The pig was through the gates and back on the farm. Fantastic!
But then… which pen was hers?
The pens stretched as far as the eye could see and we couldn’t just put her anywhere.
I jogged or rather slithered up to the farm building at the top of the hill, while Liz played British Bulldog with the pig – it must not reach the road!
At the top of the hill there wasn’t a soul about. However, on the horizon was a dot. The dot grew bigger and bigger and as it grew so did my euphoria as I realized that it was the pig man on his tractor.
The pig man got closer and closer, mud splattering and water spraying.
I waved at him. He waved back. And carried on waving and driving.
With my waving becoming crazy and my wellies sinking in the mud, the pig man stopped.
“You’ve got a loose pig,” I shouted above the noise of the engine.
“A loose pig!”
“You better climb in!” he said.
Not standing on ceremony I pulled myself up into the cab of the tractor, a new experience.
My mother always said ‘don’t get into strangers’ cars’. There had been no mention of tractors.
We bounced down to Liz and the pig: the condensation running down the window.
We reached Liz and the pig and jumped down.
Meanwhile, Kerstin from next door had driven round the other way in her Range Rover to head off the pig.
She stopped to talk to the pig man.
She talked and talked and the pig ran off down the track.
Liz and l looked at each other in disbelief and yelled, “the pig!”
The pig man splashed after the pig, Kerstin drove off and Liz and I waited in the driving rain.
Finally having caught up with the pig, the pig man brought her back to us. He looked at her tag, ran his finger over his chart and he nodded, the rain dripping off his nose.
I think he could have managed but as he was rurally handsome, we helped him get her back to her pen and her piglets.
He said, “She’s slipped under the wire, the ground being so muddy.”
All I can say is, next time you’ve got a loose pig, I’m your girl!