Im afraid, Julius. Im afraid of heights.
Oh, my goodness, so am I! Blaise, we have so much in common. Do you like apples?
Yes, I like apples and prefer to keep my feet on the ground. However, if you ever get tired of flying, Ill give you a ride.
Oh, you, naughty girl, he said as they witnessed a miracle in progress. Well, Ill be a monkeys uncle. Would you look at that? In the middle of the pasture, Mel kneeled to one knee and the boar climbed onto his back. Mel straightened to begin the journey up the slope toward the pond. That beast has borne the burden of that boar. I think what we are witnessing here is a miracle of biblical proportion. Say, wait a minute. That mule has gotten behind the cart. Oh, what difference does it make? We already know that old, oft-repeated, worn-out story anyway. Well, at least now we can cut to the chase and in 12 hours call it a day.
Mel made his way to the pond. He bowed and the boar slid off.
Well, Julius, Blaise said, you did say Mel was strong for his age and size.
Yes, I did, but now for a mule his age and size, hes just stubborn.
Howard emerged from his pigsty and waded out into the pond to cool in the afternoon sun. Mel left the two boars and went into the pasture to graze while remaining within earshot.
Look, someone said, hes walking on water!
The Berkshire boar waded out in the shallow end.
Oh, please, Julius said. Well never hear the end of this one.
I suppose you think thats a miracle too? Beatrice said.
Julius shook his head. Its a miracle you can think and talk, he said and glanced at Blaise. Well, talk anyway.
Molly, the Border Leicester, as she nursed her twin lambs said, Perhaps hell return Bruce to his former glory?
He might perform tricks and pull a rabbit out of his ass because he doesnt have a hat, and make the lame walk, Beatrice talk, and the blind see, but returning Bruce to his former self, Im afraid thatll happen when pigs fly.
According to the barn boar, Joseph, pigs do fly, Beatrice spoke.
Well, duh, Julius said. Everyone knows that. Joseph, who happens to be the father of our newly arrived savior Boris, is correct. All you have to do is die. Then go to heaven. And, and then to earn your wings, all you have to do is whistle a happy tune and grovel.
Well, then, maybe he can help, Beatrice spoke again.
Its a miracle, Julius said and flapped his wings.
Lets ask him, Beatrice added. It cant hurt.
Yes, of course, surely hell do it for the glory of his father who art in heaven.
I thought Joseph was his father?
Hes adopted.
The Large White waded out to the interloper, his snout an inch from the Berkshires snout, almost touching at times.
Cousin, Howard the Baptist said.
Dont kiss me, the boar replied.
Wonder if hes completely feral or only half? Beatrice pondered.
Im afraid the half that thinks, Julius said.
So, it is you who has returned, said Howard, the seventh piglet of the seventh liter of Sal the Sow, Boris, the runt of the liter.
I am who they say I am.
Howard baptized the pig, pouring muddy water over the head and shoulders of Boris, the Berkshire Boar.
I protest.
I believe you protest too much.
I am without sin.
Youre still a pig. Besides, if you plan to be led by the tusks by the mule, youll need all the help you can get. He is bad news, but Ill let you discover just how narrow the path is for yourself. But heed my warning, he is not a brother or a friend to the pig or any animal for that matter.
You forget, friend, I am He who was sent by my Father to save all domesticated farm animals from sin and a life spent in captivity.
Where do you plan to lead your sinners, messiah?
To freedom, paradise found among the mountains of the Sinai and away from this place, the corruption of civilization.
Oh, of course, the garden, Howard said incredulously. Stay here with me under the stars. Do not follow the mule or the hermit monk, for it is they who will lead you down the path of destruction.
It is because of them that I am here, Boris said, to deliver us from evil.
Who will deliver you from evil?
As Mel approached the pond, Boris took his position next to him. You are good and pure, Mel said, beyond sin. You will do your charges well. Mel looked at the Baptist. Then turned away to join the others.
And your daddys will, Howard snorted.
* * *
The other animals, including Mel by this time, stood under the branches of the great olive tree out of the sun and watched in amazement as the two boars rammed each other, shoved, butted heads, pushing against one another until finally the newly baptized had had enough, and retreated from the pond and wandered off.
That night for reasons known only to the moshavnik Perelman, he separated the Jersey from the others and placed her in the stall with the newly arrived boar. Between the laborers, though, rumor had it that Perelman may have wanted the two, the Jersey and the Berkshire boar, to mate even though she was a cow already freshened with a calf, and he was a pig, something about wanting the reddish-coated hide rubbing off on her.
