I am the proud owner of three healthy happy mountains of bacon. In case you were smart enough to avoid missed my earlier series here’s the background:
- Makin’ Bacon: Part 1 – The Pusher
- Makin’ Bacon: Part 2
- Makin’ Bacon: Part 3: Livestock On Social Media
- Makin’ Bacon: Part 4: Wrath Of The Lightbulb Locusts
- Makin Bacon: Part 5: Gates Delayed
- Makin’ Bacon: Part 6: Ego Gates
- Makin’ Bacon: Part 7: Jurassic Fence
- Makin’ Bacon: Part 8: Fencing With Politicans And Marines
- Makin’ Bacon: Part 9: How I’m Like John Travolta
- Makin’ Bacon: Part 10: My Names Are Vetoed
Time for a brief year end analysis of what I’ve learned this season:
- My big huge, over-engineered, Jurassic fence of doom, dotted with ego gates, and sealed with electric pain has been a BIG SUCCESS! As a homesteader there are a thousand ways to fail and I’ve experienced many of them. However, this time I swung for the bleachers and hit a home run. Heed my words and know the truth: There is no such thing as a fence that’s too big and strong. By comparison the Foxinator’s pigs have escaped many times, usually when it’s inconvenient. Imagine hearing the sounds of porcine mayhem outside of your window; at dawn, in the rain, as they trash stuff locally and then head for a party on the neighbor’s lawn. Wouldn’t that suck? The Foxintaor reports that it’s hell on a stick. She’s chased loose pigs several times and the Foxinator’s kids have chased the same pigs (and in case you’re wondering… pigs can run like hell). Mrs. Curmudgeon has also been drafted to chase the Foxinator’s pigs. (I missed that adventure entirely. Another lesson in life… leaving the cell phone off can make your day a lot more pleasant.) Our pigs, on the other hand, lounge in their oversized pen with an air of contentment and joy. When they feel like running (pigs run!) they have ample room to make a few laps in the weeds and still stay within their designated location. They have stayed put. This is a big fat hairy deal.
- The pigs are a great success. My corn field is a total failure. Ya’ win some, ya’ lose some.
So now it’s fall. The harvest is upon us. There’s no hurry but it’s about the right time to make a few sales, clear some space in the freezer, and finish the cycle.
I was making plans to market the little buggers when things got complicated. More in my next post.
A.C.
P.S. One last observation, you may be picturing pigs as fat lazy muddy stinking reprobates… untrue! My pigs are clean, lean, and strong. They’re toned and muscled. When they bump into you at feeding time (much like your dog would) it’s like getting butted by a Kenworth. They’re affectionate, at least when they’re hoping for a treat (which makes them at least as grateful as the average human). Also they run like the wind. I penned them up with room to spare and they’ll bolt through that “empty” terrain like a barrel racing stallion; albeit one that’s waist high.
Don’t you want to confine them in small pens and fatten them before slaughter?
I watched the British farmers do that with lamb and it was awesome.
I suppose I could but they look pretty healthy to me and they seem pretty happy. I expect the meat will be excellent so I’m leaving them room to roam. Call it an inherent inefficiency of homesteading versus corporate operations?
MSgt B: Yeah, but a pig ain’t a lamb.
My advice, if you are going to slaughter them yourself and you come to “do the deed” is …
DO NOT USE A .22.
And don’t even think of the air rifle at a time like this. A pigs skull might as well be armour plated and covered in boiled leather as far as that is concerned.
A .38 as a minimum, preferably larger.
It isn’t the time to be budget minded … when the pig panics, the adrenaline will toughen the meat unless it is killed instantly (or as near as dammit instantly as makes no difference). You DO want tender meat, don’t you?
As a proper redneck I’ve got an arsenal plenty adequate for killing a pig right quick. That said, it’s really nice to leave the job in a butcher’s hands. It might make me lazy but labor specialization has its advantages.