There was a pigpen built next to the tool shed, a little ways from the vegetable garden.   It smelled so bad near that pigpen that I didn't go there very often.   Besides, pigs like to roll around in the mud.  One time, I was standing on their board fence watching.  They got to rolling around so hard that mud flew off them and got on me.   It was stinky mud too!

Their pen was always muddy because they had dug a hole to fit their bodies and some of the water from their drinking trough had slopped out into that hole.  They would snort and oink and roll around until they had a real good mud puddle to play in.

I loved to play in the mud puddles in the driveway, but I never wanted to play in the pig's mud puddle.   It was pee-yoo-wee!

One night at the supper table, Momma said to Daddy, "I don't like those pigs. They are always getting out of their pen, digging up my flowers and running away."

Daddy said, "Yes, I know they do that, but someday they will be breakfast bacon and then you will be glad we have them."

One sunny morning, Momma and I were flying a kite out in the pasture by the vegetable garden.   Momma had tied a little plastic doll to the kite.  We were talking about how we wished we could fly up high on that kite, like the doll.

Just then, Momma looked behind us and said, "Oh No! The pigs are out and they are in the garden!"

Momma handed me the kite string and I started winding it in while she ran toward the garden.

Carrots were being pulled out of the ground and eaten.  Lettuce was flying in all directions.   Cabbages were being uprooted and thrown through the air like basketballs.   Tomato plants were being torn up and thrown off to the side.   The pigs were on an eating rampage!

As I gathered the kite and ran to the garden, I saw Momma trying to shoo the pigs back into their pen.   One big pig, I think he was the Daddy pig, wouldn't budge.   He lowered his head and grunted.  He looked straight at momma with his little pig eyes and took a step toward her.

Momma took a step backwards and called to me, "Get into the house right now!  The pig is mad and might charge at us."

I ran to the back porch and peeked around the post to watch Momma.  I was really scared.

Momma got the other pigs back into their pen and put the board they had pushed out, back into place.   The big pig kept right on pulling up vegetables and snorting around the garden.   Every now and then he would stop and glare at Momma.

Just then Daddy came up from the field on his tractor.  I ran off the porch and told him what had happened.

Daddy jumped off the tractor, ran into the tool shed and got a big pitchfork.   He ran into the garden and poked that big pig a good one, right on its bottom.

The pig turned toward Daddy and lowered his head and snorted.   Daddy smacked that pig on his nose with the handle of the fork and the pig squealed and ran out of the garden.   Momma opened the gate of the pen and Daddy kicked the pig on its bottom and the pig ran into his pen.

I heard Momma telling Daddy at supper that night, "Those pigs have to go.  They ruined the vegetable garden.   I don't know if there will be enough vegetables to can for this winter.   What if that big bore had hurt us?"

I could see Momma had tears in her eyes.

The next week, a big truck came driving up the driveway and the man backed it right up to the gate of the pigpen and herded all the pigs into his truck.  He gave Momma some money and took the pigs away.

Daddy never did get any more pigs.  From then on, we bought our breakfast bacon from the grocery store in town.