I just took a 45 minute bath. Want to know what I was doing in there? I was scraping bits of pig feces from my legs, hair, and face.
If you're wondering how I became covered in pig feces, I'm happy to explain. This is, after all, a farm blog on which I get to share with you the joys and pains of my farming life.
It began last night, when I sat down to do some work at the computer. I was quite enjoying myself – a cup of ice water with lemon freshly poured, rascals put to bed, Stuart out with the guys, my brand new birthing bathrobe on, oils applied, and a favorite station on Pandora playing lightly. It was lovely. And frankly, I was happy to be making good progress on some long awaited blogging projects.
About thirty minutes into my luxurious work session, I heard a slight knock on the door. It was dusk, nearly dark, and I about jumped out of my skin. We live twenty minutes out of town so it isn't often that visitors come rasping at the door. Much less at night. The introvert and scared housewife in me ran into the bathroom to hide until the stranger left. But then I realized it may be important, so I ran to the door. In my bathrobe. I recognized my closest neighbor immediately.
Ruh roh. I knew what was coming.
“Hey neighbor. Just wanted to let you know that your pigs are out and were running through my yard. I saw them head down to the orchard… not sure where they're at now.”
(If I wasn't a proper Christian woman I would confess the words that ran through my head at this very moment.)
The farmer in me took over, as I imagined my expensively fat livestock not only damaging others' property, but also becoming lost in the dark… on the mountainside… with no husband home to help wrangle them.. and two sleeping children in bed.
A quick phone call ruined Stuart's chicken-wings-and-beer night. And another quick phone call pulled my Dad from a warm, cozy bed that he was already tucked into. My parents live closer than Stuart was at the time, so I figured they could get here faster to give me a hand.
I don't know if you've ever wrangled pigs on the loose but it ain't easy. I've said it before – pigs are not cows. They move in all kinds of wild ways. I knew I'd need help.
And where the heck were they anyway?
After the (slightly) panicked phone calls, I got into my super awesome golf cart – my main mode of transportation around the farm these days. I figured though I couldn't venture far into the orchard with the kids asleep in bed, I could at least try and get a view of where they'd been and where they were headed down the driveway.
And so I sped down the driveway, waking up the sheep and Sal as I passed in a golf cart rage, my pink bathrobe ties blowing in the wind.
After a few more minutes romping around in the golf cart, I heard the neighbor shout, letting me know he'd seen them. I was hot on their trail. And within a few more minutes, had them spotted. Thank you, Jesus.
We live on such a large, open mountain – I cannot even describe the relief I felt when I saw those ‘ol hogs. Even if I couldn't get them contained by myself, I knew I could stand and watch them for the next eight… ten… twelve hours if I had to until help arrived. Eyes on them meant I at least knew where they were. And the joy of that was the type of joy that only the anticipation of hundreds of pounds of pork can bring.
Coaxing them with fresh milk and their most favorite grain, I was finally able to get them back up to our driveway. And there I stood. Corralling the pigs. Sprinting after them as they'd dart away. Tapping their noses and rumps with a stick to ensure they stayed where I needed them to stay. Cussing. Panting.
And then I waited. Though slightly panicked, I waited.
Eventually, help did arrive in the form of my two favorite men and a few good sticks. Once non-pregnant reinforcement arrived (what can I say? I'm not as agile as I once was), we were able to shut the pigs in the shop to keep them contained while we contemplated our next move.
A quick inspection of the corral confirmed that they'd knocked a middle rail down and broken the two 8″ timber ties that were holding it in place. Then, they'd slipped through three stands of barbed wire. All to have a midnight romp in the neighbor's yard. Lovely.
And here I was thinking that we'd learned our lesson about containing pigs. Silly me.
As the rest of the story goes, cattle panels were purchased, as was a 10' metal gate. T-posts were sunk. Wire was utilized. It's the most wonderfully, hideous, patchwork pig corral you ever did see – currently three layers of protection deep: cattle panel, barbed wire, wooden rails.
105 degree temperatures were the real kicker to our pig pen mending day – and yes, it took allllll day. On top of that, we had to still move the pigs about 300 yards up the mountain from the shop to the corral. Reinforcement was once again called and though anything but graceful, the pigs did eventually end up back where they belonged.
And even though it took two showers and a bath to get clean after it all, how thankful I am that they are alive, healthy, and where they needed to be. Sweet sigh of relief.
*Sigh*
That was it right there.
Today, I also sigh for my dear cow Sally Belle, whose pregnancy test came back negative. And while my Facebook fans know I threatened to quit farming after receiving that phone call, I alas, will continue to push on in the great pregnancy battle.
I will push on through the rampant pigs. And open cows. I will push on through the owl attack that claimed 40 of our 60 meat chickens. I will push on through the 105 degree temperatures that make me want to claw my own eyes out. And through the uncomfortable third-trimester milking sessions with Sally.
I will push on because this is the life I love. Even though there are times when it's seriously horrible. That's just the truth of the matter.
