Starting with Pigs

Often while outside working on our farm something will trigger a memory that I have the opportunity to dwell on for some time.  Every so often, life gets mundane, even for me. I will go about my daily work, and not think about how far we've come. As sad as it sounds, I will get into phases where I take what we have for granted. Not only our nice house and land but the knowledge that we have acquired over the last four years. Today as I was feeding our pigs, I had the opportunity to think about where we started with pigs a few years back. After I give the pigs their feed I will sit quietly on my 4 wheeler and just watch them eat. It is at this time that I evaluate my herd. In this certain pasture I have my three breeding sows and a few feeder pigs. Due to staggered breeding, my sows are mostly in different stages, such as ready to breed, already bred, nursing piglets or weaning piglets. While they eat, I normally will evaluate how my sows are doing in their current state, or how the piglets are growing and developing. But today I got lost in my thoughts and rather than checking out my pigs, I began to think back to how it all got started in pigs.
It was in early Spring of 2008 I believe when we started thinking about pigs. I really wanted to raise my own pork chops and I started researching how to do it. All the reading I did led me to believe that it wasn't that difficult to raise a pig. At this point I still hadn't figured out that book learning and on the farm learning are vastly different. After some discussion, we decided on getting two weaner pigs, piglets just weaned off the sow. We thought that it is always best to raise animals in groups, at least two, so they have companionship. We didn't know any pig raisers yet so we started perusing craig's list and other places to find pigs for sale. A spot was selected and I constructed a pen to house our newest additions to the farm family. Finally all preparations were complete and we found a farmer that had the right size pigs available. Zaner and I loaded up a pet carrier in the back of the pick up and we were off to get our pigs. It was an exciting trip, even though it was only about 10 miles away. Whenever I go on an animal buying trip with the kids we are all giddy like the day before Christmas. It's exciting to be getting a new thing, but even more exciting to get a cute little piggy. I really don't remember too much of the conversation that day but I do remember the look on Zane's face the whole trip. He had a huge smile on his face and couldn't sit still, it must have seemed to him like it took hours to cover the short ten mile trip. That is one of my favorite things to do is watch my children in excited anticipation to get something fun. To watch that childlike exuberance and see him looking at me like I'm the greatest dad ever for getting him pigs, just makes me feel good. I get a warm feeling now as I just remember those times. The farm we were travelling to was in the city, actually over the years the city had built up around the farm. For a time, I thought we had gotten lost because I was driving on a street of "million dollar" homes and I was thinking, "No way someone in one of these houses is raising pigs." But, out of the blue we drove by a farm, right on the main street. There stood the "Pig Lady", Lurene, who now is one of our best friends with whom we work often. Lurene directed me down to the pig pen and we got out of the truck to start shopping. There was a pen of about 30 weaner pigs all running around like crazy kid animals. They were all black and white except one, who was red and white. Zane jumped out of the truck, pointed at the "different" one and hollered, "I want that one, and I'm naming him Booger!" Obviously he had been putting some thought into this pig raising idea. You know, dad has been planning what kind of feed to buy, what kind of pen to construct, where to put feeders, how to get water to the pen, the five year old has been thinking, "what are we going to name them?" A smile crossed Lurene's face as she was seeing the same thing I had been relishing, the happiness and excitement of a child. She asked me if that one was one that I wanted, like I knew anything about pigs. At this particular point in my farming life I couldn't tell a good pig from a worthless cull. I shrugged and said, "Sure." I had told her on the phone that I wanted two, so she asked me which other one I wanted. I told her to pick out a nice one for me. She agreed and stepped into the pig pen and looked at me like I was coming in with her, nope. I had never touched a pig in my life and had no idea what to expect. They are fast little buggers. She chased them and got them cornered and grabbed ol "Booger". That pig let out a squeal like she had just ripped its ears off. Booger weighed probably 70 lbs and was squealing like it was crazy. She picked it up by the back legs and started carrying it over to the edge of the pen. I thought this was odd because the extent of my animal purchasing to this point was buying a puppy or kitty. When picking up your puppy, you don't grab the thing by its back legs and let it squeal and kick around, you cuddle it and make it feel safe and warm. She reached the edge of the pen and tried to hand me the pig and I smiled and said, "Put it in there" pointing at the pet carrier in the back of the truck. She must have thought I was out of my mind. She said, "Just take it." "Nope." The pig was squealing like a trapped bear and flailing all around, I was sure I would drop that thing then I would be chasing it through the back yards of the aforementioned million dollar homes. Poor Lurene just shook her head and stepped over the fence while carrying booger and stuffed him in the pet crate. One day I will have to ask her of her first impression of me on that day, probably city slicker scaredy pants. We got the second pig, "Bacon", and headed home. The next six months went along without any significant trouble as we raised our first set of pigs. The day finally came when it was time to butcher. We had the mobile slaughter unit come to the house to do the job. As I was chatting with the slaughter guy, Mike, I found out that he raised pigs himself. My pig wasn't raised very well, we had fed it the wrong stuff and it wasn't very big. He showed me the things he looks for in a pig and we discussed ways that I could do better next time. I didn't really think there would be a next time, because I just thought the whole pig raising thing was too much trouble. But Mike said he would call me when he had some more pigs available to sell so I could start my next batch. A few weeks went by as the pig was being processed at the butcher, and I grew more and more certain that we just didn't have time to raise pigs. The day finally came for us to pick up our cut up pig from the butcher and it was very exciting that we would be eating our very own pork that night for dinner. The dinner was a hit. The pork chops were thick and amazingly juicy. I was proud of the kids that not one of them was "sad" to be eating "booger" (?) but instead made comments on how yummy it was. Part of the lesson of raising our own food is to teach our children that in order for us to eat, something else has to give up its own life, and that's why we respect our food and our animals. Like I mentioned before, we had decided to not raise any more pigs because we didn't feel we had the time. As dinner was served, I cut into my first bite of pork, while I was chewing that first bite of amazing taste the phone rang. It was Mike and he asked me "I got some weaner pigs ready to go, how many you want?" My simple answer was, "Five."
So it began. Today I sit here looking over my herd of pigs and am amazed at how far we've come with this venture. Not four years ago, I didn't know how to pick a pig up, now we have three breeding sows, a boar and several feeder pigs. We still learn every day, but our knowledge is immense compared to that first day we brought Booger home. It's another example in my life where God has led us into something we didn't feel we were ready for or capable of, yet it was the thing that He wanted us to do, so He guides us along the way. Today I couldn't really imagine not seeing my pigs run around the pasture, it just wouldn't seem like the farm without our piggies.

