The Four Little Pigs

By Dawn Jewell, illustration by Julia Damion

Once upon a time four little pigs set out to seek their way in the world. The first frost of winter and a brisk wind numbed their pink ears and curly tails as they trotted through the prairie. 

“I can’t take this, I’m going to build my house right here,” said the littlest pig.

“No, wait,” said his three siblings. “The wind will blow you to pieces. A wolf would easily find you.” 

“I don’t care. I’m done,” he said. And the little pig set about gathering dried grasses and straw. He worked diligently but after erecting the barest of straw walls, his muscles ached. The exhausted pig lay down under a pile of straw for a nap. 

The other three pigs had kept trotting into the forest of Lincoln Marsh. They stepped carefully over fallen branches. “This looks like great timber, I’m stopping here,” said the second pig. 

“No, no,” said the other two pigs. “Wood isn’t strong enough to withstand tornadoes.” 

“I’ll build a cabin that no tornado can destroy,” said the stubborn pig. And he plopped on a log. The other two pigs sighed and trotted on. 

The stubborn pig began gathering branches. Soon he built a little wooden shelter. Pleased, he lay down to nap.

Meanwhile, his two siblings reached Kline Creek Farm. Resting against the big old barn, they munched on fallen apples and surveyed the farm. 

“Look at this old farmhouse!” said Brother Pig, admiring its gabled windows and screened-in porch. “Wouldn’t it be amazing to build a house that lasted more than 100 years?”

“Yes, but how?” wondered Sister Pig.

“Let’s see if the other animals will help!” Brother Pig said. 

They walked to the field where sheep grazed. “Hello,” Brother Pig said. “We want to build a house to withstand tornados and last for years. Would you help us?” 

“Why should we?” said the biggest, fluffiest sheep, chewing grass.

“The house will be for all of us. We’ll have dinner parties, games, and a warm fireplace,” said Sister Pig. 

The flock of sheep huddled briefly. “Count us in!” said Sean, the leader. “Our barn is too drafty for winter parties.” 

So, the sheep and pigs began gathering timber and straw, and stones for a chimney. The horses and chickens wondered what the fuss was about. 

“Come join us,” said Brother Pig to the other animals. “If we work together, we can build a bigger and stronger house.”

“Why should we?” said the old gray mare. 

“We’ll savor apple pie and hot cider inside when the winter wind blasts snow through the barn,” Sister Pig said. 

“Okay,” said Clyde, the biggest horse. “You had me at apple pie.”

Brother Pig directed all the animals according to their gifts. With the horses’ height and muscles, they quickly framed the house. It was Monday. 

The next morning as they persevered, they heard the practice tornado sirens. 

“Wait,” said Sister Pig. “I don’t think timber walls would withstand a tornado. 

The animals reluctantly agreed. “What would survive?” asked Clyde. 

“We need a cement foundation like the old farmhouse,” said Sister Pig.  

“You’re right. Where could we get cement?” said Clyde. 

“Let’s ask the farmer and his wife,” suggested Sean. “They know everything that I don’t.”

Sister and Brother Pig trotted to the farmhouse door and oinked. The farmer’s wife answered and smiled at the two pigs. 

“Would you please help mix cement for our foundation?” Sister Pig oinked. 

“I’m busy cleaning the barn today with the farmer,” said the farmer’s wife. 

“Our team can help you clean first,” Sister Pig smiled. 

“Deal,” said the farmer’s wife. 

Within an hour the animals had swept, mopped, and dusted the barn. The sheep dusted the walls with their wooly bodies, the horses pushed brooms, and the pigs mopped with pads on their hooves. 

“It sparkles,” beamed the farmer’s wife. 

She and the farmer began mixing cement, while Sean measured foundation walls. Clyde poured the heavy cement, and the other animals spread it evenly. 

As the sun set, they admired their work. 

The next day, after an omelette courtesy of the hens, the animals put up the walls, doors, windows, and roof. The sheep added insulation from their winter fleece. As the winter sun set again, the animals clapped at the lovely house they’d built. 

In the distance, they heard the wolf’s unmistakable howl. He had picked up the scent of the first pig and found the straw shelter. He salivated at the thought of roast pork.

The wolf knocked politely. “Please let me in, Little Pig,” he asked.

“Not by the hair of my chinny, chin chin,” said the trembling pig. 

“Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down,” said the wolf.

But the pig scooted silently under a straw wall and was dashing toward the forest before the wolf discovered his getaway. 

The little pig arrived breathless at his brother’s wooden cottage. “The wolf is coming,” he panted. 

“Quick, grab the vegan bacon from the cupboard and heat it,” said his brother. 

Within minutes, they heard a knock. 

“Let me in now!” said the wolf, wasting no time with manners.

