Allowing some tears to fall...

Some fond memories, which were not so great at the time:

Bessie standing with about 80 other cows, hock-deep in churned up manure at her previous farm.  Me tentatively walking up to her to touch her back, as she easily shrunk back into the herd to avoid my touch. She was smart!  :)

The delivery day, when....Bessie leaped wildly out of the trailer, had no idea where she was,and nearly barged past the burly guy who had brought her to us.  She had a clear path to the surrounding fields, if only she had known...  And what flashed through my mind in that split-second was the awful thought that we, as newbies to the area, would forever be the laughingstocks in this community of farmers.  

Bessie and Lucy, two Oreo cows, standing along the fenceline in the dark that first night, and the terrible fright they caused when our previously suburban dog caught sight on nothing more than two huge white vertical "shapes" in the pitch blackness (their stripes, all that showed up in the weak beam of my flashlight) 

And then, oh boy.  She was supposed to walk into the stanchion built of 2 x 4's, so I could milk her.  It was sort of bolted to the wall.  I was supposed to close her neck between two boards, so that she would stand calmly for me to milk her.  We'd followed all the advice we could get.  The boards touched her neck, she tossed her head, trampled around a bit, ripped the stanchion right off the wall, stepped hard on my right foot, and took off.  My toe may have been broken, as I had pain there for about 6 months afterward.

It took two days to lure her into the stanchion to milk her.  She was leaking milk with every step.  She had a raging case of mastitis.  But that first sweet time of milking her, I loved every "swish" of milk into the bucket (a PLASTIC bucket, all I had).  And despite the warnings not to drink too much raw milk until my body was accustomed to it, and not knowing that mastitis was an INFECTION and that the milk should be dumped out, I drank a little.  And then took an entire glass.  It was glorious.

I remember taming her by brushing her.  Her body would relax, until her nose was resting on the ground.  If her eyes could have fluttered and if she could have let out a sigh of pure pleasure, that's what her body language was telling me.  She might be stubborn, and opinionated, but there was a chink in that cow-mentality that would let me in just a little more each day.

I remember diligently shoveling and putting down new bedding every....single....day....  Until some lightbulb moment, when I realized that this was OK to do, but it was also OK to give my wrists a rest when the carpal tunnel pain started to set in.

There were the times when the vet came out to artificially inseminate her.  Sometimes I needed to give a series of shots in the days before he came out.  In her rump.  I got pretty good at it.  And then the vet would come out with his plastic up-to-the-shoulder sleeve, and the long straw of "stuff".  It was fascinating.

The times when calves were due, and I was a basket case, waiting and wondering when it would be.  Twice I was blessed to observe the actual birth.  What joy!!! What a privilege to see the change in Bessie as she greeted and crooned to her new baby.  And her mothering skills.  I could have taken lessons from her example.  

The time we sold her 18 month old daughter.  Bessie stood out in the middle of the pasture and just gazed out into the empty fields, lost without her companion.  Something like her little son is feeling now.

The time when the dogs were frolicking in the fresh snow, and Bessie and son decided THEY would frolic as well.  The dogs hid behind me as the two Dutch Belteds kicked up their heels and kinked their tails, and got such a wicked gleam in their eye that I took the dogs out of the pasture for their own safety.  And then I  just stood at the gate and smiled at my two beautiful Belteds, acting like calves together on that beautiful, cold winter day.

Bessie had a love for Jeff.  He could cut the grass, or bring armloads of garlic mustard, and she would moo at the fence and prick her ears towards him.  Her first owner was a man.  I think she will always respond to men in a different way.  But she still thought of herself as "queen", whether with Jeff or with me.

And then the disasters of 2014...  

Bessie nudged the door open, let herself into the barn, and ate 75 pounds of grain before I found her.  The vet and I were out there at 2 in the morning, both of us swearing, trying to keep Bessie calm with a tube down her throat and a gallon or more of medicine that she needed to swallow, in order to save her.  

And the week when we were gone to Phoenix, and for all that we could piece together later, she had not been fed for some or all of those farm-sitter days.  The morning that we got back, we learned that she had been found earlier that day, wedged between stanchion and stall, her front leg rubbed raw from her efforts to stand, and a small army of neighbors, the vet, and friends had basically used a jaws-of-life reciprocating saw to cut her free and then the tremendous group effort to hoist her to her feet and see if she would survive.  She was weak for days.  She was skin and bones.  My poor girl.  She lost a pregnancy that time.  It was the set-back that ultimately led to the decision that we could no longer keep her.  My heart was broke for her sake.  

When she recovered, we literally used the "last straw" of bull stuff to impregnate her.  Her spunky Moon Child calf was the result.  I had hoped to sell them together, but that was not to be.  The little guy is a bit lost out there on his own, but starting to act curious and less afraid of me than he was when Momma was still here to hide behind.  He tried to make friends with Taffy (the farm dog) and with the pigs (who want nothing to do with a much larger creature that is not bringing food for them).  He'll be OK.

