5 year old me was always outside weather permitting. I had not yet discovered “chapter” books so although I was an accomplished reader books didn’t own me the way they would during my teen years (ok, they still own me). Being a farm girl there were 6.475 billion things to do on any given day. This particular adventure deals with a fine early summer day in 1980. I am, of course, the heroine of this little tale with cameo appearances by my sister Lissy, brother TJ & Mom.
I should also note that I loved to help out & follow Dad around. Mom’s jobs were things like dusting & taking care of a baby. Dad had animals, trucks & other machines…plus there was always a chance for a trip to town or a neighbor’s farm. Being the social butterfly I am (and caffeine addict…farmers ALWAYS have coffee) Dad was who I would choose when the opportunity presented itself.
We had pigs at the time & there are few animals more cute than the soft pink & curly tail of a piglet. I was in love with them & attempted to catch one to play with on several occasions. The trouble was there were a lot of baby pigs & they would get all would up by my chasing them. This led to squealing…from them too & I hated that noise. Being a precocious problem-solver I thought about the best way to catch a pig (hmmm…too bad Cary Grant isn’t around for more movie roles…) & decided to grill Dad about it. After using all the persuasiveness innate & willingly wielded; Dad relented & one day gave me a piglet catching lesson. Dad showed me how to stand firm & then he shoo’ed the piglets my way. He showed me how to reach down & grab them by their back legs & hold the squiggly little suckers upside down. If done properly this keeps the piglet from sounding the “a crazy 5 yr old just snatched me” alarm. We practiced a few times & I proclaimed myself proficient.
A couple days later I was playing outside when I decided that catching a piglet was the order of business that needed attending. Needing a piglet catcher I enlisted the aid of my 3 yr old sister Lissy. We walked to the hog house area which was in the back par of our yard. I then proceeded to give Lissy the very same instructions I had received. I planted her in the doorway & then chased 20-30 baby pigs at her. Needless to say she was scared to death & started to cry and scream. Frustrated but undaunted I managed to catch a piglet & headed outside with the struggling piglet firmly clasped about the middle. Of course the pig was squealing, Lissy was still crying & I was frustrated at the whole thing. Mom, hearing the commotion while changing TJ’s diaper leaned to the window, “Becci, what are you doing with that pig?” The exasperation in her voice still rings clearly through the years…. I stopped, still with a firm grip on the pig & in the most matter-of-fact way explained, “Well, I want to swing but I want someone to swing with so I am taking the pig along. I’m going to teach it to swing too.” And with a nod at Mom & the thought of what a silly question that was I continued over to my swing set.
The swing set had a teeter-totter, 2 individual swings (excellent for lying on your stomach & pretending you could fly) & a two seater swing. I hauled that pig into the two seater & began to push back & forth…it didn’t last long & I let the piglet go running back to the safety of the pen. I learned something very important that day….pigs simply don’t like to swing.