Oh, never mind. I'm simply not feeling creative enough for that sort of nonsense. Let me just tell you like it is. Pigs lie. Remember that.
Darling had Beamer trotting. Finally! Only 2 days from showtime, but it was enough. Like everything else, once Beamer knows how to do something, she does it. And honestly, she knew how to trot, she simply had refused up until Thursday. But on that day, she became a trotting fool; let's trot here, let's trot there, trot trot trot trot trot. And all was good.
Both yearling's had their brands shaved. Dave (Sandy's new owner) stopped by to trim their little footsies. Those little last minute training touches on Friday evening were being applied, but other than that, they were as done as they were going to get.
And then? I decided there was just enough time to go get the pig.
At the fair in August we'd committed to buying a pig from an FFA student. He'd agreed to keep the pig until we got back from Oregon. But when we came home, we simply didn't have time to run over and get him. After all, we'd just adopted Lefty, so Darling & I were back on the road almost immediately. Then I got kicked. Then the Cascade Horse Fair. Then...well, the YAY show. But hey, it's been a long time! And we need to pick up the pig. So off Darling and I went.
Off we went to pick up the pig.
The black and white hog loaded easily into the horse trailer. On the way home, we stopped to top off the tank of gas so that we'd not need to do it in the morning. The pig sat silently in the trailer. Not an oink or a grunt or a squeal. We drove the rest of the way home, and I'm assuming the pig was just as silent the remainder of the journey.
Upon backing the trailer up to the pig's new corral (four round pen panels had been set up by City Boy earlier in the day), we opened the doors to find the pig quite content, laying down in the bit of hay that the horses had left behind after their last ride. He looked up at us and grunted, but did not move.
I climbed in with the pig and urged him forward, and he walked to the edge of the trailer where he looked out...then down. "I can't step down there," he grunted, and promptly turned around and headed to the front of the trailer where he again laid himself down with a soft thud.
I explained to Mr. Snavely (as I began calling him...his former owner's last name was such and it seemed to suit him) that he must exit the horse trailer as it was now dark and I had horses to load in the morning, at 6:30 to be precise, and I could not bring a pig with me to the horse show.
Mr. Snavely wasn't terribly obliging. We coaxed with grain and cucumbers from the garden, and placed the wooden trail bridge at the edge of the horse trailer in hopes of Mr. Snavely deciding it was safe to step onto it. Mr. Snavely did not. Though he did rather enjoy chewing on the wood.
For an hour my son and I stood out there, talking, pushing, prodding, coaxing, cooing and bribing. But Mr. Snavely firmly refused to exit the horse trailer. I got behind him and began pushing, and Mr. Snavely moved towards the edge, but as soon as he saw the step he plunked down with a thud and refused to move.
We gave up. City Boy was at work, and wouldn't return until 7 am. I'd simply get a late start in the morning.
Before City Boy arrived home the following morning, I decided to grab a long rope and wrap it around Mr. Snavely's mid section, behind his elbows, and attempted to pull him out.
Which is when Mr. Snavely promptly told the entire neighborhood that someone was being murdered...skinned alive!...in my backyard. You've heard the expression 'Squeal like a pig'? Well, let me tell you, this pig tells lies. Mr. Snavely fought and squealed and screamed and cried loud enough to wake the dead...and then some. After five seconds I gave up. Half the neighborhood had already called 911 thanks to that pig. Rope still around his middle, Mr. Snavely promptly laid back down when the pulling stopped, and there he waited until City Boy made it home. And then? City Boy walked to the back of the trailer, picked up the end of the rope, gave one big heave, and before Mr. Snavely could get half a lie out of those thin pig lips of his, he was out of the trailer and laying on his side on the ground.
He looked around, blinking his eyes, gave a small grunt and began eating the grass that was now beneath his feet as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Forty-five minutes late, two yearlings were loaded into a trailer that smelled much like a pig and off down the road we went. And Mr. Snavely? Trust me...that pig is coming for dinner.
Both yearling's had their brands shaved. Dave (Sandy's new owner) stopped by to trim their little footsies. Those little last minute training touches on Friday evening were being applied, but other than that, they were as done as they were going to get.
And then? I decided there was just enough time to go get the pig.
At the fair in August we'd committed to buying a pig from an FFA student. He'd agreed to keep the pig until we got back from Oregon. But when we came home, we simply didn't have time to run over and get him. After all, we'd just adopted Lefty, so Darling & I were back on the road almost immediately. Then I got kicked. Then the Cascade Horse Fair. Then...well, the YAY show. But hey, it's been a long time! And we need to pick up the pig. So off Darling and I went.
Off we went to pick up the pig.
