It had been a while since Roger had the time to enjoy a nice leisurely horseback ride, so the fellas headed out Saturday down a dirt road that leads to the Mombacho Volcano. I had planned to continue construction on the front patio but our new pig, Wibur, had his own plans as well. He came strolling around the front of the house, munching away on the green grass, looking happier than a pig in you-know-what. Uh oh, I thought, as we had removed the rope around him only two days before.

Now Wilbur had some rough treatment at his last home, lots of yelling and kicking from the cuidador (caretaker), and I've been trying a different approach over the last two weeks. Soothing words, slow movements, and (carefully) hand-feeding him bananas, mangos and peeled plantains has worked wonders. The angry and aggressive pig that came to us has mellowed somewhat, even though he still knows his own mind and is big enough to back it up. I grabbed a rope, a bowl of dog food and began sweet talking my way close to him. He led me on a merry chase around the yard a time or two, with my Catahoula Leopard curs urging me on voiciferously of course. It's a good thing they were in their dog pen or it would have been a whole different kind of pig hunt!

I herded Wilbur around to the other (quieter) side of the house, laid down the bowl of food, and sat down next to it. He was wary of course but his tummy won out and I was able to gently put a rope around his neck, then behind his front legs, while he "pigged out". Once he realized what I had done, he was no longer a happy pig. We ended up jogging around the yard, Wilbur on a long blue leash, looking for all the world (and definitely to the neighbors passing by) as if we were simply getting in a little exercise. If my neighbors didn't think I was a crazy Gringa before, they do now! "Is she really walking her pig?", the confused looks on their faces seemed to say.

Getting him back into his pen was easier than I thought it would be, maybe he was just tired of the game. I know I was. Guess that's why I let my guard down. Wilbur decided to try a quick end run around me as I was closing the gate and, as I tried to stop him, I caught my longest finger nail between two boards, ripping it off below the cuticle. OUCH! The sweet lady who had been so calm in returning a wayward pig to his home disappeared in an instant, to be replaced by a screaming, red-headed banshee with a mouth like a sailor. Okay, now the neighbors are positive there's a crazy Gringa here.

That pretty much put an end to any patio construction plans I had, the only thing on my mind at that point was a double shot of cola de alacron and cold Toñas... lots and lots of cold Toñas(Nicaragua's most popular beer). There's never a dull moment when homsteading in Nicaragua!