This is what disappointment feels like. Failure to properly house livestock. Failure to get the cow bred back. Failure to keep the meat chickens safe from that damn owl. Failure on so many counts.
And unfortunately, it is is this failure… this pain… these extremely uncomfortable and costly situations that teach the most valuable of lessons. Lessons that farmers carry through with them the remainder of their days. There's a reason old farmers and homesteaders are so wise – their wisdom has come with a hefty price. Sometimes in the form of monetary loss. Often times in the form of damaged property, injured animals, or even dead ones.
The lessons are not learned lightly.
So this, my friends, is what failure feels like.
And so I sit here, sipping my London Fog, and “planning” on how to remedy our “learned lessons”. The pig pen has been, as far as we can tell, reinforced up to Azkaban standards. I swear, if those pigs escape again, I'm just going to shoot them and call in an early pork harvest. Sally's beau, Hiro, may be able to pay us another visit at the end of the month and we'll see if we can't get her bred this go round – perhaps leaving them together for a few more cycles this time. And as inconvenient as it is, we'll have to start a second batch of meat chickens at the end of this month and have to call a wash on the first. There are still about 20 birds left from the first batch that will be ready for butcher in about a month, which will at least give us fresh chicken for a few months until the second batch can be raised, butchered, and stored for winter meat.
In a lot of ways, it's just like calling “do-over”.
I cry ‘uncle'. Dear Lord, give me the strength to continue.
And Amen.
I read your posts somewhat randomly and I feel like I was lead to read this one… we had an incident last year with escaping pigs 4 of the 6 pigs were out running around past our property perimeter and it was indeed a scary expensive time as I waited for they’re primary person to return from work and begin the hunt… It worked out in an amazing way actually. I just wanted to comment that this article, its tone of frustration and hardship mixed with humor and grit to continue to endeavor left me feeling inspired and grateful for what I have begun in the smallest of ways. I look in retrospect after reading this the bumbling learning curve of the last three years and feel maybe not quite as alone in it as I may have felt at times. You are a trooper and stated it best with the affirmation of loving it…. because I too when the dust settles and I have a brief moment of calm, do truly love what I’m trying to do and I’m grateful to have the place I have to learn and grow. Thanks for sharing the tough stuff. Kim
Oh no, hog chasing is not fun, especially when neighbors are involved. We took a hog to the processor last week. While we were dropping our hog off after hours, two cows busted out of their pens and ran from the facility. It was scary and frustrating. I wish I had the gusto to butcher our own hogs do I didn’t have to take them places. It’s all kinda funny now, but wasn’t at the time. All I kept saying that night was, I wish we could do the day over. Also, I just went out to do chores and found a dead hen, and I think she might be our favorite, “pet” chicken. I’m hoping not. My daughter will be sad about that one. That’s life on a farm: excitement, frustration, new life and unexpected death. It all keeps me on my toes.
Sweet lady, you haven’t failed, because you haven’t quit. When I’m sad about farm life, I go find a sheep to kiss on the nose. It always helps.
Great. Now I’m having flashbacks, except for me it was 5 degrees and equally pregnant where putting the snow boots on is nearly as challenging as getting the pigs back in. Nothing strikes fear into my heart like the cry, “Pigs are out!!” And just how do they know when the menfolk are gone?
Seriously. They totally know when they’re gone. It’s crazy.
I can completely empathize on the ups and downs of this life. When it goes well there is nothing better, but when it goes badly….the downs are just as powerful as the ups and 10 times more difficult to bounce back to normal from. But it’s worth it. I hope!
On a practical note we are 3 years in to our pig keeping journey and though we’ve certainly had our moments (oh yes) I can highly recommend electric fencing as a containment system. Once pigs are trained to it, it works beautifully. It’s relatively low cost and moveable too. Maybe something to try next year.
Fingers crossed for the fertility of your cow, we are keeping everything crossed that our girl might be pregnant right now. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high but not sure I’m doing well on that one.
All the best : )
I run electric inside all of my wooden hog fences and two rows round their wooded lot. I have found they have a lot of respect or it when you start them young. Sure you have thought of it but just in case you haven’t.
Thanks for the honesty. Things that are hard are (almost) always worth it.
Shaye, I commend you. I love your writing. I love your honesty and insights.
You make me laugh and sometimes cry.
I love to hear your dependence on God.
Thank you for sharing your life with us.
Many blessing on you and your family.
AWWW, man! I saw those pig mugs come up on Facebook and I am so familiar with them ’cause I’ve been doing a painting of that one on the right, kinda smug. Now I know. Seriously smug!
Oh totally 🙂
Blessings to you. What an inspiration your pregnant, persevering self is!
We have been having trouble getting our Jersey bred as well. She had a three week visit with a bull and two Artificial Inseminations with no luck. On our anniversary last month she jumped the fence to hang with our neighbor’s bull. When we went to get her she was all like, “go home you silly folks, I am trying to take care of business.” I’ve been checking on her daily to see if she goes into heat….still not sure. I literally toss and turn sometimes at night wishing she was bred. I don’t want to buy dairy products because ahem….we have a dairy cow. I have been giving her loose mineral daily instead of a mineral block, hoping that it might increase her fertility chances. I wonder if Jersey’s are harder to get bred or if it is a mineral defiency of sorts?
