Not a Pig

[Look at those eyelashes!
And the rub-mark left
on the other's rump.]

The peccaries were out again last Thursday! First they were lounging around in a mud-wallow, but then they wandered around a bit and even did their rubbing-musk-glands routine again. All during this time various people were passing by and passing judgment on the pigginess of peccaries—including my visiting friend, who was rather adamant about their being pigs (possibly just to make me indignant). We had a series of semi-absurd conversations about it, e.g.: “Look at their snouts!” “Yeah, but cows and sheep have similar muzzles, and they’re not called the same thing”; “Look at their hooves!” “So what? Goats have hooves like that, and they’re not pigs”—etc.

One member of a group insisted they were pigs and he would call them pigs, no matter what the sign said. Another member of the same group seemed very attached to the “Don’t Call Me a Pig!” sign (which she of course had to read out loud—it’s like magic) and argued with him about it all the way past the enclosure. (Of course, the argument my friend and I had involved more anatomical and taxonomic detail than theirs did. So…it was…better.)

And one girl glanced at the enclosure and told her parents, “Look, bears!” before running on.

I have to admit, I hadn’t heard that one before.