About Me

Arborg, Manitoba, Canada
Married to the love of my life with whom I (and God - all three of us) have co-created three incredible sons. Interested in philosophy, theology, and how to live Truth. Love music but couldn't carry a tune to save my life.

Wednesday, 26 September 2012

Hobby Farmer

I visited this hobby farmer yesterday. He had these piglets. They are not very big now, but cute, and they came when he called. Crazy farmer, he is. It was a blast to see his place.

He gets on the fence and calls his pigs, and I’m thinking to myself (didn’t say anything, of course) “The bloke’s a wee bit daft!! Pigs don’t come when you call ‘em. Dogs maybe, and horses, maybe, but pigs? Nah.” Then wouldn’t you know it, before long there is this black shape on the ground some distance away, undulating in our direction. And then there is this monster big thing that is unmistakably a pig, running across the horizon, obviously not coming our way. Turns out the black shape is a horde of piglets coming from the barn, running all hell bent for leather in a mad dash to be the first to get to the farmer. And the big sow that was obviously not coming our way? Just running alongside a fence to find its way around it, and it's heading this way too! Well I never! And in no time he is surrounded by piglets and the monster, all scrabbling madly to be closest to him. And all the while, he is feeding them carrots and talking coolly about how they are all destined for the slaughter. Except the mother. She needs to make more bacon yet.

Then later, when he went to call his chickens, my incredulity was a little more tempered, but I was still thinking “No chicken ever has had sufficient brain power to respond to a farmer calling them”, but I was wrong. Again. They all came, clucking and chortling, to see what the farmer had for them, and just a touch was fine. No food required, they just liked the man. I figured (but didn’t say nuthin’ again) somebody ought to explain to these poor biddies that the farmer just wants their unborn babies. That appreciation may be mutual, but the affection ain’t.

Then he had Dexter cows, and miniature horses, including one itty bitty miniature horse born just last Saturday. He had no idea the mare was even pregnant. Just got lucky. And a dog, and cats. Apparently one of the cats they affectionately called their teenage cat – all respectful and cooperative, I assumed.

Quite the experience, it was.

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