Getting Your Own Pig
Up to now we have been tellin' all you folks about cookin' pig. We have been smokin' it and eating it. Sometimes just doing it by putting it on a spit and roasting it. So as you can pull at it. As it cooks from the outside in. Or burying it and stuffin' it with hot rocks then covering it with banana leaves. That process takes a might to long so it ain't one of our favorites. " Cause you have to get someone to volunteer to dig the pit. Now we get our pig from a local farmer. Who has been kind enough all these years to contribute one or two each time we have a church event. I can tell what he has been up too by the size of his donation. We have raised a bit of cash each time by doin' what we do best. When it comes to cookin' or smokin' those farm fattened animals. This year it started off a bit different when it comes to procuring our bbq favorite.
Farm Pigs Can Go Back To Wild Ways
Lots of folks may or may not know, that a pig has a tendency of reverting back to the wild when it gets a chance to do so. I have heard tell that it will not take long before it takes on the appearance and habits of a wild boar. It will take about a month for the hair to get similar to that of one living in the wild outdoors. The identifying word boar, in the case of these animals denotes either male or female. Whether you agree with this or not, really does not matter. Fact is that a domestic pig soon falls into the feral classification for all intensive purposes. We know that there are some that have been spotted rootin" around in a nearby wood.
Do It The Manly Way
The logical conclusion of all that are involved with the providing of good bbq is, to catch a pig. That way we can claim that we did it the manly way. This conclusion turns out to be not logical at all. We also find out catching a feral pig is not as easy as shooting fish in a barrel. Or, catching a rat in an empty ten by ten foot barn. Dogs are usually used for this type of hunt. There are dogs that are trained to go after boar and chase them. Some to catch em and hold on to 'em. Until their human counter parts can get them under control. Either by killing the cornered boar on the spot or hog tying their legs. Then bringing them home to butcher. Needless to say, we do not have one of these dogs.
Get That Porker
So here we be standing across from the town drug store. Drinking coffee, and having fried egg, bacon and cheese sandwiches on a roll at Julio's Chinese Breakfast Nook. Which by the way makes the best Bok Choy and grits on this here planet. We start out with a crowd of about ten excited and animated suedo hunters. Which then thins out to five as the dawn hours proceed into daylight. With the coffee drunk and the sandwiches eaten'. Then the desertions started. After being contacted by cell phone and wives reminded them of their " honey do chores" back at the house.
Getting Ready
We take stock of what we have to complete the mission. We have the vehicles that would seem appropriate. You know, the typical four wheel drive kind and a dirt bike motorcycle previously used to navigate the mud at the Wood Stock festival. We are going to use that in place of a horse. Each one of us manly type honchos, has a hand gun strapped on to his leg. Rope and some assorted cutlery equipment. Just in case we have to gut and butcher it on the spot. A paper sack with a second delicious and nutrient rich fried egg sandwich for the days hunt. Just in case we got hungry. Along with John Sansabelt's 5 year old black miniature poodle. Who we were all told was a natural hunting dog. That's true, being it is adept at hunting dog bones under the sofa. Or retrieving ducks from a pond. Catching pigs, well I think that is way out of a minature poodles league. The, I said, "what the heck, he is the only dog we have. Some Know But Won't Go
Upon arriving at the location we knew from eye witness testimony of Mr. Vincent the town barber. Who's claim to fame included still knowing how to give a shave with a straight edge razor. Hear tell by his son Josh Vincent. He was a fierce hunter of boar in his native Italy. An impression given to him by numerous stories of his hunts, via his daddy's accounts. Unfortunately it was Saturday and the busiest day of the week in his shop. Mr. Vincent was left behind to tend to long and straggly hair of the youth of the town. After all the next day was "Sunday go to meeting" day.
What A Surprise Not having the benefit of the most experienced boar hunter in the group, we were off. Soon after we were observing the wild razor backs. Included the group was what looked like a farm raised pig. Using their snouts to dig up what ever it was they were anxious to uncover out of the ground. It was time to catch us a pig and we all stood around doing absolutely nothing except day dreaming. Until the black poodle jumped out of one of our rigs and started running and yapping.
Poodle In Action Off we went after him. The dog seemed to have absolutely no fear. Can you believe it. I could not. Now I thought that particular breed had a penchant for ducks and water. Not razor backs with tusks. I figured he was tired of his ears being pulled by John's grand kids. He was angry and decided it was time to get even with anyone or anything. The boar on the run looked kind of like John's grandson, Randall. I think it was the straight stick like hair similar to that sticking up from the pigs neck and down it's back. I heard the dirt bike we were counting on using to run the pigs down . Trouble is that we really were not sure what to do when we did. Kind of like a dog chasing a fire truck and not knowing what to do when he caught up with it.
Motorcycle Was No Help The dog kept running cutting one out of the group and chasing it down to the retention pond. The area sat on the edge of the flat scrub cluttered area bordering the woods. It was a sight to see. Up came the bike with the rider standing on the pegs jutting out the side of the frame. Hitting a deep hidden gully, young Jeffrey Combs, the rider, took a dive over the handle bars, His hands out in front of him to stop his fall wound up landing equally in two fresh cow pies. His face except for his nose, barely missing a large rock pointing like an arrow directly to his left nostril. Jeff Combs ended up looking like Jack Nickelson in that movie Chinatown. Sporting a bandage on his split nose for a month. Hoping that it would heal closed with out a scar that everyone was sure to point to. Bound to telling a story that would change every time it was told. 'Till the scar morphed into a symbol of ridicule, instead a badge of courage. Well it didn't heal without a scar. It was only a matter of time they did make it something that he got into plenty a scrap about. Making the hurt more than physical. The pain of the injury lasting long after the wound had closed.
The Poodle Closes The Deal
By this time the poodle had sunk it's teeth into the corkscrew tail of the bristling animal. Pulling and circling to the right and then back to the left when the snout got too close to it's muzzle. That dog's nose was boiling with bubbling snot as it maneuvered that boar any which way it wanted. Dragging the ugly looking black mass backwards. As it shook it's head as if those teeth were clamped onto a stuffed toy it refused to give up. When you tried to pull it away. It was a sight to behold. One that I was surprised to see and one hard to tell about with out having to exclaim that every word was true. This little dog was convinced he was as big as Rottweiler. It was finally relieved from duty by yours truly who grabbed that squealer by the rear legs and tied up that hog neat as a postal package. The dog strutted back to the 4 wheel drive in a jaunty arrogant high stepping trot. His bobbed tail standing stiff in the air. While switching back and forth like a metronome. Jumping in the front seat like a captain behind the wheel of a motor boat. His new focus was now to leave the hunt. The poodle got his self respect and we got ourselves a pig.
The name of that courageous and willy poodle is. No not Pierre, just Pete..
No comments:
Post a Comment