It is both a joy and a curse to have a tin roof on the farmhouse. The slightest patter of rain, easily ignored on the now-conventional shingled roof, is instantly audible on the metal. There is usefulness in lying in bed and listening as the rain begins; you don’t need to tune in to the radio for the forecast, much less peer out the window, to know which way the wind blows.
The curse is that it serves as an unwanted alarm clock in the pre-dawn hours: a reminder that the barn jacket is still hanging on the fence post, that a favorite hand tool is in the back of the pickup, that you have a dozen things to complete, rain or shine, the next day. Once awake, you hear the dogs bark … and you start wondering if Delores has escaped her paddock, again. And so the day begins. The brain shifts into gear, and you roll out of bed, unwillingly, and get dressed. And as you make coffee and step out into the early morning, whatever rain you may have heard on that tin roof has moved on to other pastures. The day, when it dawns, will be with clear skies.
Twin sisters.
As I went about my chores this morning, I found that no new lambs had been born and the new hog, Delores, was still contained. The previous morning during feeding had revealed another ewe with brand-new healthy and active twins. The score for lambing season to date is 6 ewes:11 lambs; 9 ewe lambs:2 ram lambs; 14 more ewes to go. As with all new births, yesterday morning’s mom and babies were separated into a lambing pen, where they will stay for a day or two. The maternity ward gives us a chance to observe and a chance for the mother to adequately bond with her new offspring. Today or tomorrow, she will be turned out with the other new moms and their charges.
Delores considers dinner.
Yesterday, we spent the bulk of the morning reinforcing one of the pig paddocks near the gardens to receive an incoming pregnant gilt. We had not intended to get back into breeding stock, but a number of our local sources for feeder pigs have had troubles this winter and have nothing to show for their labors. That, rightfully, should be a warning to us as well. But we plunged ahead and made a bargain to purchase Delores instead. She should farrow for the first time around the beginning of March.
Delores, a yearling black pig of about 200 pounds, had heretofore been a pet. The woman selling her said she hadn’t realized how fast and large pigs grew. Cindy headed out late morning to pick up the hog. I, meanwhile, spent the time butchering and cleaning roosters. I was just finishing scrubbing down the equipment after packaging and freezing the birds when she returned, Delores in tow.
We had a quick late lunch and easily introduced Delores into her new, spacious digs. We secured her with the final bit of fencing, gave her fresh water and retired for our afternoon nap.
Awaking refreshed, we had our coffee before heading out to do our late-afternoon chores. Dinner guests would arrive within a couple of hours, and dinner would need to be prepared. We stopped by the pig paddock first. Spotting the hog panel thrown up at an odd angle, we knew immediately that “Houston, we have a problem.”
Delores, in the space of an hour and half, had escaped from her paddock through an unsecured hog panel, trundled down a ravine, been discovered in a neighbor’s front yard, enticed into a goat pen, escaped from that pen, and walked back up the hill into the ravine. And that is where we found her, 200 yards down a steep hill from where she had begun to explore the countryside. It should have ended in a catastrophe. But within five minutes she had followed Cindy, and a bucket of feed, back home. We spent the next 30 minutes reinforcing the fencing, then completing chores, before heading in to cook for our evening guests.
Which is undoubtedly why, this morning at 4 a.m., I awoke to the feather-light rain on the roof and wondered, “Where is Delores?”
Help me out here. If Delores started life as a pet, and you got her from the woman who kept her as a pet… how is it she is now with piglet(s)? I’m guessing she spent December (or before) with a boar. And if she’s due in early March then perhaps she had quite the Thanksgiving?
Anyway, here’s hoping she drops and weans 8-10 fat and sassy little ones.
Off topic here, but I commented at Jeff Ollerton’s blog:
https://jeffollerton.wordpress.com/2015/01/17/garden-chickens-and-biodiversity-some-thoughts/
And I’m wondering your thoughts on how long one might allow a few chickens in the garden before they outstay their welcome? I suppose it will depend upon the size of the lot they’ve access to, and how many in their number… but do you have any wisdom to share?
Clem,
She was a pet in the most general since. The woman that had Delores also had a boar (not sure of his name) and pampered them a bit. She clearly had bitten of more than she realized, not knowing that 25 pound weanlings would grow a tad bit more.
First time I have checked out Jeff’s blog and read your comments. If I had a quibble it would be that in my experience chickens don’t dig too deeply. They scratch at the surface. And I figure whether it is the larvae of something good or something bad it all comes out in the egg. I doubt that a basic small-farm flock will impact too seriously the bio-diversity of the soil either way. Now once my garden is underway I keep the chickens out. They are not allowed to compete with this top predator for the Brandwines!
Cheers,
Brian
Clem, the previous owner of Delores bought her and a boar when they were “about the size of footballs.” She had intentions of breeding them when they matured and says she saw them fulfill that destiny back in November. Trouble is, their very small enclosure had become one huge wallow, and they were eating her out of house and home; hence, the desire to sell them. Unfortunately for Delores’ mate, we weren’t in the market for a boar. So, as of this weekend, his new destiny involved a one-way trip to the meat processor.
In this light then, Delores is something like a Rescue Pig. Very interesting. One hopes her maternal instincts are strong – she doesn’t have any other sows to imitate does she?
No, she doesn’t have any role models, but I’m bettin’ she’ll know what to do. We’ll find out.
Oh. My. Gosh. This makes me laugh and laugh. Recalling a few years ago when two of our hogs escaped and I was trying to herd (ya right) them away from the highway with my young grandson in tow, telling me, “whack ‘em Grandma, whack ‘em.”
That had a good ending too, but mercy farming is never dull.
TeresaSue on a glacier in north Idaho. ; )
Hogs are never dull!