Today's post on the blog is an excerpt of Wendy's memoir of her childhood. Her father had been gassed during one of the battles in France in the 1914-1918 world war, and his permanently damaged lungs made it difficult for him to work year round. In warm weather he worked outdoors, overseeing telephone linesmen setting up new phone lines across the South Island of New Zealand. Her memoirs contain several memorable anecdotes about her experience as the youngest of three children during the great depression of the early 1930s, with her brother John and her sister Rae. This is the story of the two pigs, Adolphus and Jemima.
Among the stray animals that Pop found while out in the country were two white piglets. He had sat in the truck eating his lunch when he heard a baby crying, a strange sound when he was miles from any house. He got up to look around but could see nothing, so he followed the noise to a dense bush and peering underneath it he saw two little white pigs snuffling and mewling in the grass. He reached in and picked one up because it certainly wasn't the wild boar variety and he wasn't afraid of a domestic pig. It didn't resist at all and he was wondering if he should just leave them there for the mother to return, but no domestic pig would be out in the country so far from any farm. The little fellow was obviously thirsty because it latched onto Pop's sleeve and started to suck it. The other one heard its brother and missing its warmth beside it came out to investigate. Pop had an old tin in his tool kit so he brushed it out and poured some of his tea into it, blew it cool and pushed the pig's nose into it. They were too small to be weaned, but with the help of Pop's finger it got some fluid and seemed satisfied. He repeated the process with the second one, then returned them to the hiding place and left them for the return of the mother.
He carried on across the country, unreeling telephone wires, climbing the poles he and his gang had put up previously, and connecting the wires to them. At knock off time he retraced his route, and looked under the bush to see if the Mum had collected her babies. The two were still there, very vocal and hungry, so he reasoned that a hard hearted farmer had just thrown these surplus piglets out to fend for themselves, because no mother animal would leave her babies for so long. He still had some tea in his thermos, and this time they didn't get so much up their noses. They were two smart little animals. He made room in his tool kit and wrapped them up in a bag and put them in the box, and drove home. We had finished tea when he returned, and were intrigued when he walked in with this bundle under his arm. We were thrilled when he put the two little pink pigs down on the floor and they skittled around squealing. Mum was not quite so enthralled, but she put some warm milk into a bottle and with a wick of towelling they could suck it and had a good feed. We found a big cardboard box and they soon were snugly snoring, cosy in some old rags.
The next day Pop unearthed the half tank from the orchard, and with all of us heave- ho-ing, we moved it near the house, put a box sideways in one corner, with hay and the rags in it, and straw in another corner for their toilet. They always used this and never soiled any where else. A bowl for water and their new home was ready. We bought 2 lambs teats, so we could bottle feed them simultaneously. We called them Adolphus and Jemima, and after a week they came to their names. They loved to be picked up and I had a great time dressing them in dolls clothes, putting them in an old doll's pram and pushing them around the garden. They would lie there happily and quite often doze off. In a short time they were eating solids, but they still liked a bottle of milk.
The two pigs grew rapidly and soon could stand on their hind legs to peer over the top of the tank. Jemima could get out but we couldn't imagine how she did it. She would appear at the back door and squeal until Mum gave her a tidbit and returned her to the tank with an extra snack for Adolphus too. After a few days she was long enough in the leg to go up the back stairs and she would follow Mum around the house until she got attention and a snack. Needless to say Mum wasn't all that thrilled with her company.
Whenever there was a Nor'Wester I would have a "bilious attack" and stay home from school until the nausea subsided. I was sitting in the garden by the tank when I heard a commotion, with grunts and squeals and chasing around. Getting up to see what was happening, I saw Jemima rear up on her hind legs and put one foot on the bolt that held the tap in place, and then Adolphus gave her a push with his nose under her tail and she tipped overboard, landing with a grunt on the other side. After a shake, she purposefully trotted off to the back door, while Adolphus sat back and waited for the extra rations. It was time for larger accommodation.
Pop made a superb pigsty down by the creek a good distance from the house, where there was a convenient slope so that the manure from their deck could be hosed down through the slats, run down away from the sty into a holding tank for manure for the garden. They had a good sized living room with an adjoining bedroom full of dry straw and a roof over both. Their deck was large enough for them to chase each other around for exercise and bask in the sun when it was warm. The feed troughs were out there so that anything that was spilt could be hosed down and not encourage flies. There was a gate between the living section and the outdoor deck, so the pigs could be shut in one half or the other to facilitate cleaning. By now they were two gross pigs full of push and playfulness that was enough to knock even Rae, my 14 year old sister, over.
One Saturday when the posh people over the creek were having a garden party with tables set out on the lawn sloping down to the creek, we decided to clean the pig sty, and as the guests were assembled up near the house some distance from the creek we didn't anticipate that our activities would disturb them.
With a family effort and much enthusiasm, the inside gate was not fastened securely, and as we were hauling the straw through the outside gate from the deck, Adolphus pushed out onto the deck, sent my brother John flying, and leapt from the deck, making a mad dash for the creek, and the garden party opposite.
Rae who was tall for her age dashed after the pig, grappled him in the creek, but with the wet skin lost her grip and both of them charged up the slope towards the astonished guests. Rae was gaining slightly, but the gap between the pig and the guests was getting alarmingly small when with a gigantic effort, Rae threw herself forward and grabbed Adolphus's tail. She hung on like crazy as he changed direction and headed back to the creek.
By this time all the family had got into the act. Pop, my brother John, the dog and even the ducks on the creek all set up a great hullabaloo, and as Adolphus and poor Rae being dragged along behind still grimly hanging on, rushed towards them they formed a corral and caught the culprit. Ever after Adolphus had a straight tail, while Jemima's was pert and curly. Rae was the heroine and the neighbours never had another garden party in our time.
There's no mention in the memoirs of what ultimately became of those two pigs, but I have my own theory about this. When I was assembling her memoirs, stories, poems and paintings into the book of her selected works, I thought it best not to go into this theory.
I love this.
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