They've escaped more than once.  And even once went over to our neighbor's house and greeted him in his garage while we were up north visiting my Mom.  They've eaten over a dozen chickens (I guess I should have added that to the tally of their diet above).  But they've added a bit of entertainment to our daily routine as well.  I've seen pigs racing around like its a big game of tag and the occasional wipe-out or somersault.  I've seen them hunker down next to a fire and then race around in a circle like a dog chasing its tail after they've warmed up.  Then in the summer's heat we would pull out the hose to spray them down in the afternoons and watch as they each volleyed for the best spot to get as much of the cold water as possible.  And of course they took their turns in the water trough.

Since January these boys have been members of the family; we named them, nutured them, and scratched their faces when they seemed to want more than just food.  This morning at 5:30 I opened the door to meet Randy Locke, our meat processor.  He arrived promptly when he said he would with his red truck and a couple helping hands in tow.  After the initial, "seriously?  they're in that big pasture back there?" I retreated back to the house as Kyle went out just in case any of the boys got spooked and ran away.  It was over so quickly.  No drama.  No terror.  When it came down to it, I just didn't have the heart to watch our boys meet their end, but Kyle reported that it appeared to be quick and painless.  One by one they fell, the others standing by, not understanding, but unafraid.