After our little escapade (and the inevitable veterinary bill), the piglets were "confined to barracks" again in the shed for a couple of days while I made quite sure the kitchen garden was escape-proof.  That was easier and quicker than fixing the back-garden fence, which was going to require posts and rails to prevent Ben from breaching it a second time.

There was one sneaky little corner in the kitchen garden, that lacked the timber "bottom-plate" my father had put in as part of the rabbit-proofing.  I fastened some netting into that, with a few rocks for good measure, and decided we were ready to roll.  I carried the squealing piggies down from the shed one at a time and liberated them into their new home, adding some feed into the feeders I'd provided.  They had quite a nice big area, under trees on one side, with grass and fern to eat and hide in, and their little tin kennel.

Over the next couple of days I began to feel that things were improving.  After being shut in the shed for awhile, Honey and Nutmeg had come to realise that I was the main source of food.  That's the key ingredient in acclimatising any new stock, so I began to feel more confident.  Whenever I left the house and walked towards them, four comical little grunters came rushing across to their fence - looking like mobile ginger teddy-bears.

My peace of mind was short-lived.  The following day as I came walking back from our farm gate, I was met on our drive by Honey - unerringly in search of the Food Supply.  Of all the piglets Honey has the greatest love of food - and with pigs, that's saying something.  Big panic - if she was out, where were the rest?
[Honey Nutmeg]
In with Boris as it turned out.  All along, I'd been scared of the piglets getting in with Boris.  Since he wasn't their father and he's about 4 years and quite a big pig complete with tusks, I was afraid he'd harm them. Viewed from the front when he opens his mouth, those slashers are not to be trifled with. I am always careful around him however laid-back he might be.

I knew that once farrowing and the first few days are over it's safe to let the Kunekune boar run with mom and the piggies, whereas the boars of other pig breeds will kill even their own piglets if they are with them.  But since Boris wasn't the sire of Natasha's brood, I was cautious and tried to keep them out of his way - until Natasha took things into her own hands and blatted through his fence.  At that point I found he didn't harm them, which was a great relief, and a tribute to the Kunekune breed.

Back to square one in the shed again, the piggies cooled their heels while I did a tour of the kitchen garden and found they had burrowed out in my "trouble spot" - in one tiny corner right down behind a tree trunk where the netting had nothing to hold it down.  Didn't my farming neighbour say, "If they can get their noses through, the rest of them will follow?"  My respect for the intelligence of these pigs was growing by the minute, as I squeezed myself, my hammer, and assorted bits of timber, hardware and wire in between the fence-post and the treetrunk to repair the damage.  Why is it that these things always occur in some inaccessible spot where it's practically impossible to swing a hammer and hold a nail or staple?  Hmm...  I finally retired with a bruised thumb, netting (hopefully) held secure, and tossed in a few more rocks by way of insurance....