Pigs are incredibly smart too. I used to be mother's helper (as a teen) to a family that kept pigs occasionally. More often than not, we'd be out looking for them thar pigs, "coz they got out again!!!

Here's my "pig" story
One of them got roasted in the ground for three days that summer. The guys spent two days digging the hole and three days tending the fire, drinking all the while. Us womenfolk we doing the more "menial tasks". Mindin' the children, feeding them peanut butter and fluff sandwiches, keeping them out of the fire pit, watching them at the lake (so they wouldn't drown themselves, which they tried regularly), feeding them, diapering some of them, feeding the menfolk (mostly so they'd sober up a bit) and preparing the rest of the meal.
Mimi, the matriarch, oversaw the whole event. Therefor, the pig had been put in the pit with three raw eggs in it's gaping mouth. Well, I only remember one egg, 'tho some say it was three. According to Mimi, you could tell if the pig was done, if the egg was hardboiled. Sometime at the end of the second day, things weren't smelling so good. Being a female, I was kept busy mindin' the children, you know: peanut butter and fluff (one with pickles?! ok?), baking in the hot sun watching them play in the lake, getting towels, diapering, pulling one out of the water, peanut butter and jelly (got ya), refereeing a fight, "stay away from the pig!", the usual...
The smell was getting unbearable. The guys were trying to shrug it off. It couldn't be the pig! It had been on hot coals for over two days. They kept the fire going the whole time. ....so why did it smell so bad? .. a smell like rotten eggs....
Mimi insisted the pig wasn't ready, it always took three days. She oughta know. This wasn't her first pig roast. Hey Mimi, could it be the egg? Absolutely not! It was a fresh egg! Could it be the apple? (the guys put one of those in, just in case). of course
not.
Oh man, that smell
is bad.
Us womenfolk kept fixin up the "fixin's" and minding the children and feeding the menfolk. It is day three. We're setting up the picknick tables. Guests are showing up. "What's that smell?". "Don' know? ask Mimi."
The guys finally convince Mimi to take out the egg and check it. "Is it hardboiled yet?"
Sure enough, when Mimi cracked the egg, it was as if 10 stink bombs had been cracked. You do remember stink bombs, don't you? (We let one or two of them go, when I was in High School)
So the pig was considered done. The tables were laid out with delectable dishes (that us womenfolk had slaved over) of all kinds. The roast pig had it's own table in the center. The meat was so tender, it fell off when a breeze hit it. The guest's cars had filled every off road parking spot possible and were starting to line the roadside.
And no one could eat. The stink from that rotten egg made it impossible. We sent home plates with people and were told it was really good. I ate some and know in my head that it was really good, but all I can remember is the smell of a very rotten egg!!!



