[Not that kind of weed, ya’ hippie!]
My homestead’s fenced area should have pigs but doesn’t. All I’ve got is a rickety half collapsed fence around soil that’s notable. The soil has been shit on by pigs or cows most of the last century. I assume it is stupidly fertile.
Evidence of fertility is how amazingly fast weeds grow in there whenever pigs are absent. The pen’s soil is also absolutely filled with seeds and roots of every plant which has ever existed. It has seeds from everything native and every crop on any farm anywhere. A month or two without pigs and that rich soil will create big tall weeds that could hide a rhino. It’s insane how big the weeds get. Left unattended, they’ll be taller than me by halfway through summer.
This is only a problem during years without pigs. It gets out of hand and I can’t easily get in there with a mowing deck to nuke the weeds. I’ve tried with a riding lawnmower and it banged up my mower deck something fierce. I’ve tried with a tractor and a brush-hog but it’s tight maneuvering. One slip up and I’ll bang up the electric and physical fence.
It’s not really fun to wander around in there. I like to think the little jungle is occupied by songbirds and frogs. It has some of that but it’s also a fire hazard filled with ticks and probably quite attractive to skunks and wasp nests.
None of this applies when the pigs are present. Pigs handle weeds like a boss. There’s nothing more gratifying than watching a 30 pound piglet trashing through 3’ deep weeds like a happy oinking roto tiller. I have sometimes bought piglets that were raised on concrete. When I set them down on soft dirt surrounded by young spring weeds you can almost see the little piglet’s eyes widen with joy! Inside of a week they’ll have dug trails in the undergrowth. By August they’ll have eaten anything above or below ground that sparks their interest.
They don’t quit. By fall the much bigger pigs will have vacuumed up every tasty plant (including roots). They’ll excavate the churned dirt into a scale model of WW1 trench warfare. If you want ruts that’ll trip up a tractor, mud pits that’ll sink you to your knee, and irregular miniature mountains of churned soil… pigs are for you.
It’s also all pigs or all mechanical but never both. You’d think that if I tried to mow the weeds while the pigs were in there I’d scare the pigs… not so at all! They know the tractor brings food. They know that the guy who owns the tractor brings extra special treats like pie crusts and stale Doritos! The little bastards get real close to the tractor and they’re fearless. (Why have fear? I’m their pal!) They gather around the tractor as if they could climb in the cab and help me drive. I’m afraid they’ll get hurt! No machines can go in the pen when the overly friendly pigs are there.
What I’ve got most years is a happy if chaotic cycle. The pigs eat the weeds until not a leaf remains standing. (Exceptions for burr docks… pigs hate them… and don’t tell me about how hippies eat the roots, I hate burr docks too.) After the pigs are gone I’ll make a half-ass attempt to smooth the craters and holes with the tractor bucket and a disk. I’ll get it at least level enough that I can service the fence without twisting an ankle.
But nature abhors a vacuum and next spring the weeds will try to take over again. Which leads to me screwing with fence wires while football sized escape artists run around in the muddy springtime.
Homesteading is closer to ecology than any ecology class in college… I’m just sayin’.
Stay tuned…
Total Tangent: When I leave work, our cat follows me to my car and will climb in to find a proper napping spot. Like a furry pig. Only (presumably) not as tasty. Considering the economy, I hope to not find out.
I admit that sometimes the two of us share some nap time before I head for home. Inefficient but pleasant. No mowing involved.