Freddy the Pig is the central figure in a series of 26 children’s books written between 1927 and 1958 by American author Walter R. Brooks. The series consists of 25 novels and one poetry collection. The books focus on the adventures of a group of animals living on a farm in rural upstate New York.

Freddy is introduced as “the smallest and cleverest” of the pigs on the Bean farm. He is initially just one of the ensemble, but he becomes the central character shortly into the series. Freddy’s interests drive the books as he becomes a detective, a politician, a newspaper editor, a magician, a pilot, among other vocations or avocations. A recurring villain is the slimy but dignified Simon, who leads a gang of criminal rats. Human characters include Mr. and Mrs. Bean (who own the farm), the people of local town, Centerboro, and assorted human villains.

Much of the humor in the books is derived from the self-referential way in which the author acknowledges the unreality of talking animals, unlike other children's works in which they are accepted as normal. As the series progresses, the Bean Farm animals attain national fame for their ability to talk and read, and the humans whom they encounter are taken aback at first (though only momentarily) to find themselves conversing with animals. The animals and humans do not age, although the stories reflect the social conditions at the time of writing; for example, the books published during World War II feature scrap drives and victory gardens.

Brooks created his animals in the first volume, To and Again, which was published in 1927 by Alfred A. Knopf. It took some time before their personalities were fully developed, along with their ability to talk to humans when they chose, beginning with the fourth volume in 1936. In the remainder of the series, the animals of the Bean Farm lead a highly developed life, variously operating a bank, a newspaper, the First Animal Republic, and Freddy;s detective business (which follows the principles of Sherlock Holmes as, Freddy knows them from his reading.)

The books went out of print in the 1960s, despite their popularity in the 1940s and 1950s, but libraries continued to have them. In the past decade, they have been republished in response to requests from Freddy fans who treasure their combination of ingenious plots, well-drawn characters, literary allusions, and wholesome (but not cloying) moral lessons.

—Karl Wurf

Rockville, MD

CHAPTER I

FREDDY HAS AN IDEA

Jinx, the cat, was walking round in the bushes behind the barn, looking for excitement. Things had been very quiet on the farm for a long time. Nothing really interesting had happened since spring, when he and the other animals had come back from their trip to Florida. That had been a great trip! He purred whenever he thought of it.

Suddenly he crouched down and began to lash his tail. A little grey shape darted out from under the barn into the shadow of a bush. Noiselessly Jinx crept forward, inch by inch, until he was within jumping-distance. But just as he was about to spring, a little squeaky voice came from under the bush:

“Hey, Jinx! Stop it! It’s me—Eeny!”

Jinx stopped crouching and straightened up. He gave a disgusted sniff. “I might have known it!” he growled. “There’s never anything new around this place! Since I made friends with you and your family and promised to leave you alone, I haven’t seen hide nor hair, nor tooth nor tail of anything I could hunt. Friendship’s all very well, but it spoils lots of good sport.”

“I’m sorry,” said the mouse. He came out from the shadow and sat down beside Jinx and began to clean his whiskers with his fore-paws. “But you ought to be more careful, Jinx. You might have jumped on me and hurt me.”

“How’d I know it was you?” said the cat. “You said your cousins were giving a party down in the pasture. I thought you’d be down there.”

“I was,” said Eeny. “But I came away early. It wasn’t much of a party. Why, all they gave us to eat was grass roots and a little birch bark. Even if they are my cousins, I must say—”

“Oh, don’t tell me anything about relatives!” said Jinx. “I’ve got a dozen brothers and sisters in this neighbourhood, but if I was starving, d’you think any of ’em would give me as much as a robin’s claw or a mouse tail—excuse me, Eeny.”

The mouse shuddered slightly and curled his tail tightly under him. “Don’t mention it,” he said.

Jinx gave a loud laugh. “I won’t—again,” he said. “Come on, let’s go down to the pig-pen and see what Freddy’s doing.”

As Jinx and Eeny walked side by side through the orchard, they met Mrs. Bean, the farmer’s wife. Mrs. Bean had an empty bucket in her hand, because she had been feeding the pigs; and when she saw the two of them, she stared and stared. “Land sakes!” she exclaimed. “What this farm’s coming to I don’t know! When I was a girl, animals behaved the way you expected them to. Cats and mice didn’t go out walking together

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