Cunningham set to hike the Appalachian Trail First pig ever!

By Emory Jones

My pet pig, Cunningham, is quite ambitious. For a pig, I mean.

Why, he’s attempted play acting, plumbing, painting, and even politics, although he’s never been elected to anything other than the local swine oversight board. He only got two votes, but that’s all it took since there was an unusually low turnout that year. That pig has even appeared on the big screen. (Full disclosure; it was the big screen from the kitchen window that blew off during a thundersorm the other night. Still, it looks good on his resume.

So, I wasn’t surprised last week when he came trotting up carrying a little leaflet about hiking the Appalachian Trail. At Cunningham’s urging, I looked on the interweb and learned that while dogs lead the pack when it comes to animals hiking the Appalachian Trail, no pig has ever done that!

Naturally, Cunningham saw this as an opportunity. I was initially skeptical, but my wife, Judy, thought hiking the AT (That’s what the professionals call it) was a grand idea. In fact, she even suggested— insisted, really—that I accompany him on the trip. She does worry about that pig. Since I had the next six months more or less open, I figured, why not? The walk might do me good, and the trail looked flat enough on the map.

Once I picked up a new pair of tennis shoes and a trail blazer in case it got cold, we were all set to go. Judy dropped us off at the foot of Springer Mountain, which I believe is owned by a local chicken company. Springer Mountain is where the AT begins. Or ends, depending on which way you’re going.

Judy was so sad to see us leave that she, bless her heart, drove off without saying bye. I guess she didn’t want a big scene.

I just hope she gets home okay because the last time Cunningham and I left on a trip, Judy made a wrong turn and wound up at Myrtle Beach. That woman has the worst sense of direction I ever saw.

Anyway, the pig and I had started walking toward Springer Mountain when a man stopped beside us and rolled his truck window down.

“Where you two headed?” he asked.

“We’re on a hike,” I replied. Then, pointing proudly at Cunningham, I added. “He’s gonna be the first pig to walk the Appalachian Trail.”

Cunningham grunted humbly.

“That’s impressive,” The man said as he looked us up and down. “Have you bought your tickets yet?”

“The leaflet didn’t say anything about tickets.”

“That thing is outdated,” he replied.

I didn’t want to seem like a rookie hiker, so I said, “Oh, we were going to buy them up at the ranger station.”

“Okay, but I have a couple here I could let you have at a nice little discount.”

I was instantly suspicious. “How can you afford to do that?”

“By buying in bulk. On eBay.”

That made sense. “Okay, how much?”

The man rubbed his chin. “One way or roundtrip?”

That was easy. “Roundtrip, of course.”

“That’ll be fifty dollars then. Each.”

“Fifty sounds high for a pig,” I said, wanting to appear shrewd.

“Well, how about twenty-five for the pig and seventy-five for you?” “Done,” I said, realizing later I may not have thought that one through. Nevertheless, we were lucky to have run into that nice fellow because, when we finally got there, that ranger station wasn’t even open.

Emory Jones grew up in Northeast Georgia’s White County. After a stint in the Air Force, he joined Gold Kist as publications manager. He was the Southeastern editor for Farm Journal Magazine and executive vice president at Freebarin & Company, an Atlanta-based advertising agency. He has written seven books. Emory is known for his humor, love of history and all things Southern. He and his wife, Judy, live on Yonah Mountain near Cleveland, Georgia.