Pigs: Diamond, The Pot-Bellied Pig

(singing)


Our Pig Partner has a farm, E-I-E-I-O!
And on his farm he has a Pet Pig, E-I-E-I-O!

Meet Diamond. She's not for eating... she's a pet! Diamond's owner was getting older and wasn't able to take care of her anymore. Diamond was so fat (even for a pig!), and she had a diaper rash of sorts from laying in her pee-soaked blanket. The skin on her back was so dry that it flaked off in big pieces and often bled. Her nails needed trimming so badly (they were 4 or 5 inches long!) that she couldn't walk on her toes the way pigs usually do. She's starting to walk better, and with room to move, she is getting strong and healthy. She's super friendly, too. Mr. Farmer wants to bring her to our house, but she's better off with all that open space at the farm.

Pigs: Back in Business

(singing)


Our Pig Partner has a farm, E-I-E-I-O!
And on his farm he has a PILE OF PIGS, E-I-E-I-O!

That's right, folks, we're back in business! Last month we purchased 17 piglets. Two of them will be going as payment for transportation of the animals, and we are currently deciding which will breed and which will be butchered or sold. The best news of all is that Our Pig Partner is leasing enough land that the local authorities can't hassle him/us.

Mr. Farmer walks the fence line every day to make sure nothing is disrupting the flow of electricity. The pigs are learning the boundaries quickly, and they are starting to put on weight just like they should. It is a promising start.

Pigs: Post-Partum Pig Depression

I know the blog has been quiet, but between the normally busy month of May (those of you with one or two kids in school know what I'm talking about) and the loss of the pigs, there has been very little time or subject matter to report. Chickens aren't all that exciting this time of year (with all the baby plants, we don't dare let them out of the run), and I am sadly behind on the gardening. But most of all, Mr. Farmer is filling the void with research, reading, and science- inside projects that I couldn't blog about even if I was willing to go that far off topic, since I don't completely understand them. It is almost as strange to be without the pigs as it is to be without a dog.

It's not just the chores that makes it so different. Admittedly, not needing to go to another site to feed and water the pigs leaves a hole in the daily routine. Even when they were here, the pigs needed attention a few times a day. Watching them frolic and occasionally fight was a great way to pass the time, and who wouldn't love watching new piglets being born?

Not to worry, however. We are holding on as best we can, and before you know it, we will be on to the next project.

Pigs: Skin and Bones

I'm going to have a hard time getting out of bed tomorrow.

We roasted a half-pig in the smokehouse for the Fourth of July, and the other half has been hanging ever since. Things have been busy this past week, and the second half had not been processed. Mr. Farmer just didn't have time, so the job fell to me.  

Men generally handle the skinning around here. They skin deer and pigs and sometimes various fowl, if they don't feel like dealing with feathers. We have a friend who can dress and skin a deer in under a half an hour. He can do it in twenty minutes if it is hung at the right height and his knives are sharp. I guess this is a skill that comes from practice, however. Today I learned that skinning is HARD WORK.

I've never skinned anything before, and skinning, like butchering, can't really be learned from books. Sure, the background helps, but you never really get it until someone puts a knife in your hand and says, "Go to it!" So I did. I put the half-pig on the counter and started trying to peel away the skin. The edges had sealed to the fat as they dried, and it was hard to get the angle right even to get it started. I had to turn it several times and contort my body in ways I didn't know I could just to get the knife in where I needed it. In short, it was a nightmare.

Nearly an hour later, the skin was off and I could get to butchering. I boned the entire thing, including a very tricky shoulder blade. Mr. Farmer said I did nice work, but it sure felt like a lot of exertion for only a few pounds of meat! My neck aches, my back is burning, and I feel like I could go to bed now!

Well, now it is time for a prophylactic dose of Aleve. Mr. Farmer is going to reward me by cooking the remaining fresh ham on the grill tomorrow. I can't wait!

Pigs: Get a Life, Lady.

For most of the day I thought I was too depressed to write, but I'm not. However, I'm still unhappy, so this is not going to be pretty. Mom, if you are reading this, you might want to stop now.


***Seriously, Mom, you aren't going to like this. Go play on Facebook or something. I mean it. ***

It was hard for Mr. Farmer to give up the pigs. I know this. But when we got evicted from the Beta Site, there was no choice. We knew we couldn't bring them home; our neighbors have been laying in wait since we sent them away some months ago. We quickly put some down and shoved the rest into a less-than-ideal situation where they await their fate, which has yet to be determined. There was some small comfort in knowing that some of the piglets were being sold off for a very worthwhile cause: the 4-H Club.

