A Cut Above
Bev Vines-Haines

Chickie Dunn watched her ag teacher catch a squealing weaner pig and toss it to the ground, butt end up. Castration day. She considered herself lucky. The year before the class had been assigned bull calves, an easier procedure due to banding the testicles. But something about the large trusting eyes of a calf had made her hope for pigs.

Pigs never seemed to care about a whole lot. 

The only girl in the class, her number one secret was she had no interest whatsoever in agriculture. She'd just heard girls weren't allowed to take Vocational Agriculture and decided to batter that wall down on principle. Now, too late, she had second thoughts. She watched Hack Blynn dive for a pig and turn it over. Then he caught another one by the leg and spun it onto its back as well. "This one's yours, Chickie," he hollered. Hack, a farm boy, was as accustomed to animals and dirt as she was to malls and libraries. 

She dropped to her knees and straddled the pig. Just as Hack did, she cleaned the animal's scrotum with soap and warm water and toweled it dry. Images from the book they had studied played in her mind. Why hadn't she read it more thoroughly? Hack moved his pig's testicle into the scrotum and she did the same. Each of them made a small cut and watched as tiny globes popped out. There were two cords or vessels, one white, the other red. She remembered, cut the white one not the red one. They twisted the testicles several times. Chickie ignored her young pig's squeals. She scraped up and down with her knife, carefully as Hack did. Then she swabbed the area with gentian violet. 

Throughout the procedure Hack kept up a string of encouragement. "Good job, Chickie.""Don't worry, we're almost done."

And they were. The second testicle went faster than the first. 

The assignment complete, she watched fifteen male classmates and the teacher wipe disappointment off their faces. They'd thought this would be great sport.

Chickie smiled at Hack and he winked. Large veins stood out on his muscled arms. She remembered how he'd tossed hay bales with the ease of a baseball and tended sheep and other creatures with heart stopping tenderness. His hair, clean and shiny, blew in the breeze and he looked sexier than any Greek god she'd studied at the library. She pictured hearty breakfasts around a country table, nights curled up in stubbly fields as they gazed at stars, and she trembled with the hunger a gentle man can stir inside a woman.

First published: February, 2006
comments to the writer: Knob'sWriter@iceflow.com