Many snouts make any job easier

My internet has been a yoyo up and down a lot lately and I couldn't write.
I'm trying desperately to divert myself because as I was leaving today I was told that the pigs are being removed from the farm tonight and I didn't get to say goodbye. This is really really hard on me because I know what lies in store for some and if I could I would take my Dotty home with me.
But as I said, I am trying to divert myself and so I will catch up on farm doings.
Let's see.
Friday was so cold, I was surprised that I didn't have to chase the chaperones out from under the warming lights. They all bundled the kids up really well but here comes those tippity tip tip tap kind of mothers wearing heels or just sweaters, or their pearls, trying to be ever so dainty. Hard to be dainty when your lips are blue and you are shaing so hard that you could churn milk into butter. As for me, had I put on one layer of clothes my plaintive cry would have been "I can't move my arms!!!"
However the pigaleenies absolutely loved the cold and I actually watched mom Queenie kick up her heels in an abbreviated mother's dance of joy. But the best fun was having the piglets join in in spreading their shavings aroudn the pen. All I had to do was hold the top of the bag and their shakings spread the sahvings evenly. They looked at it as some kind of game and I was laughing so hard I woulf have squirted coke out of my nose, had I been drinking coke. The bag might have been fun but the best time was had as they ran around playing keep away with some hat. I have no idea where they got the hat or what happened to it later but they had a grand old time playing like puppies.
One little girl because very concerned when I had mentioned that I hadn't had lunch. She offered me her snacks, her nutritious snacks, so that I wouldn't be hungry. I was touched but turned it down since the husband would be taking me to lunch after that day at the farm.
Of course each day I visited my favorite pig Dottie to paly the water bottle game or the see if you can grab my shirt. As much as I'm going to miss the pigs I know she'll finally be out of that cramped pen and able to romp with her 13 little ones. God I hope they keep Dottie on the farm. The alternative makes me want to throw my head back and howl.
I have no idea what I'll be doing tomorrow without the pigaleenies. With my luck I'll be stuck in with the ninja assasin geese or even worse, shudder, the chickens. Two more days of the farm and then back to the office with the husband. I wonder how long it will take for the smell of pig to wash out of my hair. ---me---

Who said I can't play soccer

It was a well known fact around my childhood home that not only was I extraordinarily clumsy but exceeding useless as well. I couldn't seem to master those high skill chores such as shoveling snow or raking leaves. I thought I could do both if perhaps I went about it a little more slowly than the others but inevitably my mother would get that look, mutter something about me being useless and sent me in to make the hot choclate. To tell the truth I am surprised that she trusted me around the stove.
I also stunk at PE which at that time went by the unglamorous name of gym and was a torture to be endured daily. Instead of a glove during softball, I was given a box and told to go stand in the weeds that maybe I could catch a ball that way. In my defense I was once hit square in the eye by a hard ball resulting in a specatular black eye, swollen nose and all the rest and so I had a tendency to flinch. I could do the horse vault, play basketball and the rest. Hey, I had spent eight years in a catholic school that had a gym that was only used for showing the whole school boring catholic movies about the sufferings of the saints or about baseball.
So I went about my bedraggled way thinking I was totally inept and then, miraculously I have found a sport I excell in. PUMPKIN ROLLING. Not only pumpkin rolling but pumpkin shooting and pumpkin piling. I am proud to say that I am the inventor of the head down, butt up through the legs form of rolling that gets the job donein no time AND i can deftly kick a rolling pumpkin into its designated pile. Perhaps if I had had vegetables in High School gym I might have been a star.
I can also juggle 30 pounds of screaming, rocket powered piglet while answering questions, telling kids to get off the fence and telling people that the pig is a pig, isn't dead, or pregnant, and it certainly isn't a boy and yes I do know that I'm wearing pig earrings (as if the earrings had somehow inserted themselves while I wasn't looking. I'm also remarkable at the new game of Let Spotty Dotty (a mama pig) finish the water in the bottle without spilling it all over myself and her. I'm a deft hand at goat unsticking and one of the emus has become remarkably fond of my earring thus creating a new game of stay away from the big bird before it yanks the earrings right out of your ears. I swear, if they had ears, I'd make it a pair of pig earrings of its own. Oh and I am the best pig poop scooper you ever saw, I clean my own pens.
How can anyone, who can do all of that be useless? Dotty likes me. She and I have a good old gossip fest once her handlers are gone for the day and I'm doing duty in the farrowing house. I rub her nose and she tells me all her troubles and then she pulls on my fleece and giggles... or what passes for a giggle in pigdom. She gets that glint in her eye that tells me she's just messing with me and so we play with her food bowl and I let her untie my shoes. She even lets me pick up her babies without making too much of a fuss. One particular baby goat likes to follow me and I'm always returning it to its pen and waiting for the day when it can no longer squeeze through the fencing. In the evening when I'm heading to the car, the turkeys stroll along beside me serenading me but stopping at the margin of the farm. Perhaps I should have been a farmer but I'm guessing that having to do that everyday the joy would soon wear off. Still, it's a sepcial thrill when a pig responds to your voice or you can coax piglets to you so they can suck on your fingers, or the emu makes its weird kind of deep in the throat sound when I come near. Or the baby goat squeezes out of its pen to join you. Even the geese don't seem to be as honky around me anymore. I wonder if that has something to do with me wishing them a good morning and a good evening.
I really do like the farm but am also ready for it to end. Lugging 30 pound piglets about is hard on the back and my bruises now number 32. Luckily the crate has gone to the babies and I can leave my piglets in the pen with their mother. One child today said that they were teenaged piglets and the child was right. Big bruising middle school aged piglets and growing right before my eyes.

