A bit off topic but follows a bit that I wrote for for the BBS a few years ago.
Christmas and Chanukah are both on December 25th this year. With the Holidays so soon to be upon us, gift shoppers are frantic as they race the aisles of the Merch Marts.These palaces are redolent with hot plastic money at the check out stations. Being little different than most others , wishing to get my shopping done early, I have been charging thither and yon in search for that "right" item.
While standing in line ,to part with my fast depleting funds, I suddenly remembered another just before Christmas time. A time that continues to bring a smile and a chuckle , so many years later.
Go back with me to 1971 on Wadmalaw Island, South Carolina . Winter was about to happen in the Carolina Low Country. The deciduous trees had bared their frames. The forest mast was thick and I needed to go afield to refresh my spirit as well as spy out new bird areas. Imagine my brand new yellow VW Beetle, that was so much fun to drive, cruising the back roads of this beautiful Southern land. Here was Piloto John, dressed in a light weight camo shirt and jeans(common wear for the local hunter) and a comfortable pair od LL Bean hunting boots.
I drove along a somewhat rough dirt road ,seeing the occasional modest house with its omnipresent vegetable garden with tall late collard greens , rutabagas and fallen tomato plants. Dead bean bushes and the remnants of other stuff having been canned, frozen or eaten during the prior months. When low and behold (it is the Christmas Season, remember) from out of one large garden came a small herd of pigs. Trotting in a straight line were five that appeared to be about 12/14 weeks old and seven of some couple of weeks younger. They made for the roadside ditch and , still in single file, the older ones leading the way, went on with careless abandon. I slowly followed for about 300 yards and came upon an old man who was standing there watching the pigs' progress. After greeting him, I ask who the pigs belonged to. He replied that they were wild pigs and were really tearing up the land and gardens. Quickly thinking that a couple of them could be caught and raised in an old dog kennel that I had on my island, I suggested that I try to catch a couple to partially relieve the neighborhood of these pests. And so I did.
Taking an old coat from the rear seat, I made my way to the rear of the line and threw the coat over the last pig in line. Missed !! Tried again and missed again. After a number of tries I captured one. Of course I put it in the car. Where else ??? Went after my second prize and won that round the first throw. Getting better at this !!! Then a third. By now, I was out of breath and figured I had enough pigs. Got in the car and realized that they were not easily kept in the backseat area. Did manage to mostly keep them from underfoot though, as I drove back toward my island and home.
I was tired and very thirsty, so when I came upon a small country store, I stopped to buy a cold drink. Went in and was greeted by a rather large woman that was looking through the front window of the store. She asked what I had in the car that were bobbing all over the inside of the car. Two other people were then looking out and I did not hesitate to say that I was out training some of a new litter of hunting pigs. I was met with stares of incomprehension. Amplifying my explanation, I told them that these were very high bred pigs that instinctively hunted and pointed birds and I liked to start them early. Turned, paid for my Pepsi and left. I never went back to that place but wonder if the tale of the hunting pigs is perhaps still told.
Whenever the pressures of "being ready for Christmas" gets to me, I relive this experience and my spirits are lifted. May this small true story brighten you season and bring a smile.
Best,
John
