Here's happy Wilbur awaiting the trip to Amherst. Fern wasn't on board with the whole idea of going to slaughter though. There was no way she was going up into that truck. Wilbur, on the other hand, couldn't wait. Then he ran down the chute into the holding pen when we got him there. I'm glad that he was happy his whole life. I'm also a little bit glad, and ten pounds lighter from sweating, trying to get her in the truck, that Fern was spared. If I was the boss, she'd get bred to some cool boar for piglets. Fortunately, I'm not the boss 'round here, so we might not be overrun with pigs after all.