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Get Pork in Alberta

I'm going to tie this rope to the pig's back feet. That way I can steer the pig from behind.


(SNN) - My buddy, Pete is a farmer. He lives on a stretch of land whose address is so many miles west of town and then some more north. In other words, way out in the boonies.

Pete loves the farm lifestyle immensely and at every opportunity, he gets me out to sample the homespun life of the agrarian man. Last Sunday was one of those opportunities.

There was great excitement around Pete’s farm that day. His prize 400-pound sow had little piglets the night before and his slightly smaller one was expected to deliver that night. It was imperative, Pete was saying over the phone, to get the expectant momma pig from their fenced enclosure, across the field to the barn before the blessed event “so that the little new-born piggies wouldn’t get chilly out there in the cold”. (Sometimes I think Pete talks down to me a bit.) Not wanting any harm to come to his precious little porkers, I volunteered to assist with the project, although unsure what I’d be asked to do.

“It’s very simple,” Pete instructed as we stood in the enclosure. “I’m going to tie this rope to the pig’s back feet. That way I can steer the pig from behind while you and Rox hold plywood on either side of her head to act as mobile blinders so she won’t bolt to one side. Then we can coax her across the field into the barn.”

“Gosh, Pete,” I said scratching my head. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just put a leash around her neck and lead her there?”

Pete laughed. “Most animals aren’t quite that docile, especially when they’re about to give birth. Remember what our wives were like?”

Roxanne promptly kicked Pete in his bad leg. Twice. “The second one was for Cupcake,” she explained, referring to my own dear, sweet wife.

Grumbling and favoring his sore appendage, Pete grabbed the rope and ventured into the wooden structure located in the middle of the pigpen. As Roxanne held the door closed on the sty, their son, Nick and I went to the open side where we could assist in the “tying the rope to the back feet” procedure. As I looked in on my pal, I could see that, apparently, the momma pig had missed Pete’s lecture on how simple it was going to be as she was putting up a heck of struggle. The air was filled with a cacophony of squeals and grunts. The pig was making lots of noise, too.

After a monumental struggle with the 350-pound preggo, Pete finally managed to get each end of the rope tied to her back feet.

“Open the door!” hollered Pete has he burst through the sty gate hoisting on the rope with all his might. He looked like a madman in some kind of bizarre barnyard wheelbarrow race.

“Get the plywood and direct her to the barn!” he added shrilly.

Roxanne and I immediately leaped to either side of the bloated behemoth and gamely tried to act as the “mobile blinders” to help steer the beast to the barn door. The agitated animal seemed determined not to go quietly and squirmed and heaved and generally made a mockery of Pete’s “blinder” theory.

“Forget the blinder thing,” Pete shouted, sweat beading his brow. “Use the plywood to push her along!”

The fear that had been clutching my heart now made it’s way to the rest of my body. I nervously pressed the board against the sow’s flanks and tried nudging it ahead with my knees. I prayed to the heavens that neither Pete nor the pig could hear my knees knocking against the plywood.  

DISCLAIMER: The above article is provided for entertainment purposes only and the article, image or photograph held out as news is a parody or satirical and therefore faux in nature and does not reflect the actions, statements or events of real persons. The opinions, beliefs and viewpoints expressed by the authors of The Sage Satire and forum participants on this web site do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs and viewpoints of the The Sage News Network or the official policies of the The Sage News.
 
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