Name That Pig

The two oldest grand daughters have called daily since the little pigs arrived. They couldn't wait to come and see them. Since the family gathering wasn't far away, Kirk thought it would be fun to name them with the little girls. On the fourth of July, we sat around the table waiting for our son to arrive and began the discussion. First we asked our grand daughters if they had any ideas and when they didn't, Kirk suggested Ellie Mae. There was nods all around but when I tossed in Daisy Mae, thinking I could call them the Mae sisters, our middle daughter protested. Emphatically, she informed us that we had previously had an animal named Daisy and we weren't repeating any names.

That is easier said than done since I couldn't remember any animal we'd named Daisy. But that is not surprising since we've been married thirty years and twenty-six years of them we've had a multitude of animals to name - sheep, goats, pigs, calves, ducks, turkeys, and a few of the chickens. Especially fuzzy are the titles we gave to the forty bum lambs we raised one year. That was when I learned to hold a bottle in each hand and two between my legs, one high and one low. When one was empty, I tossed it on a low roofed shed and grab for a refill. Two of our children refilled them while another held a bottle in each hand and fed alongside me. The next year and years to follow, I learned the word most essential to survival mentally and physically. It's NO and after that we never had more than two or three bum lambs, even if they were free. This year, I became even smarter and began using a lumbar bucket. Though we no longer have lambs, it was wonderful for the kid goats.

But, according to our daughter, Joise, apparently there was a Daisy so Great Grandma Rexroat suggested Sophie and the vote was unanimous in favor - though one of them was a reluctant one - mine.


We ate, played games, flew kites and laughed the afternoon away. When evening had come, those who remained began the trek to the corrals. One of the little meadowlarks that I discovered and wrote about in an earlier blog was near the road and the little girls watched as it skittered off and crouched underneath the swaying grass. (Yes, it is a Meadow Lark not a Horned Lark)


The Pronghorn antelope are a watchful presence on the plains, especially in Campbell County, where the population is the largest in the world. They are a common sight to the grand daughters.

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Buck Pronghorn Antelope


Doe and a fawn ( the fawns are typically born in May and June)

A number of times we have clocked antelope running at over sixty miles per hour. (They were running parallel out in a field while our pickup traveled down a road.)