There he was. Just sitting there. I was in love with him instantly. His innocent round eyes and his curly pink piggy tail. As I bent down to grab him I never imagined how much he would change my life.

It was the spring of fifth grade. My mom, one afternoon, had said to me, “We are going to Costa Rica for a while. We will travel for three weeks and work on a farm for three weeks.” I was so excited, I couldn’t wait! I had never been to Costa Rica, but I’d heard about it and all the amazing things you could do there.

About a week later, we were boarding the plane to Costa Rica and I was still blown away with the fact that we were actually going. Cost Rica really was nothing I could have imagined. As I stepped off the plane, I gasped! A wave of heat and humidity crashed over me. As we got out of the city and into the “wild” there was a significant difference. The huge green trees were covered in flowering vines. Birds were calling to each other and flashing their brilliant colored feathers. Everything was full of life and happiness.

After a few weeks of traveling around the coast of Cost Rica, my mom and I decided that it was time to head to central Cost Rica. We had decided on one farm in particular that had caught our eyes. It was called Rancho Margot, and it was located at the base of a volcano! Let me add, an active volcano that shot out steam, ash and lava daily.

When we finally arrived at Ranch Margot we were blown away. The farm was totally self sustainable. The local worker showed us around, explaining to my mom and me, “We make all of our own dairy products. Every morning people get up at around 6:00 to milk the cows. Then a little later in the day our dairy person makes cheese, yogurt and sometimes butter.” He also explained how the farm had chickens and pigs. The chickens were used for their eggs. Meat mostly came from the pigs, sometimes the chickens and very rarely the cows.

The next few days I wandered around the farm on my own. My mom was spending all of her time farming, and sometimes I would help her for fun. One warm Costa Rican day, I realized I wanted to get a closer look at the pigs. I was kind of nervous because I wasn’t sure if it was ok that I was going in there, but I went in anyway. There were only a few workers hustling around doing chores for all the pigs. The day before, Herbert, the animal coordinator, showed me from the outside of the building where I could find the nice and tame pigs. I then headed over to that area hoping I could find some of the little piglets. The sound of pigs scurrying around making loud grunts filled my ears. SQUEAL! There was also the sound of the piglets playing. As I walked over I saw Herbert standing over one of the pens staring into it. I went over to see what he was looking at. “What’s going on?” I asked in a quiet voice.

“There’s this one little pig,” he began, “His brothers and sisters are larger than him. They think they can just bully him around. They sit on him and won’t let him get their mother’s milk. I don’t think he’ll survive long, and I don’t have the time to take care of him myself,” Herbert finished in his thick Guatemalan accent.
“I’ll take care of him!” I blurted before realizing what I was saying. Herbert just looked at me for a few seconds.
“You will?”

I nodded my head vigorously, “I will.” Herbert bent down and grabbed the tiniest pig I’d ever seen out of the pen.

“Well, here you go then,” he said, handing me the little pig and a bottle of what looked like watered down milk with a yellowish tint. Then Herbert just smiled at my and my little piggy, turned on his heals, and walked away, so I was left alone with a very little pig.

At first I had no idea what to do. There were butterflies fluttering around in my stomach, but in a good kind of way. A pig of my own!

Something I could take care of. But the butterflies were there out of anticipation, what would happen to my pig? I just looked down at the tiny little piglet in my arms. So many thoughts were racing through my mind. “What do I do? How can I keep him safe?” but my main question, “What will happen to him when I leave the farm?” I realized that maybe I couldn’t exactly answer those questions, but I would do what I could do. So I grabbed a nearby crate, tipped it over and sat down.

By this time the little pig had his eyelids closed, but oddly he had what seemed like a smile on his face. Ever so faintly, but it was there all right. I reached for the bottle Herbert had given me and put it close to the pig’s mouth. His eyes flew open, and he reached his head out, grabbing the end of the baby bottle. I tipped it back so he could get more of the strange milky liquid. We sat like that for quite a bit. Me starring at his big round eyes and him sucking the bottle and making a content slurping noise. It wasn’t the kind of oink you would expect to hear from a pig. It was more like a quiet little noise, you can’t describe but you will never forget. Eventually I had to go help my mom get the daily harvest for dinner.

The next week was like this. In my spare time, when I wasn’t exploring Rancho Margot, I would go see my little pig. By this time I had decided to name him Sherbert. The name was kind of like Herbert’s, and it fit him just right. It was getting closer and closer to the time when my mom and I would leave the farm, and I was getting worried. What would happen to Sherbert when we left? Who would keep him safe, if anyone would? A few days later I found out, but before that I took Sherbert out to see the sun for the first time.

After lunch I came to see Sherbert. I saw Herbert so I asked him, “Is it ok if I take Sherbert outside?” he laughed like he always did when I said the little pig’s name, and said, “Of course! It’d probably be good for him to get some fresh air.” So I took Sherbert outside. We walked to a patch of emerald green grass, just outside the outdoor pen for the big pigs. I set him down in the grass. By this time the butterflies had settled down a little bit. I hadn’t been thinking that soon I would have to leave the farm. For the first few minutes he was quiet and curiously sniffing right around him. After he got a little more daring he started to wander around. As far as I could tell, he liked the smells of the outdoors. He was looking at all the brilliant colors of Costa Rica he had never seen before, taking in everything around him, the sunlight and the sounds. It was a good last day for my piglet.

The next day I went to see Sherbert again. Since I had such a great time the day before, I wanted to take him outside again. Let him breathe in the fresh air and soak in the sunlight. Well that never happened. I ran up to the pen my pig was always in. No Sherbert. Where was he? All his brothers and sisters were there, but he wasn’t. I was frantically running around checking the other pens, making sure someone hadn’t put him in the wrong pen by mistake. No such luck I couldn’t find him, he was gone. The butterflies were racing. Hitting the sides of my stomach with painful stabs. Reminding me of everything about Sherbert. He was sick; maybe Herbert had just taken him away to give him medicine. This had seemed like a good explanation for my pig’s absence, so I started to wander around, looking for Herbert and my little Sherbert.

After what felt like forever, I found Herbert. I was so relieved to find him, but Sherbert wasn’t there. “Where’s Sherbert?” I breathlessly asked. “Oh, um. Well his brothers and sisters kept sitting on him, so we moved him to a different farm last night….” He trailed off. I couldn’t speak. Maybe I tried to, but there was nothing there, just an emptiness in my stomach. The butterflies were dead, crushed, gone. Just like Sherbert.
“Oh,” was all I could say before I turned and walked out of the pig building. Leaving behind the memories of hours spent in there with Sherbert. As I tried to find my mom I was so confused. “Another farm? But where? And why so abruptly? I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my precious little piglet.

From this experience I learned that life is so precious. You should never take it for granted, and cherish the moments while you still hold them close to your heart. Years later I think about my Sherbert, and what happened to him. I know Herbert, and I know that he never would have wanted to hurt me. I wonder sometimes if what Herbert told me, wasn’t the real fate of Sherbert. Did he actually get moved to another farm so suddenly, or did he not make it? Did he not get to live a long happy piggy life? Was it cut short? Pulled out from under him. This, I guess I will never know. But what I do know is that he had a good run at life. Pura Vida, pure life.