The hardest part of living a hobby farm homestead life.

When Tumnus first came to us, we considered him a rescue goat. We were asked to home him and a female Kinder goat and two Jacob sheep from a family who thought they could have livestock even though their neighborhood covenants said no.

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We pretty much didn’t know what we were doing when we bought them. Except we were helping someone out. Tumnus was described to us as a wether. A wether is a goat who has been castrated. Goats and sheep are herd animals, and oftentimes people will have a wether to keep the other animals company.

Tumnus, whose name always seemed too big for him. was particularly endeared to me and I to him. I shortened his name to T man or Mr. T. He would rub his head against me whenever we were in close proximity. He always responded with a low bleat when I called his name.

But, T always seemed a bit off. His hooves seemed misshapen and needed more attention than the other members of the flerd. When he had been dis-budded, they had missed a small portion that sometimes doesn’t show up until the goat is older and he developed scurs. Which means although dis-budded, a little portion still grew into his head. They say you can re-do the dis-budding process but we have no iron or experience. And, honestly, I didn’t know this was the problem with his horns until a recent research project.

One day, after we homed him, T stood off and peed on his face. As I mentioned, we had no experience with livestock before this, including reproduction, or social behavior. So, when he urinated on his face, peeled his upper lip back as if the odor was  magnificent, then stuck his tongue out and wiggled it, I told Lance I thought T might have a mental issue. After researching it however, T’s mannerisms were the exact way goats woo the ladies. Which brings up another issue.

T was supposed to be castrated. There would be no reason for him to do any sort of mating ritual. No peeing on his face, or bellowing, or sniffing the femailes. After a cursory investigation, we discovered T still had a testicle. So, he either had three, or they missed one.  Sadly, this one testicle was enough to keep him in a continual state of mating desire.

When the males get like this, not only do they pee on themselves and snort and stick out their tongues, they vocalize their desire. When our granddaughter had to describe the word,’bellow,” her descriptor was Tumnus, and the picture she drew was of T opened mouthed, neck stretched out towards our female goat’s rear.

The first time we heard his too human hollering was late at night. The pasture is just outside of our second story bedroom. We sleep with the window open. I heard, ‘Hey,’ in a what I thought was a man’s voice. “Heeey,” again. I woke Lance up and told him there was a man in our yard. he listened for a minute and again, “Heeeyyyy”, was said. So Lance ran outside while I tried to light up the pasture from the bedroom window with the flashlight. “Heyyyy”. Then Lance called from the shadows, “You’re not going to believe this.” He laughed. “It’s, Tumnus!” What we didn’t know was this behavior would go on indefinitely.

In the spring, our wether Jacob sheep with his immature but sharp horns, our Nubian goat with his big horns and our male Jacob sheep with his magnificent horns, and T with these horrible looking nubby areas, would engage in rutting. There were many bouts of ramming each other in the heads. Poor T got the brunt of the battles. With just enough testosterone to embolden him, he readily engaged in every challenge and his head would bleed. Eventually his body became dotted with bloody holes, as if he’d been stabbed with round spears.

We don’t have enough acreage to separate him from the others, and if we did, he would be alone, which we were told to not do. Finally, with severely bad front hooves, holes down the back of his neck from rutting, his constant state of heightened arousal and the bashing his head was taking, we decided it would be better for him to remove him from the flerd. Permanently.

This is still troubling for me to discuss. I know people eat goat, even my people in Jamaica consider the goat as we do cows. Goat meat is used in dog food,  goat hooves, goat horns all are used by some.  I have eaten goat only once. And, I’ve never used goat for anything else. The idea is still rather foreign to me. Some people might wonder why we didn’t take him to the vet, but understand, in this homesteading venture, we live on a tight budget. There’s not a lot of room for extras. If an animal is not producing we’re going to cull it. We did the same with some turkeys this year,too.

One reason we raise our own poultry and pigs is to have healthy food. Food we know what has been fed, how it’s been raised and will be good meat for our family. But, still it’s hard to say good bye to my friend.

Thus the reason I wrote this. Even if no one reads about T-man, I do tribute him with love, respect, apologize for his tough life and thank him for the meat which did nourish our dog and barn cats and a little bit to human consumption.

