There is a bar in a neighboring town called the Stumblin’ Pig.\u00a0 I always assumed the name referred to drunken bikers.\u00a0 After all, they serve alcohol and there is usually a line of Harleys parked in front.\u00a0 Which just goes to show what I know.\u00a0 Because a stumblin’ pig is not a drunken biker.\u00a0 Not even close.<\/p>\n
Since Papa Pig passed the 100 pound mark, he has been loose with the rest of the barn crew.\u00a0 His job is to go down to the pond, wallow in the mud, and then trample the areas of muck that he creates.\u00a0 This is supposed to help seal the pond so that it holds water again.\u00a0 Eventually he will be promoted to the job of “bacon”, but until then he is actually encouraged to make a muddy, mucky mess.<\/p>\n
And it does take some encouragement.\u00a0 Because when I come into the barn yard to do some chores, I usually find him sleeping.<\/p>\n
Or soiling his water trough as soon as I put in fresh water.<\/p>\n When he hears me, he immediately jumps up and starts doing a happy pig dance.\u00a0 Well, it used to be a dance.\u00a0 When he wasn’t too fat to get his feet off the ground.\u00a0 Now it’s more like a wiggle, 1 inch hop, and foot stamp.\u00a0 So he gets a back scratch for being so happy to see me.<\/p>\n Hey, never ignore an act of appreciation.\u00a0 It might be ages before another one comes along.<\/p>\n All that activity makes him hungry, so he has to head to the feeder for a snack.\u00a0 Which gives me just enough time to get started on my chores.\u00a0 It is when I have a pitchfork of soiled hay, on my way to the chicken pasture, that he reappears.\u00a0 Right at knee level.\u00a0 Obscured by the pitchfork of hay.\u00a0 So that as I cut across the barn yard, I slam into him and topple over his back, spilling the hay everywhere and getting a nice shiner on my shin from a large stone in the path of my tumble.<\/p>\n When I am carrying in feed bags, he trots ahead of me, squealing excitedly.\u00a0 Until he stops to make sure I am still coming.\u00a0 Of course, I have no idea that he stopped because I cannot see him over the feed bag.\u00a0 In midstride, I half step over him, half step on him, and down I go to the ground clutching the feed bag and already screaming, “NO!\u00a0 NO! NO!”\u00a0 I am not yelling “NO!”\u00a0 because I have fallen and can’t get up (although I am sure those times are coming fast).\u00a0 I am yelling “NO” because that is what anyone with half a brain yells if they have fallen in a barn yard of loose animals under a bag of grain.\u00a0 Because if you don’t stop the critters in their tracks with a quick and\u00a0 heart felt “NO” then you will lying under a bag of feed, plus a pony, 5 goats, and a flock of chickens all trying to break open the bag.<\/p>\n As I am attaching a new clip to the door of the kidding barn, Papa sidles up behind me and snuffles around for grain, acorns, or pieces of poop to nibble.\u00a0 Before I know it, he bumps into my legs, right at the back of my knees, and despite my stunning thigh muscles (hah!),\u00a0 I lose my balance and tip over his back onto the ground, skinning my hands on the gravel as I try to catch myself.\u00a0 At this point, he sits up, looks around nonchalantly, and pretends he is just another dog hanging around the barn yard and has no idea why I fell.<\/p>\n But we both know why I fell.\u00a0 Without a doubt, Papa is a stumblin’ pig.\u00a0 Where he goes, whatever he does, he is just the right height for you to trip over, fall over, stumble over.\u00a0 He is curious enough to be involved in everything that goes on and yet not agile enough to get out of the way.<\/p>\n At this point, Papa gets escorted to the pond.\u00a0 When we first got a pig a lot of people told me about the devices used for moving pigs.\u00a0 There are pig boards and paddles, witches capes and construction flags.\u00a0 But I don’t think these things were created for bottle raised pigs.\u00a0 Around here we snap our fingers to get his attention and then say, “C’mon, Papa!”\u00a0 Off we go to the pond.<\/p>\n Once he is snorkling and splashing on the pond banks, I can head back to the barn to finish chores.<\/p>\n Finally, a chance to freshen nest boxes, brush down cobwebs, and scrub the milk stand without falling headlong over the back of a pig.\u00a0 For a little while.\u00a0 Because after Papa has revitalized himself with a mud bath, he comes jogging happily back to the barn yard.\u00a0 Hoping for some pats on the back or a tummy rub or a scratch behind the ear.\u00a0 Even though his head and snout is covered with mud and pond sludge is sluicing off his sides.<\/p>\n Then it is a matter of stumbling over feed troughs and waterers, goats and dogs, buckets and trees stumps in the mad dash to get away from him.\u00a0 Oh yes, he is a stumblin’ pig.\u00a0 And I doubt he is the only one.\u00a0 We are primarily a rural county and there are probably farmers stumbling over their pigs all over the place.\u00a0 That bar in town must be in recognition of that fact.\u00a0 How presumptuous of me to think it is named after drunken bikers.\u00a0 Honestly, I am so ashamed of myself sometimes.<\/p>\n I was talking to a couple of friends who grew up on farms that raised pigs.<\/p>\n “It’s funny how pigs get underfoot, isn’t it?”\u00a0 I asked.\u00a0 “Always tripping over that pig when I’m in the barn yard.\u00a0 Just yesterday I fell over him when I was forking hay in the kidding stall and cut myself on the cattle panel, ” I said proudly, displaying the scrape on my arm.<\/p>\n One of my friends squinted at me.<\/p>\n “Did you say he was in the kidding stall?\u00a0 Don’t he got a pig pen?”<\/p>\n “Well…….,”\u00a0 I said and kind of shrugged.<\/p>\n My other friend shook his head sadly.<\/p>\n “The problem with your place is the animals got no idea who’s in charge.\u00a0 You gotta show them you’re boss.\u00a0 Ain’t no reason that pig should be gettin’ close enough to you to trip over.”<\/p>\n I nodded solemnly.\u00a0 When I got home I told Pretty, our livestock manager, that we needed to establish some control over Papa.\u00a0 He needed to know who was in charge.\u00a0 Then we went out to the barn yard and gave him a severe talking to.\u00a0 It looked something like this:<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/04\/062-3.jpg\")
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