The pigs kept eating. By noon, I had half emptied the corn crib. I thought I might stop to get something to eat myself when my grandfather found me. I remembered this story when the loggers invaded our county. They were hungry, too.
Loggers see trees as dollars.
Every stump means more money. They can't stop. It's their nature, their goal, their life. You can't blame a logger for being a logger. But someone must watch the corn crib door.