The last three days have been a battle with porkers. Every morning at sparrows fart the Berners alert us to sausage on the rampage and skirmishes with buckets ensue as pork and mutton slog it out in the lane for supremacy while yours truly entices the beserker bangers back into the pig pen. The exit point was obvious, no tunnels this time, the gate was wide open. Had the PGOOR struck again?The Ryelands, miffed at not getting their breakfasts first, loiter around looking for opportunity to create more havoc while the Berners charge around adding their thoughts to the mix, in all, chaos reigns. Iron gate slammed shut behind the last of the trainee bacon and all is well in my world.
So it is with some annoyance that half an hour or so after the first melee, when I am settling down to a full cooked English the sirens sound again and another raid is on. Squadrons of pigs swoop past the cottage cheered on by their fleecy supporters, the Berners do what can only be described as chuck a mental at this fresh incursion and the farce is only resolved by the limited patience of yours truly and the lure of the magic blue bucket. Order restored, gate shut (it was strangely open again!) breakfast rescued from vermin cats, a quiet normal life resumes.
For an hour or so.
The shrill sound of the Bernese siren alerts us to another raid by hostile forces. This takes some defeating as having had more than their fair share of rations the pigs are not so inclined to follow the blue bucket and have to be enticed with promises of carrots, fresh straw and access to a radio 1 hour a day. Despite this a Berkshire is MIA for an hour and is found making its way back for a safe landing in the fresh straw while the rest are drinking in the mess.
The gate is firmly closed.
Later on I am on a perimeter check. The sequence below is filmed. Had I filmed twenty seconds earlier you would have seen Bridget grasp the gate draw bar in her jaws, slide it back and push. The gate swung open and grunting the pig equivalent of "Follow me!" she was off again. She refused to do it on camera. Never work with kids and animals. But has the PGOOR finally been unmasked?
2 comments:
Thanks for that: it brightened my morning up no end...
Ha! At least now you know. We rescued from unfit owners an ex RAF Police sniffer dog called Henry and soon found out that no latch, door handle etc., was beyond being openned by this clever dog. We ended-up reversing all door handles so that they had to be lifted upwards and this worked a treat....for about a week! Bless him.
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