Once again this is on the blogger animals that give pause too, I really don’t expect anyone to read both.  But if you want…. LOL

If you want to know you have superhuman strength and can do anything you should try farming.  I was an outdoorsy type person, fished in tournaments, helped cut wood, mowed, gardened, [...]]]>

Once again this is on the blogger animals that give pause too, I really don’t expect anyone to read both.  But if you want…. LOL

If you want to know you have superhuman strength and can do anything you should try farming.  I was an outdoorsy type person, fished in tournaments, helped cut wood, mowed, gardened, landscaped, hunted mushrooms, before we farmed.   Outdoorsy took on a whole new meaning when we farmed and so did every other aspect of life.  I could peel a pot of potatoes for 6 or 7 people and have it on the stove in 5 minutes, then I could go back outside and help him till I thought they were boiling…..put the pork chops on, we ate alot of pork…….and so on.  I’ve already told how I could do a pen of pigs which includes castrating them in 5 -10 minutes.  If you are grossed out easily don’t look @ the link @ the end and quit reading right now.   I would feed the leftovers from castrating the pigs to the cat and the two dogs.  Calico Cat, Sam a blue heeler puppy, and Jolie an old crazy Australian Shepherd.  The wouldn’t fight, they’d all sit in a semi circle around me and wait their turn and I would toss them what I would toss them and they would catch it.  Was quite amusing.  I would also sing to the mama pigs when I was doing this all to quiet them.  If they didn’t quiet they got sprayed with antibiotic which they did NOT like but they usually decided I might be boss then.  You haven’t lived till you’ve heard 30 HUNGRY sows throwing a fit, especially if someone slept in till say 7 am?  Then the first time I sang to them it’s like huh? and they got weirdly quiet.

There were the sows that would get out of their pens during the night and we would play a few rounds of merry go round the farrowing house, forget jogging chasing a mad sow or being chased lends something to the whole running idea.  Sometimes they would just bop back into their pens, it was actually quite amusing, they would look guilty as they could be.  Sometimes they would forget that pigs are smart animals and try to get in the same pen as another mother breaking several pens down in the meantime and setting the whole tone for the day.  I said we repaired the farm building, we couldn’t afford new  everything and it was a total disaster held together with baling wire slightly rickety.

Of course we had to watch the first few litters being born, I mean I checked on all the mothers like every two hours when it was farrowing time but we STAYED out with the first ones I know as a family.  We ate ham sandwiches and sat on upturned buckets (the barn was sanitized @ that point, didn’t last long) and ate ham sandwiches and drank iced tea.

I still have the cap I wore all the time in the winter and it was camo, only think camo I’ve ever owned.  It also had ear flaps, do you want to talk rubber boots? I remember when my husband I were not so newly married and we would fight over discuss who had the newest rubber boots, it was a very important subject.

Speaking of the proper attire for farming I liked rather loose sweat shirts.  There was a reason other than just warm and comfy.  I had to strip to the waist 4 times a day or get a shirt sleeve wet until we drilled another well.  You ask WHY would you do such a stupid thing dingy woman?  The water leaked, I had to turn it on and off to the big barn where we farrowed for awhile and to the nursery.  Pig nursery, full of teenage pigs.  You ask why did I need to be an exhibitionist to merely turn water on and off?  The turn off valve was like 2 feet underground down a shaft full of water …….because the water leaked. This fun feat often included draining and rolling up hundreds of feet of hose because something was frozen.  Also if the feed augers didn’t work I had to carry it over there by hand in a wheelbarrow…… I didn’t have a weight problem @ all for years.  And I learned to rebuild electric motors that ran the feed augers!

So we lived a mile from the highway and 1/4 mile from another house which was good for the stripping thing.  Farm naked was my motto.  JUST KIDDING, actually all the kids would be gone and I’d think I was all alone miles from civilization and no one could see the house so I would take a shower and NOT BRING A ROBE or my clothes.  You can guess the outcome?  Invariably we would have company drive up.  It was more special when it was male preachers.  Enclosed porch and front door was directly by only bathroom, “could you all just step outside or maybe just turn your back for just a minute PLEEZE.”  Go see the pet pig, the chickens, or the calves that call the lawn their home.

Lastly if you want to be grossed out go here. I’m not sure if this is a joke or photoshop but I REALLY hope it is one of them.  I may have nightmares.  I warned you.

