Dear Curiosity Journal,

It has been 42 days since we put the piggies on their new pasture and both the land and livestock have undergone a striking transformation. Looking at the side-by-side photos of their first day on the new paddock and today, I’m amazed at how they’ve turned a grassy field upside down. Uneven dirt clumps and exposed roots make up a minefield of ankle twisters and tripping hazards which must be nimbly navigated, as falling down in the pig pen is an abiding fear. The piglet cuteness is fading into the plump pushiness of mature hogs. I watch my back as I shovel the frozen chunks of soil off the electric fence and wonder to myself if the pigs know that burying the line will eventually short out the shocking current. “Get back!” I shout and kick in their general direction when they start nibbling on my bibs. They give a little squeal, but barely retreat, the same little pigs who once fled in a panic to the farthest reaches of their pen if you even looked in their direction. The pig feared the farmer. The farmer feared the pig.