Last night after we came to a stopping point in the work on the greenhouse and had everybody fed and watered, we sat in the lawn chairs beside the garage looking at all the spring chores that still need to be done just in the back yard. Talking over finances with Little man splashing in mud puddles, we heard a slam. Before either of us could react, a streak of white ran snorting across the back yard and out towards the corn field. Sandwich had broken out the back wall of the shed and took off running. So much for relaxing before heading in for dinner.
Little man’s father got up, cursing and swearing and headed for the shed. Little man brought over two hammers while I grabbed the bucket of used nails and scrounged the pile of salvaged pallet wood so repairs could be made to the shed. All the while Sandwich tore around the house and down to the corn field and back again, thrilled to just run! When the simplest of repairs were made, I went to the garage to grab a bucket with some food leaving Little man’s father to finish the repairs.
I was able to walk right up to Sandwich; it was reassuring to see that he is no longer afraid of me. Not so encouraging was that he had absolutely no interest in my bucket or its contents. We made one lap around the house before Sandwich decided to join Zeb. I was a little surprised that the fence didn’t zap him as he went through it, but my concern now was that Zeb didn’t hurt him and getting him back into his shed. They chased each other around the pig pasture and managed not to hurt one another before Sandwich ran out through the fence again and headed into the corn field. I retreated to the car for something to use as a snare; I hate them, but there was still dinner and a bath for Little man before Mom could start her evening indoor chores.
I chased him up from the corn field, beside the barn and across the yard, back past Zeb’s pen and into the Christmas trees. Just as it looked like we were headed for another lap, Little man’s father stepped from behind the shed and Sandwich turned. He walked beside the shed, up the ramp and directly into his pen. It was good timing. Little man’s father shored up the walls with one more board to be sure he would be safe for the night and then we headed in for dinner only a little more than an hour after we had originally planned.
This morning, Sandwich was warm and snug in his shed. As I came back inside to finish getting ready for my off-farm job, the phone rang. It was early, that couldn’t be good. My neighbor just under a half mile up the road was calling to tell me that my pig was on her front lawn. ‘Is he white or black and white?’ After all, I just checked on Sandwich, he couldn’t have gotten that far, that fast. Zeb was out! I knew I should have checked that fence last night. Thankfully he went north toward my relatives and not south toward the swamp.
Little man’s father tore out of the driveway and up the hill, expletives trailing behind him. I sent a note to work telling them I would be late, woke up Little man, changed out of my work clothes and back into farm clothes and headed up the hill to catch my other pig. An hour later we had walked him back home. I then waded through ice-topped, knee-deep water with calf high boots to raise the bottom wire of the electric fence up out of that water. We checked and the electricity flowed well again. Little man’s father repaired the fence post which had been dislodged and I walked inside bare foot on a 30 degree morning since it was warmer than walking in ice water filled boots.
At work they laughed and asked if I got my workout and if I had fun - all but the part where Zeb lifted my not so light person and carried me ten feet down the road! This body is getting up there and I don’t bounce as well as I used to.
Little man’s father got up, cursing and swearing and headed for the shed. Little man brought over two hammers while I grabbed the bucket of used nails and scrounged the pile of salvaged pallet wood so repairs could be made to the shed. All the while Sandwich tore around the house and down to the corn field and back again, thrilled to just run! When the simplest of repairs were made, I went to the garage to grab a bucket with some food leaving Little man’s father to finish the repairs.
I was able to walk right up to Sandwich; it was reassuring to see that he is no longer afraid of me. Not so encouraging was that he had absolutely no interest in my bucket or its contents. We made one lap around the house before Sandwich decided to join Zeb. I was a little surprised that the fence didn’t zap him as he went through it, but my concern now was that Zeb didn’t hurt him and getting him back into his shed. They chased each other around the pig pasture and managed not to hurt one another before Sandwich ran out through the fence again and headed into the corn field. I retreated to the car for something to use as a snare; I hate them, but there was still dinner and a bath for Little man before Mom could start her evening indoor chores.
I chased him up from the corn field, beside the barn and across the yard, back past Zeb’s pen and into the Christmas trees. Just as it looked like we were headed for another lap, Little man’s father stepped from behind the shed and Sandwich turned. He walked beside the shed, up the ramp and directly into his pen. It was good timing. Little man’s father shored up the walls with one more board to be sure he would be safe for the night and then we headed in for dinner only a little more than an hour after we had originally planned.
This morning, Sandwich was warm and snug in his shed. As I came back inside to finish getting ready for my off-farm job, the phone rang. It was early, that couldn’t be good. My neighbor just under a half mile up the road was calling to tell me that my pig was on her front lawn. ‘Is he white or black and white?’ After all, I just checked on Sandwich, he couldn’t have gotten that far, that fast. Zeb was out! I knew I should have checked that fence last night. Thankfully he went north toward my relatives and not south toward the swamp.
Little man’s father tore out of the driveway and up the hill, expletives trailing behind him. I sent a note to work telling them I would be late, woke up Little man, changed out of my work clothes and back into farm clothes and headed up the hill to catch my other pig. An hour later we had walked him back home. I then waded through ice-topped, knee-deep water with calf high boots to raise the bottom wire of the electric fence up out of that water. We checked and the electricity flowed well again. Little man’s father repaired the fence post which had been dislodged and I walked inside bare foot on a 30 degree morning since it was warmer than walking in ice water filled boots.
At work they laughed and asked if I got my workout and if I had fun - all but the part where Zeb lifted my not so light person and carried me ten feet down the road! This body is getting up there and I don’t bounce as well as I used to.
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