When I didn’t have as much actual farming to do, I definitely posted more stories on my blog.
Posting on Facebook or Instagram is certainly faster for me, but I want to keep up with the website too. And homeschool two children, drive the other one to private school, teach Sunday School, and generally be a mother and a wife. Whew! But I do try.
Christmas vacation gave me some time to make seed orders, make planting plans for the spring and summer, so, I hope, I am not wondering why I can’t manage to have a steady supply of cut flowers and why I don’t have space open for the next crop.
Spring will bring flowers, farmers markets, and pork. I expect to finish these pigs in May (ish) and you may place a deposit for preorder through my online store. For details about how much meat to expect, final cost, and other information please visit this page.
The pigs came to the farm in early December, and they are enjoying life in the woods and on the pasture. My oldest daughter has always been my livestock helper because, well, she is the oldest and the biggest. At 14, she can now even help me lift heavy things.
One night as she was working frantically on a project for one of her classes, the pigs got out. We have a driveway alarm so that we have some advance warning that someone is coming down the driveway, and my 5 year old loves to announce the identity of the new arrival.
We heard it go off about 5:20 PM, conveniently just before sunset on a day when temperatures hadn’t gotten out of the 30s and rain was expected. My son heard the alarm, and yelled, “It’s probably Amazon!” as he scampered to the door to seek the identity of the new arrival. He has taken pride in carrying in the delivery boxes and enjoys talking to the drivers during this past year of COVID.
Instead of bringing in a box, he yelled, “It’s the pigs!”
The notification that “The animals are out!” is information no farmer enjoys hearing. My family had cattle, and I remember many calls from the neighbors over the years and the glum pronouncement that, “The cows are out,” from my father, which meant that everyone available was needed to quickly rectify the situation and to keep the cows off of the road. Whatever else was going on in the house was abandoned until the cows were restored to their pasture.
These pigs didn’t know me well yet, and didn’t associate me with food, and I knew getting them back into the fence would be trickier than the recapture of the pig that strolled down the driveway on Easter morning, 2020, when we, dressed in Easter clothes as if we were actually going to church instead of watching it on TV, were preparing to sit down to watch the service and I got another announcement from the children of an unexpected visitor. I was able to lead that pig back to her home with a scoop of food while still wearing a dress.
This time was much more difficult.
As to why the escaped, let me say it was entirely my fault and a comedy of errors in not securing the fencing and pen correctly.
I tried to lure them pigs back into the pen with food, but they scattered in all directions when I got too close, including through my flower field, towards the neighbor’s house, and in the direction of the road, although the road is a good distance from the pig pasture and they never got too close. I am not an athlete and competitive sports has never interested me. Six pigs running at full speed towards the road motivates me to run faster in ways a race with a human never has.
I asked my husband for help, and I determined that pig-catching was going to require at least three people: one to gently herd the pigs in the direction I wanted them to go (me), one to hold up the fence (Ella, the 14 year old), and one to turn the electric fence off and on (Scott). Clara wasn’t home and Luke, the 5 year old, was left to fend for himself in the house. I told Ella that pig-catching was currently more important than schoolwork.
I remembered numerous farm situations in my childhood I hadn’t thought of in years: family members placed strategically around an area and my father giving instructions that were to be obeyed immediately without question. Scott and Ella, for a time, questioned my commands (which weren’t always completely correct), but shouting questions across 100 feet of woods in the dark and the rain is highly inefficient. When pigs are loose, someone needs to be in charge, and as I was the only one present with much animal-herding experience, I needed to be the one in charge. I informed them that pig-herding called for “Obey first, ask questions later.”
Ella has learned over the years how to help me herd chickens back into the fence by walking slowly towards them, silently, raising her arms in the air, making sure to not crowd them and scare them to make them scatter. These skills are much more effective with any sort of animal than shouting and running.
However, although now the pigs will follow me anywhere like a pack of dogs, these pigs didn’t know me (associate me with food) yet, they were scared, and they weren’t sure exactly where they were supposed to go. The were still in the training pen when they escaped, and their escape introduced them for the first time to the wonders of fresh grass, acorns, and plenty of room to run. They had no motivation to go back into the pen.
After running across the field a few times (I quickly shed my heaviest coat) after the pigs, I gave up on getting them back into the pen and began trying to complete the repair of the electric fence around the whole pasture. This involved an hour or so of me wearing my son’s camping headlamp while twisting and cutting wire with fingers numb to the cold. I had at least done most of the repairs earlier in the week–removed trees and limbs from the fence, tightened most of the wire, and rearranged the fencing around the pen. I intended to let the pigs out in the next couple of days anyway.
I ran through the woods, attempting to get ahead of the pigs to head them off so they would veer into the fence, while Ella stood by to raise and lower the wire and Scott turned the electricity to the fence off and on. I stepped in stump holes and tripped over vines, but miraculously didn’t seriously injure myself.
Eventually, we got them sorted back in the fence, and I will make sure to not repeat that comedy of errors next time…although that was a great workout!
I expect these pigs to finish in May-ish. I have them available for pre-order through my online store. Non-refundable deposits are $50 for half a hog and $100 for a whole hog. Please visit this page on my website for details about how much meat to expect and final cost. If you have any further questions, please call me at 803.465.6666 or email me at onehubcapfarm@gmail.com.