Gather ‘round for a tale of farm life that ends with a scar, freezer space, and a lesson in humility courtesy of Barry the Boar.

Barry wasn’t just any boar—he was 400 pounds of muscle, attitude, and a nose for trouble. His partner in crime? Tony Stank, our low-to-the-ground KuneKune pig who figured out how to pop fence clips like an angry escape artist. Naturally, Barry followed his example, seeing his escape as a VIP pass to visit the ladies.

I, on the other hand, was armed with a pig board and a cattle rod, ready to channel my inner knight. Turns out, my knightly skills were more Monty Python than Camelot.

Imagine Barry barreling at me like a linebacker with zero regard for personal space. He shoves his snout under the board, and with all the grace of a malfunctioning catapult, I’m airborne. My brain? A broken loop of “Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.” I land in the mud—dazed, flailing, and staring into the eyes of a boar who looks like I just insulted his mother.

But Barry wasn’t done. No, this was his masterpiece. He charged again, and my leg became his Picasso. The wound? Let’s just say it looked like I’d picked a fight with a knife-wielding carny who doesn’t play fair.

Thankfully, Barry’s gory masterpiece missed all the good parts—femoral artery, ligaments, tendons. He just went for my left over jelly roll from last Christmas. Still, I ended up with a scar and a story, and Barry ended up contributing to breakfast sandwiches everywhere. Farm life, am I right?

So, next time someone says, “Farm life must be so relaxing,” just know that sometimes the pig wins.