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| Illustration by Summer Age: 8 Paris, TN |
"Yeah
Grandma, did you have cows and chickens and stuff?” asked her eight-year-old
sister.
“No
girls, I lived on a pig farm. All
we had was pigs, dogs, and cats,” replied their grandma. “Want to hear about my job on the
farm?”
“Yes!”
the girls cried in unison as they sat down preparing for a story.
On
our pig farm I had a bunch of little jobs here and there, but my main job was
helping my dad and older brother round up the baby pigs when they got out of
the pigpen. Baby pigs are fast as
lightning, but so was I. I was
faster than even my older brother at short distances.
One
day my dad came running in the house yelling for my older brother and me. “Come quick, the baby pigs are running
loose.”
I
quickly put on my shoes and headed out the door. Sure enough, there were five baby pigs running along the
woods in the front yard heading for the road. Daddy was already trying to head them off before they reached
the road. I dashed out the door
with my older brother close on my heels.
Daddy managed to get them stopped before they got to the road, but they
turned around running along the woods heading for the back yard and Mom’s
garden. I came flying off the
porch trying to stop them before they made it to the back yard. I did manage to stop two of them, but
the other three kept heading for the back yard. Leaving the two for my older brother to chase, I took off as
hard as I could go to try to get ahead of the pigs before they reached my mom’s
garden. I caught them right at the
edge of the garden. Clapping my
hands and making as much noise as possible, I tried to steer the baby pigs back
toward the front yard. It
worked. All three pigs headed back
along the woods toward the front yard.
As
the pigs and I came into the front yard we ran right into the two pigs my
brother had been chasing. This
stalled all the pigs allowing us to slowly move them forward across the front
yard by keeping behind them and to each side. As we neared the driveway, we realized the car was going to
block our progress. When we
reached the car two pigs went around the front of the car, two pigs went around
the back of the car and one pig went back toward the woods. I stayed with the two pigs that went
around the front of the car and herded them down toward my dad who was now
standing by the open gate of the pigpen ready to help herd them through. I was hard on their heels yelling and
clapping driving them straight toward the open gate. They shot straight through. Two down.
I
had to quickly get out of the way because my older brother came racing up
herding two more of the baby pigs toward the open gate. One tried to dash away from the gate,
but I was in the way. Between the
two of us, my brother and I managed to get those two pigs through the
gate. Two more down, and one more
to go.
The
other baby pig had made its way to the back yard again. Instead of heading full out toward the
back yard, I walked quietly along the edge of the garden trying not to startle
the pig. My older brother went
around the house to come in behind the pig to keep it from going back in the
front yard. When I managed to get
behind the pig, I started yelling and clapping trying to drive the pig toward
the side yard and the gate to the pigpen.
It worked. I yelled for my
brother to get to the side yard and kept to the left and slightly behind the
baby pig. The baby pig tried to
turn toward the front yard but came face to face with my older brother. It tried to turn around and head for the
back yard, but came face to face with me.
My brother and I slowly herded the last pig toward the gate keeping the
pig from straying to the right or to the left. Finally, it shot through the gate, and Dad closed the gate
behind it. Done. My brother and I slowly walked to the
front porch and collapsed. Chasing
baby pigs was hard, hard work.
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