Courtney's Chronicles
There are certain sounds on a farm that instantly make your heart sink. For some people, it might be the sound of breaking glass or the smoke alarm chirping in the middle of the night. For a pig farmer, however, the sound that sends a small wave of panic through your body is the unmistakable shuffle, scurry and squeal of piglets where piglets absolutely should not be.
It usually begins with a moment of confusion. You walk into the barn expecting the usual routine. Maybe you're carrying a bucket of feed, or maybe you're just doing a quick check before heading back to the house. Everything seems normal at first glance. The lights click on, the pigs start stirring, and then something feels off. It takes a second for your brain to register what your eyes are seeing. Piglets. Everywhere. Not in their pen where they belong, but scattered throughout the alleyway like a group of toddlers who just discovered an open playground.
And then it hits you. The gate. The one gate you forgot to latch. Yep, that was me just the other day. However, it wasn't me who discovered the escapees. I was still in the house and our 16-year-old son had already gone out to start on chores when I received a phone call from him saying that pigs were out.
Now, to be fair, forgetting to shut a gate on the farm doesn't happen often. Most of us develop a habit of double-checking things because experience has taught us that animals are far more observant than we give them credit for. If there is a weakness in a fence, a loose board, or a gate that isn't quite secured, livestock will find it faster than a kid finds the cookie jar.
And piglets? Piglets treat an open gate like they've just won the lottery. Somehow, they always seem to discover it within minutes. Standing in the doorway of the barn, you have a brief moment where you consider your options. You could slowly back away and pretend you didn't see anything. Maybe they'll magically wander back into their pen on their own. But deep down, you know that's not going to happen.
Piglets don't return to their pen voluntarily once they've discovered freedom. In their minds, they have just unlocked a whole new world of adventure. Suddenly, every corner of the barn needs investigating. One piglet darts toward the feed. Another heads straight down the alley like it has somewhere important to be. Two more decide the pelleted shaving bags look interesting. Meanwhile, a few of the bold ones stand there staring at you, as if to say, "Well, this is awkward."
This is the moment when the game begins. And it is, without question, a game. You take a step forward, hoping to calmly guide them back where they belong. The piglets take that as their cue to scatter in 12 different directions. Their tiny hooves tap across the concrete as they zigzag past you with surprising speed. Anyone who thinks piglets are slow has clearly never tried to catch one. They are small, quick and incredibly skilled at slipping just out of reach. You reach down to grab one, and it darts sideways like it's been practicing evasive maneuvers its entire life. Another one scoots between your boots and takes off down the aisle again.
At this point, you begin mentally calculating how long this situation is going to take. Because you already know the answer: longer than you planned. Piglets have a remarkable ability to sense when you're trying to catch them. The more determined you become, the more determined they become to avoid capture. It becomes a delicate dance of herding, blocking and trying to outsmart animals that weigh about 15 pounds but seem to possess the strategic thinking of a seasoned escape artist.
Eventually, you manage to guide a few back into the pen. Victory feels close. But the moment you turn your attention to the others, two more sneak past you like tiny pink ninjas. Back out into the barn they go. This is when you start talking to them. Not because it helps, but because it makes you feel better. "Come on now. Let's go back." As if piglets have ever listened to polite conversation.
Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, you start to laugh. Because despite the frustration, there is something undeniably comical about the whole situation. A dozen piglets bouncing around the barn like popcorn, clearly enjoying every second of their unexpected field trip. Finally, after enough maneuvering, blocking and a little strategic patience, the last piglet finds its way back through the gate. You close it. Then you latch it. Then you check it again. And maybe tug on it one more time for good measure.
The barn grows quiet again, aside from the content grunts of piglets settling back into their pen. You lean against the gate for a moment, catching your breath and reflecting on the lesson you just relearned. Always latch the gate.
Of course, the truth is that moments like these are part of farm life. No matter how organized you try to be, animals have a way of keeping you humble. They remind you that routines can change in an instant and that sometimes the day's plans are going to involve chasing piglets instead of whatever was on your to-do list. And honestly, that's part of the charm. Because years from now, when the kids talk about growing up on the farm, they probably won't remember the perfectly normal chore days. But they will remember the morning the piglets discovered the unlatched gate.