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| oink |
My son and I feed these
"maiali" most of our organic leftovers and kitchen waste. They live on the farm with us here, and honestly don't smell that bad. The caked mud and the air surrounding their fenced area smells mostly of curry, oddly enough.
My little boy E. loves partaking in the daily chore, even though he's a little bit scared by their vehemence. Pigs can be quite rowdy around dinnertime.
I wonder what makes the whole animal feeding thing so attractive to children. My son likes seeing the swines root the trough clean, slurping up potato peels, watermelon rinds, bits of stale bread and tomato juice. He stands there–mesmerized–at their loud snorting and chewing sounds, and shrieks back at them, calling the large female and the 2 younger males with VIP names like Miss Piggy, Babe and Porky Pig.
We usually go do this late in the afternoon, when the sunlight grazes the horizon and the lazy song of cicadas accompanies us along the sloped olive grove. The atmosphere is idyllic, peaceful and pastoral.
But all I can think of is... prosciutto.
