Once upon a time there was an old sow who had many little piglets in her day. She was very tired, and her last three piglets were nearly grown.
“Little pigs,” said the poor old sow, “I am old and tired. I need peace and rest. It is time for you to go out into the world and make lives and houses of your own.”
So the three little pigs set out with nothing but the skin on their backs. You can imagine the strange looks the pigs got as they marched north down Military Avenue, quite a busy road in Green Bay, WI! But they just kept on going. They continued north on Military Avenue until finally they reached the end of the road and could go no further.
Pig #1 said, “Brothers, I am tired. I cannot walk any further. This seems like a good place to stop and build my house.”
And, indeed, it did seem like a nice little place. At the end of the road was a gravel parking area next to a marsh. There was a nature path surrounding a pond. The pigs even heard a crane calling out over the bay.
The three brothers proceeded toward a green gate to the west. They noticed a sign that said “No Dogs Allowed, by City Ordinance” and breathed a sigh of relief that apparently pigs WERE allowed. So they proceeded through the pigdestrian gate and chose the left path.
HOUSE OF STRAW LETTERBOX
They hadn’t hoofed it more than 40 paces before Pig #1 noticed a secret opening in the bushes on the right side of the path. He could see what looked like a path less traveled on the other side. The pigs scrambled easily through the brush, this time choosing the path that led off to the right. In a few paces they were heading in a westerly direction. Each time it looked as if the path went in several directions, Pig #1 always chose the path closest to the marsh, for here were some fine-looking cattails and straw-like marsh plants with which he thought he could build a handsome house.
Pig #2 did not like this place at all. The path zigged and zagged this way and that. There were many trees bent over by the strong winds off the bay (or from a big, bad wolf huffing and puffing). On the right side of the path, they noticed a 2-trunked tree with a 3-trunked tree behind it. About 90 paces from this spot,
the pigs encountered a slightly downward slope in the path. At the very lowest point, Pig #1 just stopped and refused to go on. He could see the path immediately sloping upward again, and he was too tired to continue. He looked to his right, where he saw a tree just at the edge of the marsh that had a second, skinny trunk growing from it. Its roots were exposed, and he thought it looked like a rightly nice place to sit and rest a spell. Over a crevice under the exposed roots sat a small pile of rocks and sticks. Pig #1 sat upon them and let out a shrill squeal.
“What is it?” cried Pig #2. “Are you hurt?”
“No!” Pig #1 whispered slyly. “This is where I’m going to build my house of straw!”
HOUSE OF STICKS LETTERBOX
Pigs #2 & #3 laughed at Pig #1. “This is a terrible place to build a house, so close to the marsh!” And the two pigs left their brother and started back the way they had come. Pig #2 began to collect sticks as they walked.
“I’m going to build myself a fine house out of these,” said Pig #2. Pig #3 shrugged and said, “Not me! Houses should be made of brick and stone.”
The two brothers arrived back on the main gravel path and continued their journey along it. Pig #2 had gathered a lot of sticks by then, and somewhere after Marker #10 on the path, he decided to stop and build his house off to the right.
Pig #3 just shook his head. “I’m going to keep going. This does not seem like a very good place to me! I’m going to go find some rocks or stones. Good-bye, brother.” And he disappeared ahead.
Pig #2 set to work building his house of sticks. He was quite proud of his work, and to make it more homey he decided to give it an address: 9 Fallen Timbers Ln. He was just about to go inside when he heard a familiar squealing and a ruckus along the path. It was his brother, Pig #1, running and grunting like someone was trying to turn him into bacon.
“Brother! Brother!” cried Pig #1. “Am I glad to see you! A big, bad wolf just came and blew down my house of straw! He’s coming after me!” The two pigs scrambled into Pig #2’s house of sticks. Moments later, the big bad wolf appeared at the door and demanded, “Little pig, little pig, let me in!”
“Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!” shouted Pig #2. By and by the wolf was huffing and puffing. Before the house of sticks came tumbling down, a large tree blew down, uprooted and fell over. If the trunk of that huge tree was pointing at 12:00, it barely missed smashing the house of sticks at 10:00 under its base! But the house made of sticks was short-lived; with the next huff and puff, the house of sticks flew apart.
HOUSE OF BRICK LETTERBOX
Pig #1 & Pig #2 got on the path and started running in the direction that Pig #3 had gone. The wolf was right on their tails, but the pigs gained some speed after Marker 8, when their short legs helped them barrel down a hill and the wolf tripped over his tail and fell. The pigs ran and ran for a long time along the northwestern length of the path. At the northern point of the trail, they approached a rightward curve. There was a gravel spot at the curve that was ringed with boulders and looked like it had a grand view of the marsh and bay.
Pig #3 appeared through an opening in the brush at about 90 degrees. He was standing on a large flat rock and beaming proudly.
“Come and see my beautiful house of brick!” he said, and they went to stand on the edge of the flat rock. Down a couple of paces was a boulder at 2:00, under which was a lovely crevice where Pig #3 had built his house of brick.
The three pigs barely made it inside before the wolf was at the door. You know how the story ends; the wolf’s lungs aren’t strong enough to blow down the house of brick. When he tries to sneak down the chimney, he is greeted by a big cauldron of boiling water. So the wolf gives up and goes on his merry way, continuing down the path out of the nature area, back through the green gate and off to parts unknown. And the three little pigs live happily ever after.
Note: Please bring an empty trash bag and pick up any litter you find along the trails. The place is a pig sty!
LAST VERIFIED: April 13, 2008