Grad student ? Come on down !

Really, last week was fantastic with all our numerous farm visitors. Seems everyone is interested in our Gentle Giants

From left: Pregnant Red Wattle Lacey, Pregnant Red Wattle Debbie,
Far From Pregnant Red Wattle Farmer Keith, Pregant Crossbred Leopard
and Very Pregnant Red Wattle Morticia

On Friday we had another graduate student, just like Sasha, except this one was female, did not have a beard (hey, you never know, some of us middle age women lose track of our hair chins from time to time) and attended school in Massachusetts. Specifically her name was Kristin from Goddard College. Her topic was, "The Central Illinois Farmer Photo-Dairy Project" and involved an interview, a tour, photos she took and the opportunity for me to submit photos as well. Kristin also taught me the meaning of the phrase "Visual Ethnography."  Now, over 3 dys later, I of course cannot remember the definition, but I did log the phrase into my notebook of Name Ideas for Future Alternative Rock Bands.

Kristen Thiel, dedicated grad student, fighting her way
past the ever ferocious Fannie to get photos of naughty
Freddie locked away in the feed shed.

Unfortunately, the weather was cold and rainy. Very cold, and rainy and a tad windy. Then a F3 windy. So windy that just as we were finishing up with Kristin and right before the Pollock family arrived with their girl Barbara, our large calf hutch was lifted up into the air and thrown  mercilessly to the ground, releasing several animated calves into the yard.  Herd dog Freddie, still mostly untrained , would circle one calf while three others ran past him, then he'd chase that group leaving the one he did have under control to start running the wrong way. What a zoo !

Eventually all the wind blown animals were restrained into a makeshift yard of single wire electric fencing allowing us to thank Kristen for her time and usher the Pollacks down to the barn so their gal, a stunning Red Wattle looking for love, could be unloaded between tornados. In between rain showers we were able to load Mad Max out of his pasture and into our trailer and escort him to Barbra's love lair. Funny thing about that Mad Max. Loading him required virtually no effort on Keith's part other than telling Max why he had to get into the trailer. He practically RAN into it, the little horn hog that he is.

Mad Max to the right and the petite Lady Barbara to the left

Once Babs and Max were properly introduced, "Pig, meet pig," they seemed only mildly interested in each other. They were however, greatly interested in the grain Keith spread out for them. But you learn quite a bit about someone the first time you share a meal with them, so who are we to question their priorities ? This will be Max's first girl from another farm and we are all looking forward to the results. Hopefully a happy healthy litter of the still critically Red Wattles in 4 months time. We know they will be gorgeous because that Barbara is some looker. The Lucille Ball of Red Wattles I would say. Shiny copper red hair with a glimmer of gold. Made our Max look a little dull but of course I did not say this out loud. Would hate to deflate that ego of his when he needed it most.

After dinner, the couple takes a stroll. Max waits to make his move.

Putting these two together required (by me) the writing of my first semen contract. An interesting list of do's and don'ts regarding who was responsible for what, when and where. Although it  was fairly simple, I took the contract writing  very seriously until some goofball cousin of mine, via Facebook, suggested I should now be referred to as "Semen Meister".

I get no respect. Nada

Knock Knock...its me, opportunity.



The Critically Endangered Red Wattle Hog. To save
him is to eat him

So I'm sitting on my very comfy couch  in my sorta red but not quite cinnamon colored robe, reading the latest edition of Scientific American  thinking how happy I am that it is Wednesday and I do not need to go anywhere thank the heavens because even though it IS only Wednesday we've already had this really really crazy super busy week with too many meetings and too much rain which caused all this mud that makes doing chores that much harder, when I hear knocking on the door.

I will admit...I considered pretending I wasn't home.

The knocking continued. I stood up and plodded my way to the kitchen door. There was friend and fellow farmer Kim Snyder of Faith's Farm. She was very excited. " 175 pounds...They called...dropped out...farmer...they need another pig... you have  pig ?!?!...A heritage hog...its big really big... going to call right back...its big this thing...gotta know now...big...Keith said you to talk to.."

After throwing enough ice water in her face to get her to complete a  few sentences,  her phone rang.  "Yes Michael, she's right here."  (See, the ice water worked. A common misconception is the need to slap a hysterical woman. I find that action to be overkill and not as much fun as the shock of the ice water trick.) Back to the phone. Enter Michael Sullivan  AKA  The Reverend of Fat. Really that's what he said his name was. Turns out he was one of the coordinator on this years Cochun 555 event , THE pork event of the year. Read more here http://www.cochon555.com/  Briefly the event involves 5 top chefs, 5 heritage hogs, 5 top wines, tons of media and lots of fun.