Milking Bessie was a joy even when she trampled the milk into her bedding, or when the clumpy mastitis meant that I needed to learn a new skill....how to administer the medicine by INSERTING something UP into her teats to knock out the infection in her udder...  

Well, maybe not all of it was joyful...  

Back to the joy part...the pure white liquid, swishing and swirling in the stainless steel bucket, a blessing that made me think of our God who had made all of this possible.  

In the middle of years of suburban life when I felt like I was going to drown in obligations and meetings, the idea of a farm was a saving grace.  And then in the surprising reality that we actually BOUGHT a farm and moved out of suburbia, this farm life was a taste of heaven.  Bessie was such a huge part of that.  There has been healing in the farm routine, after years of being pulled in every direction by people and obligations, mostly in the name of "good" causes.  Where do you draw the line when you see value in every request?!!!  

The farm routine and animals gave a sense of peace after years of chasing around after sports' schedules and eating in fast-food restaurants and volunteering past the bounds of what should have been humanly possible.  

Well, that's an exaggeration.  I had not learned when to say "Sorry, I can't take on that people-pleasing task" or "Sorry, I can't attend a meeting at that time" or "I'm really sorry, but I am not the person to take on that task".

This has been a time to catch my breath, recover from burning the candle at both ends AND in the middle.  Learning that it is OK to say no, even to a worthy cause that needs my time and energy.  Starting to realize that I can give myself some grace in not always being able to fulfill everyone's expectations...  And realizing that my own expectations of what I should or could accomplish are so infinitely more demanding than what anyone else is asking of me!!!  That's probably the key to all of this.  

It isn't always that God is staring me in the face with every waking moment here on the farm, but....He is definitely present in everything that is here.  There are a lot of animals here, but each one is part of a learning process.  Some will be downsized after I learn that one or another particular "venture" might not be a good fit for the long run.  Some will be continued and built on, as long as the market allows.  Some will possibly just be for meat and eggs for our own family.  It's all part of the process, and it's all OK.  God has allowed so much of a learning curve here, and somehow, it fits who He made me to be.

Anyway, this is becoming quite the rambling post.  

From having the stanchion ripped off the wall, and having a (possibly) broken toe, to that gorgeous and healthy milk in our refrigerator and knowing it was produced on OUR farm...  No matter what the work that was involved, or the complaining as I needed to prod/plead/demand help on the clean-up end of cow-ownership,  the years with a dairy cow in our menagerie will be looked back on with fondness and a bit of nostalgia.  

I loved that cow.

I am so thankful that there was a farm willing to take on and love our 12 year old cow when it was time for me to say goodbye to her.  They tell me that Bessie was the first one to walk into the milking parlor yesterday, her first morning with them.  They sent me a photo of Bessie eating at the feeder with several Jersey cows, and my reply was "She's probably thrilled to have some gals to gossip with after these years with me".  

She is where she is supposed to be.  But for 4 years, she was supposed to be here.  And I am so thankful for that time.

 

Laura

Goodbye, sweet Bess

Bessie is in her new home by now.

She let us lead her into the trailer, much less struggle or fuss than any of her offspring gave us as they left their home pasture.

She was not panicky or wild-eyed, just gazed calmly out the back as we talked to her new owners.

She looked at me with her deep, liquid brown eyes, let me pet her before she tossed her head a little, as if to say "Allright, if I'm leaving, let's get ON with it!"  

I like her new owners a lot.  They have experience with dairy cows, and the wife knows how to do artificial insemination, and they were asking all the right questions about the Dutch Belted breed and the "breeding up" program.  They have other cows, and were not afraid of Bessie when they stood next to her.  

They remarked (and made me feel so wonderful) that they would not have guessed her to be 12 years old based on her condition.  I took good care of her, after all.  :)

So, before they got here:  Bess had a possibly slight case of mastitis this morning.  Same quarter as usual (one udder, "four quarters" of that one udder, each quarter producing milk)

She stepped in one bucket of just-squeezed milk (she smelled the grain in the calf's pen and tried to reach over the wall to get it)  She knocked over a second half-bucket of milk as she shifted around to get back at her own grain in the other corner.  

She picked through the nice fresh hay that I had just dropped down for her, in search of the apple that she dropped when I hand-fed it to her...

She made me smile, and also made it so obvious that I've done all of this for 4 years, and experienced so much with and because of her, and that the timing was right for her to move on.  

Also, I was standing on 3 feet of bedding/manure pack (that needs to be shoveled someday).  That reality helped to solidify my resolve to see things through, just a bit...

Despite the dancing around which cost me half the morning's milk, we have 1 full gallon in the frig, to savor for the next few days.  I still shared with the barn kitties.  But this morning, none was sacrificed to the hogs, no matter how loudly they were squealing for it.  It was the last milk we'd have from our big Oreo cow.

Bessie was when the blog started.  The adventure started just a bit before...but the real stories started when we brought home....a dairy cow.  Then, there were stories to tell.