Belly up to the piglet

Since I'm out with the big girl pigs, my charge is Queenie and her offspring. Wait, no, I lied. I'm with Queenie and six piglets that we are pretending are hers. There was a tragedy during the birth of Queenie's piglets and only one little guy survived. Well we couldn't tell kids that the other babies died and there was no way we could pretend that she had only one so a farm worker drove to Allentown PA to pick up an orphan litter of six, who became Queenie's children. And let me tell you, no one can tell that Queenie didn't give birth to these guys. Mess with one and mama becomes a snorting, growling, foaming, flames shooting out of her nose hog on a rampage.
NOw, I learned my lesson last year when another mother almost got me, so I am staying safely on the outside of the pen. It makes wrangling piglets all the harder but I did manage to snag two and put them in what I call the play pen which explains the crate pretty well. With two guys in the playpen, the kids can touch them and brave parents can pick them up.
A three week old piglet is a thing to behold. Hold with both hands, arms and a screwed up face. Then it opens its mouth and screams maaaaaaaa and Queenie comes a snorting.
The adults who pick up piglets are a surprising mix and usually the well groomed, well dressed mother whom you think wouldn't get within a mile of a piglet just dive right on it and pick them up.
PIGLETS DO NOT LIKE TO BE HELD and will not hesitate to tell you so. Combine the ear busting MAAAAAA along with trying to hold onto something shaped like a sausage with nothing to hang onto and you have juggling with piglets. In fact, my bruise count is up to fourteen not counting the two hoof shaped bruises on my legs from a racing pig who slipped through my arms.
Thin mamas eagerly scoop up piglets and heavy mamas can't wait to cuddle one but the funniest of is is the daddies. You get this big bruiser of a man with biceps as think as my waist and no neck who roll up their sleeves and decide they are going to show the women something only to pick up this piglet and panic the minute it wiggles. They don't cradle them like the women do but hold them at arm's length as if it were a bomb about to explode. And then they yell for help because it wiggles. So I wade in and save them from the monstorous 25 pound piglet.Part of my job is to pick up piglets for the kids to hold. I am very good at holding onto sausage shaped animals even though I do feel as if I am actually juggling it. Can you actually juggle one thing? It is certainly what it feels like.
And then I discovered a most marvelous thing. If I held one piglet on his side and pressed his tummy firmly against mine, he would lay there in my arms as long as I wanted to hold him. But after awhile he gets awfully heavy and I have to put him down. But while he sleeps it;s wonderful.
We have five day old piglets that absolutely charm the kids but I like the bigger muddier, stinkier ones.
And don't tell anyone, but after a day of pig juggling I stunk so bad that I couldn't stand me. peeeeeeeyeeeeeuuuuuwwwwwwwww.