That comfort did not last, however. In the process of transferring them to the going away vehicle in our driveway, the understandably distressed piglets kicked up a fuss. It wasn't a half hour later before the phone was ringing off the hook (again), and the nosiest of our neighbors were peering over from a safe distance through the trees.

***Last chance to turn away, Mom.***

Don't try to tell me it isn't personal. Was she really that upset and frightened by the noise? I don't think so. It is far more likely that the stupid cow was so bored on a Sunday afternoon that she had nothing better to do than overplay the inconvenience of 30 seconds of squealing. Perhaps she is such a loser that the only thing she can do to socialize is complain about us. I guess I should feel sorry for her, right? I mean, if you need to make up excuses to call your "friends" on a quiet day, then maybe you really are alone in the world. That is truly tragic, don't you think?

Pigs: Closing the Beta Site

As much as this culture loves its hamburgers, hot dogs, and chicken nuggets, I am continually surprised at how hard it is to raise a few animals for your own consumption. We're a big, fat, bacon-loving country, but when and where you can raise pigs is regulated almost to impossibility for the common man. It's fine to get over-processed, low-quality eggs on a muffin for breakfast every single day, but it is an imposition on one's neighbors to raise chickens and enjoy fresh, delicious breakfast protein from your own back yard. Even if you are operating completely within the rules, one overly sensitive neighbor can make your life miserable with threats and unpleasantries, no matter how unfounded.



That's exactly what happened at the Beta Site; one small-minded neighbor overreacted and ruined the whole arrangement. Our host loved having the pigs in his back yard. He could show them off to family and friends, he had a constant supply of high quality pork, and he didn't have to do any of the work. All that changed the day his dog- a big, overfed, lazybones of a Rottweiler- wandered into the neighbor's yard and startled an adult caregiver. The homeowner threatened our host with making complaints to the authorities about the dog and about the pigs, and now the pigs must go.


That's right, we are moving the pigs... AGAIN.


The bad news (for you, good news for us) is that we have gotten very good at relocating the pigs. That means there is no funny story like the first time (story here). There is only the news that once again we are being persecuted for our lifestyle. Slaughtering and fence-building are being completed in a rushed manner, not the measured, thought-out way we prefer. The Gamma Site is being set up in a hurry, and the adult pigs are being put down rapidly. Speaking of which, I really must be going. I have to rearrange the freezer... again...

"Mamas"

Pigs: The Man Returns

Our goals in our little family farm have never been to upset anyone. We raise animals for the sake of a better product- an exceptional (yet affordable) food source. We do it as an assertion of our independence and proof of our ability to survive. And yes, we do it because we can- for bragging rights. Of course we always knew that there would be some upturned noses by the people who prefer not to know from where their food comes, but the kind of persecution we have faced lately goes far beyond the consternation of the squeamish few. This is personal.


Sunday evening, while walking the dog we were babysitting, I saw that one of the slaughter pigs was grievously injured. She had somehow gotten her hip hung up on a protrusion in a fencepost and tore a foot-long, two inch deep gash in her ham. The slice went through skin, fat, and meat. It was too deep to use the liquid bandage and too wide to sew. So, to cut our losses to a spoiled ham versus a completely spoiled pig, I delayed our dinner guests, and we prepared to put her down immediately.

It screamed. The process is usually quick and quiet. A single, small caliber round to the head, followed by a cut in the throat, a couple squirts of blood, a few kicks, and it is over in a minute or two. This pig, however, screamed. It screamed loud and long, during dinner hour, on a mild-temperatured evening, on a holiday weekend. Someone called the police.

When my parents and several of Pennsylvania's Finest arrived, I showed my guests inside to relax before dinner while Mr. Farmer apologized for the noise and explained what had happened. Once they saw the animal and heard the explanation, they seemed satisfied and went on their way. We had a lovely dinner and my mother seemed pleased with her birthday tulips. The adrenaline wore off sometime well after midnight, and I was finally able to sleep.

Sadly, it was not over. Two days later, more law enforcement arrived. This time they were investigating a complaint of animal cruelty. Mr. Farmer confidently showed the officers to the well-maintained pen with large water barrels being filled constantly with fresh running water. They could easily see that the pigs had ample space, food, water, and shelter. Then, out of nowhere, one of the six-week-old piglets wandered out into the open with a severe gash in its belly and entrails hanging out. We fear that the sudden disruption from the arrival of the unexpected visitors while the pigs were eating may have caused it to get trampled. That surely did not help our case any.

