Pig Butcher

It’s been six long months and the passing of time was made known by our pig butcher this week!

We got three weaner pigs the week that we moved to our farm.  They were cute, almost cuddly and sweet.  I’ve been reading a LOT about farming, especially farming in the Provincial region from the turn of the century.  Back in those days, no matter what else a farmer was doing, he kept a pig.  The pig ate all of the scrap from the house and dug up the garden space.  These pigs were revered because they are delicious, and some part of the animal found its way into virtually every meal for many months.

I’d like to think that our farming method mirrors that.  We believe in the co-dependence of many small projects on a farm.  The pigs fit so well into that vision.  Firstly, they were put in a future garden spot.  Not only did they till up the land for me, but they ate all the roots from the grasses growing in that spot.  It can now be a garden and then be planted back to a cover crop in following years.  They also provided fertilizer for the space in the ultimate in recycling.  The pigs partook of what we deemed the “pig bucket.”  We collected every scrap of liquid every kitchen scrap, every bit of left over food and fed it out.  They got at least a bucket every day from the kitchen, sometimes more.  These lucky little porkers ate all the windfall apples, pears and figs.  We moved right as the fruit began to fall and what we couldn’t make use of, the pigs consumed voraciously.  Most luckily, the pigs got raw milk, clabber and whey.  These are all benefits of milking two lovely cows and making cheese.  Since I make lots and lots of cheese, the pigs got gallons upon gallons of whey goodness.  In fact, they’ve only been gone for 48 hours and already I have 5 gallons of whey sitting around while I figure out who to feed it to.

In the end, they were big and they were eating a lot.  Their carcasses finished very well, and it was a pleasure to see the fruit of all my labor.

I strongly believe in the sanctity of life.  Some might not think that that statement goes hand in hand with someone who eats meat, but that is not so.  We grew the pigs and respected them.  They had a good life and now they are sacrificing for us.  The way for me to honor that sacrifice is to not make waste.  As the mobile butcher was working away getting down to the carcass of the animal, I was busy rounding up five gallon buckets.  Every time they cut a piece of the animal off and walked to throw it in the rubbish heap, I got their attention and pointed to a bucket.  And so it went on until they had seen that every bit of the animal was staying on the farm to be used.

This goes right along with the French tradition which is in fact my inspiration.  The tradition of keeping every bit of the pig and making use of it is the basis of respect for that animal, it’s also thrifty and not to mention delicious.  I’ve spent the last two days cleaning guts, cutting apart organs, dehairing, rendering lard, etc.  The recipes I’ve read that include these lesser used body parts all drool over the fact that these are in fact some of the most delicious parts of the animal.  I don’t doubt it considering that in many cases it takes DAYS to create them.  The melding of the fat and collagen into a beautiful sauce has me drooling now.  I think that with all the love and work that I have put into saving and using all of the animal means that I’m going to have some pleasurable meals in my future.

It was a pleasure to raise these pigs.  There will be more of them here at Cast Iron Farm, that’s for sure.

And That’s Life

If nothing else, farming has taught me better how to accept the ups and downs of life.  Farming, especially with livestock has so many surprises, good and bad.  It is so nice to ride a high and enjoy all the wonderful things that can come from this life, but there are also some hard times.

I’d love to stamp my feet and scream and roll around on the ground and make a general big fuss of things when something doesn’t go my way.  That would be so mature, wouldn’t it?  It seems to work for my kids, but since I tell them all the time that they need to grow up and learn to deal with the blows in life, I too have to grow up, toughen up, learn from my mistakes and march forward.

But that can be SO hard sometimes.  Here’s today’s example.

I noticed a few weeks ago, that my calendar was saying that the lambing window was starting soon.  This went right along with me noticing that two of the ewes in particular were starting to really bag up.  Looks like we could have another round of babies here on the farm.

For the past week, I have expected to walk out every morning to some lambs from my moorit ewe, but alas, nothing was happening.  This morning after doing chores and finding no babies, I sat down and looked at the dates again and found that she wasn’t supposed to lamb until Thursday, so I decided to leave her be and stop worrying.

Of course, that meant that she was going to lamb immediately.  I walked out this afternoon to do chores and she had just dropped the second lamb.  The first was laying in the straw not cleaned off at all, and I was suspicious.  The second the second lamb was out mama bolted off and clearly was going to have nothing to do with them.

I rushed over to discover that lamb #1 had been neglected and was not alive anymore but I had walked in at just the right moment to save #2.  I got the slime off it’s nose, tickled it, held it upside down and got it’s airway clear.  I then rushed it into the house, got an old towel and started to work on it very vigorously.  He (yes, a ram) immediately started right up!  Hooray.

I managed to get him dried off and I took him back to mama.  She’s a first timer, and she wanted nothing to do with him.  She was not interested in him at all.  I decided to take him in again and get him warmed up before trying to nurse again.  As soon as he was standing up trying, I took him out to nurse, but he was much smaller than the other lamb, and he was needing some help.  Mama who was not interested in being a mama wanted to eat her alfalfa, and she didn’t really want to take care of the lamb.

I decided to milk the colostrum out for now and bottle feed it to make sure he gets some then see if he perks up to nurse.  This seems to be doing the trick.

Now, the fact that I saved him is good news, and I am so exciting to have lambs around for me and the kids to enjoy.  I’m incredibly bummed that I lost a lamb though.  I set up my breeding program to get a variety of different colored lambs, but I was MOST wanting a black ewe to use as foundation breeding stock for the future.  I bought a really nice ram with a fantastic fleece this year.  He had some black in his background, and I was hoping that my girls would give me some black.

BUT, of course, my very first BLACK EWE had to be the one that I lost.  I am beyond bummed about this.  This makes me feel like I want to dance around stomping my feet and complaining about the rough hand of cards that I’ve been dealt, but I’m trying very hard to act like an adult here.  These things happen in farming, that’s just life, and no matter how big of a fit I throw, it isn’t going to change the fact that I lost her and she’s gone, and the only way to move on is to focus on the future and the other four ewes that are going to throw me some very lovely lambs very soon.

The bright side is that I now have a little black ram dubbed Snuffles downstairs in a laundry basket calling for my attention.  He’s here and he’s got the will to live, and I think I’m just going to bury the bad and run with the good I’ve been dealt today.