Porcine nose flute or why Dotty won't talk to me

Dotty, the sow, has been moved to the farrowing house and I moved with her. Only I haven't exactly moved in there isn't enough room fro my craft stuff. Anyway, she spent most of her day stretched out, belly to the breeze from the fan, sleeping. As for me it was that same round of can she walk is she dead questions which I swear will make my head explode in a shower of little pieces.
Finally the farm quieted down as the busses loaded to take the people back to wherever it is that they come from where boys have babies and pigs don't walk. It was actually quiet in the room when I heard it. It sounded very much like the sound one can make when blowing across the top of an empty soda bottle. That deep wooooohooohooo kind of sound. It had a good rythm even if you couldn't dance to it and being a nosey kind of bored out of her mind person I looked for the source.
It seems that Dotty had her nose underneath one of the staunchens. It was hollow so every time she exhaled it whistled. Well it had been about the funniest thing I had seen in some time so I laughed, long and loud. Dotty opened her eyes, pushed herself up, gave me a look and turned her face away from me. I tried to touch her but she wasn't interested. In fact when I reached out to her she gave me another look and puched herself against the far stauncheon out of my reach. There was a woman standing there who actually witnessed the same thing and when the next group showed up told the adults that the pig was angry with me because I laughed at her. Dotty did forgive me by the end of the day but that was after I apologised and gave her a belly rub. Pigs are suckers for belly rubs.

Now in the 'What were they thinking?' category for today.
I watched a guy pick a handful of poke berries from the weeds fringing the farm. The frm only rents the land for a month and the rest of the time its a polka oompah place that rents itself out for reunions and what not. So while the farm is neatly maintained there is a ring of woods and weeds and the like.
So this guy with a handful of poke berries asks me if I know what they are. I told him poke berries and that they are poisonous. Goofus refused to believe me and told me they were edible. I just kept insiting that they were poison. He then found another berry that I couldn't identify. I told him that and suggested that you never eat anything you aren't familiar with. I swear this knucklehead was still going to eat the berries no matter what but since I didn't hear about any poke berry poisionings I'm hoping he saw sense. Sheesh.
Then there was the guy who had to have the term "when the pig got married" explained to him because he actually thought she got married. You could see that he was trying to figure out in his head if she wore a veil and the boar a tux, till some woman with him told him it meant that's when they were bred and when you have a load of pre schoolers around you have to use euphanisims. I mentioned that word and he then asked if it was some kind of disease. Sigh.

Catching up or now there are pig lips on my bottle.

I've gotten behind in my farm reporting and so I must catch up. So behind I didn't even realise it was Wednesday.
Friday the farm was closed because of rain. It was also the day we got our new furnace and airconditioning. The air conditioning condenser looks like it could actually take off, while the furnace looks like something we could use to make moonshine. And to think. They didn't have to tear up floors or anything. Both work wonderful and we will be snuggly this window and cool next summer.
As for the farm. I can't seem to separate one day from the other so I'll present the mish mash as it pops into my head.
The sow that was over due was finally induced and gave birth to 5 dead and one living. Since it would break the kids heart they shipped in a 2 week old litter of piglets that we are passing off as hers. As for her surviving baby, the story is that it is an orphan. Of course a repeat visitor shows up occasionally and want to know about the over due sow so we just pull them aside and tell them that there was a tragedy and then they easily fall in with the story. The other sow, Dotty will be moved to the farrowing house tonight even though she isn't due till Saturday. Dotty and I have come to be friends and I was even in the pen with her today though it has been said that people would trust the boar more than the sow. Ha. They didn't deal with me the pig whisperer. Of course I tell her who I am and allow her to smell my hand and since pigs aren't stupid, she won't pass up on the belly rubs I've been giving her. She even grunts in reponse when she hears my voice. I always am in awe that a 600 poubd animal will allow me to touch her. I even got to spread my hands out over ther belly and feel the babies kick. It makes up for the idiot parents who ask, when I tell them that her babies are due on Saturday, "She's pregnant?" (only way I know to have babies) and "It's a boy right?" (I wonder on what planet men give birth). Other knucklehead questions are "How much does she weigh" I tell them "650 pounds" and then it starts "she weighs 650 pounds? 650 Pounds? She weighs 650 pounds? Does she really weoigh 650 pounds".
Then there "What is she doing?" Lets see. The pig is laying on her side, eyes closed and she is SNORING so what could she be doing? Crochet? Writing the great American novel. Wait... could it be.. .she's... sleeping!! What a novel idea. You must remember that this is the adults who are asking this question not the kids. Another one is... Can she walk? As opposed to what? Me carrying her around on my back. Then there are the people who must have just crawled out of the cave when they tell the kids with them that it is a cow. Right after I tell them that this is Dotty another girl PIG who is having babies on Saturday.
I must wonder where these people have been all their lives. How can they not know which are the ducks and which are the pigs and what one is the mule and what one is the donkey or that chickens and turkeys are two different kinds of birds. I don't expect everyone to be as big an animal fan as I am but surely at sometime you must have seen a picture of a chicken or a christmas card of Mary riding on the donkey's back. Sigh. No wonder some of the kids that visit are so out of control.
But it isn't all bad. I watched a little boy named Calvin actually capture and hold one of the turkeys for the other kids to touch. He held the bird, firmly but gently and had approached it in such a way that the turkey wasn't alarmed. Seems that Calvin has just moved here from Kenya so it is no big deal to turkey wrangle. You could see that the kid respected animals. There are the parents who help wrangle a duck or a turkey back into its pen and I watched one woman capture a baby goat three different times and return him to his pen. The kid (of the goat persuasion) can actually slip between the bars of the pen and follow people about. You would have thought that it would have aggrivated the woman but she had a look of sheer bliss on her face and she cradeled the kid longer and longer before returning it to its pen. There was the mother who came to get me because people were letting themselves into the goose/duck pen and the father in the pen who was trying to get the people to leave or, at least, to stop chasing the birds. There was the very pregnant due Saturday mother who came on the field trip because there was no way she was going to miss her sons first field trip. There's the brand new worker who braved the sow pen to help be spread shavings and one of the other workers who sprayed my pigs for me while I was busy else where. That's really what makes everything worth while. That and feeling piglets to be kicking in the womb. I'm so lucky to be the pig lady. ---me---

