The Three Little Pigs
Remember when I said we laugh at people who think living in the country with animals is peaceful and idyllic? Saturday brought home how right we are.
I’ve been eyeing up the pigs to see if they’ve grown enough to go outside and not slip through the fence. Tom and I reinforced the weak points with hog panels, I walked the fence and made sure there were no holes I hadn’t accounted for or places that had come unfastened. Then I released the Krakens. They promptly fell to eating nutritious things like purslane and clover smacking their lips so loudly you can clearly them on the video I took over the neighbor’s rooster and the birds. Everything is peachy.
When I went out later to see if Ginger was in labor and there were the three little pigs. In with the cows. Not where I had left them. Where they were not supposed to be. Escaped!
Hearing water gushing I found where they had performed their Houdini trick. They had jumped up on the waterer, shimmied under the board and wiggled their fat little piggy behinds on though. And in the process kicked the plug for the automatic waterer out so water had to run continuously to fill the reservoir. Which it would never do because the plug was out.
Fortunately they hadn’t been out long enough to forget where they had come through and two of them wiggled on back where they belonged. Not the third, he ran around in a panic, even though no one was chasing him. Too darn hot for that nonsense and greased or ungreased you cannot catch a pig. I finally got him worked over to the spot he needed to be and backed off far enough he felt safe shoving his round piggy body into a square hole.
Escape plot thwarted we reinforced our defenses with a bit of hog panel. Whoever invented hog panels must have actually had pigs. And they were found where they were not supposed to be. Probably more than once.
In other news: we’re waiting on Ginger to calve. She’s given us every sign she’s thinking about having a calf, just not actually done anything about it yet. She’s our last one to calve, after her we’ll sort out who’s going to be in with the bull so they’ll calve next year, in about nine months.
In the meantime we’re leaving the cows up close to the barn where it’s easy for me to check on them. Tom has graduated to a cane from a walker after his knee replacement two weeks ago but he is in no way walking out back over uneven ground to look for cows in the underbrush.
The cows have eaten what grass is available so we’ve fallen back on hay for them. But the Bobcat with it’s high step-up and twisting to get in the seat is 2 to 3 months away for Tom so I get to drive and deliver hay. Their feeder is in probably the worst spot for a novice Bobcat driver to maneuver. On the one side is the barn roof projecting out. On the other is the chicken coop roof and the coop itself. There’s a post, gate, fence and maybe a bit of livestock to work around, under or past. I managed Saturday with only a rub of the Bobcat tires on the shop doors (another obstacle) but I count it as a win since the doors and the shop itself are both still standing.
What unplanned things did you do this weekend? Candy