“No! Not by the hair of our chinny chin chins,” said the pigs. 

“Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down,” the wolf threatened. 

“Why?” said the second pig, “Wouldn’t you prefer to have a cosy cabin to shelter in after you eat us?”

The bacon’s savory scent distracted the hungry wolf while he considered his options. Meanwhile the two pigs escaped through a back window and raced to Kline Creek.

The wolf heaved and knocked down the door. Finding only the bacon sizzling, he gobbled mouthfuls. He howled furiously when the hot food burned his tongue.

The two pigs reached Kline Creek exhausted and banged on the new farmhouse door. “Quick, let us in!” they oinked. 

Sean opened the door. The two pigs knocked him over and collapsed. “We…escaped…wolf…” 

“Quick— Meet up!” called Sean.

The animals huddled before the new fireplace, chickens perching in the rafters. Brother Pig scribbled a diagram on the floor. A plan was hatched, and an egg too. 

At the count of three, they shouted, “Go team!” The animals dashed to the barn, where frenzied activity ensued inside. Straw, dust, and feathers swirled. Clyde propped a big ladder inside the barn door. 

Minutes later the farmer’s wife returned breathlessly from the apiary, cradling a gallon of fresh honey. Chickens lining the ladder steps heaved the jug to Brother Pig on top. Adjacent, Clyde’s huge horse head balanced a bucket of chicken feathers. 

“Ready everyone?” called Sister Pig, peeking out the open barn window. Far in the distance, she spied the wolf galloping toward them. Taking a deep breath, she called loudly through the window, “Brother Pig, I’m tired and hungry. Can we rest and eat?”  

The wolf drooled as he sped toward the barn, eyes fixed on Sister Pig’s snout. 

When she spied his long tongue dangling, Sister Pig dropped from sight. The wolf approached the barn door. “Come out, come out, or I’ll burn your barn down,” he growled. 

“Not from the hair of my chinny chin chin,” replied Sister Pig. “You’re not fast enough to catch me!” All the animals held their breath.

The wolf ventured inside. Whoosh!! The hens dropped a net over him.

“What?!!!” he snarled. 

Clyde pinned the wolf down with one hoof while the pigs tied his paws together, then lifted the net. 

Sean tossed the electric sheep shaver to the youngest pig. The wolf’s glorious coat dropped to the floor in clumps. His cheeks burned pink as he crouched, trying to hide his bare body. “Step one, complete!” said the little pig. 

“Go time!” shouted Brother Pig from atop the ladder. He tipped the honey jar, and great globs dripped from the wolf’s ears to his paws.

The wolf stood frozen in shock. 

“My turn!” neighed Clyde. He leaned his big head, flipping the bucket. Chicken feathers swirled and stuck to the honey. Soon only the wolf’s steely gray eyes were visible. 

The animals chuckled with glee. 

“Let me go!” He shouted. “Or I’ll eat you all up!”

“Not by the hairs of our chinny chin chins,” said Sister Pig, wagging her tail in his face. 

The wolf realized he’d been outdone. 

“Look who’s a chicken now!” squawked the biggest chicken. 

“Let’s roast him for our housewarming party!” joked Brother Pig, untying sticky paws. 

Horrified, the wolf looked around, then sprinted from the barn. 

“Run, run!” called the pigs, as feathers flew behind the wolf’s vanishing body. 

“Hooray!” cried all the animals, high-fiving one another. 

“Well done,” said the farmer’s wife proudly. 

“Dinner is on us,” said the farmer to the team of animals. 

After the pizza was delivered, the animals feasted before their roaring fireplace. They sipped cider and sang songs late into the night. Outside the first snow of winter began to blanket the fields. The hungry, shivering wolf galloped miles away, still hunting for dinner.

The End

I aimed to pen a story that could illustrate the Spirit’s power in God’s people when they collaborate in creative work. The folktale of the Three Little Pigs came to me as a story of building and failure due to lack of partnership. 

Julia Damion created the lovely illustration before I had figured out how to punish the wolf. I struggled–was he was a bad guy with redeemable qualities or the Enemy? Once I saw how Julia’s drawing brought the story to life, I had to finish! After gaining input from three or four other writers at Rez, I decided to have the animals work together again to punish the wolf.  The lesson: when God’s people are collaborating in love and unity, the Enemy has little power. He must roam elsewhere to destroy and devour.

Dawn Jewell has been Communications Director at Rez since 2020. A native of the Pacific Northwest, she enjoys fiction set in other cultures, thrifting, ethnic eats, and traveling with family.

 

 

Julia Damion has been at Rez for eight years. Originally from Maine, she enjoys time in nature, creating art and music, making puns, and spending time with her pup, Homer.

Share this post