Pig Kisses

August 19, 2011 § 4 Comments

One of the things I like about living with animals is the little stories that unfold every day.

The story of this photo goes something like this: I was moving the piglets to a fresh piece of ground. To get there, I had to cross a stream; therefore, it seemed expedient to carry the pigs, which were still just small enough to make this a not-entirely-ridiculous idea. While I was ferrying this one, I was gripped by the desire to kiss it on the snout. This proved to be an unwanted advance, hence the blood. I was sort of hoping people would ask me about the wound, but no one did. This probably explains why I’m sharing it here. 

§ 4 Responses to Pig Kisses

  • sylvia says:

    I know the feeling. Recently, I left a rake by a garden bed with the thought “better pick that up. Someone will step on it and hit themselves in the head.” Well, I didn’t. And that someone, you guessed it. Me.
    I am relatively short so the the end of the rake hit me square on the eyebrow and totally blacked my eye.
    No one said a word.
    I guess they are accustomed to seeing my chicken-wire scratched arms, farmer’s tanned legs, bruises and other assortment of urban farming wounds.
    I eventually took it as a compliment.

  • E. Baron says:

    I can see why you would have been moved to land a kiss on that sweet snout. Too bad for you that you look less like a pig and more like a big, brawny brute of a predator. Those sudden moves do sometimes tend to backfire.

  • Pretty hilarious, gotta respect those baby pig survival tactics. My daughter once flipped her step grandpa right over her in a classic self defense move (at three years old) because he tried to grab her and kiss her. She had never met him before and she was right in protecting herself from the brute. He is the same one that verbally abused my Mom. So good for her I say! I am sure you are much nicer!

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