T-Man, you were loved.

 

THREE LITTLE PIGS

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I slogged through the mud, the rain dripped off the brim of my hat. One hand shoved deep in my coat pockets to try to keep warm the other gripping the cold handle of the slop bucket. Ollie, Pork and Beans greeted me with happy squeals and hungry grunts as I approached the pig sty. They always make me smile. Inside the sty I dumped the slop and as they devoured it all, as if they hadn’t eaten in days, I did a visual check of the fence and the water dishes.

“This is disgusting,” I said out loud. “C’mon you guys, it looks like a pig sty in here, ha!” It really is not a pleasant place. Mud. Mud puddles, mud, and then there’s the mud that’s gotten particularly squishy because I put straw on the mud, hoping it would sop it up and let them have some clean area before their hut. But it didn’t work out like that at all. And of course, the poop. Always, the poop.

 I reached down and gave each one a scratch behind the ears and on the haunches. I told them how gorgeous they are and that they are loved, and as I stood up a flash of white in the hut caught my eye.

“Oh, gross! There are rats in there!” I whined as I said it because Lance wouldn’t be home for hours and the proper thing to do is quickly dispose of the rodents..ick and yuck. I’m really not good at the revolting things.

I adjusted my hat and bent down to peer into the dark spot trying to make out how many I would be dealing with. And, there they were…wiggling around, disgustedly rooting for food, no doubt pooping rat poop.

“You’re disgusting..little rodents…oooooo….wait…..it’s BABY PIGS!!!!!”

Probably could have heard my squeal a mile a way.

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We had guessed Ollie was pregnant but she didn’t have some of the sure fire pregnancy indicators she was supposed to.  We were getting the barn ‘nursery’ ready, but didn’t feel any hurry.  But now we had to hurry. In the first days of a piglet’s life they do not generate body heat, and they have zero immunities. They get those as they nurse from their mama. So, I had to make sure they didn’t get into the harsh elements. I picked up a baby, which made him or her SCREAM… Ollie ran into the hut at which time I put the baby down and locked the door. Essentially then, I was locking Beans and Pork out but they are pretty hardy so I reckoned they would be ok.

On my way to the Orthopedist I called Lance and told him about the piglets. I mentioned how mobile they were and that I was afraid they would just wiggle out into the mud so I had locked them in the pen with Olive. He tried really hard to not say, “they’re probably rats,” instead he said, “wow, really? You aught to send me pictures.” I don’t blame him for doubting. I actually wondered if they had been born a few days earlier because they were so mobile with sleepy open eyes. Not the typical look of baby animals I’d dealt with, which include white mice, hamsters, kittens and chicks. As you can imagine, or may know, all babies are different. Piglets are good to go when they drop, except for the whole immunity thing.

After my appointment I hurried home and raced down to the pen.

The little babies nestled next to mom. When Ollie realized I was there she stood up and strained against the door. Through the top slat I talked and scratched her head while slowly opening the door. I’m not sure if this little one in the picture below was coming towards my voice or the outside, but he speedily made his way to the front.

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I just wanted to sit out there and look at them, but you know, life was happening, so I put some more clean straw into the hut and Ollie laid down with the babies again. Pork and Beans also went in hut and it then it got quiet.

In the barn, I began organizing tools and clearing the spot we had set aside for her. I spread the remainder of our straw down, and went back to the house.

In addition to various online sites, we’ve have been reading an amazing book called Raising Pigs. I reread some notes I had taken from the sites and the books and frankly I don’t know how wild pigs survive. Before she had the piglets, we were supposed to de-worm Ollie and scrub her clean, especially her teats before we put her in the barn which was also supposed to be sterilized. Some places recommend you make a farrowing crate, in which the momma lays down, bars gently press on her teat area and the babies eat from the other side. Thus she won’t roll over on them and crush them. And the babies can freely eat whenever. That just didn’t sit well with me. First of all, where do you take a pig to give it a bath? They’re very susceptible to the chill in the air, so an outside bath would be a bad idea. Secondly, really? I just couldn’t shove her in a crate and make her lay there. Seems like a sort of factory idea. Since then I have read a few homestead blogs and learned that homesteaders do farrow as well, not just factories practice it.  Farrowing also ensures every piglet gets a teat, so all can eat. We only have 3, not worried about enough teats to go around. We failed in that area with mom. Then I learned we failed with the babies, too.

