Scrubbing Pigs.

One day in Fairyland a wild pig with ten piglets wandered in to the woods. It caused quite a commotion. The Fairies were delighted this was something that had not happened in a long, long time. Naturally the Fairies spoilt the pig Mother and the ten piglets by feeding them with all that pigs like. A favourite place was the clearing where the old oak tree stands. Her there are in autumn so many acorns to eat. What with acorns and sweet Fairy cakes the mother pig and the ten young pigs became quite fat.

Near the stream the mother pig rooted around with her snout until she had made a large mud puddle. This puddle they used every day sometimes two or three times a day. The pigs loved to wallow in the mud and are caked with dried mud as they rooted around through the woods of Fairyland. One young Fairy name Queeniefee decided that the mud covered pigs were looking a disgrace and she decided to clean the pigs. Driving the pigs to the stream she made them all wade into the clear water and with an old scrubbing brush (one used for scrubbing floors). She scrubbed the first pig. The squealing from the first pig could be heard all over Fairyland.
This squealing brought more Fairies to the stream. Seeing Queeniefee scrubbing one of the piglets they decided to help her. Soon pigs and Fairies were all mixed up together even the wings of the Fairies were wet and they could no longer fly. But those pigs had to be scrubbed clean all agreed it was the best fun that they had, had for ages.
Soon Pixies, Trolls, Gnomes and even the Imps were scrubbing pigs with the Fairies. One Fairy had an idea if the pigs were to be scrubbed then they should be scrubbed properly. Soap must be used. Waving her magic wand bars of soap appeared and each one grabbed a bar and rubbed soap into the scrubbers.

I was in my kitchen having my lunch when the noise started. Finishing my lunch I walked to the woods following the noise. What with the pigs squealing and the cries and shouts from the Little Folk I knew that something unusual was happening. When I saw the pigs and all of the small folk working together I was amazed. Soon piglet after piglet managed to get away from the Fairies and the other little folk. Soon all were running to their homes to put on dry clothes. The fairies spread their wings in the sunshine to dry them off so that they could fly again.

The mother pig with loud grunts ran off with the piglets following her. I must admit I had never seen such clean wild pigs as those running around in Fairyland. I wondered what would happen on the following day when the pigs again wallowed in their mud pool. I decided to tell the little folk something about wild pigs we could not have this happening again. I called a pair of robins’ small birds but excellent messengers to call all of the little folk together in the clearing. Soon there were Fairies, Pixies, Imps and Gnomes and Trolls were gathering in the clearing. I then told them about the ways of wild pigs. Pigs roam through the forests looking for food, acorns roots and many other plants. Through their wandering they are attacked by insects that bother them. To help against the insects all pigs wallow in mud. This mud gives them a covering that the insects find it difficult to pierce thus saving the pigs from those nasty insect stings.

Washing the pigs like you did probably helped them but I think that you will find if you look for the pigs they will be as they were before you scrubbed them. I had just finished telling the little folk about wild pigs when a young Imp ran into the clearing. He shouted, “Come quick the pigs need scrubbing again.” No one moved and I told the Imp what I had just told the other Little Folk. Soon the clearing emptied I heard fragments of conversations (It was great fun scrubbing those pigs it’s a pity we cannot do it again.) Then I overheard one Fairy saying to her friend did you realise that all of the little folk were working together for the very first time. I smiled to myself as I made my way back to my garden. In fact I dreamed of pigs being washed by me in my old tin bath. I must say my old wheelbarrow is good for some very weird dreams. Bern