Oh, I dont like being called a pig. I mean, I am what I am, and I like who I am. Im Boris the Boar, the Great Wild Boar, Savior of all animals, great and small. Or at least I shall be. For now, though, Ill settle for the Great Wild Boar of the West. Its the name pig, though, and as far as pigs go, we are loathed by so many of the human species. We have humans to blame for this, of course, and one man in particular for all this name-calling business. Oh, how Id love for our species across the earth to go by another name, like buffalo. Ive always liked the name buffalo or bison. I can imagine life for us would be very different if we were buffalo. Or gazelle! Doesnt that have a lovely ring to it, gazelle? Gazelle pigs, lean and muscular and strong, of course, and able to go out into the world proud, not afraid to hold their heads up.
Then Muhammad would no longer be a friend to the pig.
Yes, thered be tradeoffs. I shouldnt complain, really. Call us what they may, wed still be pigs in the eyes of many and loathed no matter what were called. It could have been worse, I suppose. He could have been called cockroaches.
Why were you and Howard fighting? Blaise said. Not long after he baptized you, you both were fighting, butting heads?
He said he was perfect, and the bigger pig, but I, being who I am, pushed back, because I am the greater boar.
Had she not already fallen asleep Blaise would have agreed.
4
When Fetuses Fall from the Backsides of Cows
Mel walked along the fence, keeping within earshot of Levy and his friend Ed, the two orthodox Jews from before. Levy was listening to an iPod with wireless earbuds as they passed through the moshav.
The Americans are coming! Ed said.
Were saved! Levy replied with the iPod and earbuds in his ear.
It appears Perelman might be.
What does that mean? Levy removed the iPod.
The Americans are coming! Ed said.
Were saved! Levy replied with the iPod and earbuds in his ear.
It appears Perelman might be.
What does that mean? Levy removed the iPod.
Hes looking to sell the moshav.
Sell the moshav? He cant do that.
The livestock, I mean, Ed said. Hes looking to sell off the livestock, the pigs, goats, chickens anyway.
Americans are coming to Israel to buy pigs?
They are in the market, yes, but their real interest is the red calf. So, while theyre here, for one thing, they might as well be here for the other.
I see. Evangelicals again on their way to save us from ourselves.
Theyre good country people, Ed said.
Of course, Levy said, Christian fundamentalists. Why else would they be interested in the red calf?
Good eatin? Ed said.
Perelman is selling the Jersey and her calf?
I believe so. Theyre interested in its outcome for us and them.
Levy placed the earbuds back in his ears. Those people, or as they say, them people.
Mel stopped at the end of the property line where the two fences came to a point at fence-post corners. The two Jews continued on their way past the farm, following the road north.
That night Mel shared with the rest a vision he had had from a dream and it was prophecy. I see men arriving at the farm. They will offer us salvation and paradise on earth, but what they want is to enslave us once again to the yoke and worse. Therefore, we must follow our newly arrived savior, Boris the Boar. He offers a different course of action, a new future, and a direction for us to go in. We must listen to Boris for it will mean the difference between our survival or our demise. Listen closely, we will pray on this, but we will follow the great boar, who art our Lord and Savior.
All right, Julius, Dave said from the olive tree the next day. What is this all about?
Remember our hero, Bruce, and the 12 Israeli Holsteins? Well, look, Julius said and pointed an expansive blue-and-gold wing. In the meadow, the Holsteins were dropping calves, one calf after the other. Bruce knew them all, Julius explained. As fetuses fall from the backsides of cows, the 12th Imam, as per our neighbors on the Arabian Peninsula or the Gaza Strip to the north, will appear or reappear depending on which family member they follow. Not only that, but well also see the return of Big J himself. Few people realize just how close they were. Thats right, Jesus will accompany his friend the 12th Imam, the Mahdi, when he climbs out of a well. Well know the difference between the two because although theyll both have prominent noses, Jesus will be the guy with blonde hair, blue eyes, and sporting a tan (the American Christians have landed, wink, wink). The Israeli Holsteins were in clear view of the rejoicing Muslims on the Egyptian border, and the Americans, standing in the road on the Israeli farm. When fetuses fall from the backsides of cows, Julius continued his cautious tale, in this fairy story as in the one about the red calf, it will bring about the end of the earth. The problem, though, for the Muslims anyway, these fetuses are breathing and kicking.
