Not that I wasn't warned. Just the week before getting the little piggies I'd been reading the first of a series of articles by a lifestyler journalist in one of our farming papers, entitled "The Great Pig Learning Curve". (YEA!) The writer had bought a couple of Kunekune piglets for his wife. As soon as they were let out, the piglets took off across his paddock, under the gate, up the drive, over the road, under the neighbour's fence and into a piece of swamp, where the neighbour managed to catch them with a rugby tackle. One can imagine the mess. History repeats itself, moreover.
Come to think of it, I have a couple more stories to tell....
The day I went south for the camera, I took with me Ashley, the young commercial pig breeder who gave me Boris. He wanted to look at some Kunekunes for sale over towards Dargaville and I was keen to look too. Ashley ended up buying a white sow piglet and four young 12 month old black sows. We duly loaded them into the back of my Utility for the journey home.
I have to say my Ute is unique in the world. It's an old Subaru with a canopy on the back and instead of a rear tailgate - which rusted out in the days when I used to take goats to shows - it has a strong steel grille that I bought second-hand because it looked kinda useful, before I even realised it would be such a perfect fit on the vehicle. The grille slips down between the moulding of the body, and the bottom of it traps nicely into the slot between the body and the back bumper-bar. It has stood the test of time with goats and dogs - in fact my dogs travel with it every time I go out and it provides them with great ventilation.
It was a hot, sunny day and we were cruising along the Dargaville-Whangarei highway on our way home when Ashley, who luckily was keeping an eye on happenings in the back, suddenly yelled out "The grille's gone!"
There was traffic not far behind us. With visions of piggies spilling out onto the road like black Jellybeans out of a packet, I planted foot and pulled off to the side as quick as I could. Ashley leapt out of the nearside door and rushed to the back. What the drivers of the cars behind thought, heaven only knows. Fortunately, the piggies were still inside.
Ashley yelled out - "You stay here - I'll go!" "No you stay!" I answered. One thing I was sure of - ANYTHING was preferable to trying to hold back 5 curious young sows in a four foot wide-open gateway. And I didn't want to be the one responsible for losing his investment. So Ashley crouched down, arms spread out to keep the pigs from leaping off and disappearing into the pig-fern (where else?). I took off hot-foot back down the roadside to find the grille. Again, the passing traffic was probably highly amused.
There it was lying a hundred yards back. Once we got it fitted back in, I looked round for something to tie it down with. It's a big mistake to clean out a farm vehicle - all those useful odds and ends like baling twine, bent nails and paper wrappers had only that morning fallen prey to my "clean-up to visit the big city" mania, and now I badly needed that baling twine...
We had to make do with a dog lead and one of Ashley's shoe-laces - not exactly ideal, but we hadn't too many choices. Climbing back on board, we speculated as to how on earth the grille could ever have come out, trying to remember who had actually put it in place before we left. I couldn't understand it. Then it dawned on both of us: the pigs had simply stuck their noses out through the steel mesh and heaved the grill up, using the great power they have in their necks and shoulders (a bit like Natasha with my netting fences). Not quite as easy as it sounds though - I sometimes struggle to get that grille in and out: you have to get it "just right" or it won't co-operate.
But it was no problem for the piggies. "The Great Pig Learning Curve"? You're not joking!
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