I didn’t want house goats. But I didn’t want dead baby goats either, and it was starting to look like those two desires were in conflict. Yeah so these two were actually born yesterday. I have dithered over whether to show them to you because their survival is dicey. This morning I brought them inside […]
February is, mostly the most boring time of the farming year. It’s a time of waiting for other things to happen. Everything that can be done is done and it feels like lambs will never arrive and spring will never roll back around again and …. And then Ella proves me wrong by deciding to […]
Look, blame Ursula Vernon for this, OK? She quipped on Twitter that I was like the Fox Fire books, but set in hell, and then I started tweeting out snippets of wisdom from the alternate universe in my brain where, in fact, the Fox Fire books were set in hell. And then a bunch of […]
The two table lambs go off to slaughter today. It’s the first time I’ve ever taken any of my animals off the property to have them converted into food. I’m naturally nervous and a little stressed by it and feel like it’s a farmer fail, but after raising them for 9 months I just couldn’t […]
Whew. Every winter I get “Long December” by the Counting Crows stuck in my head. It’s one of the surest signs I’m Gen X next to my propensity for wearing large flannel shirts and stompy boots and insisting that grunge was the purest expression of rock and roll ever to exist. So we’ve had ten […]
That’s right, we have not one but two sheep who need name suggestions. And I still need to draw a name for the little light phase Soay wether, so once these two ewes have their suggestions in we’ll just draw all kinds of names in one swell foop. Or rather I’ll put a bunch of […]
Everyone here seems to have survived the “bomb cyclone” – we’re far enough west that we just caught the edge and got maybe an inch of snow as you can see from the above photo. The polar vortex still has us in its grip, though, with sub-freezing highs and brutal lows predicted to continue until […]
Y’all. For two years now we’ve had Piggy Bank, a mild-mannered and well-behaved little boar who is known for his love of tummy rubs and business-like trot where food is involved. Even when Maggie was breaking out of the fence he stayed peacefully in confinement, doing his pig thing.
And then sometime night before last or in the early morning hours of yesterday, he broke out of the fence and traveled a quarter mile down the road to a house where another mini-pig boar lives. We found out because the same animal control lady who dealt with Maggie texted us and let us know. But by the time we got down there, he’d melted into the woods. Great.
Then that afternoon the people who lived there came up to the house because he came back, broke into their pig’s pen, and kicked his ass. We went down there to try to recapture our little asshole and he went zooming off into the woods again, leading us on nearly a mile long chase before we lost him. Right. Great.
This morning the neighbor stopped by, Piggy Bank came back only this time he broke the other pig out and tried to lure him off to a life of freedom in the surrounding woods. Which I guess is better than trying to kill him but JESUS CHRIST REALLY?? The other pig happily went back to captivity but Piggy Bank melted away into the surrounding forest, oinking balefully. He appears to have decided to go completely feral in the space of 36 hours and now wants accomplices.
I mean what the fuck. TWO YEARS with not a single indication he was longing for freedom and now he’s all “I AM WILD BOAR”. The next step is probably you start putting food in a crate down at the neighbor’s house to see if we can trap him and drag him back home squealing and kicking. But really, goddamned pigs.
It feels weird to be doing my year in review now. When you’re a shepherd of tiny Neolithic British sheep you start to really understand why British Celts started their new year around the first of November – late October and early November are when the sheep start breeding the new lamb crop, you see. […]
If this were a real post, there would be more screaming.