Even though my lifelong friend and mentor Jaybird enjoyed the company of dogs and cats, his favorite pets were pigs. He would have agreed with Sir Winston Churchill, who once said, “Always remember, a cat looks down on men, a dog looks up to men, but a pig will look men right in the eye and see his equal.”
“Always remember, a cat looks down on men, a dog looks up to men, but a pig will look men right in the eye and see his equal.”
I was acquainted with a few of Jaybird’s beloved pig pals, among them Peggy Pokechop, Samantha Snout, Hortense Hog, Sophia Sausage, and Clarabelle Chitterlings, but the pig he loved most was Ophelia Oink.
After long days of chopping weeds out of my father’s cotton crop, when Jaybird and I relaxed on his front porch, watching the sun slide beneath the flat Mississippi Delta horizon, the wise old black man kicked back in his rocking chair, pulled out his cigarette case (one of my most cherished possessions to this day), and lit a Camel. Then, he fetched a bottle of corn whiskey, and yelled, “Ophelia, come and join us.”
Squealing excitedly from underneath the house, Ophelia trotted up the steps, nuzzled Jaybird’s hand, and sat beside him with all the decorum and grace of a queen.
In poise, manners, coquettishness, and etiquette, no other porcine of stunning pulchritude could outdo Miss Oink. Although her great beauty caused Jaybird’s boars to engage incessantly in tusk wars, she remained demure, coy, and self-effacing about her drop-dead, gorgeous good looks.
Long, curly lashes swept down over her brown, intelligent eyes, her mouth always offered admirers a charming grin, a couple of incisors poked cutely beside her jowls, and her ears, festooned with ribbons interwoven among their bristly hairs, rotated constantly, indicating she keenly enjoyed good conversation, especially Jaybird’s jokes.
And, bless her heart, she understood English
She was also keenly interested in Jaybird’s corn whiskey. As she waited expectantly, he poured a dram or two in her bowl. After holding it to her mouth until she learned to sip, he then taught her to hold the bowl with her front feet and imbibe, although he later regretted teaching her this skill because, as the evenings progressed, she left off sipping and began slurping in a most un-ladylike way.
And, bless her heart, she understood English — not that taught in school, but the field hand vernacular used by all Delta folks. Once I witnessed an amazing example of this un-swinish ability. Jaybird was very protective of the rose bushes in his front yard that he kept nurtured to glorious perfection. One day, when Ophelia rooted too close to one of them, he put together a string of prepositions and shouted, “Ophelia, you better come on away from up in around behind them bushes.” Embarrassed and apologetic, she grunted and scampered away.
Although Jaybird prepared delicious cracklings, chitterlings, hams, bacon, and pork chops, he never met a live pig that he didn’t like. In my mind’s eye, I can still see the three of us on his front porch — a black man, a white boy he raised, and a pampered pet pig: Ophelia Oink.
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
