Bacon's 'Transition'

Warning--if you are not comfortable knowing where your food comes from I highly suggest skipping this post!

The last 24 hours have been a whirlwind for Phil and I, and even though we aren't finished yet, I wanted to write about it while I have a break in the process.

Back in April we got this cute little pig that we named Bacon.  She was a 4-H project that the family dog attacked.  I thought she was big at around 75 pounds, but after working on her today I realize that was puny by comparison.

Our biggest mistake was only getting one pig.  She was so lonesome--even though we'd go out there multiple times a day--that she'd get out.  Bacon didn't care about the electric fence and would wander out to see where we were, or what the chickens were doing.  Sadly, we couldn't let her free range unless we were right there.  That only happened when we were mucking out the kennel.  I feel really bad about this, because I want our animals to live as close to their natural habits as possible.  This mistake was like a snowball that lead to an avalanche.  Since we couldn't let her free range, we had to buy more feed.  More feed drove up our costs.  Being confined to a kennel without a companion led to Bacon being bored.  Her boredom drove her to break any feeding device we installed.  Finally we gave up trying to contain the food and just put it on the kennel floor.  This allowed her to instinctually root her food around and out of the kennel, causing a lot of wasted feed.  Which meant we were feeding her more.  Which drove up our costs.  Finally we said no more, she's close enough to butcher weight.  We were going to keep her until around labor day, but we just couldn't stand the awful circumstances both Bacon and our wallet was in.  She weighed in at 200 pounds, which really when I think about it is about a pound day that she added to her girth.

Yesterday we finished off the last of her food.  Last night out of either sheer loneliness, hunger, or knowing she was about to meet the freezer,  she broke out of the kennel.  It was terrifying to see a 200 pound pig barreling towards my garden, and then as I attempted to corral her back, run towards the neighbors'.  I've always said that I only run to save someones life, but I guess I'll do it to protect my food supply too! We got her bribed back in with bread, and Phil patched up the break.  Phil and I then mucked out the kennel one last time, washed her down, and finished gathering our supplies.  As the night slipped away, we reviewed our game plan for the next day, and set the alarm for five in the morning.

We were finished setting up by six, and shortly thereafter Phil did a perfect kill shot.  I knew that would be the hardest for me-- to witness the animal that we had tried our best to care for--to meet her end to sustain my own life.  It shook me up as anticipated, even though I had watched a video about the process, it was hard to watch the involuntary jerking, and subsequent tongue hanging out of the side of the mouth, so I left to blow my nose and dry my eyes.

strange to see this instead of our noisy pig

Now that Bacon was dead, I could shift my mind over to the task at hand, prepping her for the freezer.  Even though we had a pulley with a gambrel, I am still ridiculously sore from the physical exertion at this end of the process.

Bacon bled out and awaiting to be dunked in the 55 gallon steel drum

I knew that the dehairing process would be the most tedious part of the process (for me at least), but since I don't mind tedious it wasn't an issue.  Although out of all parts of the slaughtering process I found this the dirtiest since her hair would blow back on me, getting in my eyes, up my nose and generally making me itchy.

Next was the part of the process that Phil was most unsure about.  Degutting.  He's done deer with the aid of his hunting buddy, and I have done the chickens, so the lack of complete hands on experience was a bit nerve-racking.  I read as much as I could to familiarize myself with the process, and Phil watched videos.  Still, nothing can really prepare you as much as hands on experience!  It took a lot longer than I anticipated simply because it felt like we were flying blind.

Finally after only one hiccup (but a lot of great hands on anatomy for the kids!) we were finished.  At one pm our freezer looked like this:

We threw in the other half, and shut the door.  Then Phil said 'babe we did it'!  We gave each other bloody high fives and sweaty hugs.  A few hours later We prepped the kitchen for the butchering process.  The kids helped process Phil's deer last fall and were strangely excited to help again.



We have learned a lot through this experience.  We know that we would get two pigs if we do it again (Phil is gunho, I'm not ready to commit).  I said we needed to have sandwiches and snacks on hand for quick eating.  Going from five until almost two by the time I cleaned up without food, while doing such physical work, and nursing a baby during breaks, left me feeling sick and shaky.  I also voted for either doing the slaughter on one day with the butchering the next or to order pizza so my kitchen doesn't look like this.  Trying to cook and eat food while putting up the pork didn't work so well today, despite my preparedness with the crockpot.

not a pretty kitchen at the moment, just keeping it real!

I'm looking forward to what our final poundage is, and to see a freezer filled (albeit not full) with our hard work.  Hopefully homegrown pig will be just as mind-blowing to our tastebuds as our roasted roosters have been!

