The husband once aspired to be a self-sufficient, back-to-the-land pioneer. He bought a windmill, oil lamps, beehives, and a couple of pigs, which we named Lois Lane and Clark Kent.

This dirty duo caused me headaches from the day we took them home. We tied them in gunny sacks and secured them in the back of our truck; but the Houdini hoglets somehow freed themselves, tumbled from the vehicle, and headed for the hills. We eventually got the slippery little buggers safely home, but only after a wild skirmish in the woods.

The adventurous and clever Clark soon discovered his alternate identity as Super Pig. He learned to climb atop his roofed shelter and leap over the fence to freedom. Lois, not to be outdone, was never far behind. Motorists on the highway near our home reported seeing wild pigs darting between cars. I also received some angry phone calls from horrified neighbors who were shocked to find the pair digging up their flower beds. Perhaps, rather than Lois and Clark, they should have been named Lewis and Clark, due to their propensity to explore.

These two heavy weights usually embarked upon their adventures while the husband was at work, so I was the designated pig herder, responsible for bringing the troops home after each rendevous. How does one lure two full-grown hogs to follow you? It takes courage, determination, and a slop bucket full of swine delicacies like apple cores, potato peels, and moldy bread crusts. More than once, I trudged through waist-deep snow, dropping a trail of left overs behind me.

I