Prayers for you and thank you for keeping on. You are an inspiration to us!
Oh dear you painted a funny picture of a seriously unfunny event , we use electric fencing even behind the stock fence although the day the battery went flat they got out and chewed the energizer and wiring 🙂 hope the bath did the trick !
Have you seen this post? It may help with Sally.
http://www.thebrowninghomestead.com/2013/08/tilly-our-first-family-milk-cow/
Oh no! It kinda reminds me of our first night with our chickens. Someone gave us all our hens and the coop to go with them, but we had to move it to our place. We weren’t able to get everything situated before sundown, so the chickens tried to ‘roost’ under the rosebush.
We eventually tried to corral them in, and a lot of them let us pick them up and set them in the coop, but one of them does not like to be touched, even to this day. She nearly went over the neighbor’s fence. It was crazy. Laugh-worthy looking back, of course. But crazy.
Glad you were able to corral the hogs!
Hi Shaye –
Next time you try doing meat birds, you might consider building a couple of these:
http://notdabblinginnormal.wordpress.com/2009/03/14/building-a-chicken-tractor/
We have 3 pens that we built out over several seasons and split out about 25-30 meat birds per pen that we move daily to new pasture. We’ve lost a handful of birds over the last 5 years, mostly when raccoons or weasels find a corner to dig under the pen, but nowhere near 2/3 of a batch of birds. It’s pretty easy to build the top door from reused or reclaimed metal roofing, and we have a source of free reused lumber tarps to give shade that last about a season each. The EMT and hardware cloth last for a long time – many years. And the things are so lightweight that they don’t need wheels to move them. They are enough to keep dogs/owls/hawks out and since they are bottomless, the chickens can still scratch for bugs and eat greens. Add a 3gal waterer and a 2+ gal vertical feeder and you’re set.
We use chickens and these pens to rehabilitate damaged pastures – one 8×10 square at a time. The chickens eat weed seeds and scratch up the soil and leave a lot of fertility behind them. We move the pens once or twice a day (more when they are bigger) and then scatter new mixed grass and clover seed in the wake behind the chickens and water in the seed. The pastures come in lush and nice from the added fertility, and it gets cycled into good grass for the cows. Then a batch of meat birds goes to feed us, the soil, and the cows eventually.
Disappointment comes from lots of directions – we just got our meat birds for the season and the USPS took 3 days instead of the normal 2 days from the hatchery. The poor little birds were too long out of yolk sac nutrition and despite our best efforts they are dying in larger than usual numbers. 🙁 It happens to everyone! Keep your chin up and take a look around in the fall and see what successes you have had. It’s always eye-opening for us to make our list at the close of the farming year and see what we accomplished.
Better luck next time!
Spoken like someone who has been there. Successes and failures are all part of this gig we run, aren’t they? Here’s to hoping for some success in the breeding arena this Fall! 🙂
The incident you describe is what we used to call “swine flew”! About eight years ago we decided to start raising Tamworth’s. A friend of mine and I got a few breeding pairs. We chose Premier 1 goat fencing and once they were trained to the electric netting escapes were very rare. Now my friend chose a solar charger which many times did not work and she would call up and say, “Elizabeth I have a case of swine flew”. Well we knew what that meant. So we would jump in our car and head over to their place and herd some pigs! Thankfully damages were always minimal and we eventually got them all back in.
As for getting your jersey bred she might have some cysts on her ovaries you might want to look into some homeo pathic remedies. Dr. Hugh Karreman wrote a book on homeopathic treatment of dairy cows and he also has a website Penn Dutch cow care.
And remember the Lord is your strength and He told us that man was born the trouble as the sparks fly upward! So thanks for the reality reminder that farming is hard but it’s the best place to be on Earth!
I lvoe reading your blog and learning from it. We do not as of yet have any animals as we are renting and its not allowed, but we are saving to buy our own place and hope to have at least one cow and maybe a couple of goats for milk as well as chickens. Reading about your troubles and how you come through them makes me confident that I can do this. God bless you.
Jen
One of our two pigs escape on Monday so I can totally relate. (Although escape might not be the best word. We use a moveable three wire fence and they had turned some soil into the bottom wire. When I pulled the stake up to shake the dirt lose, the wire was no longer at eye level for Breakfast, who could see nothing but green pasture on the other side and moved her future ham butt under the wires faster than a stocky animal her size should be able to.) Running back to the house for some food and to put the baby in her crib (because I am just not able to chase down a pig with a baby on one hip), Breakfast somehow circled behind me and was headed up the road. Thankfully the dog and my dad noticed her. After getting her secured back in the electric fence, I forgot to turn the electricity back on and was so grateful that despite the fence not being hot, they both had stayed put for those 12 hours. Phew.
Thank you for sharing, you give me hope that everything is going to work out beautifully, many laughs and a feeling of not being alone in these kinds of crazy adventures.