4. bacon, beans and the bard

Bushpigs (Potamocheorus porcus), are known to be ‘aggressive, suspicious and dangerous’. I would be too if someone had lumbered me with a Latin name that I had no hope of spelling in kindergarten.

Sadly, the textbook description has done much damage to the bushpig’s reputation. So we were slightly anxious when we took delivery of Bacon and Beans, two hand-reared, eight-month-old bushpigs. They had been rescued from the clutches of people who were fattening them up for the pot, nurtured and then sent to us for release back into the wild.

We keep our animals for a three-week period for orientation prior to release. Every day I would feed Bacon and Beans mielies, scrambling through their pen to find their feeding bowl, that had been taken for a walk. During this daily ritual we developed a rapport and Bacon, Beans and I became best friends. So much so, that after each feeding time I looked as though I had just walked out of one of Ken’s mud-wrestling fantasies.

When their three-week period was over and it was time to release Bacon and Beans, I bade them sad and fond farewells and they slipped off into the bush without so much as a goodbye kiss. A month later we happened to be solving all the problems of the world over a bottle of red wine around the camp fire, when a scuffle in the bush delivered Bacon and Beans. Bin Laden and his mates were forgotten and the relationship between pig and man re-established. Their affection was overwhelming. Our manager was reduced to a pathetic mass of male sensitivity – overflowing with guilt for every bushpig he’d ever shot.

The following night, determined to prove to Ken that the vision of the return of the bushpigs was not due to red wine alone, I called into the night: “Bacon, Beans, here piggy piggy,” much to the amusement of our night-watchman. And, lo and behold, bolting from the bush came the pigs of my life. Stupidly I was wearing my best, white, long-flowing party dress and it bore the brunt of the muddy reunion.

Every night thereafter I would embarrass myself by yelling the ingredients of a breakfast menu into the night, only to be covered in mud and slobber.

However, this story does come with the warning: “Do not try this at home!” Bushpigs are dangerous and should be handled with utmost respect. If you do invite them around the campfire, hide all glasses and ice and don’t wear white. Bacon and Beans are half their potential size and will eventually grow to a metre tall and weigh up to 115kgs. Boisterous behaviour is not to be encouraged, especially if you are a pig lover weighing only 55kgs.

Most relationships are built around food, and Bacon and Beans’ love for me is based on the fact that attached to the long white flowing robe is always paw-paw.

Soon afterwards we released Hamlet, a four-month old bushpig orphan. These days, in the heart of northern Zululand, the echoing call of a Shakespearean breakfast can be heard!

Published in Country Life, April 2002

Other blogs by Lois Kuhle:

SMOKE RINGS IN CUBA. A TWO WEEK JOURNEY FILLED WITH SALSA, SUNSHINE AND SILLY PEOPLE: http://smokeringsincuba.blogspot.com/2013/10/smoke-rings-in-cuba-journey-filled-with.html

COOL THOUGHTS. MUSINGS AND OTHER MAD MOMENTS:  http://loiskuhlethoughts.blogspot.com/2013/12/we-have-pending-nuptials.html