'Frozen' Chicken

Yesterday heralded a new experience for us.  The kids came in an said there was a chicken that seemed to be frozen and they thought she was dead.  I quickly went to investigate, hoping they were wrong.  Sure enough, just inside of the coop door was a dead chicken.  I was quite concerned as she wasn't dead three hours ago when I went in to collect eggs.  I wondered about natural causes versus disease.  Should a one year old hen be dead already? Was she contagious to the rest of the flock?  Phil didn't help alleviate my concerns any when he told me that the avian flu was killing off flocks of chickens and that was why egg prices had jumped.  Slightly panicky, I sent someone out every ninety minutes for the rest of the day to check.  If was a disease I sure didn't want dead birds just hanging around infecting the rest of the flock.  Everyone was alive and well come evening.

It's really unnerving to find a dead chicken and not know why.

Chickens run off and never seen again?  Mhmm, curious and frustrating for sure.
Dog attack?  Yep, been there done that, a few times.
Bantee chicken picked off by a hawk?  Yes, and subsequently dropped half eaten on property.  Excellent lesson on predator vs prey for the children.
Wing with a pile of entrails?  Lesson learned, even the free ranging roosters need to come in for the night to stay safe from the fox or coyote.

Loosing chickens to predators leaves me with a 'well that sucks' feeling, but at least I know what went down.  Finding that younger hen dead left me bewildered and unsettled.

Today when I went to check on them in the morning, one of the older hens was lying in a strange position.  My heart raced as I rushed into the run.  Just as I was ready to nudge her with my foot she woke up, freaked out, and flew off causing quite the commotion amongst the girls.  I'm starting to breathe a bit easier, and the high alert status has been downgraded to questioning concern.  Hopefully it was just a hen with a bad heart, or something akin to that, so that the rest of the flock can continue bringing us entertainment as well as eggs!

First Full Homestead Meal

Today was a huge win.  Knowing that everything that was on our dinner plate we grew as a family was great.  Phil asked me how it felt to be eating our hard work.  I paused, examined what I was feeling, and decided it to be normal.  As I continued to savor, I pondered why it didn't feel like the huge victory I had been anticipating.  I realized that we've been eating homegrown potatoes for years (thanks to Phil's grandparents), nibbling on garden produce as it's come in, and butchered some roosters (and a few hens thanks to our dog) since we've lived here.  So while it was totally awesome for the kids to see the end result of their efforts, there was just a comforting satisfaction of knowing that it was by God's provision that our toils produced food for the table.

roasted rooster, barbecue sauce from our cherry tomatoes, french fries (hooray for an easy to grow vegetable!), and a salad of sweet peppers, peas, and basil

Writing is like a long lost friend

Writing for me is like those amazing friends that come and go through life.  You enjoy your time together, but as the days of missed contact turn into weeks, months, maybe even years, you feel ridiculous calling because it's been so long.  So you don't.  But then you meet up again and it's not awkward, you just pick up right where you left off.  Like riding a bike.  And that seems to be my experience with writing a blog.  I love it, have great intentions of nurturing it, writing a few times a week, etc.  Then life happens and I miss a few scheduled sessions.  And then I feel weird and guilty for not writing, so I don't.  And then I get on to reread a memory from the past that I know I've got journaled here, and I find that it's not so bad being back leaving a trail of my thoughts on the interwebs.

I'm surprised that I haven't posted since January.  I've laid out so many posts in my head.  Just never got around to logging on and typing them out.

Today marks two years of my grandma's passing.  If her death wasn't exactly one month before my birthday, I'm not sure I'd remember it.  I've noticed that as time goes by, the sharp sting of her absence has faded.  I was able to donate most of the fabric that I inherited of hers, saving back only my absolute favorites that I have plans for if I can ever eek out enough time to bring to life the vision I have for them.  I figured if she wasn't able to use them in her lifetime, and I hadn't either in two years, then I should let them go to someone else who could.  So a friend who is in the quilters guild happily took them.  I makes me smile knowing that pieces of grandma's life are touching strangers.

We don't know what kind of legacy our lives will leave once we are gone.  I doubt that grandma ever thought about what would become of her fabric collection once her sewing days were over.  I know that she never knew how much her quiet gentle spirit has affected me.  I never once heard her complain about her health, pain, circumstances.  She was always doing fine, even when she wasn't.  Her back pain was so bad and chronic that it was morphine that finally took it away.  But I never heard or saw an indication of it.  On mornings when I wake up so stiff I can hardly move, I think of her and try my best to not complain.  Some days it's not easy, that's for sure!  Hopefully by the time I reach grandmotherhood I'll have that down and I can set an example for my grandchildren.

I don't know how much of this post makes sense as it is well beyond my bedtime and I am deliriously tired.  Mostly I just can't stop staring at this picture of her at my age.  How I've always thought she was a beautiful lady, and if I am her spitting image ( didn't know about this picture until a month ago) what does that say about me?  Redefining what I think about myself once again.  Ah grandma, sure do wish you were here to see the lady that I'm becoming, and how my babes are growing up into young adults (Abi got her first bra this summer!), and our little farm.