The Tiny Intruder
by Marvel
The morning began like any other — dew on the grass, the sweet smell of hay in the air, and me, doing the usual chores.
As the man of the meadow, it’s my task to keep order here. Every morning I patrol the Snack House perimeter, making sure everything (and everyone) is where it belongs.
Today, I ended my rounds with a surprise I still can’t quite explain.
Just as the sun peeked over the trees, I spotted movement by the hay bale — tiny, pink, squeaky movement. It was so fast, I thought I had imagined it!
At first, I thought it might be a misplaced snack — but no. It was alive. A little piglet trotted right up to me, bold as brass, nose twitching like he owned the place.
I gave him my best “bull stare.” He squeaked.
I snorted and stomped. He squeaked again — louder.
So I put on my most impressive threat display — throwing dirt with my front hooves and bellowing loudly, just to remind the intruder whose meadow this is. He was utterly unfazed.
The Snack Lady laughed and said, “Looks like you’ve got company, Marvel.”
Company?! I call that a security breach.
Still… the squeaky little thing didn’t seem dangerous. He just wanted a warm patch of straw in the sunshine — and maybe a friend. So I did the noble thing: I allowed him to stay. I did this because our Creator says:
“Do what is right and fair. Be kind and merciful to each other.”
— Zechariah 7:9b
(That’s leadership, you see — firm but compassionate.)
By the time the sun climbed high, he’d nestled himself beside the hay bale among the ladies and was snoring softly. And I… well, I kept watch. One never knows when something appearingly innocent might become a threat.
Every barnyard needs a guardian, after all — even if his new assistant squeals instead of moos.
