Pigs do not go "oink".
Cows could be said to go "moo", cats certainly "miaow", dogs kind of "woof", sheep have been known to "baa" - usually before falling over and dying.
But pigs do NOT go "oink" - at least, not in my experience.
Kim, our senior sow, would rather have her toenails removed than go "oink" like some silly pink cartoon character. It's a matter of pride, after all.
When Kim gives out, it's best to imagine a didgeridoo played by a particularly large gorilla. She's been doing it a lot lately.
My favourite pig is recently returned from a visit to The Boss, the pedigree Saddleback boar on Mainland Orkney. Kim really doesn't like travelling. At the age of five, she's more a cosy bed, big dinner and quiet stroll around the paddock kind of girl.
She's certainly not a load-up-in-the-trailer, drive-to-ferry, bumpy-crossing, drive-to-another-farm kind of girl.
We pulled up in the queue for the ferry at Rapness, the trailer rocking and bouncing as Kim gave it the full Rolf Harris. As I loaded up on the boat, people were starting to look.
It was a lively crossing, especially as the Earl Sigurd negotiated Westray Firth where the waters rush and swell to the south of Westray and Eday. I peered out at the trailer which was wobbling despite being lashed to the deck.
By the time we arrived at destination, her ladyship was looking a bit green about the gills and certainly not "in the mood". I'm told it was separate beds for the first three days.
Return journey last weekend was quieter, at least on the sea, although the trailer trembled each time a recumbent Kim let out a low growl.
She's home now in the pen next to Molly and the piglets and will go out into the bottom field at the weekend. Once again I'm treating myself to a few quiet evening moments leaning on the wall enjoying her company, much in the style of the Earl of Emsworth and the Empress of Blandings. Simple pleasures.