I really don’t know if [...]]]>

I really don’t know if I’ve told anyone here this before but when my husband and I first got married we had elementary school age kids, (boys, his) and teenagers, (mine, girls) and he was determined to spend more time with them than he had his older kids.  So we farmed.  We were newly married you see and in love.  I lack the farming gene.  I swear there is this gene that makes you think all this farm stuff is grand. (it’s called the crazy throw money away gene sometimes too)  I’m not a city girl but the first time I tasted homogenized milk (I was 6,on a train, going to KS to see my brother with my mom)I thought I was in heaven.  We had a dairy when I was growing up.  I did a post on this before, sort of I think?  We drank the milk from the cows.  We sold the cream, what we drank was NOTHING like whole milk or 2%, think lumpy skim milk.  I wasn’t much on the butter thing either but believe it or not I have churned butter.  Farm life is just not what it’s cracked up to be.  I think my problem was I grew up on a farm and then was Mrs. Earth Mother for most of my first marriage. (Mother Earth News was my primary magazine, I made my own yogurt and potato stamped wrapping paper, I’ve split lots of wood, we had 3 gardens and sold watermelon as a hobby for the kids, for years my kids we not allowed dessert except on weekends and pop only when someone would sneak it to them but that’s another story, I was mean mean mama but they were healthy, of course I made all my own Christmas presents, macrame, crocheted).

Anyway we had this farm because this was a man (new husband remember we are in LOVE) who would work and farm (and the bottom would fall out of the farm economy AGAIN).  And we had pigs. (I was a real estate agent when he met me,  I wore skirts and hose and high heels and hardly ever smelled pig poop but we were in LOVE, did I say this?)  When we first bought the farm we were going to raise cows, we had some bad luck and lost a bunch of calves and could get a contract to raise pigs and had all the equipment and buildings albeit was OLD and needed fixing.  We fixed and fixed and fixed. We had 30 sows farrowing (having baby pigs) @ a time.  I timed myself and I could do (cut teeth, tails, iron shots, antibiotics if we had a problem, and castrate the males) a pen of pigs in between 5 and 10 minutes, one of my skills.  We eventually had over 1600 head of pigs on the farm @ one time.  Then we went REALLY broke and my husband had to go back to driving a truck and I raised pigs with 3 teenagers and one almost teenager.  One would not come out of the house but that’s another story.  She’s the one who raised the runts in the house and kept house for me.

What brought this on was a post by Jan Mader on her blog Animal Talk.  She told of someone having to kill a badly injured squirrel.  It is necessary and humane and kind but it doesn’t feel that way when you are doing it.
I can’t remember many of the times we had to kill animals on the farm which was a blessing.  I remember lots of times I wanted to kill some animals, you haven’t lived till you’ve looked for cows in a thunderstorm or been shocked by an electric fence one too many times.

We tried to raise the runt pigs in the house.  My daughter was pg by this time, I hope she doesn’t mind me telling this.  Her runt pig died.  Like I think it was in BED with her, do not judge us, I drew the line @ sleeping with them.  Prettiest little runt pig and she was nuts about animals.  This is the daughter with 7 dogs now and 4 kids.  She came around the corner bawling and saying “how can I raise a BABY if I kill PIGS” insert horrible crying noises.  She’s a wonderful mother btw.

The next story is my runt pig story, it’s not a pretty one but this pig was determined to die.  This was a tiny pig, teeny, we gave it special food and more antibiotics than it should have survived.  It was sort of the pet pig if you can have a pet out of 1600. (I did and one was named Velveeta, he SOLD Velveeta, she was the prettiest shiny black pig and followed me everywhere, this story is not about Velveeta though).

I was feeding on the feeding floor which is a large slab of concrete angled so the rain runs off of it and with sheds for shelter for the pigs @ one end, much of our activity went on on the feeding floor.  Anyway there was another building close by that was semi enclosed that we didn’t use.  Runt was like several months old by this time and we knew we’d never be able to sell him or even let him live in good conscience, Runt was an UGLY pig.  Butt Ugly, looked like a white razorback with allergies and weighed like 20 pounds soaking wet when he should have been close to 100 or so. I actually figured up the cost of the medicine we had given him and with the expensive antibiotics it was well above $40, part of the reason we were broke I suppose.

I’d fixed Runt a nice little box in the semi enclosed building, it was early spring and he could get fresh air but yet be by the other pigs.  He couldn’t stay too close to any of the others because he just didn’t fit in.  You’re thinking Runt was this sweet little pig that was ugly and misunderstood?  Nope, he was spoiled and had a nasty little personality.  I think it was just because he was our first true Runt that we kept him alive so long.  I’d cut off the antibiotics and he was getting weaker.  BUT Runt had one habit that was infuriating.  He had a nice warm wooden box with rags and straw, his own food and water.  Every morning I would go to feed and Runt would be on the feeding floor if he could make it or stuck in the mud if he couldn’t.  He would be getting trampled with the other pigs or flailing in mud in front of the feeding floor, I’d wash him off and dry him as well as I could and back to his nice nest.  EVERY MORNING, 7 days a week for a month or more.  Runt wasn’t friendly, I guess it was all the shots and I really do think he lacked brains along with health.  One morning the mud was deep and runny.  I didn’t find Runt for awhile.  I didn’t save him that time. I actually held him under as he was half drown already.  I can still remember it.  Not a happy story and most will disagree and say I should have killed him earlier, taken him to the vet to be put to sleep, not killed him….etc. but I killed him.

More farm stories in the days to come, hopefully cheerier.  OK, they aren’t real farm stories, they are me on a farm, there IS a difference.