Later that night, the police arrived again. This time they were questioning us about a hysterical neighbor. Cars had been racing around our usually-quiet neighborhood. Someone leaned on a car horn at 9:30 at night. The neighbor was repeatedly screaming, "why are you on my property?" to no one in particular. The whole thing was very strange, and we assured the officer that we didn't know anything about it, except that we had been outside because we were helping a friend move into a new house up the street. We were being targeted because of the previous days' events.

So, the pigs are on the move again. Some are off to the Beta site where they spent last summer. Others are are on their way to what we'll call the Gamma site, another suburban farm where a few of our other pigs currently reside as a result of a previous sale. We're downsizing. There are still four to slaughter and the three breeders whose fate is still unknown. These are dark times for us; I am thankful that we have friends and supporters who stepped up to help us with this catastrophe.

Pigs: Wilma's Second Litter

We were pretty close on our estimation of Wilma's due date. We had been on piglet watch all week. All the signs were there. She was very hungry and thirsty. Her milk sacks were full, and her belly nearly touched the ground when she walked. The day before she delivered, she bit two other pigs that were contesting her supreme rulership of the water barrell. We had predicted that Wilma would deliver the second week of January; she gave us 10 piglets on January 8, 2012.

Piglet Cuddling with Wilma

Wilma is proving to be a fine, solid breeder. Her first litter came in the night while we were home relaxing. Mr. Farmer and Young Master Farmer went to feed and water her and there they were! This second litter came with just as little excitement. She just settled into a corner of the hut and started popping them out, one after another. I watched many of them being born, including a breach that was out and on the ground before I could say, "Oh, no! That's a foot!" The entire process was drama-free and incident free.

The only difficulties came from the remaining pigs from the first litters. They were only mildly curious while Wilma did her thing, and they did not bother her. Still, Mr. Farmer was concerned; so as I watched the little piggies come out one by one in the freezing cold, Mr. Farmer closed off the larger pigs into a separate part of the enclosure. By nightfall, however, they became restless and unhappy. Pigs are social animals and do not like to be separated from one another. So, to keep the peace, he allowed them to be together for the night. He closed in the third side of the hut and put up fence rails on the fourth. He fed and watered Wilma inside her cage, and it seemed to be working well to keep the others out without making them feel separated.

The following morning, one of the rails was down and one of the piglets had a cut on its head from being knocked by it. Wilma had forced her way out (or a younger pig forced its way in). Mr. Farmer repaired the rails and added a door to let Wilma in and out. The younger pigs found there way in anyway (over the rails this time), and sometime over the following night, two piglets were lost. Crushing deaths are not unusual with pigs, but we were pretty upset since we didn't lose any at all from the first two litters in the summer.

Several days later, we had another casualty. One of the piglets had a significant injury. A flap of skin covering a quarter of its belly was hanging loose. We brought it inside to see if we could stitch it up, but the wound was too far healed to sew and appeared to be infected. It could not be saved, so we put it down so that it would not die of starvation or further maiming. That leaves 7 piglets.

The babies are starting to wean now, and all but one of the males have been castrated. They are putting on weight quickly, as they should. And, of course, they are cute...

Piglets Pestering Mamas

Hillbilly Ingenuity: The Roto-Flogger

Inspired by mechanical chicken-plucking machines, Mr. Farmer was determined to invent a device for easily removing the bristles and outer skin from pigs. The design was similar to the standing poultry-plucker, which has a revolving drum embedded with rubber fingers that beat and pull the feathers from a chicken. However, you can't just pick up a two to three hundred pound hog and lean it up against a rotating drum; that would be a bit much to ask of even Young Master Farmer, who is brutishly strong. Out of necessity, a mechanical pig stripper would have to be portable.

The scaled-down, portable design began with a 4 inch, PVC pipe end cap. Mr. Farmer drilled 4 equally spaced holes in the sides of the cap and inserted 4 rubber bungee cords as a replacement for the rubber fingers. The reinforced ends (with the hooks removed, of course) held the cords in place.

He drilled another hole in the center of the cap, inserted a long, threaded rod, and capped it off with a nut on each side. He attached the device to a hammer drill, and was ready to rock and roll!

We call this the ROTO-FLOGGER because of the long, whip-like rubber ends.
Other names we kicked around included the Hair-Whip and the Squealer-Peeler.

