THE PIG FARMER Ken Bishop © 1998

THE PIG FARMER...

Joe Carter wasn't the best farmer in New Zealand, I suppose he wasn't the worst either. He was one of those men were always late.

His farm was a hard bit of land, it was good for growing anything but grass. He milked about forty cows, they, like their owner, and the land, were always behind too. He milked at very irregular hours, sometimes he'd start at 2pm, then the next day it could be 8pm.

Joe was like that, not that he did very much he was always busy dreaming and planning, and time got ahead of him. I don't think anyone knew for certain how many kids he had. They all looked pretty much alike. Then Martha his wife looked pretty much like him to herself; she kept pretty much to herself she seldom went out, and when anyone called, she didn't exactly welcome them with open arms I heard she'd come from the city, and didn't like country life, or country people. However, they seemed get on alright.

The kids went to school when it suited them, the school teacher just gave up on them as a bad job. Sometimes five would turn up, then two or three, then none. Education wasn't a high priority on the Carter household.
Joe had a lot of pigs, there must have been hundreds. They were everywhere; sows with litters were always wandering around. Joe had a great affiliation with his pigs. He seemed to know every single one of them, which was no mean achievement, seeing as they roamed the district as they pleased. But if one died or got shot, for being where it shouldn't, and that was pretty often, Joe would turn up and claim the carcass. It was uncanny.
The lord and master of them all was an enormous large white boar. He was a pig among pigs, as cunning and guileful, as he was large. His carcass was full of bullets and shot, he'd lost the use of one eye, and his ears were only stumps where dogs had tried to hold him, to no avail.

He roamed for miles, when anyone was digging spuds, unless they were out of reach, they would be gone next day. The same with pumpkin or any can of cream or milk, not left in a well-secured place, would be knocked over and cleaned up.
He always arrived after dark or before daylight, and was gone before discovery. Well nearly always, but he was a hard target, and although he was a big frame, bullets found it hard to stop him, though many tried.
Complaints to Joe fell on deaf ears, he asserted he always slept under the house and he knew when he came in or out because the house used to shake. It would too.

Fred Hobson had allot of beehive. One day when Fred found his hives all knocked over, he was irate. The footprints left no doubt who was the culprit.

Fred went and confronted Joe, but Joe denied it as usual so Fred wanted to see the boar. He found him lying in the sun. If bullets couldn't penetrate that hide, bee's stings wouldn't have much show. But Fred wasn't fooled. He also had a vindictive nature.

A week or so later, a hive of bees mysteriously got under Joe's house. When the boar got under, he disturbed them, and all hell broke loose, these weren't the more placid Italian bees either, they were the wild native bee. Bee's were everywhere the boar really shook the house getting out. The Carter family were having breakfast and there was complete and utter chaos. One of the kids told the whole story/at school as kids invariably will. Everyone got stung, Joe very badly. He must have been allergic to bee stings as he was sick for days. Mum and the kids had to milk. The white boar disappeared. No one ever found out what happened to him, some think Joe shot him, himself, other though he might have been allergic to bee stings too.
But Joe had the last laugh, that white boar must have been the most virile animal ever. In his rambling's he got every sow in pig for miles. Not many cockies had bothered keeping a boar and every cockie consequently had sows to get mated.

Joe sold a lot of young boars. But he steadfastly refused to sell Fred Hobson one. So Fred went outside and brought a lovely young Berkshire boar. It was his pride and joy. But sadly for it, it was not a pig brought up to the hardships of life, and one day he ran into one of Joe's wanderers. Like all males, he had to show his metal, and fronted up to the white boar, the battle was all one-sided, he finally made it home, cut to pieces. In his frantic haste to get away, a gleaming tusk cut something else, consequently he never made it as a sire.

Joe was pretty easy to get along with, he was always ready for a chat, and he'd help anyone when they needed a hand. But being Joe, he was always an hour or two late, getting anywhere. Once a new vicar did his rounds of the district, getting aquatinted with everyone, he was a meek and mild little man, who wouldn't say boo to a goose.

He pedalled up to Joe's, on his bike and left it leaning against the front gate post. It was nearly midday and Joe was just coming in for his breakfast, he'd been castrating a few pigs, and he had his far share of blood and pig muck on him. When the vicar introduced himself, Joe promptly grabbed the vicars hand, and pumped it vigorously, when the poor vicar retrieved his numb member, there was more than a fair share of blood, mud, and muck, on it. The poor man felt very faint, and asked for a drink of water.

Joe yelled out to the kids to get some water. Not having water laid on to the house, one of the older boys streaking off with a bucket to get some from the creek. He finally made it back to the house; the water was almost the same colour as coffee. Joe grabbed a cup, and rinsed it in the bucket and filled the cup and gave it to the vicar. The vicar wasn't so faint he didn't notice the condition of the water, he hesitated but Joe looked so stern he took a sip, albeit a small one, but Joe said "Get it into you man, I don't want you dying here. The bloody pig would eat you before I could find time to get you to a doctor."

The poor vicar took a few more sips, then he dropped the cup and hurriedly got his handkerchief out and vigorously wiped his mouth.

Joe looked at the water and said to the lad, “Where did you get the water from it's pretty dirty”.

The boy rubbed his barefoot on the vicar’s bike and replied. "From the creek but a couple of sows were eating a dead calf in it and they made the water dirty. "Well why didn't you got up the creek past them, you nut!" Them two bulls were standing in the creek and I'm frightened of them". The boy was agitated. Joe saw the boy meant well, "Well I hope we haven't poisoned the parson, he doesn't look too good to me. I forgot about that calf I don't know what he died of, he was scouring pretty bad."
The poor vicar was flicking his tongue in and out like a lizard, his face was ashen.

"Do, do you think the disease the calf died of is contagious" he stuttered.

“God I hope not, I don't want my sows to get crook and die on me, I lost some like that once before, I don't want you to die on me either, it would give the place a bad name, but you don't look too good to me.

Hey Martha," he yelled "Come here quick," Martha and 4 kids came running out. "Hey I think we might have poisoned the parson or given him a bad disease, what do you think."Martha had a look at the vicar and lifted his eyelid up, "Yes he's got a bad look in his eye like that calf that died the other day, do you think its catching? We'd better get the vicar to christen the young kids before he goes off into a coma, I'd hate them to die without being christened. But the poor vicar was beyond christenin anyone. He had slumped to the ground. Joe was worried, he went to catch a horse to take the vicar to a doctor.

The horse wasn't easy to catch, when he finally got back George Colleens had arrived. George had a very earthy sense of humor, Joe was very pleased to see him, he told George the story. George had met the vicar and wasn't very impressed with him at all. George always spoke in a loud voice.

What would be the easiest thing to do, would be to knock him on the head, and feed him to the pig. They'd eat him all up in half an hour, no trouble. Nobody knows he's here. We haven't seen him. He ain't very big. Martha take the kids for a walk. It would be bad for them to see us, cut his 'ead 'orf. Come along Joe, we'll get a big axe." He slyly looked at the vicar who was sitting very still, and they walked away to 'get an axe', when they were around the corner, the vicar leapt to his feet grabbed his bike and took off. George watched around the corner when the poor vicar was well on his way George came back, and yelled "Hey come back, we want you, but the vicar had no intention of coming back for a man of his small statue he had amazing stamina, the bike was really flying.

George looked at the fast disappearing figure, spat on the ground and said "I read once about the resurrection of Christ. Well that was the resurrection of a vicar. Bloody good riddance.
I don't think the Carter kids ever got christened.

THE PIG FARMER