Day three or --- don't forget to wipe the goat lips off your water bottle

How canI be this tired and still stand up and how can I be sooo out of shape that pumpkin rolling becomes a cardio workout? However, I will hang on at the farm because I am so happy there. I am never happy. I am stressed, depressed, frightened, anxious and a whole load of gloomy black cloud words. At the farm with the smell of pig in my nose and shavings in my hair and the chance to get my hands on an 850 pound boar or to be greeted by goats in the morning, I am happy.
Yes, I am a pig person but I'm discovering another soft spot in my heart for goats... despite their devil eyes, I always stop at the nursery pen on my pay to the pigs, I greet the ladies and they come running thinking that there is food in my hand. I held out my hand to the black pygmy and left her sniff them apologising that I had nothing for her to eat. In fact my hands were wet and slightly pumpkin slimey and Miss Goat, yes she is a Miss despite the out of wedlock kid, simply licked my hands dry.
So I'm getting ready to leave and Miss Goat is there, head through the fence, tail wagging. I stop and stoop to give her a good ear rubbing when I notice she is intent on licking the condensation from the outside of my water bottle, (I freeze it at night so i have cold water all day) Thinking she was thirsty for some reason, all the animals have automatic waterers so they have fresh water all day, I poured some of my water into my hands for her to drink. She shied away from my hands but I had been petting pigs all day.
Eventually I got smart and took the top off my big water bottle and tilted it just so that she could drink right out of the bottle. MIss Goat just drank and drank and then the woman in the pen tells me that goat was stuck and had been for most of the day.
OK now. The goat is stuck for most of the day. She had no food and no water and NOBODY DID ANYTHING!!!! Oh yes they told someone a little while ago but the goat was stuck all day.
Farm manager comes by tried to get the goat back through but when she wouldn't back up he left her and said he'd deal with it later. Uh uh. I don't play that way. I tried to coax her backwards with the water bottle. I tried the twisted head maneuver and I tried to pullher back but nothing worked. Then MJ a newbie came by, she had heard that the goat was stuck and wanted to help and between the two of us, Miss Goat was freed. I pushed, MJ pulled. MIss Goat still wanted the water from my bottle and after the day i had I let her drink her fill and made a mental note to wipe the goat lips from my water bottle before I refilled it.
So this makes me think. If a person doesn't like or is afraid of animals, or doesn't know the difference between a chicken and a duck, and if they don't like smells or dirt, and they don't want to TOUCH the animals then why in the world did they apply for work at a petting farm? Complete with smells sights and more poop than you would think possible. For instance, the woman with the stuck goat. When she told me the goat was stuck I asked her what she tried. She threw up her hands and told me that she didn't like to touch the animals and would only hold the babies if they were clean.
Was it so wrong of me to wish that she would step right in the middle of a cow plop on her way to her car? Huh? Was I? Give me some credit here. At least I didn't shove her head through the fencing beside Miss Goat and then make her drink out of the water bottle that had (horrors) touched GOAT LIPS!!
Goat lips are very soft and tickly by the way and remind me of velvet. No goo no slopper just soft and dainty. Like your bewiskered favorite Aunt. ---me---