As usual, the hog was dispatched, and a 55 gallon drum of water was brought to a boil. Since Mr. Farmer and the Boy were handling this one alone, the old setup with the large, flat rock and metal A-frame were employed for the processing. The pig was dipped for the prescribed amount of time, and the Roto-Flogger made its maiden voyage:

(WARNING: I took this video of the second attempt, the side and back end of the pig, so it is less disturbing than the head view. BUT it is still a video of hair and skin being torn off a hog's hip with a homemade, miniature weed-whacker. Discretion advised. )

Ok, so maybe seeing the dark bristle and skin turning pretty pink looks impressive, but after the first minute, and the second, that small patch of pink was still the only progress that was being made. In fact, this was faster:

(If you were ok with the first video, you will be fine with this one, too.)

Actually, even THIS was faster and more productive than the Roto-Flogger:


(PG at best)

So, in the end, a couple clean patches on the side of the face and a couple cool-looking test patches on the hams were all that the machine produced. The rest of the processing was done the old fashioned way: Dipping in hot water, scraping with a knife, soaking towels in hot water, and picking off hair by hand. Even Mr. Farmer's attempt to improve the process by cutting notches in the rubber bands to grab the hair a bit did not help much.

We are not giving up, however. We are working on the design a bit. We may add more flails. Perhaps we will change the length or shape of the whips. Perhaps a leather whip would be more effective. We'll be doing a bit of research and testing, and I will report back.

Back to the drawing board...

Pigs: More Fun with Castrations

WARNING: PHOTO BELOW IS SOMEWHAT GRAPHIC. (Post is not.)

Mr. Farmer: Aww... you ruined your yoga pants!
Mrs. Farmer: Nah... it's just a little blood. It will wash out.

That's right, it's castration time again. Wilma's second litter was 18 days old today. Since I was off work and Young Master Farmer had a short day because of mid-terms at school, we finally got down to the business that various emergencies had caused us to put off. We castrated 3 of the 4 males, leaving the last for possible breeding stock for another location.

Averaging 12.5 pounds each, the piglets were, once again, very strong for their size. I held the first, a white, spotty, splotchy little guy, while Young Master Farmer assisted and Mr. Farmer performed the operation. But the process was a little slow, and I soon tired. My right arm, holding the critical back feet, started to ache, then go weak. I could feel the blood draining out of my face as I held on as best I could, and dizziness soon set in. In the end, I had to ask Young Master Farmer to take the back feet while Mr. Farmer finished up, cleaned the wound, and applied the liquid bandage. It was exhausting!

The second and third castrations went better. Young Master Farmer took my position in the chair and held the squirmy piglets by the legs, while I assisted with the head and repositioned him as needed. The operations went fairly smoothly, and Young Master Farmer managed to avoid getting bitten by the sows when snatching the piglets from the pen.

Once again, when all was finished, we were tired and dirty- except for Mr. Farmer, of course, who was as clean as any vet would be after performing surgery. When I went for my shower afterward, I started by pre-washing the blood spots on my pants. I then found that I had a matching blood spot on my leg (yuck!) and dirt on me in places I couldn't believe those muddy little pig feet could have reached! I believe Young Master Farmer still has a muddy smudge on his face that I can't explain either. But the job is done, and we can move on to the next project.

It's a Dirty Job, but Someone's Gotta Do it!

Pigs: The Coughing Pig

I was really excited about going to the Pennsylvania Farm Show. I have watched it on television a number of times and really enjoyed it. Mr. Farmer looked at it as part research for a possible entry next year and part family vacation. I didn't even mind that the distance meant that I would have to get out of bed at 3 am to leave at 4 am so that we wouldn't miss the early morning pig exhibits that Mr. Farmer wanted to see. I even begged someone at work to cover my shift that day so that I could go. One of the pigs had other ideas.

A certain black and white pig started coughing about a week prior to the Farm Show. With Wilma expecting, Mr. Farmer wasted no time in finding the culprit. One morning, all the pigs came running out to be fed as always- except one. The last one wandered out, glassy-eyed and visibly thinner than the rest. So he did what any pig-farmer would do: He injected the sick pig with strong antibiotics, and he added a prophylactic dose to the drinking water for the others.

It was too late, however. The sick pig needed a second dose injected, and Mr. Farmer couldn't bring himself to potentially infect the prize pigs at the Farm Show if he himself carried the illness. So, instead of getting up at 3 am, slogging through a cup of tea and fighting to stay awake on a 4 hour drive to Harrisburg, I slept in until past 8 am and... well, that's the story I sat down to write for you just now.

Mr. Farmer's syringe looks like something out of a cartoon. It is an old-fashioned, reusable glass monster with metal rings on it so that you can keep a good grip. He told everyone how he bent a needle doing the first injection, so I figured that maybe those rings were a good idea. The large size allowed him to overfill it a bit, which also turned out to be a good idea...

