When my father was 6 years old, his family moved from the Old Road (now Combe Road) in Uintah, Utah, up the steep hill to Uintah flat, about where Ogden’s Harrison Boulevard would lead if it continued south. Dad’s job was to herd the family’s brood sow up the hill to the family’s new farm. (For you city folk, a brood sow is a fertile female pig.)
It was July 9, 1909, and the weather was July hot. Being young and in a hurry, Dad urged the hog to move faster than the beast wanted to move. Halfway up the hill, the sow had heatstroke and died.