Bicycling from Swartz Bay to Victoria along the Lochside Trail isn’t without incident. Just five minutes past the Victoria Radio Control Modelers Society (VRCMS) flying grounds at Michell Airpark, I meet a pig in a pigpen.
I usually stop to see a model plane or two, but there’s a strong sow ‘ester blowing. Model planes are temporarily grounded. Two sows snooze in a shed. A third one’s submerged in soft mud. Her pink back and head face me. Mucky bliss. I see it in a pig’s eye.
“Happier-than-a-pig-in-mud, you’re beautiful,” I say.
Her quivering snout roots me out. “Is this another poke at a pig?”
A tranquil wallow is good for sweat-gland-free skin. Sunscreen, parasite killer, coolant, insect repellent— all-in-one lotion.
I take her pig-pic; she lines me up in her viewfinder. Once I’m in range, she twitches her right ear. I wave back holding my hand up to my ear like the Mickey-Mouse-Club graduate I am.
She tweaks her left ear. I respond in kind. A couple more times, right and left. I follow.
I swear, she’s leading this dance. She’s the in-sty-gator. Tweak, tweak. Her right ear, then mine. Doubles now. Tweak, tweak. Right then left.
A little twitch of the tail. I can manage that. Tweak right, tweak left, tweak right. I tweak back bilaterally.
At this point my friends are ready to bicycle on without me. Don’t they see this is more than the pair of us going hog-wild? Swine.
Pigs normally communicate with grunts and squeals. Is this a sign to relax? Have fun on this sunny weekend? Slather on some sunscreen? Watch out for parasites? Okay, corpulent hog lingo is under-rated.
I’m putting her on FB. She’s putting me on Pigterest, Snout-Time, Oinked-In, and Insta-Pig.
“Sows,” she practically squeals, “this one’s a corker.”
Meanwhile, this little piggy’s off to market… to Maddick’s Farm for a veggie sandwich with cham-pig-nons.
Lochside Trail Pig Gig, Southern Vancouver Island…
The (rear) End
“I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.”
~Sire Winston Churchill