You see, the first dose was a big help, and while the coughing continued, the pig was feeling better. He was so much better, in fact, that Mr. Farmer knew he was going to need assistance holding him still for the injection. So Young Master Farmer and I put on warm clothes, gloves for better grip, and gear that could get muddy, and went along to assist. Mr. Farmer dumped some food on the ground, we identified the sick pig, and Young Master Farmer grabbed him by the leg. The other pigs were too busy eating to pay any mind, and the sick pig wasn't well enough to squeal or scream. After some shuffling for position, I was able to grab the other leg and hold on. Once I had a good grab I dug my back foot in to keep the kicking from pushing me backwards, and I told Mr. Farmer that we were ready.

The rest of the process was a blur- literally. My hat slipped down over my one eye, but with both hands on the pig's ankle and Mr. Farmer already wiping off the ham with rubbing alcohol, adjusting it just wasn't an option. I held on as best I could, dug in, and waited for the all-clear signal. Out of one eye, under the bottom edge of my hat, I could see the medicine come back out of the needle-stick, then a little blood, then the bent needle going for a second stick, then more liquid running down the hind end of the pig. After what felt like five minutes, Mr. Farmer stepped back and young Master Farmer and I could let go. The sick pig went back to eating as if nothing had happened, in spite of the trickle of blood and extra antibiotic running down its leg.

As with any interaction that involves holding pigs still, there were the usual repercussions. The aching back kicked in just after we came home from the evening out, and I took a few pills before I went to bed. My clothes stayed pretty clean, but my rubber clogs have seen better days. They served me well, though, and I am pleased to announce that all pigs have a clean bill of health once again.

This Kind of Thing is Bound to Happen

Merry Christmas!

From my family to yours, a very Merry Christmas.  Thank you for your support and kind comments through the year. All the best to you.

Peace and Joy,
Mrs. Farmer
Mr. Farmer
Young Master Farmer
Little Miss Farmer

Pigs: You've Come a Long Way, Baby

Late last fall, when we purchased a number of pigs for a very low price, I had no idea what was to come. Of course Mr. Farmer said that some would be bred and some would be slaughtered for food. Naturally, some would be for our consumption, some for our Pig-Partner and his family, and perhaps some would be sold. But who would have guessed that we would do so many new things in such a short time?

(Author's Note: Most of these things are not technically "new" to Mr. Farmer. They were for me, though!)

When the new pigs came to live with us, a more spacious pen had to be build to accommodate the little darlings. Food and water troughs were built out of plastic 55 gallon drums, cut in half lengthwise. And naturally, the pigs ended up with names, whether we meant to name them or not.

Tiffany (front), Wilma(rear), and Mamas (right)

With this many pigs to process, we had to upgrade our equipment a bit. A metal frame for hanging hogs, sitting on the ground above a rock, was replaced with a huge tree-trunk cross member and a larger capacity pulley system.



Out With The Old





In with the New


Before we knew it, however, the Man caught up with us. We didn't know it at the time, but Mamas and Wilma were expecting. Tiffany: Prince of Darkness was nearing 400 pounds. Still, we had to move them to a larger property because township regulations did not allow us to keep them on so small a plot of land. It was no small feat to move them from their lifelong home.

This big boy did NOT want to leave his turf.

 Once again, we were fence-building. This time we even installed electrified lines for more security for our precious "piggers". Then, one morning, not long after we had begun to have suspicions that the ladies were expecting... Surprise! Piglets!

Wilma's First Litter

A mere six days later we were able to watch Mamas give birth to her first litter. We even got to assist in the removal of a breach. Mamas had five babies while we watched, and another after we had gone!

This is one of my favorite pictures EVER.

The piglets thrived, and before long, it came time to neuter the males. I tried my best to assist with them by holding the squirmy little guys so Mr. Farmer could stay clean. It worked. We got the job done, he stayed clean, and all the piglets remained infection free.

I got a little dirty, though.

So there you have it: a year (almost) in the life of a pig farmer and his novice wife. But let's not forget Little Miss Farmer, who never shies away from even the somewhat distasteful tasks of slaughtering and butchering (even if she is too young to do them herself yet), and my other hero, Young Master Farmer, who hauls water up this unforgiving hill almost every single day for the pigs.

I STILL don't know how he stays upright.

Who knows what our next adventure will be? I have many reasons to love Mr. Farmer, but one is that he feeds my love of learning by constantly bringing new experiences into my life. I don't know what I will learn next, but I just can't wait!

