Year’s end approaching, I’m left with titles not so easy to fill. So you’ll forgive me if this one isn’t so obvious.
Pigs in Muck: 21st June 2018
As my dear old mum used to say: They’re happy as pigs in muck.
#2018picoftheweek challenge: Happiness
Don’t you just love these piggies. Fields of pigs are a frequent sight on my walks.
crispina kemp 
Yes, those pigs are happy. It works!
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And that, to date, has been the most difficult title to fill.
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Well, it works. I love how you added your mum’s little saying š
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I’m not sure it would work so well without that. And my mother did have a saying for every circumstance.
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I can almost hear them from here, and they sure sound happy to me!
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I walked this route last year, in February, when they had their ‘huts’ further uphill. After a month or so of rain the field had turned not to mud, but to slurry. And it had washed out the supposed footpath. Luckily I had some WetWipes with me to clean my shoes, and hands, it then nearing to lunchtime. But those pigs were as happy slipping about in their slurry and they were on this drier, dustier day.
I try not to remember them as I eat my ‘outdoor bred’ bacon.
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They do appreciate the muck a lot more than we do, but then, they don’t wear shoes that must be cleaned!
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Neither do they wear clothes. It might look mucky to us, but it’s like a bath to them. As with elephants and hippos, the mud helps to cool them and keeps the nasty tics at bay. I’m sure in the right conditions I’d agree. Please, let me never encounter those conditions!
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Yes, I’ve heard that about the mud “baths” too, but like you, I am not tempted to try it myself!
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I think I would insist on inspecting the mud, first. š Squeamish, aren’t we.
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Indeed!
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Well.. having taken a volcanic mud bath in Hawaii, I can tell you, that yes, it feels kinda good. Till it dries. Then you wash it off and feel all soft and dewy…
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Volcanic mud, yea, but not the kind you find in the average field. Gritty, stony, nasties crawling about in it. Though it’s those nasties the pigs particulalry root for.
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Shudder. No. I wouldn’t either…
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Memories of mud oozing between toes when paddling in river. And somthing ‘tickling’.
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Mud oozing is half bad. “Something” tickling? Not so much…
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Smell river, more of a stream, one assumes it to be minnors or other small fishes, The thought of eels used to freak me.
Worse was when I feel (backwards) into a drainage ditch across the marshes. The cold was bad enough, it being February. But I was wearing a skirt, and not even a tight one. Not nice getting foul-smelling mud around the knickers.
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Ugh… worse than that are blood suckers. Those just feel me out!
And how awful! And in a skirt no less… oh man…
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Nah, if I’d been a man it wouldn’t have been a problem. I’d have been in trousers! But leeches, yuk.
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I agree, it would be no big deal for a man.
Leeches… ugh and yuk…
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I suppose my “muck” is a hot bubble bath. Perhaps not as “mucky’ but the same idea. I just don’t have any other “pigs” in my muck with me. š
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You’ve just planted an unwelcome thought in my head. A pig in my bath. No. Way. š
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HaHa. I have a friend who has befriended many a pig (in a farm sanctuary) and she has convinced me of their intelligence and love of (pig) family. However, I don’t want one in my bath either.
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As a kid my mother had a pet pig. Used to take it for walks on a lead. Bet that was the talk of the village.
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In the CA town I lived for two decades, several people had teacup pigs as pets. Somehow, when I saw them standing on the post office counter or walking along in the grocery aisles, it just seemed a bit disconcerting. ;-0 š
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Please enlighten me, what is a *teacup* pig? Not a term that has yet swum the ocean. š
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Haha. Well, that’s what the owners called the miniature pig. About the size of a small dog…
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Ah. Well I’ve seen a photo of my mother’s pet pig. It wasn’t a minature. You’d get plenty bacon rashes off it’s bery long back.
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