By Kerley LeBoeuf
Setting:
Richland, Georgia – population 1,500 – about 20 miles from Plains – 12 of us in the 10th grade. Ideal setting for a “country bumpkin” like me.
At Richland High School, all the boys joined the Future Farmers of America when they got to the 9th grade. Yes, the girls joined the Future Homemakers of America at the same time. That’s just the way it was in 1955.
The FFA offered a “pig chain” whereby three of us each could get a pig, raise her, breed her and return a pig to the next recipient a year later.
I got the Duroc Jersey pig not long after she was weaned. She was beautiful with her maroon hair, and I named her “Rosebud.”
Rosebud and I bonded immediately. She was my first chore every morning and after school. Fortunately, our property had a fenced area adequate for a small pig.
After a few months, we began to prepare for the County Fair pig competition. This required me to train Rosebud to walk forward and stop on command. This was done by touching her rump with a cane to walk forward and touching her nose with the cane when it was time to stop. At show time, this would be in front of the judges. Not dissimilar to training a dog.
Grooming was also part of the competition. Before the show, I rubbed her maroon hair down with linseed oil and brushed it with a straight line from her neck to her tail and down on both sides. This was proper grooming to show the best features of your pig.
Rosebud was wonderful at the fair. Perfect performance. But, alas, she was a bit petite at 280 pounds and did not get the blue ribbon. Her second-place red ribbon was just horrible as it clashed with her maroon hair. Rosebud was not happy.
We moved on.
She was bred by a handsome Duroc Jersey boar and, soon thereafter, delivered 13 little pigs, 11 males and two females. As they grew, the rambunctious pigs managed to break through my fence regularly and go to our neighbor’s farm and root and feed on his silage. This required me to go to the farmer, apologize for my pigs, and herd them back to their fenced area.
Why couldn’t I fix the fence to keep them contained? I was a “modern” pig farmer at the age of 16 and had built an electric fence to manage my larger herd. The problem was it only took one pig to walk through the fence with a minor shock, and all the other pigs strolled through with no concern for me or their rules.
About this time in my life, I got my driver’s license.
Big decision time???
Big decision made!!!
I sold Rosebud and her little pigs and bought a “Harley Hog.”
The logic was simple. Instead of herding 14 pigs back home, I could be taking 16-year-old girls for motorcycle rides.
Of course, I named my maroon Harley Davidson motorcycle, “Rosebud.”
Listen to the audio version of “Rosebud.”
Reprinted with permission from the Fall 2025 edition of Our Neighborhood.