Yesterday I blogged about two escapee bovines, and mentioned that other such events sometimes happen in the Robson Valley. Here is a similar thing that occurred in 2012:
Bark.....Bark, Bark.....Bark.....Bark.....Bark...Bark....
“What’s wrong with that dog?” I wondered.
Mac, who was outside, generally doesn’t bark, except maybe when a squirrel gets on his nerve.
I went back to my book.
Bark.... Bark, Bark.
I just had two more pages to read to finish in the novel, but I didn’t want Mac to get into the habit of habitual barking, so I put the book down, got up, and walked down the stairs and to the front door, to yell at him to shut up, but when I opened the door, I was gobsmacked.
My eyes saw, but my brain just temporarily shut down. It seemed like I had opened the door to fantasyland, because standing right there by the porch where Mac was standing, were two pigs looking at me. I could tell that Mac, who had seemed worried and not knowing what to do about the sudden appearance of the pigs, was relieved that I had arrived.
When my brain began firing again, I tried to chase the swine away. They were friendly enough, but seemed happy to be in our front yard.
“Where did they come from?” The only person in the neighborhood that I had knew that had some pigs, lived a mile away. I called my wife to come out with a broom to keep the pigs from destroying things, while I went in to make some phone call enquiries.
I called the guy I thought had pigs, and found that his phone was disconnected. I then called my next door neighbor, but he didn’t answer, so I left a message about having two pigs in my front yard and asked if he knew who might own them. I made another call to the neighbor who lived west of us and explained to their teenaged daughter why I was calling. She laughed and said they didn’t own any pigs.
I then went back outside and took over for my wife. I thought the best course of action would be to try to herd the two pigs into my barnyard, which had a fence all around it. When I tried to herd the pigs, Mac’s herding instinct (he was an Old English Sheepdog) kicked in and he joined me barking and darting around the pigs.
Unfortunately, Mac’s herding instinct left something to be desired, because he always seemed to go the wrong way, blocking the pigs from going where I wanted them to go. Eventually in frustration, I put Mac in the house and returned to deal with the pigs alone.
I managed to get one into the paddock, but the other took off in the other direction. The captured pig ran down along the inside of the fence and the free one followed him, but on the other side of the fence.
I grabbed a rope and made a noose, and tried to get it around the neck of the freed pig, but it was nervous and was starting to think that I was untrustworthy, so he didn’t let me get very close. I scrambled after him through brush and around the woodpile trying to catch him.
About this time, Bruce the next door neighbor I had called, came through the opening on our property line with his two dogs, and I was happy learn that the pigs were, in fact, his. With his help, we managed to get the freed pig into the paddock with his buddy, and my neighbor went back home to get some “slop” to tempt the two pigs home. Meanwhile, the pigs were busying occupying themselves, rooting around pulling up plants in the paddock.
Bruce returned with a bucket of slop and two hot dog buns, which I guess the pigs really liked to eat, and soon Bruce, his two dogs, and the two pigs were all parading back to their home. Another exciting episode of life in McBride had come to an end.
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