Anonymous Poster
Epic Contributor
- Joined
- Sep 27, 2005
- Messages
- 29,678
Who\'s afraid if that big bad boar.....I am
Bear, our seven hundred and fifty pound Hampshire boar broke out of his pen. I have to admit that as much as I like pigs I am basically terrified of them. I blame it on childhood memories.
We’ve all heard the old wives tales and horror stories about pigs trying to eat children. Remember when Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz fell in the pig pen? That was horrific to me at age six. I can still see that scene, and I think it was when I formulated my first opinion of pigs. What about Travis, who got all cut up by a hog in Old Yeller. I’ll never forget that.
Normally, the adult pigs have complete rein over me. I pet and feed them, my husband keeps them in line. Anyway, here I am, out there all by myself and I've got this boar into the feed container and all other kinds of mischief. I could not get around him to bait him in the right direction with feed, besides which he had already eaten probably twenty pounds of feed on his own, so I bit my lip gathered my strength and smacked him on the head with a plastic trash can lid. I have heard that you shouldn’t hit a pig, but it seemed I had no choice. It was just me and him, face to face. Him with weight and cutters on his side. Me with a trash can lid. Not an effective pig management tool, I know, but it was handy.
He let out a low growl and flashed his cutters at me and I almost fixed my britches. My first ridiculous thought was to hold the trash can lid up like a shield, just in case he charged me. But he didn’t move, just stood there chewing.
Then something miraculous happened. I got really steaming mad. I don’t know why fear was replaced by wall-eyed anger, maybe it was the fact that feed is expensive and I wasn‘t prepared to stand idly by while he ate it all. Maybe it was my lack of patience. My kids can tell you that this is not a virtue I am well known for.
Anyway, I had sweat running down my neck and back, I was frustrated, and all the other pigs were screaming at the top of their lungs. It was basic chaos. So I smacked him again. A little harder this time. I also let out a trembling yell that sounded pathetic in my ears, and I’m sure his as well.
This big old baby let out a whimper, sounded like I felt, turned tail and went into his pen in short order. Due to this sudden unexpected victory, I turn gladiator, cussed him like a truck driver, letting him know who was in charge, all the time shaking like a washing machine gone off balance. I stood there, wiring the gate to his pen closed, shaking so badly that my fingers were basically useless. Ten minutes later, pig safely secured, I was still shaking and still cussing.
I am not fool enough to believe that this huge boar is afraid of me, or my trash can lid, but for some odd reason he allowed me to intimidate him this time. That will forever be his mistake, because while I will always respect his size and his potential for stomping me into a bloody puddle, I am no longer afraid of him. Much. /forums/images/graemlins/crazy.gif
Bear, our seven hundred and fifty pound Hampshire boar broke out of his pen. I have to admit that as much as I like pigs I am basically terrified of them. I blame it on childhood memories.
We’ve all heard the old wives tales and horror stories about pigs trying to eat children. Remember when Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz fell in the pig pen? That was horrific to me at age six. I can still see that scene, and I think it was when I formulated my first opinion of pigs. What about Travis, who got all cut up by a hog in Old Yeller. I’ll never forget that.
Normally, the adult pigs have complete rein over me. I pet and feed them, my husband keeps them in line. Anyway, here I am, out there all by myself and I've got this boar into the feed container and all other kinds of mischief. I could not get around him to bait him in the right direction with feed, besides which he had already eaten probably twenty pounds of feed on his own, so I bit my lip gathered my strength and smacked him on the head with a plastic trash can lid. I have heard that you shouldn’t hit a pig, but it seemed I had no choice. It was just me and him, face to face. Him with weight and cutters on his side. Me with a trash can lid. Not an effective pig management tool, I know, but it was handy.
He let out a low growl and flashed his cutters at me and I almost fixed my britches. My first ridiculous thought was to hold the trash can lid up like a shield, just in case he charged me. But he didn’t move, just stood there chewing.
Then something miraculous happened. I got really steaming mad. I don’t know why fear was replaced by wall-eyed anger, maybe it was the fact that feed is expensive and I wasn‘t prepared to stand idly by while he ate it all. Maybe it was my lack of patience. My kids can tell you that this is not a virtue I am well known for.
Anyway, I had sweat running down my neck and back, I was frustrated, and all the other pigs were screaming at the top of their lungs. It was basic chaos. So I smacked him again. A little harder this time. I also let out a trembling yell that sounded pathetic in my ears, and I’m sure his as well.
This big old baby let out a whimper, sounded like I felt, turned tail and went into his pen in short order. Due to this sudden unexpected victory, I turn gladiator, cussed him like a truck driver, letting him know who was in charge, all the time shaking like a washing machine gone off balance. I stood there, wiring the gate to his pen closed, shaking so badly that my fingers were basically useless. Ten minutes later, pig safely secured, I was still shaking and still cussing.
I am not fool enough to believe that this huge boar is afraid of me, or my trash can lid, but for some odd reason he allowed me to intimidate him this time. That will forever be his mistake, because while I will always respect his size and his potential for stomping me into a bloody puddle, I am no longer afraid of him. Much. /forums/images/graemlins/crazy.gif
