When we need to ship an animal to the meat market, we have a trucker that accommodates us for a nominal fee. So when my husband decided we should raise two pigs to butcher, we contacted our trucker. He offered to go to the sale barn, buy a couple for us and truck them out to the farm.
It was worth it to us to purchase that service from this fellow, whom we trust completely. He delivered two 60-pound piglets to our farm around the middle of July.
If you recall, we named our pigs Herman and Ed. They are so very different from a cow, heifer or calf. Growing up, I wasn’t around pigs. My folks just never raised them on our farm, so because this was a new experience, these pigs made me bust into giggles whenever I’d see them run around. I thought it was just hilarious. They looked so different with their squat, square butts, short, chunky legs, big, floppy ears and flat, smashed-in snouts. They always looked like they were smiling. And they sounded so different from our dairy animals.
Whoever was on for chores would have to cart two buckets of water out to them, morning and night. My husband rationed out their dry feed. If we’d have extra milk from a cow that had just given birth, the pigs would get the benefit and devour the fresh-milk, fighting each other for it. Once the smaller black one bit the ear of the bigger white pig in an effort to get at the milk. They had battle scars. They were something to see. I’d pour the fresh-milk into their bucket and then just sit there and watch.
Through the course of the summer and into fall we supplemented their diet with watermelon rinds, apple cores, potato skins, overgrown cucumbers from the garden, carrot tops, just everything. Anything green, even weeds, they devoured piggishly.
They grew and grew and grew. The time came to get them into market. My husband called for a date. They could only take one. I couldn’t bear to see one left here without the other, so I coaxed my husband into waiting until they both could get in. Oh goodness, they grew bigger yet. Visitors to our farm marveled at the size of our swine.
We had extended their pen to let them root outside, and in short order they made mincemeat of a 12- by 12-foot area. Once they had scratched and nosed through that and got bored, they started to try to escape. One day they ended up making friends with the cows. We had let cows out to clean the barn and when it was time to get the cows in, we noticed movement winding around close to their legs and realized it was Herman and Ed.
Soon they were making their escape on an almost daily basis. Because they were getting so large, they’d push their powerful snouts up under their gate and unlatch it, easily sliding underneath. Once free, they’d run round and round the enclosed cow yard, stopping to sniff, grunt and then root up anything and everything they could reach. We didn’t even care. When it was time to go back “home,” they instinctively knew where to head.
The day came when they were both scheduled to leave the farm. We fairly easily corralled them into a smaller confine and our trucker that brought them in July came to take them away to market. I thank God that we have the opportunity and the means to raise our own food. It’s such a blessing.
I resolved from the beginning I would not grow fond of these two pigs, they were here for a reason and just a short season. I supposed I’d be stretching the truth a bit if I said I didn’t feel a twinge seeing them go. But the expectation of homegrown ham, bacon, porky links, pork chops and spare ribs made that twinge morph into mouth-watering anticipation pretty fast.
(“If I take part in the meal with thankfulness, why am I denounced because of something I thank God for? So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:30-31)
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