First off can I just say that even more annoying than pork is accidentally deleting a blog post you wrote on your Blogger iPhone app. Because I'm not just writing it once, I had to write it in my head while I did farm chores, then I wrote in on my phone and now I'm writing it again. Blarg. Anyway, Pork, the most annoying white meat...
I haven't been a 'farmer' for a long time but in my combined years of 'farming' here and in Alberta I haven't come across a more difficult type of livestock than pigs. Not even Sir Loin, my Dexter Bull getting loose and using my newly planted orchard as his personal back scratcher compares to the headaches these three oinkers have given me.
Can I mention at this time that I also hate weed whacking? I don't even own a weed whacker because I would rather have the grass growing around the foundation of my house; around my fruit trees; around the boulders in my yard, than have to get out another tool to deal with it. Anyway, I hate weed whacking. I know, doesn't seem relevant. Well it is. Back to the pork...
One of the Miss Piggies has been getting out of the electrified pig field for the last two days. She could have been flying out for all I could see there wasn't a bloody breach in the fence anywhere. Last night I came home to find her having a nice time digging in the radishes after she had wandered all over the yard tipping over things and digging holes with her nose. It was also a nice time finding a puff of feathers that earlier in the day had been a chicken. That will be a mystery of course because puffs of chicken feathers only show up when I'm not at home; unless its the ravens teaching their baby devil spawn how to rip my chicken's heads off because they have no problem doing that while I am at home.
So this evening rather than kicking back and enjoying a cold one after another successful Burger Night fundraiser I set out to figure out what the hell was wrong with the pig field. There I was, kitchen scissors in hand trimming the grass that could possibly be tripping the electric wire. Kitchen scissors. Because remember, I don't like weed whackers. I'm an idiot. Its like a make work project. If only I had a weed whacker I wouldn't be trimming grass with scissors! Blarg. In the end, it wasn't grass that had done the deed allowing the bacon factory on legs to walk through the fence, it was the fact that one of them had flipped a 50 pound rock over on the wire. The rock was removed(a snake was sleeping underneath), the wire was re tightened and the fence was plugged back in. I haven't heard any electrifying squeals yet but morning will tell whether I fixed the problem(for now) or not.
A face only a mother could love.
And while we are on the topic of annoying animals, this darling, Indi, my second 'child'; garbage picker extraordinaire; chocolate birthday cake eater; steal the food right out of the kid's hand kind of dog struck again this afternoon eating an entire batch of brownies off the kitchen table that my mom had baked for Burger Night. I love her but after that I want to hug her until she sleeps forever. Plus she's filling my entire house with stinky ate-an-entire-batch-of-brownie farts. Dogs are gross.
I haven't been a 'farmer' for a long time but in my combined years of 'farming' here and in Alberta I haven't come across a more difficult type of livestock than pigs. Not even Sir Loin, my Dexter Bull getting loose and using my newly planted orchard as his personal back scratcher compares to the headaches these three oinkers have given me.
Can I mention at this time that I also hate weed whacking? I don't even own a weed whacker because I would rather have the grass growing around the foundation of my house; around my fruit trees; around the boulders in my yard, than have to get out another tool to deal with it. Anyway, I hate weed whacking. I know, doesn't seem relevant. Well it is. Back to the pork...
One of the Miss Piggies has been getting out of the electrified pig field for the last two days. She could have been flying out for all I could see there wasn't a bloody breach in the fence anywhere. Last night I came home to find her having a nice time digging in the radishes after she had wandered all over the yard tipping over things and digging holes with her nose. It was also a nice time finding a puff of feathers that earlier in the day had been a chicken. That will be a mystery of course because puffs of chicken feathers only show up when I'm not at home; unless its the ravens teaching their baby devil spawn how to rip my chicken's heads off because they have no problem doing that while I am at home.
So this evening rather than kicking back and enjoying a cold one after another successful Burger Night fundraiser I set out to figure out what the hell was wrong with the pig field. There I was, kitchen scissors in hand trimming the grass that could possibly be tripping the electric wire. Kitchen scissors. Because remember, I don't like weed whackers. I'm an idiot. Its like a make work project. If only I had a weed whacker I wouldn't be trimming grass with scissors! Blarg. In the end, it wasn't grass that had done the deed allowing the bacon factory on legs to walk through the fence, it was the fact that one of them had flipped a 50 pound rock over on the wire. The rock was removed(a snake was sleeping underneath), the wire was re tightened and the fence was plugged back in. I haven't heard any electrifying squeals yet but morning will tell whether I fixed the problem(for now) or not.
A face only a mother could love.
And while we are on the topic of annoying animals, this darling, Indi, my second 'child'; garbage picker extraordinaire; chocolate birthday cake eater; steal the food right out of the kid's hand kind of dog struck again this afternoon eating an entire batch of brownies off the kitchen table that my mom had baked for Burger Night. I love her but after that I want to hug her until she sleeps forever. Plus she's filling my entire house with stinky ate-an-entire-batch-of-brownie farts. Dogs are gross.
Pigs. Blarg.
Dogs. Blarg.
I just love baby ducklings and that's all.