Chasing after worry

Right around sundown each day we like to take a little walk around and "shut down" the farm.  Just take a quick look around for anything unusual, like someone left a gate open, left water on, didn't collect eggs etc.  On this particular night I was walking around and noticed some of our turkeys getting up on the fence between their pasture and the chicken pasture.  They were roosting for the night.  Well its really not that big of deal, because they are just "going to bed", even though I have fine buildings for them to sleep on out in the pasture. For some reason, I didn't think this was an "ok" thing.  I walked over and started knocking turkeys off the fence, there were about five of them so no big deal.  After I knocked the last one off the fence I noticed one turkey at the end of the pasture had gotten over the fence and now couldn't figure out how to get back in.  This is very normal as turkeys tend to be challenged in the area of thinking.  The poor thing was pacing the fence right where the big gun sprinkler was spraying.  It was soaked, it looked like a cat that just got "accidentally" pushed in the bath tub. (Don't ask)  So I wandered down there and started to climb the fence to get my wayward charge back in.  While climbing the barb wire fence, just as I was stepping over, my foot slipped and I fell.  On my way down, I straddled the fence which certainly didn't feel to well, and the fence acted like a springboard and vaulted me into the turkey pasture where I landed with a very non- triumphant thud on my rear end.  My only positive thought was that we live far out in the country and I'm quite sure nobody witnessed my gymnastic moment.  On to the lost turkey.  Trying to catch the thing was not easy.  I must have chased the little stinker a mile and it kept getting away.  The whole time I'm yelling at it that I am just trying to help, as if the turkey can understand me.  Feels pretty foolish as I look back on it now, but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do.  Finally the turkey was caught and placed back into the pen and I turned to walk back up to the house and relax for dinner.  As I turned I saw the turkeys back up on that stupid fence roosting again.  It was the same five plus a few more now.  Bad examples leading their peers into trouble.  Now, sad to say, I got angry.  Why won't you stupid turkeys do things the way that I expect things to go.  So this time I ran up the hill screaming like a madman.  Of course if I scared the wits out of them, they would learn their lesson.  (Who was challenged in the thinking department now)  Rather than getting scared and jumping off the fence and doing what I wanted, they simply looked at me, probably saying to one another, "Those humans sure are stupid."  I got to them and knocked them all off the fence again back into their proper pasture.  Job well done.  Now I ventured into the hen house to make one last check of nesting boxes.  Not finding any eggs, I walked back out the door and back up on the fence were even more turkeys.   As the steam shot out of my ears I grabbed a big stick laying there and started swinging it around and hollering like a Mongolian war lord, that didn't work either, so I once again pushed them all off the fence.  Now it was about dark and I walked up to the house.  As I reached the door I heard the all too familiar sound of wings flapping.  Turning around I saw several turkeys on the fence and others quickly jumping up, as if to say, "Hurry up before that crazy dude comes back!"  At this point laughter over took me.  It was now that I realized, "Why do I care if the turkeys choose to sleep on the fence?" 
So many times in my life I do this same thing.  As if there is not enough real issues in this life to cause stress, I will make things up to worry about.  How many times have I let things that really don't matter bother me?  Too often I'm afraid.  But that's what maturing is all about I suppose.  I went back in the house in a rather good mood and shared my experience with my wife and we both enjoyed a nice chuckle at my expense.