| During one sweltering, dry August, a full-grown sow had died in the barn (no doubt a suicide from our relentless teasing). Uncle Ned dragged it out of the barn with a tractor and chain out to the top of a sand knoll we called "Hoof Hill" that served as our livestock cemetary. Ned got busy with other things, so he didn't get around to installing the manure loader which served as the gravedigger. The sow corpse sat out in the hot August sun for about 3 or 4 days and by that time, needless to say, it was VERY RIPE and VERY BLOATED. After a BIG farm breakfast of poached eggs on toast, Tim and I wandered out to "Hoof Hill" to investigate the corpse. By THIS time, it was so rank that even the maggots and buzzards moved out! It looked like some kind of giant weather balloon. Tim got the "bright" idea to "let the air out of it" and found a nice big sharp stick to do the job. After repeated pokes, he got irritated and gave it a big high velocity poke. As a result, the pig EXPLODED and rained down "pig gut shrapnel" mostly on Tim! The substance looked alot like poached eggs. From about age 10, according to his own statements and my emperical observations, Tim has NEVER eaten a single poached egg since! |
