Simple Hobby Homesteading

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Miss Piggy

So last night I had a couple things that I really needed to do and I had planned my night perfectly to get them all done. They were simple things… get supper on the table, get youngest son to basketball practice (last one of the season, YEAH), and take some soaps to our church (while youngest son was at practice) for a care package to an amazing missionary in Lithuania (Hi Judy!)

Instead of these well laid out plans I chased a Vietnamese pot bellied pig through the corn fields, woods, and cricks of Chandler (I say “crick”, you say “creek”, others say “stream”, roll with me here or you’ll never get past the fact that I call drinking fountains “bubblers”). The supper fail was somewhat my fault… I asked my husband to pick up a few things for red and green enchiladas on his way home from work (tomatoes and tortillas) and he reminded me that we still had cavatini in the fridge (silly me, I thought he had tired of eating cavatini as it had been his lunch and dinner for the past two days). I guess you could say the pig had nothing to do with supper being a “fend for yourself” of leftovers and a 9 pm Subway and Taco Bell run for our boys but I will anyways… I blame you little pig for my boys eating fast food.

This is how it all went down and even this morning I can’t believe it. Youngest son and I pull in to basketball practice and just as I am getting out to usher son in to practice a friend pulls in with his son and said to me, “Get in, we’ve got to go catch a pig.” Ummmmm ok, yea, that’s not a weird “Hello, how ya doing?” I look at my little bag of soaps thinking, “I really need to run these to the church quick and get back in case youngest son breaks a collarbone playing basketball” (oldest son has done this). I throw caution to the wind (not out of character for me), grab my purse, and tell youngest son and his friend to “Head into practice and not break any bones until I get back.” Seriously, those were my words… not winning any mother of the year awards this year. I text my husband, Kevin, that I am off to catch a pig quick and his response is “Don’t eat it” (I’m allergic to mammal meat… weird, I know).

John and I head down to the muddy corn field where he saw the pig and he tells me someone dumped it when he was bringing his son to basketball. Opened the car door, and kicked the pig out… seriously! Really? People these days. He figured it wouldn’t be tough to catch the little pig because it was probably used to people. All I know about potbellied pigs is that they usually squeal bloody murder when they are handled against their will. Do they bite? Are they mean? Did this one have tusks? Would I have a really stupid obituary including “death at the hooves of a pig?” It didn’t matter, we were not getting very close to this pig as it was scared out of its mind, could run way faster than anyone would ever have imagined, and really had no interest in being anywhere near people… quite the opposite in fact. We chase this pig through the cornfield for about 30 minutes in freezing, windy weather (what is up with snow in March Indiana?) and even got three more helpers (John’s wife came with a banana… this pig did not like bananas. Two guys passing by also stopped to help). The pig eluded all five of us and we were seriously trying to get this pig! The pig (we had figured out at this point it was a lady pig and had no tusks to hurt us with… still wondering if pigs bite) ran off down through the cornfield/small lake and into the woods.

The two guys gave up, got back in their vehicles and took off.  I suggested we go get some Fritos… I think everyone (animals included) love Fritos and maybe the crinkly bag would get Miss Piggy’s attention. I also REALLY had to get those soaps to the church so John said he would get the Fritos while I ran to make the soap drop off. We would rendezvous back in the woods for some more pig catching.

I happily dropped off the soaps, interrupting our Bible study group, all the while trying not to blurt out that I had to run to go catch a pig. I was a total muddy mess (no one seemed to notice, love those folks!) but the adrenalin was starting to pump… I could do this, Miss Piggy would be caught and saved (this area had a huge coyote population and she wouldn’t last the night). I looked at the minivan clock, added an hour because I refuse to accept Daylight Savings Time fully and change all my clocks (telling myself it’s good math practice for the boys to add an hour… add 1… yup we are raising geniuses) and realized basketball practice would be done in about five minutes.

I go to the gym, see no sign of John and his wife, so I pick up youngest son and John’s son. Call John, yup he’s in the depths of the woods chasing the pig. The boys and I head down to the woods and John’s son is super stoked to practice his skills for the pig wrastlin’ competition for the 4-H fair this summer. The boy is in shorts, sweaty from basketball, and it’s 34 degrees outside… I tell them to wait in the van. My youngest son looks relieved.

Long story short, we chase this pig around the woods and cricks for well over an hour (added to the 45 minutes of cornfield chasing). At several points the pig comes up to the gravel road and I sprint after it to wear it out. I guess my training begins today (Kevin and I are doing a 550 mile bicycle ride in the fall to raise money and awareness for the Arthritis Foundation… I haven’t started training yet) and I have to tell you this was not on the agenda for tonight. I run full out behind the pig for about a quarter mile each time and when I think I’m going to vomit I overtake the pig and turn it on its heels to run back the way we came. Little piggy legs should wear out quickly right? Wrong! All in all we did the road run about a dozen times (you do the math, I don’t like to do anything beyond add 1). When she made it back to where John, his wife, and two hysterically laughing boys were she would dart down the bank and into the woods.

At this point it was well after 8 pm and the only light we had was from the moon (headlights from our vehicles actually made things worse because we couldn’t shine them down into the woods and they screwed up any night vision our eyes were trying to attain). However, the headlights did shine brightly on every road run that me and Miss Piggy engaged in. Apparently this is funny to 9 year old boys. Branches, logs, thorns, crick, and mud made this ooh so much fun. At one point John and I were both chasing Miss Piggy, him from behind and me in from the right when I heard a loud crash and hear John go to the ground. He got clotheslined by some good size tree limbs and as I ran I shouted, “You ok?” He assured me he was so I kept going. Got a hand on that little pig and dove down to cover her. She wiggled from under me and took off. Seriously? At this point I told her that I hope she did become a coyote’s dinner… coyotes deserve to eat too! However, out of the corner of my eye I see two boys and John’s wife on the edge of their seats trying to get a glimpse of whether or not we would emerge from the woods carrying Miss Piggy. I just couldn’t give up.

More road runs to try to wear the pig out and back down into the blackness of the woods more times than I can count, this pig could run! Finally, and I do mean FINALLY I was sprinting on the road behind Miss Piggy and I saw a huge pile of brush to the side of the road with the crick directly below (we were farther up than we had been all night). Before, when she would get to the water’s edge she’d stop for a split second every time so I knew she could smell/sense the water… this was my chance. I caught up to her, zagged to the left directly at her and she headed straight for that brush. She dove into it and realized the water was right there and she froze. Her legs were caught up in the brush and I dove on her, reaching around her with one of my best wrestling moves… yes I was a wrestler in high school. She squealed and squealed and I had to have the biggest smile of relief known to man on my face!

I yelled for John and his wife to bring up their minivan, I had caught her!! It seemed like forever until they finally came up, all the while playing a game of Marco Polo in the pitch black night. I was buried pretty deep in the brush with a pig under me so I’m glad no one decided to pull out a camera. I wrapped an arm around Miss Piggy and John grabbed my other hand to try to pull me out. I left behind a shoe but after Miss Piggy was in the van I was able to dig around and find it… wet, muddy, but full of memories, I really get like these shoes. John had a bloody head but seemed in good spirits.

Yup, so that’s what I did last night. Even funnier yet was the text conversation I found on my phone between my two sons (one in van, one at home).

I really love life but man am I sore this morning! No, I didn’t keep the pig… I asked Kevin, he said “No”… he is the practical one in the family. Hmmm maybe some comments here can change his mind? Just kidding, I don’t want to push my luck with animals on the farm… or do I … notice I am not deleting that sentence. LOL, I must be a little nutty!

Anyone out there have pot bellied pigs? How are they as pets?

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