Pigs: Good Riddance

Back in the spring we purchased a number of pigs to flip. We got a good deal on them, and after a short visit, we resold them for about twice what we paid for them. We kept two gals from that purchase: one we had collected a deposit on for a freezer pig, and the other we promised to a local for a Labor Day picnic.
These two are the ones we refer to as the Houdini Sisters. When we had them in dog crates, they got out while we were away (click here for full story). When we tried to move them up with the breeders on the Beta Site, they got out of their pen and in with the breeders (full story), then later out into the yard. I guess we should have suspected they would be trouble. After all, they were related to Scooter, the precocious little runt piglet, who also had a penchant for escape (full story). So, to keep an eye on them, we moved them back to the house and put them on lock-down. They no longer escaped, but they took forever to grow!

At first we thought they were hungry. We fed them as much as and more than we fed the breeders. Tiffany needs only  a maintenance diet, and Mamas and Wilma need a bit more than that because they are nursing. When the Sisters failed to thrive, we wormed them more than once and gave them extra goodies from the dumpster. Still they cried and oinked and grunted almost constantly (a problem since they really shouldn't be at the house at all), and only put on a bare amount of weight. We were throwing away money feeding these two. It was time to cut our losses.

We had a big ham that we were going to cook for an end-of-summer picnic with our Pig Partner and family on Labor Day, but the buyer for the Labor Day Pig backed out. One thing led to another, and the two family picnic quickly turned in an event. A neighbor who complained about the pigs in our yard was quickly turned around when the person hearing the complaint responded, "The pig is at the house so that it can be served at the Labor Day Picnic. You're coming, aren't you?" The emails started flying, the phone started ringing, and the question, "What should I bring?" was handled over and over. Houdini Sister Number One was put down and dressed for whole roasting in the smokehouse. (Sister Number Two will be served at our Pig Partner's "Thanks For Helping Me Move" barbecue later.)

I am glad to see those noisy, under-performing pigs go. Our neighbor who put the deposit on the second pig is understanding and will wait for one of the new piglets to fatten for her freezer. The relief of being able to work in the garden without having to tiptoe so those two won't oink and squeal is a joy. I won't miss them at all. Good Riddance!

Pigs: Assisting with Castrations

The Farmer is many things. He is Father to his children and Husband to his wife. He is Steward to his land. He is Master to his dog. To his animals, he is chef, housemaid, and protector. Sometimes, however, he is also the veterinarian. This time, I had the honor of assisting him with castrating the piglets.

Castrating piglets is hard work! Mr. Farmer had to keep his hands clean for the operation, so Young Master Farmer and I had to handle the piglets. He would snatch up a piglet, hand it over the fence to me where Mr. Farmer had set up a station in the vestibule. Then, while I pinned down the baby on my lap and held its mouth shut so it couldn't cry too loud, YMF would run interference between the very concerned adult pigs and the gate. You would be surprised how strong a 2 week old piglet is! It took all my strength to hang on to those wiggly suckers while Mr. Farmer made the incisions, removed the testicles, and sprayed a silver liquid bandage on their bottoms! Three times I handed the completed pigs back to Young Master Farmer, and they were returned to the family without incident (except that Surprise got a little bit of liquid bandage on her nose out of curiosity). I had to take a break to catch my breath between operations!

The two to the left were just castrated.
See the silver liquid bandage?
The brown one on the right is Surprise, a female.

Finding the last male piglet was a challenge. Wilma's litter had been castrated the previous week with our pig-partner in the position I was filling. That left just Mama's four male babies that needed the operation. We checked bottoms to find the one last piglet that remained intact, and Young Master Farmer guessed wrong several times! When we finally found him, he was the least wiggly and quietest of the bunch. I was so relieved when it was over.... and I was so dirty!!




I'm Covered in Mud, Poo, Pee, and Liquid Bandage.
See Why Mr. Farmer Couldn't Touch Piglets?



Thrift: Dumpster Diving

There was a time, not so long ago, when grocery store managers and employees happily set aside their spoiled baked goods and produce. They liked the idea that it didn't go to waste. They might have even been a little jealous because they didn't have animals of their own that they could give those scraps to. But when the rumor started going around that a certain Mom and Pop eatery was taking away the scraps and serving them to paying customers, our friendly green-grocers became less helpful. I cannot blame them for wanting to stay out of the scandal, gossips being the way that they are. So, once again, we are the victims of small-town boredom and small-mindedness.

