The Pink Bayou Pig!

Pigadeaux the Pink Bayou Pig
©2011 W.W. BILLIOT

It was a hot, humid day in south Louisiana that started out like every other boring day in his pig pen.

Pigadeaux, the pink bayou pig, rooted around looking for scraps from last night’s dinner, wondering if today’s menu would bring more of the same mundane mush.

His diligent afternoon forage was interrupted by a sudden change in the weather—the sky grew dark and the winds blew.

The horses and donkeys, his fortunate friends in the far-off pasture, quickly made their way to the front-yard gate, whinnying and braying like crazy.

The humans opened the gate and allowed them into the front yard for a change.  He found that strange and wondered what the special occasion might be.

Within hours, and right at his suppertime, he noticed that his pig feet were getting wet.  A short time later, the water reached up to his pig knees.

The horses and donkeys stamped at the water, as watched a pile of reds ants float past his pen.  This water is moving, he thought.

He strained his pig eyes to see the bayou just across the way.  Oh no!  The bayou is overflowing its banks, thought, panic stricken.

His pig ears perked up as he heard the humans chattering about a tropical storm and flooding.

He paced nervously in his pen, trying to get the humans’ attention, as watched his hoofed friends being loaded into a big trailer and hauled away.

“Weeee weeee weeee!  What about meeee?” he squealed in horror.  Even though pigs can swim, he didn’t know that, having never had to do so before.

Will they come back for me? He wondered, the water rising up to his pig thighs.

What seemed like hours later, the humans returned with the empty trailer.  Surely, they will save me now, reassured his fidgety pig self.

“Weeee weeee weeee!  What about meeee?”  He screamed as loudly as he dared.

To which they replied, “Come on out of that pen, Pigadeaux.  The water is rising quickly, so find some high ground and stay there.  You can swim if you have to!”

He eased through the open gate, into the unknown freedom of the farm yard.  The tall grass wrapped around his pig ankles as he walked toward an open field.

Oh, some sweet grass for a snack, he thought hungrily.  Not worried about finding high ground, he dipped his pig snout below the water, holding his pig breath.

He wrapped his pig lips around a clump of sumptuous grass and pulled it up by the roots.  Smack, smack, smack, he munched on the fresh greens, losing all fear of the rising water.

“Weeee weeee weeee!  This is the life for meeee!” he sang as he dipped down for another tasty clump, the water now touching his pig belly.

He pigged out to his pink pig’s content; his tummy full of the tempting grass. Fortunately for Pigadeaux, the water never rose higher than his pig shoulders, and he wasn’t even sad that he didn’t get to see if he could swim like a fish.

At night, found a high spot and stood waiting for daylight. He was only a little scared.

The next day, the water went down, and the humans called out to Pigadeaux, luring him with a big pail of his favorite food–crunchy cracked corn.

He took one last look at the now-muddy field where he had snacked the day before and squealed with glee,

“Weeee weeee weeee!  Tropical Storm Leeee didn’t get meee!” all the way home.

 THE END

Post Script:  A big bayou thanks to Shoreacres, an excellent writer and a reader here, for naming the pig for me!

This story property of W.W. Billiot and Wetlands Media, LLC
May not be copied, pasted, printed or pirated without  written permission of author.
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Comments

The Pink Bayou Pig! — 30 Comments

  1. Well, this story brought a smile to my face this morning! 🙂 Thanks for telling it. This is not something I would have thought would have happened on the bayou – with a pig in the story.

  2. Hi Everyone! When Termite took the photos from the truck, through the tinted glass and rain, traveling about 35 mph, I never noticed that She was a He. So for a couple days the idea of writing about this pig nagged away at me, and all the while I’m thinking it’s a female. So the name I had chosen is a local word that means short, chubby woman “Pechouet” pronounced “Pee schwet”, but I thought that would be way too hard for my readers to figure out. For the sake of getting the story on paper, I named her Petunia for her pink color intending to give her a better name before post time. Well, as I was editing the photos for the post, I noticed Petunia had an extra body part, but I was too anxious to let you read the story to go back and change the pig’s gender AND give it a male name. So, now, I will think about this some more; and I really believe it should be a bayou name, don’t you?

    Capt. – how do you pronounce that? Is it the name we pronounce “pee rot” (with a rolling “r”)?

  3. You could use a photo editing program to ‘feminize’ the pinkster. You wouldn’t have to change the name that way. In Picasa you use the retouch button for that sort of thing. Cute story. You can’t go wrong with a pink pig. “Charlotte’s Web” and “Babe” are two of my favorites.

  4. Is the color of that pig for real? I can’t remember ever seeing such a pink pig – looks like he’s made of bubble gum, or candy.

    When I was in Liberia, learning the Kpelle language, one of the hardest sounds to learn was “kp”. We practiced the sound by saying “pin KP ig”, over and over!

    • The editor brightened his color a little, but that is what attracted me to him . . . HE WAS PINK!!! Like a piggy bank!!! If you look at that old tank behind him, that is rusty, so the rust is a little bright, as you can see. Termite took these pics from the front seat, leaning over the backseat of the truck, through the rain-covered windows, through actual rain, and at a speed of about 35 mph. I wanted to stop but there was traffic behind me, so I dare not. And there was nowhere, with all this water, to pull over. I was shocked when I saw that he got this pics . . . he snapped them off 1- 2 – 3 and got them! I can’t imaging learning that language!!!! saying KP together!!!

  5. Vinegar and pineapple ginger sauce.

    Whole hog cooker charcoal and pecan chunks.

    3rd weekend in November. Bring you ninja stuff.

    We’ll get Ike to defend us. Maybe have it at his camp. LOL.

    And you, BW, what wrong with Percival for a name the gay knight?

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