The black and white hog loaded easily into the horse trailer. On the way home, we stopped to top off the tank of gas so that we'd not need to do it in the morning. The pig sat silently in the trailer. Not an oink or a grunt or a squeal. We drove the rest of the way home, and I'm assuming the pig was just as silent the remainder of the journey.
Upon backing the trailer up to the pig's new corral (four round pen panels had been set up by City Boy earlier in the day), we opened the doors to find the pig quite content, laying down in the bit of hay that the horses had left behind after their last ride. He looked up at us and grunted, but did not move.
I climbed in with the pig and urged him forward, and he walked to the edge of the trailer where he looked out...then down. "I can't step down there," he grunted, and promptly turned around and headed to the front of the trailer where he again laid himself down with a soft thud.
I explained to Mr. Snavely (as I began calling him...his former owner's last name was such and it seemed to suit him) that he must exit the horse trailer as it was now dark and I had horses to load in the morning, at 6:30 to be precise, and I could not bring a pig with me to the horse show.
Mr. Snavely wasn't terribly obliging. We coaxed with grain and cucumbers from the garden, and placed the wooden trail bridge at the edge of the horse trailer in hopes of Mr. Snavely deciding it was safe to step onto it. Mr. Snavely did not. Though he did rather enjoy chewing on the wood.
For an hour my son and I stood out there, talking, pushing, prodding, coaxing, cooing and bribing. But Mr. Snavely firmly refused to exit the horse trailer. I got behind him and began pushing, and Mr. Snavely moved towards the edge, but as soon as he saw the step he plunked down with a thud and refused to move.
We gave up. City Boy was at work, and wouldn't return until 7 am. I'd simply get a late start in the morning.
Before City Boy arrived home the following morning, I decided to grab a long rope and wrap it around Mr. Snavely's mid section, behind his elbows, and attempted to pull him out.
Which is when Mr. Snavely promptly told the entire neighborhood that someone was being murdered...skinned alive!...in my backyard. You've heard the expression 'Squeal like a pig'? Well, let me tell you, this pig tells lies. Mr. Snavely fought and squealed and screamed and cried loud enough to wake the dead...and then some. After five seconds I gave up. Half the neighborhood had already called 911 thanks to that pig. Rope still around his middle, Mr. Snavely promptly laid back down when the pulling stopped, and there he waited until City Boy made it home. And then? City Boy walked to the back of the trailer, picked up the end of the rope, gave one big heave, and before Mr. Snavely could get half a lie out of those thin pig lips of his, he was out of the trailer and laying on his side on the ground.
He looked around, blinking his eyes, gave a small grunt and began eating the grass that was now beneath his feet as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Forty-five minutes late, two yearlings were loaded into a trailer that smelled much like a pig and off down the road we went. And Mr. Snavely? Trust me...that pig is coming for dinner.
10 comments:
Bested by a pig! How will you live it down!
It's a good thing the yearlings loaded with that pig smell in there; horses don't seem to like pigs much.
Looking forward to Darling's show photos.
Haha! I was thinking the same thing as Shirley while I was reading this. "Sure do hope the yearlings will load with that strange pig smell inside the trailer" Glad you got him out finally. Looking forward to hearing about the show.
That is hilarious! I'm sure City Boy was wondering what all the fuss was about. Save me some thick-sliced bacon.
Ha ha ha, I have worked with pigs a lot and Mr Snavely sounds pretty much par for the course. They crack me up how it's all "murder!" one minute and next they have completely got over it. I once sat down on a chair with a tiny new pet pig on my lap and a book and a drink to wait out her screaming, so that she would get used to being picked up and held without having a tantrum. An hour later, with ringing ears, I gave up. :)
Bacon for everyone!
Tina, that is too funny. I love pigs. Wish people could 'get over it' as quickly as Mr Snavely!
Too funny! Pigs are horrible loaders and unloaders, I think they just do exactly opposite of what we want!
I agree, this sounds like pretty typical pig antics. Mules got nothin on pigs in the stubborn department and from the itty bitty-est oinker right up to the biggest hogzilla on record they can ALL kick up a noisy ruckus that can be heard for miles! Thank goodness getting him where he belongs is done and over!
~~JennyB, Horsefeathers
At least you desensitized your horses to the pig smell. I would definitely have been thinking "bacon" after all that.
You are right about horses and pigs. :) We bought a wise old rodeo horse and were warned that he would be hard to catch in a big paddock, but our paddock ran alongside the free range paddock of the pig breeder next door. That old horse would be waiting at the gate any time you wanted to catch him (with his eyes bugging out) and by the time he got over the pigs, he had learned being caught by us was ok because it meant carrots and not too much work.
LOL! And you thought mustangs were a training challenge. What a ham! Great story, well told!
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