Our old potbellied pig had been making himself scarce lately, mostly because calving required us to move the mules into the barn where pig usually slept. So we didn’t notice him missing yesterday.

Turns out he was up at the pond, puffed up and floating in the weeds at the shallows.

I wasn’t sure how rotten he was going to be, so I wasn’t enthusiastic about tying his leg off to the rowboat and dragging him out. Actually, as hot as it’s been, I was concerned his foot might snap off, or he’d burst in a shower of nasty fluids.

We got him landed and fully beached without too much effort, and tonight we’ll torch him once it starts to cool down.

I suspect he was chased into the pond by coyotes or feral dogs, panicked, and drowned. I haven’t really examined him to determine if the rips are just postmortem turtle damage.

It’s a shame to deny the pond life such a tasty treat, but I swim in that pond sometimes.

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