It's Showtime!

Early in the summer our stock barn became home to two new babies.  The little grandsons had decided to try their hand at showing pigs.  So with great pride they brought home Famous and Cruse, and ensconced them in the stall at the end of the barn.  We all trooped down to view these latest additions to our farm family.  We were all enchanted with the little fellows with their continual curiousity about everything and anything.  With little grunts of excitement they would crowd up to their fence to greet the kids and dogs that wandered into their section of the world.  It didn't take long before they had figured out that humans doled out scrumptous food and delightful scratches.                 


They spent their days contentedly stretched out with fans and a mister blowing cool moist breezes over their pen.  When they were bored they occupied their time rooting up the clean, creamy wood shavings in their stall.  To prevent them creating a mud hole the kids found a couple of old bowling balls for them to play with.  I never figured out what game they were playing (pig soccer, maybe?) but they would spend hours pushing the big balls around their pen.


One afternoon, a friend had stopped by to drop off some supplies.  We were standing on the porch when the grandsons arrived for evening chores with their pigs.  Soon childish voices drifted up from the barn in excitement.  Laughing, I turned to our friend and proclaimed, "You have timed it just right for the evening pig show!  Pull up a chair and get ready to be entertained!"  Puzzled, he looked at me for enlightment.  "Just watch." I smiled as the barn doors creaked open. 


Grunting and snorting, a fat, white pig popped out of the open door.  Soon he was followed by his black and white pen-mate.  With obvious enjoyment, the two pigs trotted out into the sunshine.  Following close behind came two little boys each equipped with a small, white whip.  The pigs wandered happily into the yard and began exploring the enticing smells emanating from the grass and flower beds.  Nose to the ground, emitting happy little grunts they headed for the flower bed in the yard.  "Don't let them root up the lilies", I shouted.  The boys obediently began tapping the pigs on the rump with their little whips.  The pigs snorted and moved on toward the house, leaving the lilies to live another day.


Obviously fascinated, our friend asked, "So, the boys guide the pigs by tapping on them to tell them which way to go?"  "Well," I laughed, "that is the theory.  The truth is the pigs pretty much go wherever they want to and the boys follow behind.  As long as they get some exercise, everyone is happy."  The pigs now were wandering around the storage building in the yard, heading for the garden.  "Don't let them in the tomatoes!"  I yelled, again.  The boys obligingly ran between the pigs and the garden and headed them around the house. 


"Do they ever run away?" queried the friend.  "How do they catch them again?"


Chuckling, I replied, "Not a problem.  The pigs are too smart for that.  You see they really are smart--like George Orwell and Animal Farm smart.  First of all, they lay around all day in the shady barn with a fan blowing cool air on them.  They aren't about to leave to suffer in the hot sun with the other animals, so escape is never on their minds. Secondly, these pigs know that they get fed after they take their walk.  So they will trot happily around the yard until they decide it's time to have supper.  Then they will head for the barn, go to their pen, and put themselves up!  Mission accomplished.  The boys just follow along behind looking important."


Sure enough, about that time the pigs emerged from around the house heading toward the barn, picking up speed as they passed the porch again.  Trotting behind, yelling encouragement, came the two small boys, pausing occasionally to "shoot" each other and imaginary squirrels with the whips.  Soon all four had returned through the barn doors. 


Still chuckling, the friend stood up and headed for his car.  Shaking his head he waved as he drove off, probably thinking that he had just left Animal Farm for real.


Pig show was over.