So now we must dumpster dive. The grocery store managers and clerks tip us off to when the trash has gone out, and we help ourselves. The permission saves us from any legal difficulty we could face; the pigs get their goodies, and the store staff can avoid any drama. It sounds like a perfect arrangement except for one small issue: Mr. Farmer has a bee sting allergy.

Two times in less than two weeks he was stung by dumpster-loving buzzers.  The first was on Little Miss Farmer's birthday. He was stung on the eyelid, and he finished his chores before coming home. It was at least forty-five minutes before he finally got a Benadryl, and the swelling was pretty intense. He was in bed all of Miss Farmer's birthday and mine, and it was sad to see. The next sting was on his arm, and he got his medicine sooner, but he was still pretty uncomfortable because of it. Multiple stings could actually be dangerous for him, as I have seen in the past, and now I feel that I need to worry every time he announces that it is dumpster diving day.

They Pollinate the Cucumbers,
and They Make Mr. Farmer Swell Up

So, we take our chances. The extra food is a great treat for the pigs, and they love it. It saves us a few bucks on feed, which is starting to get pretty intense now that we have so many of them. The baby pigs are even eating the produce now. You can't beat free!

The Piglets Love the Watermelon!

Pigs: Mamas Delivers

WARNING: Slightly Graphic Birth Photos

"Mamas" is what we call our pink breeder pig, so named because we were certain that she was going to be our first and most successful mama. She was not the first, however, having been beaten to that title by Wilma, who delivered 5 days before her. Saturday, July 16, 2011 was a big day for Mamas, and for me (since I got to watch)!

I got the text at about 11 am while at work that Mamas was in labor. She had made a nice nest for herself and settled in to pant in the heat and grunt uncomfortably for many hours. After work I went home, changed into shorts and sneakers, and drove to the farm with rubber gloves and sterile water. A short trudge up the hill, schlepping a gallon of water and a camera was rewarded with arriving just in time to see Mamas pop out her first little porker- a small female that our Pig-Partner's Girlfriend promptly named "Midnight" then changed to "Velvet" when her sex was revealed.

Mamas Delivers Her First Piglet Ever

Velvet was feisty. She poked and nuzzled Mamas every which way. She dug her sticky little nose in the soft dirt of the nest. She even found her way around to nuzzle and try to nurse before her umbilical cord was even completely out of Mamas.

Crazy, Independent Velvet

When she was finally loose, Velvet started exploring almost immediately. She climbed all over Mamas and even wandered a foot or so away a couple times. She climbed on Mamas' head and was greeted with a little friendly chatter from her hot and exhausted mother. In her excitement, she managed to wrap her cord around Mamas' ear and tear it free. She was off her leash and ready to go.

Velvet & Mamas

It was over a half hour before Mamas started pushing again. The time flew by for us, however, as we busied ourselves with ooh-ing and aah-ing over Velvet as she nuzzled every inch of her Mommy. We cracked jokes about how maybe she was trying to encourage her siblings to come join her. Mr. Farmer squirted milk at her from Mamas. We took pictures and laughed and tried to guess when the next one would arrive. It was Bootsie that came next with just two pushes and a plop on the ground. Bootsie was bigger, and Mamas was on a roll.

The rest of the piglets came quickly, maybe ten minutes apart or so. Number Three's jaw was stuck a bit, and Mr. Farmer had to help out a little by removing the cord from its mouth and widening the opening to let it out. Number Four was close behind, not even waiting for Number Three's cord to break loose before coming out. They were dubbed Midnight and Neo(politain), but I don't remember which was Three and which was Four.

Four of the first Five were
Black or Black and White, like Tiffany.

There was much nuzzling and climbing and nursing going on when, to our horror, and pair of white feet presented. We tried to let Mamas handle it as best she could, but even after two or three pushes the breech piglet was staying put. Mr. Farmer tried to grab hold and assist, but his rubber gloves made holding on impossible, and the feet went back in. We gave Mamas a rest and waited for the next push, at which point our Pig-Partner grabbed the feet, gave a little twist, and out came Casper- the only white pig in the bunch.

(I decided not to post the video, as it is pretty graphic. Sadly, I do not have a still shot of Casper just after birth.)
 We all gave a sigh of relief that Casper was well and alive and breathing on his own without trouble. Before long, Mamas started expressing placenta, and we sat back, watched the new piglets, and told her what a good job she had done. We rinsed her sore bottom with cool water and chased the flies away. Those piglets nursed for what seemed like forever! It made us all hungry, and we were also tired from the experience, so we went home for dinner and left the new family to its business.