Day Two

Who knew rolling umpkins used so many muscles. I swear even my hair hurt this morning.
Yesterday one of the farm workers, I'll call her A came up to me muttering about how the kids were little monsters. It seems they had gotten her water jug, opened the spout and poured out all the water. I was about to agree with her when I realised that she works in the nursery pen and when she said she meant KIDS, as in baby goats. THis morning after our obligatory pumpkin rolling we were all heading to our pens when I spot A heading toward the goats followed by a trio of turkeys. She stopped told them to go back to their pens but the only gobbled at her and followed her all the way to her pen. Then they gobbled their way back up the hill and flew neatly into their pen. These turkeys are a hoot, yes they can fly but they never go very far, they know when they have a good life. They tend to roost in the trees at night and each morning a cluster of them sit on one of the benches and watch us roll pumpkins. Personally I'm hoping for a day when they help. These also aren't thanksgiving turkeys because they are rather scrawny looking compared to the toms and hens you find in the freezer section because these birds aren't bred to be eaten. And so they can fly and sturt and appear rather svelte.
Still no babies from Queenie the pig and she is now 5 days overdue. Since she got sunburned yesterday she is now in the farrowing house with a fan blowing on her.
No one particular child stood out at my pen today but I did notice that a lot of the adults thanked me by name. (I wear a name tag) I did pluck a bright lime green caterpillar off some woman's shoulder. She shuddered horribly as if it were some horrible vampire bug ready to pounce. The kids with her, however, were fascinated and we had a discussion about line green caterpillars with orange spots. A green caterpillar sure beats the dead maggot that fell out of my hair yesterday. Out of my hair and onto the Husband's leg. Oh how the man hates maggots.
It was still hot today but tomorrow it should be only in the 60s and hopefully I won't melt into a puddle. So not much excitement but it is early days yet. ---me---

Day one

First day at the farm and I staggered home as if I had been crawling across the desert on my hands and knees. Talk about out of shape, though I wonder how anyone can actually BE in shape when you find yourself head down, butt up, legs spread and shooting pumpkins down a hill. What would they even call such an exercise? The Butt In the air so everyone can see just how BIG my tushie is. And that was just the very first thing in the morning with the rest of the day to get through.
I have the Boar again. This one is Turk and smaller than the last two I dealt with. I was all ready to get in the pen with him when he made a snort of a sound and parked his big body across the gate , effectively blcoking my entrance. Obviously he wasn't ready for company and because he is HUGE, I saw the wisdom in staying outside the pen.
I've been told that Turk is a sweetheart with a bad habit on nipping one's butt. I can just see me wandering into an Emergency room to tell them a pig bit my butt. Perhaps tomorrow I'll be able to join him, just as long as I don't turn my back on him.
Boars are never a big hit. The girls are popular especially when they have babies but the boar usually just lays there and interest wanes. Except for today. I had two boys who kept coming back just to gaze at the Boar. Not trouble making kind of kids but they kept showing up, obviously taken with Turk. Late in the day, one of the kids, Tommy, asked if he could pull a woody weed that was growing up in the pen. I told him he could and I watched at he worked ard to break it off. So now he had a stick. I waited just to see what he was going to do. He reached over the side of the pen, stretched the stick out and shooed the flies away from Turk's ear. Tommy muttered something about flies on Turk's ears and the whole time he and his friend remained at the pen, Tommy waved the flies away. When it was time for them to go, he firmly pushed the weed piece back between the board it had been growing through and went his way. I'm glad I said nothing about him not hitting the pig with it, especially since it porved that that was the last thing on his mind. I hope his parents appreciate me.
My pen has a direct line of sight to the ducks and geese and during a lull I watched one girl gently hold a duck still so that the other kids could pet it. Later I watched her rounding up stray ducks that had gotten out of the pen, somehow catching them and taking them back to the pen. Have you ever tried to corrall a Duck? I did. It ain't easy. Of course it's not my fault that I was rather unsuccessful today. It's hard to catch them when you are laughing so hard you can hardly see. There was what I could only call a bustle ass duck with an odd weaving wobbling walk that gave the impression od a chubby lady with a shopping bag full of groceries heading home to start dinner. I mean really. Evertime I reached to the bustle ass I'd start laughing again. Eventually I gave up but only because the ducks squeezed through the fence and got themselves back into their pen.
When I finally headed toward my car I realised that I should have left 5 minutes early. I could hardly breathe, my chest hurt and I thought I was going to get sick. I made it to my car, poured the rest of my water over my head and waited for it to pass. My face was still bright red when I got home and the Old Pooh says he thinks I got a touch of heat stroke. I'll have to be more careful tomorrow because I will be going back. I love this farm and the animals and the kids and if I run across a Tommy or a duck girl each day I'll consider myself lucky. That's it for now. I gotta crash for a bit. ---me---

