ErnestT Piggington was the top hog responsible for building the great southern railroad. From a rather modest family and upbringing. Ernest never attended high school and didn't even finish primary school, dropping out at the age of 11, but he was always a very bright pig with crackling ideas - the classic entrepreneur. Born in 1821 in a small Southland hamlet, Ernest was one of 18 offspring of Ke
vin and Frances. The family worked a crop farm, sowing their wild oats and grain. On leaving school, Ernest worked with his father, getting a guinea each week which went straight to the piggy bank. He soon had enough money to start a small horse and cart business with his best friend Neddy, transporting local products to nearby towns and markets. Following an epidemic of swine flu, Ernest had to take over the running of the family farm. One day, while ploughing a new area of land, Ernest found fragments of coal – lots of them. A geologist was called in and a rich, black coal seam was confirmed. Thus, the 'Piggington Mine' was established and soon became the highest producer of them all. Ernest put his snout to the grindstone and his plans swilled. A lifelong dream and a love of trains set the wheels in motion of a daring venture - to build a railway through Southland. Ernest had seen the need for trains to transport his coal, while offering the people of Southland a means of getting from here to there. He launched his ideas to the local councils and land owners and indeed anyone who would listen. To achieve his dream, he needed to get the necessary permission to build the rail on both public and private land. The response was overwhelming and the money and support soon flowed in. And, of course, he needed a station, but something more than just a place to purchase a ticket. Ernest was rather piggish about food, he believed his passengers should be able to get a cuppa and a bite to eat before their journeys. He got his way, and in a matter of months Ernest was standing on the platform of 'The Pig Station', cutting the ribbon to announce the railway was open for business. It quickly became a thriving hub with passengers coming and going, luggage by the mile, and an array of wonderful smells of the freshly cooked food. Each approaching train was heralded by a whistle and the rattle of crockery in time to the clatter of the train wheels. In time, Ernest fell in love with one of the regular passengers, the bright and buxom Miss Peggy. They were married in a simple ceremony and spent a honeymoon in the mud pools up north. Four months later the Piggington family welcomed the addition of sextuplets, a boy and five girls. Ernest was delighted, you could hear him and his piglets squeal with delight and snort with laughter as they played. For Peggy, it was quite the farrowing time with all those snouts to feed. Sadly, the modern world eventually overtook them. Motorcars became the normal mode of family travel, while trucks delivered most of the freight. At a very old age, Ernest and Peggy retired to a quiet sty in the country, where they were often visited by their 80 children and 1200 grandchildren and he had lost count of the numerous great grandchildren. Ernest particularly enjoyed the visits from one - Earnie. He shares his great grandads love of trians and today he drives one of the few trains left, still freighting coal from here to there. For many years the people were gone and the platform empty, the crockery no longer rattled. However, 'The Pig Station' has now reopened, selling very tasty offerings, hot coffee cold drinks and more. Some say on a windy day, if you listen very carefully, you may hear the distant whistle of the old steam train, a snort or even the tap, tap, tap of trotters walking the platform. If you do, be sure to keep your eyes wide open and you may just see Ernest T Piggington, waiting for his train.