The American evangelicals, two of them anyway, had arrived on the scene in time to witness the spectacle of fetuses falling from the backsides of cows, then the rejoicing and chants emitted from the foreigners on a hill. The younger of the two was lean and fit at 27 and had blonde hair, blue eyes. The other minister was 50, with dry, wiry Grecian Formula brown hair, and dry, gray eyes. About 5 9, and stocky, he had never known hunger. Both men wore long-sleeve white shirts, opened at the collar, dark slacks, and black shoes. The Israelis who escorted the two ministers explained that it was supposed to be a sign for the arrival, or the return, of the 12th Imam, the Mahdi, depending on whose camp they belonged. However, these fetuses were alive, and the Americans witnessed the sudden end of rejoicing only to be replaced by monotonous chants before the foreigners on the hill disappeared into their village.
Oh, well, better luck next time, I always say, Julius said. The good news is we live another daywhew!
I dont understand, Ezekiel said. Fetuses are dropping. Why isnt this omen a good sign?
Oh, its an omen all right, and a very good sign for those of us of the living. The fetuses that fall from the backsides of cows are supposed to be dead when they hit the ground. When 12 of them do, by the way, 12 of them fall dead; thus, cometh the Lord, hand in hand with the Mahdi to kick infidel butt like the supernatural superheroes that they are. Unfortunately, for our Muslim faithful, those fetuses hit the ground running. Way to go Bruce! Cigars all around!
Before the crestfallen Muslims turned away, they witnessed the Christian infidels, as if on the road to Damascus, experiencing convulsions, rolling on the ground from laughter. The Muslims cursed the ground on which the infidels convulsed.
Once all the fun was over, and the Americans regained their composure, they saw two orthodox Jews heading toward them outside the farm for what would be a brief first encounter among friends with common interests.
Shalom Rabbis, we come in peace.
Were not rabbis, Levy said, with the iPod and earbuds.
Im Reverend Hershel Beam, said the older minister. This is my young protégé and youth minister of our megachurch in America, Reverend Randy Lynn. Were Christians.
Hi, Im Randy. Whaddya listenin to, The Yahweh Hill Song? Its about Jesus, you know?
Levys friend Ed looked at his friend Levy.
Levy took out the earbuds. Chopin, he said. Polonaise op. 53 in A-flat major, Heroic. A work he composed at the height of his creative powers, and during his love affair with the French novelist George Sand.
Nice to have made your acquaintance, Ed said. He and Levy nodded, tipped their hats, and bid farewell. They turned back into the road and continued along their way.
Did he say George Sand? a confused youth minister said. Chopin was gay?
No, no, laughed Reverend Beam. Dont start biting your hand, Randy. George Sand was a woman.
Whew, I hope so, Reverend Randy Lynn said. Funny name for a woman, though. But wait, I thought he said George Sand was a novelist?
She was, Randy, a French novelist.
Oh, right, one of them people. Let me see if I have this right. Hes listening to Chopin, a Polish piano player who was in love with a French novelist, a woman named George?
So far, so good, Reverend Hershel Beam said. Welcome to Israel.
I would have thought Fiddler on the Roof maybe, something closer to home.
Yes, you would think, Reverend Beam agreed.
5
Rules to Live by
The Fourteen Pillars of Wisdom
With the advent of modern farm machinery and no longer enslaved to the yoke and forced to pull the plow or the thresher, the animals down in the valley on this sliver of land pushed against the Egyptian border lived peacefully for as long as any could remember, even comfortably as any animal could, considering their circumstances. They did what most domesticated animals had always done, which was to wait. While waiting one day, because they remained feedstock for humans, and fearful of the unknown and the dark, and of lightning flashing mysteriously across an otherwise dark sky, when thunder cracked and shook the ground on which they stood frozen in fear, the animals started to ask questions. Where do we come from? Where do we go when we die? Whats it all about? To which one animal or another, always of higher intelligence, would attempt to explain the origins of life, of how they had come to be where they were now and where they were going. It was an unfolding story with rules to live by if an animal was to be rewarded an afterlife in a field of clover, a garden as it were. So, through the years several elders, usually the pigs among them, took it upon themselves in an attempt to answer these questions, began to tell stories and make rules that they passed down to the animals that came after them, creating laws for all to follow.