked the Poor White Fenceline, hastily put together myself two years ago when I needed to seperate a ram from the ewes immediately. Then I heard another happy grunting coming from the high weeds on the other side of the fence. There he was, digging up the soft loam and eating whatever roots and goodies he could find there. He hardly noticed me until I poured a little sweetfeed inside the fence at the spot where I suspected he pushed through. My plan worked and he tried pushing back under a metal fence panel while I pulled it up. To my dismay he got caught on some old barbed wire (a job I have always put off - rolling up nasty old rusty barbed wire)and ran back to the hole he was digging. Must have been something good under there. Now it's hot and the sweat is streaming off my face, and I'm thinking okay, there's a cistern in the ground over there where he can get water and he can just stay where he is. I didn't know how I was going to tell Matt, who is very attached to these pigs (lots of ham and bacon on the hoof here), when I saw him in the driveway. Could you give me a hand, I called. He climbed over, casting a critical eye at the feed and slop pans, looking to see if I was feeding the piggies properly. Fortunately, they were full to the brim with the two happy pigs enjoying their dinner, and I had already fed Matt his own dinner which is very helpful when requesting any type of farm labor. I left Matt to deal with the pig debacle while I went about my other chores. He appeared a while later, not looking too worse for wear. How did you get him in, I asked. Oh, no problem at all. I really thing Matt and those pigs have an understanding - a mutual respect perhaps. I was able to go inside and go about my business. I suspect there might be another escape if the plants and roots are that delectable on the other side of the fence. They have grass and weed to dig up inside their own living area but we know "the grass is always greener..."