Farm Orientation

TOday was orientation for the petting farm. I was so excited I couldn't sleep last night and I wonder why I bothered driving to the farm. I could have flown there fueled by my own energy.
I pulled into the parking lot, got out of my car and just stood for a moment breathing. The air had only a hint of animal and hay but it was more than enough for me. The owner of the farm, a man I was certain hated the sight of me, greeted me warmly and told me he was glad that I was back. Never sure of my own worth in the eyes of others I thought he was being nice but the other returnees actually did seem happy to see me. Maybe I'm no the awful rotten person the library had me believing I was when I left.
We were all subjected to the usual blah blah blah boring stuff for Farm alumni but new to the newbies many of whom had this 'what the heck am I doing' looks on their faces when the talk got to poop and bites and that never ending pile of pumpkins. All I wanted to do was to get to the animals but I was good, bided my time and actually managed not to give into the chatter that was building inside of me. And then after endless quetions and some guy Marvin who brought up the most inane questions we were out in the farm and following farm owner around like a swarm of bees. There were the milking cows, blah blah blah, don't stand behind them because they can kick your face in. Then the pen where the calves WILL BE but weren't unless they were that breed of invisible cows. The little racing pigs were tumbling over each other in excitement but we veered past them for some reason. Could it be that farm owner was afraid I would fling myself into the pen and refuse to leave, becoming part of the herd and racing with the little guys to the pan of warm milk? Peeps and ducklings were next, within arms length of the sow and then, be still my heart, nirvana....PIGS. The firs tis a slightly sunburned white sow named Queenie who has a defiated septum that makes her sound as if she needs to blow her nose. She is very pregnant, and three days overdue. As if a year hadn't passed between the last farm and this I found myself wanting to reach out and check to see if her milk was in yet, I caught myself thinking that it would only appear that I was showing off, but, the last couple of years I'm usually sent into the farrowing house with an expectant pig to calm them. All I could d o for Queenie was scratch her rump while I listened to the farrowing house/pregnant pig stuff that I know by heart. Queenie stood happily still during the who rump scratching but put up a fuss when I had to move on. Farm Owner pointe dout the geese as if we couldn't hear them for ourselves, we zipped past another sow without a name or an age becasue she was bought for the farm simply because she was expecting and had never been out of a piggery before that. Poor baby.
The boar is a different one from the past two years. This one's name is Turk and I can get in the pen with him as long as I don't turn my back on him. I never turn my back on an animal. Farm Owner said that I could get in the pen because I know what I'm doing but it would be better if no other employee did. Hey wait a minute. Maybe someone was paying attention last year.
Now I've always loved animals and the boars at the farm take a fancy to me but someone mentioned that I must have some magic about me because each time we reached a pen the animals all gravitated my way even if I was just standing there with my hands at my side. Even the horse, Fancy, who bites came over and stuck her face in mine demanding attention. I don't even like horses!!! This thrills me to death. There is something about me that tells the animals that I am a kindred spirit! I know that I am alpha at home but with strange animals? It's like a dream come true though thinking about it my sister, about a million yeasrs ago, told someone that I could talk to animals.
So the boar is mine, not that people would be arm wreslting me for the pleasure. I can't wait till I really get my hands onthe pigs tomorrow. Soooo eeeeee.
More tomorrow. ---me---