Piggen Wiggen

In the late summer last year, we were driving home one evening and, stopped at the lights going into our neighbourhood, I was looking idly about me. Suddenly -

"I see a pig!" I said to Dave, half jokingly, and we both tried to get a closer look in the half-light of dusk. Concluding I'd made a mistake, and seen nothing more than a dog, we went home and I didn't think about it any further.

...Until the next evening, when there he was again, quite unmistakably; whiffling about in the grass and undergrowth right by the side of the road, cars a few metres away.

We went around the block and tried to get a closer look, but by then someone else had seen him and parked nearby; the car didn't bother him but the person getting out of the car scared him and he scampered off into the undergrowth.

And so it went for at least a week; about dusk, he'd come out of the trees and rootle about for a bit; and every attempt we made to get a photo of him was foiled by people or darkness or both.

Finally, we decided to ambush him; we waited, camera at the ready, in the nearby school parking lot at the time we were used to seeing him, and waited... and waited... and just as we were about to give up, out he came.

And it was lucky we did that, as we never saw him again after that day. But even now, we look wistfully at that corner when we pass; it's much more interesting to have a Piggen Wiggen in the neighbourhood than a bare mound of gravel.