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I apologize for this blurry picture, I was trying to take it quickly so as to minimize the stress, but this little one day old piggy would not be still. By this time they should be in a sterile farrow crate, their milk teeth or wolf teeth clipped, injected with iron, notched identification marks in the ears and tails docked. None of this happened. The information out there divides, kind of like human vaccinations camps. You either love it or you don’t.  I reckon you do what  is right for you and your animals. Just keep them healthy.

As soon as Lance got home the day of the birth, we fixed up the nursery part in the barn. He brought home Sow food (we feed our livestock home mixed grains and greens to avoided the fillers in commercial feeds) but because she will need extra protein and vitamins we feed her this and give extra portions of milk. Anyways, he bought straw, too. So we fixed it up… spread the hay, put up the hog panels and gathered up the three littles, thinking Ollie would follow them into the barn, which she did, but so did Pork and Beans. All the livestock seemed very interested in what was happening and soon all the goats and sheep and turkeys were mucking around trying to get inside. We ushered Pork and Beans out and back to the pen with the allure of yummy alfalfa. Leaving just Ollie and the babies.

These are the babies in the cat carrier being transported to the barn.

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With the heat light on, fresh water, full feeder, the calm and warmth and dryness of the barn, seems to agrees with Ollie as she nurses her babies, but still I’m unsettled.( I’m very tempted to bring them all into the house, but that wouldn’t be fair to the Mic, Mags and Mouser our three barn cats who might like to be in the house, too “) )

I reckon it will take a while to get used to all the homestead/farm/animal husbandry stuff. We’re always evaluating exactly what our goals are and what we hope to accomplish. But, in the meantime, I’ve got a pretty sweet gig with God’s gorgeous creatures and I’m happy.

All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things wise and wonderful, the Lord God made them all….(a song from my childhood Sunday school days).

The Return of The Pig

Meet the swine of Baldwin Acres.

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Porky, female pig number two.

Beans

Beans. The only male swine at Baldwin Acres. He’s pretty happy to have two women keeping him company.

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Ollie. She went missing at Easter. Although the person who found her had seen our plea for our lost pig, she decided to keep her. At the time they named her Oliver and then found out she is a girl. We call her Ollie.

It was Easter Day 2015 as we introduced our two  Kune-Kune/AGH piglets to our grandchildren, when the female pig bolted out of the pen into the blackberry bushes. We immediately set live animal traps and sent lost pig posts out on social media, but to no avail. A few days later someone posted on our town’s Facebook  page that a little black pig had been seen over by the local Cemetery. My husband and I jumped in the car and headed to the graveyard. We rattled the slop pail and called for her, but she alluded us, or had already been snagged by a woman who decided she could just keep our little pig because she liked her. Disappointed we headed for home. Before she ran off, we had named the two piglets Pork and Beans. Reluctantly, we bought another black piglet one from the same litter and named her Pork 2.

We didn’t hear anything more about our little pig, and because  the homestead is busy and life and death is a reality, we thought maybe Pork 1 had become dinner to some coyote or bear or cougar. No way did we suspect a nieghbor had found her, seen our lost pigs posts and simply decided to ignore them.

Until July 4th.

On July 4th I got a notice via Facebook that a little black pig had been found and kept at a horse ranch on the same road as us. Could it be? Pork 1? We called the ranch and were told that yes, they had found a pig, and yes, she was a black female. They had found her over by the cemetery, but they really liked her. So, yes we could come see her but she would not be coming back to us.

Further notification from the lady who had initially  informed me revealed that the pig was being allowed to wander and riders were concerned she may be cougar prey. A flurry of events happened in a short amount of time. My son jumped on the ranch’s Facebook page and said he was so happy they had found his parents pig and he would be happy to come and get her. A few more of the ranch’s riders contacted me and said the pig had been there since the end of April/beginning of May and also that the owner had seen our posts (although she told some of them that she had not seen the lost pig posts). I tried to find out information about the ranch via our town Facebook page and then was banned from the page. (The moderator actually said, “how dare you try to use us to solve your legal problems). What?!?!