I knew nothing of such an event. Never even heard of Mr. Cucucachu or his 555 porcine friends. Turns out though that our friend Kim knew about it as she had been asked to deliver one of her heritage hogs for the event. This morning after dropping off that hog at the Chenoa locker she dropped by our house to buy some milk. As she was leaving her phone rang and a very upset and worried "Reverend" called to tell her one of the other farmers who was supposed to provide a hog for the event was suddenly unable to and, here's the really good part, did she know anyone else who raised heritage hogs ?

That is why she turned back around (livestock trailer and all) and ended up banging on my back door at the crack of  dawn . (8 am for me is indeed the crack of dawn. I may be awake at 6am but I do not begin to compute until 10 am and the coffee pot is sucked dry)  So, long story abort...I agreed to the request, honored to be asked even if we were runners up. Keith and I went to the barn , picked out the perfect hog with nice wobbly wattles and a "winning !"  smile that would make even Charlie Sheen proud, and escorted him onto the trailer.

The weird thing was, this Red Wattle was in a pen with 20 other hogs and when we came into the barn he just walked up to the gate like he was happy to be Dead Ham Walking. We opened the gate, he sauntered down the barn aisle and even took enough time to pause at the end of the trailer, turn and wave to his friends left back in the barn !  I told you it was weird.

Oh baby !

Last night was an eeire and weird sort of night. Rolling clouds, bright full moon, breezes too warm causing the midlife farmwife to swoon. Sorry.  The last time I "swooned"  was 1975 and I'm pretty sure it was not romance related.

So, the sky was very Fall like, but last I looked it was still February in Central Illinois. Something is up, I thought.

This morning when Keith did chores he found this wonderful sight

Our crossbred sow Dot with her FOURTEEN piglets ! She looks very comfy and satisfied doesn't she ? I always had my babies just ONE at a time and I know I never looked this good after delivery. She farrowed in one of the custom made hutches Keith custom made this past summer. Its a great design with plenty of room for mom and babes and an area in the back that babies can snuggle into but remain safe from mom accidentally lying on them.

See the boards (two 2x4's nailed together) behind Dot ? And the way the hutch roof angles towards to bottom of the hutch.? Both these measures help decrease losses due to crushing. Those and the fact that mom can come in and out of the hutch as she pleases with lots of room to roam outside. Ideally we would have them farrowing in the woods, if we had any woods, but we do not so we do the best we can with the pasture and the hutches we have. With each version of this farrowing hutch Keith tweaks a part of the design and our survival rates improve. Another decade or so and we'll have this hog raising thing licked...chewed ? Smoked ?

Ooops. I forgot to thank Mad Maxx our Red Wattle Boar and daddy to these piglets. What a great job he did of passing down his Red Wattle coloring. Tomorrow we'll count wattles.

"We're moving on up...

to the East side. To a dee-luxe apartment in the sky ." Well, its not exactly in the sky but it is a move up for our four sows and it is on the east side of our property and it sure is deluxe. Yesterday Keith and Kyle loaded up the four girls with promises of a big straw filled bed and lots of room to roam. They loaded like a dream and unloaded just as nicely. Of course it was helpful that the guys had put out large pans of ground corn  for them in front of the new digs. Always works for me.

While the other girls chowed down, Lady Anna, our "boss hog" began walking up and down the fence perimeter, checking out the neighborhood. After eating, Little Debbie got on-line and ordered new comforters while Dot and Spot shopped for nursery items. If Fritz (God rest his soul) did his job, we have just 7 weeks until our first litter of piglets is due.

While the men folk were playing with the sow folk I finished our first grant application and sent it off. The grant took a large amount of time but I have to admit I enjoyed doing it. Reminded me of the old budget days at OSF St. James where you could not just ASK for money you had to fully validate WHY you needed it, HOW you would use it and WHAT you would do if your budget plans did not pan out. Too bad our own President isn't being held as accountable. Of course he was not trained by Paula Corrigan  CFO, like I was.

Your opinion please.

When I entered the barn last night Mad Max and Cagney confronted me about the lack of comments in regards to recent Red Wattle postings. Several of you  non-swine types have also been telling  me for some time you would like to comment on my blog but have had difficulty doing so. Let me clarify. You have had no difficulty telling me VERBALLY when you see me but the trouble has been in leaving a written comment on my blog. Please try again. I have redone several of my blog settings and it should allow every Tom, Dick and Mary to be able to leave a comment. (Should I be frightened ?)