We’re going to cause a wreck.

Highway 94 runs right in front of our place and there are often hogs of all sizes in places that, at 70 miles per hour, don’t seem kosher to passersby. I’ve been fighting with two litters of weaned pigs that are too small to contain using the means available. They’re the rhubarb diggers I referenced earlier. We’re not friends.

Caden and I were shooting his bows the other evening when a driver in an unfamiliar car honked. Pigs out, we bet. Caden went running around the front of the driveway to run the weaned pigs back to the north pens.

I saw another driver look toward him and then look again. And swerve.

I caught a glimpse of Caden bounding after the pigs, recurve bow in hand.

Outstanding. It’s like the Hunger Games around here.