Small town drama ensued. People were very angry that the little pig had been kept from her rightful owners. Even the police officer, yes, the police were involved because the lady who by now I considered a pig thief, called the police on my son because she said she felt threatened. (Because he said he would come and get his parents pig).

Because it was a long weekend, and my birthday, we opted to file a police report online and then left for my birthday fishing trip. The online report was rejected because we had a suspect. I was directed to call the police. The Port Orchard police department was, for the most part, very helpful.  Although the hint of disbelief in the deputy’s voice that we were willing to go to small claims court over this was a little insulting. The thief offered $150.00 to replace the pig, while insisting , ‘it’s not your pig.”….she told the police that we were going to eat the pig. Remember she had no idea who were are (and we have never eaten any of our livestock, but, if we did,. that would be our business). We rejected the $150.00 offer. By now, we were standing on the principal of this nieghbor stealing our property and not owning it.. Finally, we told the police officer who was acting as the moderator, that we would pay for a DNA test. He presented that to the thief adding that he thought it was a fair and just way to go,  and her whole demeanor changed. She became angry and told him , “If they want the pig, they can come and get the pig.” So our son and his wife went to get the pig because we were three hours away. The thief demanded the police be there  because, she said we were ‘unreasonable.” Yes. WE were the unreasonable ones. ?!

I wasn’t there for the attempted capture of the pig, but from the description given, the woman was callous and mocking,  video taping  my son and daughter in law’s failed attempts at getting the pig, while occasionally calling the pig over to her. She said more than once, ‘want to catch a pig? Here’s how you catch a pig,” and then the pig would run off. (She seemed to take delight in the fact that the pig had ‘bonded’ to her and not my family, however, if she had done the right thing and answered our lost pig ads when she found the pig, the pig would not respond to her anymore than she did to my kids.)

Hearing  how our children were treated we  changed our plans and headed back. Our son and daughter in law felt like they had let us down because they couldn’t catch the pig, but we were glad that they left instead of subjecting themselves to the woman’s abuse.

When we got back home, we called on our son-in-law, our son, and I was going to accompany them, to get the pig. Communications and timing was off and I never did make it there. I think, though God may have kept me away. I’m not known for self control when my family is being abused. My son-in-law also brought five of our grandsons but made them stay in the car for safety.From what the men tell me, they got to the ranch and the woman was ready with her phone to video tape it all. She kept saying, “All I did was find a pig and take care of it.” SERIOUSLY? that’s the problem right there. We don’t live in a finders keepers world. You found the pig, then you ignored lost pig posts and decided you liked the pig and you kept the pig knowing the entire time it wasn’t yours.

What can be seen as a sort of unique justice, my son-in-law cornered the pig, my husband herded her into the dog kennel and closed the door. She shot out the side door and my son tackled her. He wheezed our, “I’ve got the pig.” YES!

My husband helped  her back into the kennel, all the while soothing her, and comforting her and telling her it certainly didn’t have to be this way. it could  have been solved a whole lot easier. The actions of this women are rather disconcerting, not only did she keep livestock that she never paid for and didn’t try to return it to it’s owners, although she had our information, she found out who had told me about the pig and kicked her and her horses off the property. This woman had worked with the ranch owner for a couple of years and was disheartened that she got booted out, but was also happy she had done the right thing in telling us where our pig was.

Ollie ( they had initially called her Oliver until they discovered she was a female, we call her Ollie)  obviously has been grossly overfed but we can fix that. We were concerned that she might not get along well with her sister and brother, but it was only a matter of minutes, before they were all romping and running around the pen.

Ollie returned to us with a red dog collar on, so we bought Beans a green one and Porky a pink one. Today, on a rather hot day, they took turns soaking in the wading pool and rooting out weeds. Before finally snoozing together in the shade.

I believe the swine at Baldwin Acres will be just fine.

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