Earnest's pig love song: can Rosie share love after all these years?

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on May 13, 2017 at 9:11am PDT

In which Earnest the pig tells of his attempted flirtation with The-World's-Grumpiest-But-I-Am-Fine-As-I-Am-Pig, aka Rosie.

I have been watching her all these years, since back in Oregon. She is not really a looker, as Eleanor is, I do like the looks of a red head I must say, but sometimes in a new environment a pig can get a second look.

She is grumpy. This can be problematic in pig love making. Perhaps it was my first Maine spring, after a long, dark and chilly winter, that made my loins itch for her. I waddled over to her area last week and watched her casually from across the fence-a fence that protects her from me, and every other creature. Rosie is not mean, she just doesn't quite understand the beauty of reciprocating attention with other creatures. Only Stevie seemed to be able to discuss life issues with her, or sleep without being compromised by her gruffness. He was a hell of fellow, that Stevie.

We had warm weather again. This intensified my itching loins. I made my move. I put on my best performance of a love song I heard my father sing to my mother. I hardly remember my father. He was stern, but I do remember that love song he sang. He too was across a fence, and it made me wonder why the guys always get on the other side of the fence. I was a piglet, and that was the last I remember seeing him.

I sang that song to the best of my ability. It did not phase her...at least not that day. She continued to ignore me and ate the left over dinner of White Dog.

I do understand that most often food comes before love to a pig.

The next day, I returned to give it one more shot. Rome was not built in a day, they tell me. Well, to my surprise she was there at the fence.

"What brings you to the fence line this morning, Rosie?" I asked, quietly. We have all found the best way to address the grumpy pig is to speak softly. This saves our energy in case she does a rant or head toss in one's direction.

"I am not sure, but I felt enticed by something to venture to the fence," said Rosie.

"Shall I come by again, then, in the coming days?" asked Earnest.

"I suppose that will be acceptable," said Rosie, and she returned to her private suite, to nap, all grumpy like.

But I did notice a slight lightness in her step.

{Like all Apifera stories, this is to be continued.}

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on May 13, 2017 at 2:23pm PDT

Noses and mugs, but why?

I was thinking today about the ever present camera culture we have become-via cell phones-although I still rely on my Nikon for much of my work. Why am I compelled to take what might be the same photo over and over again? These two mugs are usually at the gate each night, yet each time, it is fresh and new and if I have my phone I take a quick shot. Then I share it with my followers and friends.

In the end, I thought, it's just a bookmark of today. I enjoy the moment, captured it, moved on, but I think the photo is a homage to the splendor I feel in that moment.

And I'm glad we have all these photos to live with. I'm a visual person, a photo is just one part of any story, even if the story is very short, like this one:

Earnest the pig came to the gate, so did White Dog. They smiled in unison, at me.

The voice of White Dog returns

I am beginning my new book this week. I don't have a working title, but I know what the book will look and feel like-something I will share as I get further into it. The book will engage the Misfits, perhaps both past and present, and their voices, but I feel strongly that White Dog, aka Benedetto, will have a strong role and possible narration voice in the book.

I read on another person's blog recently, a published animal 'expert', make a remark that animals don't talk in words and it was insinuated that only people are asinine to think so. I think his opinion is partially inaccurate. No, they do not open their mouths and say,

"Get me some food, please."

But they communicate in gestures, eye position, ear and tail movement-and those actions are sent through my brain and become reactions, and sometimes, words. Not all the time, but if I am going to translate my experiences with these animals, I choose to use my language, which involves words, my language. I do not feel I 'dummy down' these words into a Disney movie [not that all Disney movies do this, but many do, as do many animal books and movies].

I have been working on this book in my head for many months and wanted to wait until the show was over. Last night, I had an upsetting dream. It was a recurring dream within a series of dreams. Benedetto was gone, and we didn't know where he was but we feared he was not coming back. At one point, a sheriff told us there were people stealing Maremmas and shipping them to dog compounds overseas, and we would never get him back.

This might have nothing to do with my new book, I don' know. I just know that White Dog comes like this, and seems to have strong messages. So today I'm pondering that as I prepare to begin writing.

Last night, we were out with Huck and Mud, the labs, and I caught these images. I was transfixed to the sky, the wind had just picked up and I felt a storm developing in what seemed like an instant-that happens here by the coast range. The White Dogs know their territory. Marcella is much more the guard than Benne, in fact she is the Alpha of everyone. They take note of the labs, and then Huck–who is the least brave creature I've ever known-ran up to the fence in play but immediately turned around and ran to me. The picture you don't see is Huck standing behind me afterwards for protection.

Earnest of course took it all in stride. Man, I love that pig.

Earnest the pig sings

The gentlemanly little pig loves to sing.