This Little Piggy

© Nick Allen

I thought they were crows on the barn roof, but as I trudged up the hill through the mud and mizzle I could see they were larger, possibly ravens. The light was starting to fade but from this distance I could count at least ten, maybe more, sitting on the decaying roof.

As I got closer I noticed one of the doors was damaged, and saw a raven flying into the barn between the rotting planks.

I'd first noticed the birds about a week ago when seeing to a ram with its head caught in a fence. There had been a dozen or more either flying, or perched on the roof. If it'd been anyone else's barn I might have mentioned it over a pint, but we never saw Bailey down the pub, and even if I did, I wouldn't get talking to him.

To be honest, Bailey hadn't been seen by anyone for a couple of weeks, no loss really, but it made it easy for me to go onto his land and see what had attracted the birds.

The mud was thick, churned up by cattle, with pits of stinking water that sucked on my boots, so I was breathing hard when I finally got to the crumbling building.

The rain had cleaned the air, but despite that I could smell death and finally understood what had brought these filthy black birds a-calling.

There was a broken down lean-to by the barn with some straw and logs beneath. And there were rusted tools there too, but not much else.

I tried the barn door, but it was locked, so, rain dripping down my neck, I went to the lean-to and picked up the heaviest spade I could see.

The wood splintered easily, the noise sending the ravens high into the darkening sky.

Inside the barn the stench was almost unbearable. It was too dark to see properly, so I pulled my heavy torch from my pocket and sent the yellow beam sweeping through the gloom. There were dead bodies of pigs trapped in pens running down both sides of the barn, some with ravens perched on their flanks pulling at the decaying flesh. I heaved, but held it down.

Then my torch found a movement toward the back. I approached cautiously – it seemed to be a sow, not moving, but with piglets suckling. As I got closer, through the murk, I could sense something was wrong but it took a second for me to understand what.

Where there should have been floppy little ears, each of the piglets had little pink shell-type ears, almost human looking. I stared transfixed, not sure what to make of what I was seeing, when one of the little animals looked up at me with the clearest blue eyes ever.

That's when I was finally sick.

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You can find Nick Allen at his blogsite.