Farewell to Melvin

Melvin's baby picture.

We had a bear climb into the pig pasture to see if there were any leftovers on the ground, which there usually are. After all, we're talking about pigs here. They don't exactly have the best table manners. The bear came in after dark when everyone was sleeping. Now imagine you're a pig, sound asleep, dreaming of the slop fairy. You hear a noise and think "Wow, there's really is a slop fairy, and I actually hear her." You open a sleepy eye expecting to actually discover her, only to see a bear just a few feet from you. You can imagine the ruckus that ensued. Squealing piglets (and I use that term loosely because they're about 100 pounds now, but still only about 3 months old) running everywhere, mama pig attacking the bear, dogs barking, human mama (that'd be me) running from the house, spotlight in hand, screaming at the top of her lungs, did I mention the barking, and charging, dogs? At this point your sympathies have to be with the poor bear. All he (or she) was doing was trying to quietly scoff a few leftover morsels, the bear equivalent of raiding the refrigerator at midnight. Before making a getaway over the perimeter fence, the bear struck out with one paw and swatted the closest pig which happened to be Melvin, the only spotted pig in the litter, who went sailing through the air, landing on a pile of brush. After everyone calmed down a bit I was able to assess the injuries to Melvin. There wasn't a mark on him but you could tell he was injured. We took him to the barn for the night but in the morning it was determined he must have internal injuries so Melvin was given a one-way ticket to freezer camp. Farewell Melvin. May you rest eternally in slop heaven.

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