Simple as that.
And it was.
For once, and much to the amazement of the haulier waiting to take the three little pigs, it was easier done than said.
The pig club recruits used to being hand fed apples raced after me to the trailer. Thor forsook Bridget for the joy of ponies thus leaving yours truly free to entice Bridget to the luxury transport wagon. All three safely aboard in around three minutes.
It was a shame there was no camera around to record this incredible feat.
And then just as quickly it all began to unravel.
The pigs needed to be tagged with an identity number and herd number so as it can be traced etc and doesn't end up in anyone's lasagna disguised as horse meat. My piggies are used to having their ears fondled while eating ready for the precise moment in the trailer when I reach across and give then a quick ear piercing and pretty orange tag.
So much went pear shaped.
First off the tagger refused to tag, it just jettisoned the tag on the floor, not before pinching Tweedle Dum or Dees ear, worse, Bridget's tag broke, then stuck tagger and all to her left lobe.
Drawing board was hastily referred to, tagger was obviously the fly in the ointment, time for the big guns. MkII tagger, heavy duty version, but pigs are now wary of ear fondling and creating a fuss at the end of the trailer out of harms/arms way.
Even apples could not entice them.
Haulier, one eye on clock and penny to minute ratio, gallantly volunteered to get in amongst anxious pork and in colloquial terms, get a grip.
This had several effects which thankfully resulted in no serious injuries, but presence of driver in confined space with three nervous porkers changed the game somewhat and Bridget took matters into her own trotters and altered the rules of smallholding, in particular the one that says that any animal can get out of anywhere through a gap exactly half the size of its body. Bridget, being a full grown sow, probably weighing some 200 pound launched herself through the rear of the trailer over my shoulders through a gap barely 14 inches wide and 3 foot off the ground. While she busied herself in the apple sack irate
driver got a grip of the business end of the small boar and I tagged the right ear, as in pigs ear not human. Soon it was all over bar the shouting (let me out of the trailer type shouts) and Bridget behaved by climbing back into the transporter, well say climbed, was assisted in by yours truly pushing from behind and now I was thankful no camera was around as it looked well dodgy.
Silence descended on Rock HQ and after a well timed sausage sarnie other jobs were got on with. By weeks end, all being well several tons of pork and sausage will return and fill the space in Mr Whirlpool left by the treasure hunt barbque!