As a first move it could hardly be called ladylike. . . and Alfie was a little surprised when Peppa the gilt* grabbed him around the neck and tried to wrestle him to the ground.
The pig farmer tried to suppress memories of disastrous dates from his younger days and gave a somewhat feeble “Come on Alf, stand up for yourself.”
With such half-hearted encouragement ringing in his ears, laddo rallied, defended himself and then went on the attack, giving at least as good as he was getting, before pushing Peppa inside the snug little building, mounting her and giving her a good seeing to.
It’s not the course of action I’d have chosen had I found myself in a similar situation, but social niceties have never been much of a consideration with pigs and ‘getting it on’ was what Alfie was there to do.
He’s still not fully grown, but he’s sure keen enough, even if he had to stretch a bit to get on board. His first few. . . err. . . thrusts failed to hit the target and I had the terrible feeling Jim and I were going to have to help out.
But he eventually settled and closer inspection showed that he had indeed found his way in. We were quite relieved to leave them to it.
The boy will stay there for a couple of days to make the most of Peppa’s three days in season before coming home when his next job will be to serve Molly in a couple of months.
Good luck with that, old son.
* A gilt, for those who haven’t been paying attention, is a female pig who has yet to have a litter.