Very Important Business

The next morning, Mr. Farmer and the kids went up to feed the pigs and take some more pictures. But instead of five piglets, SIX were nursing away on Mamas! Sometime after we left she had given birth to (naturally) "Surprise"- a reddish-brown little baby.

So that's ten newborn pigs this week: Four for Wilma and Six for Mamas, in case you are keeping score. Well done, Ladies, and well done Proud Papa, Tiffany, Prince of Darkness.

Pigs: Gratuitous Baby Pig Post

That's right. The whole purpose of this post is to show off pictures and video of our first litter ever of piglets. Think of it as a brag-book of sorts.

Nursing Piggies Close-up

I love how Wilma nudges them to get them to go where she wants them.

I think she just got the pink one in the butt.

You know, Mom and Dad (Tiffany and Wilma) were cute little pigs once too....

Isn't it romantic? (About 12 weeks old, too young for romance.)

But we didn't have them yet when they were THIS little and cute:

That spotty one is my favorite.

Home Movies? Sure! (Very short, no sound.) Here's the babies tussling like puppies!

Here they are harassing poor Wilma and refusing to settle in while nursing:

And finally, a nursing piglet close-up... It's grainy from the zoom in, but it's still cute:

The piglets are 3 days old in all of the above. I hope you enjoyed!!!

Pigs: My Son, MacGyver

Those slippery feeder pigs escaped again! (Click here to read what happened last time.) We recently moved the feeders to their bigger pen adjoining the breeder pigs at the Beta Site. We kept them separate from the huge breeders for their protection and to give them feed appropriate for their purpose. So imagine my surprise when I went to feed them the other day and found all the pigs in one enclosure!

They are MUCH Happier Loose!

The problem was discovered very quickly: the electric fence was malfunctioning. It took us several minutes to find the fault. The pigs seem to have pulled or knocked out one of the insulators, and the electric wire was sitting against a tree, grounding out the whole system. With no extra insulators on hand, we had to improvise. Mr. Farmer was not with us, and we were using my car, not the tool-and-part-filled van. We opened the trunk and dug around to see what we could use.

Young Master Farmer fashioned a new insulator out of 2 plastic forks and some foil from our "party box" (a case full of paper goods, salt & pepper, and all the other little things needed for a picnic on the fly). He used the foil to hold the two forks together, intertwined the tines, and put the wire between the tines. The fork kept the wire off the tree, and the zap returned to the electric fence.

I'm proud of Young Master Farmer MacGyver. He chased the escape-artist feeder pigs back into their part of the enclosure where they could eat in peace, and I tested the fence for my self for the first time (it doesn't hurt much). So long as the breeders leave those forks alone, the homemade insulator should hold until Mr. Farmer gets back from the store with a proper replacement. Who has a son who knows how to fix an electric fence? I do!

Pigs: Surprise! Piglets!

I guess the post about Mr. Farmer learning how to make English Muffins will have to wait. The moving of the escape-artist feeder pigs to their new home isn't even going to be a post. As it turns out, these are not the most interesting things to happen this week after all.

On Monday, July 11, 2011, Mr. Farmer and Young Master Farmer packed up the feeder pigs and moved them to the Beta Site for fattening. The fence was ready and electrified, and the pigs were happy to be out of those dog crates and running around. As the men went about feeding the pigs, they noticed that Wilma sniffed at the food momentarily then wandered disinterestedly back to the hut. Young Master Farmer followed her back to the hut and called out, "Daddy? Wilma doesn't look right." Daddy replied, "What's the matter?" and Young Master Farmer said, "You have to come see." When he came to see he saw Wilma in the hut with four squirming baby piglets!

Wilma and Her First Litter

What followed was a flurry of activity: finding rubber gloves, calling everyone with the news, checking to see if more were on the way (nope), sexing the babies, making sure they were eating, and making sure Wilma was alright. All was well with the piglets that we didn't expect until October, so we set about the business of solving the mystery of Wilma's pregnancy.

We have two theories about how Tiffany managed to do the deed. The first possibility is that he got her through the chain link fence that divided the males and females prior to the installation of the center pen that held the feeder pigs. The other possibility is that he was quick about his work during his brief freedom while that center pen was being built. Our partner, who built that center pen, swears that he and the girls only fought while they were together, but, then again, he was a little busy at the time.

Now we are on piglet watch for Mamas, who appears further developed than Wilma is. She was showing signs before Wilma was, and she looks somewhat uncomfortable, so we are keeping a close eye on her. Oh yeah, and the little baby piggies are so cute!!!