IT was two years ago that reports first began to emerge of sightings of a beast roaming loose on Eston Hills in North Yorkshire.

Mixed reactions spread throughout the small community, disbelief, shock, fear, but mainly disbelief, well initially at any rate.

Then, as the weeks passed the sightings became more frequent.

The beast was undoubtedly, getting braver, growing in confidence and was finally identified as some sort of “wild boar”.

Dog walkers and regular visitors to the hills, began feeding the wild boar, who was growing more sociable with each passing day and turning out to be not so wild after all.

Several attempts were made to catch the feral black pig, but all to no avail.

She became very adept at persuading folk to feed her treats and equally skilled at dodging their advances, but one morning, a gentleman residing at the foot of the hills looked out of his window to see “the beast” trundling round his back garden.

The RSPCA were subsequently called and the delinquent sow apprehended.

As it was a May bank holiday weekend, temporary accommodation was secured at a neighbouring farm until somewhere more permanent could be found.

Well, needless to say, it didn’t take this little piggy very long to get her trotters firmly ensconced beneath the farmhouse table and she was subsequently named Charlotte, after a certain royal baby who was hitting the headlines at the time.

Whether it was the appealing look in her little piggy eyes, the cute snuffling noise that she made as she dug up her pasture, or the endearing way that she liked to collapse on one side while she had her tummy scratched, no-one can quite remember, but no matter, a view was taken and Charlotte was there to stay.

Now this particular farmer and his wife had never kept pigs before and it was only during one of the routine belly scratching sessions that small lumps were felt.

The small lumps began to grow and seemed to move, visibly beneath the skin, until a few weeks later, on the seventh day of the seventh month, seven healthy piglets were born, duly named Lilly, Phoebe, Scarlett, Archie, Ralph, Paul and Derek.

Charlotte was a brilliant mum, even though she was thought to be little more than six months old herself and had lived rough on the hills for most of her confinement.

Not surprising therefore, that after giving birth she was now very thin. Nonetheless the babies thrived and grew into beautiful bouncing healthy piglets.

Six babies duly found lovely, knowledgeable homes where hopefully they will live out the rest of their lives as “pet porkers” which is, after all, no more than they deserve.

The smallest of the bunch, a little gilt named Scarlett, stayed at home with her mum and that is where they both remain to this day, living in the lap of piggy-luxury at the riding school where we keep our horses.

I went to meet both ladies today and Scarlett, who it goes without saying has only been raised on the best of the best, is now actually bigger than her mum.

Fun loving and attention seeking, this little piggy thinks everybody should play with her, scratch her belly, bring her food, or preferably do all three.

Hence the fire safety officer got a shock recently, when he came on his routine visit to check the fire extinguishers in the barn.

Without warning, a rotund black beast, about the size of a small Labrador, leapt out of her pen clearing a huge straw bale in the process and ran towards him enthusiastically, wagging her tail.

No-one really knows how Charlotte came to be living on the hills. She has always been very tame and extremely friendly which suggests that in her previous life she was maybe someone’s pet? Did she simply grow too big for them to care for her? Did they know that she was pregnant when they abandoned her to fend for herself? Did they care?

I don’t suppose that we’ll ever know for sure, but luckily all is well that ends well and today, I met two very happy little piggies that definitely won’t be going to market.