I love her big brown eyes, and her soft mothering "moo" (like a loving fog-horn), and the striking beauty that was all Dutch Belted, despite the Ayrshire that made up the other half of her DNA.  

Thank-you, Bessie, for all you brought to my life, mountains of manure but also gallons of the best milk I've ever tasted, and for all the lessons I learned from you.  I will miss your stubborn cow attitude, and also the moments of seeing you mother your calf, when my heart just seemed to melt because of your tenderness or fierceness.  There was much more to learn from a "mere" dairy cow than I ever would have imagined.

Blessings at your new home, and may they love you as much as I have.

Four years ago, Bessie (and Lucy the heifer) were delivered to our farm, and what an adventure it has been.  When, in my wildest dreams, did I ever think I would own and love a cow?!!!  Somehow, God saw fit to bless me with her and teach me along the way.  And then to say goodbye.

Seems this is the month to "regroup", and now...to begin the next chapter!  And I have no idea where this wild ride will take us.  :)

 

Laura

The bruised ribs...

I should have explained a little more.  Didn't mean to alarm anyone!  (Sorry for that)

A week ago, it was icy out.  I'd been stepping carefully and tentatively all day on that ice, in the cold, getting chores done while wary of where I stepped. 

Last chore of the day, close the chickens in their coop.  The timer for the light was off by a half hour, and the chicken water bowl was empty, so I stepped up into the coop which I don't normally do except in the morning.  Stepping down, with half-full water bucket in hand and flashlight not yet turned on, my boot slipped on black ice.  

I came down hard, the back of my ribcage hitting the door-way, the water bucket sloshing all over.  I swore...

It hurt, but there was barely a red mark.  I was able to get up and walk into the house.  Dinner was served.  The normal routine could be followed, with more soreness than usual...

The bruise took about 3 days to start to show.  There were a few "clicks" during the next few days, if I moved wrong in bed or reached over my head to plug in a light in the barn.  Pain if I coughed.  

My breathing was fine except for a cold.  I did call the doc's office. 

 

Yesterday (when I typed the blog), it had been 6 days, and I was supposed to go to the doctor's if it still hurt as badly.  Thursday morning, I woke up feeling stiff but not sore.

It wasn't until wrangling the slightly sick pig that the bruised area hurt again.  She and her sister are fighters, and even though Jeff held tightly on to them, it was my job to heft them up, give them the shots, and heft them up and over a different fence to bed them on dry straw for last night.  It hurt again after than, like a pulled muscle.

This morning, again, it feels more stiff than sore.  

So, I think it's fine.  Thanks to everyone who is concerned!!!  I mean that.  I am monitoring whether it continues to hurt or was just aggravated by hauling and hoisting the 50 pound butterball of a pig.  

Barring another fall on the ice (which is almost all melted now, giving way to sucking mud...gross!), I can function and am getting back under way with the normal chores here, and not just the bare minimum.

I sold a pig this morning.  $200 cash is waiting to be put in the bank account.  This is the one that could have gone 4 weeks ago, but the rescheduling was for today.

Another should leave this afternoon, this one an even trade for one of Rose's babies (born after I sold her to my friend last October)

The two Kune-AGH that were supposed to leave yesterday need an evaluation yet this morning, to see whether I call the vet to come out for the congestion, or if they are just fine.  

And Bessie is supposed to leave tomorrow.  I have photos of her last day with the calf, but....phone is not cooperating.  I'll post those later.  

I don't (for myself) have an ACTUAL diagnosis of bruised ribs, just the feeling that there is some deep tissue bruising from the fall last week, and it is still in the healing process.

 

Laura

Rescheduling, regrouping, and rescheduling again.

Pics:  Younger photos of the Kune x AGH gilts who were supposed to leave this morning.  The lightest ginger-colored one, and the black one...  

Oh boy, 

So many (potential) sales.  So many rescheduled or re-planned sales.  And when one is rescheduled, it starts a domino effect of having to plan differently and budget for more feed, for a larger number of animals than was expected to be here at this point....

So many pigs who could be leaving the farm, but have not left just yet.

The farmer from Indiana has rescheduled pick-up for the boar Lawnmower, the sow Cameo, and Bea's daughter Sassy.  Those pigs are still housed in the barn, where their deep bedding has become mushy with the unexpected thaw.  Today's job will be to temporarily move the boar (all 250 pounds of him!), clean out the soggy stuff, and put down fresh straw.

Today, two of the Kune-AGH 6 month old piglets should have left.  We were all set.  Appointment was made, half an hour from when the pig customer would have left his house to head out way.  Pigs were fed in the large dog crate and closed in.  Then I heard it...congestion, snuffly breathing.  Now, these pigs have smushed-up noses, unlike the purebred Guinea Hogs, so it could be that.  But it could be respiratory problems.  And I had to call the customer, and then the vet, and *I* was the one to reschedule...  

The unfortunate thing...I already look like a bit of a "flake" to this man.  When he bought his first two pigs from me, one of them was acting like she was sick and I canceled his first pick-up time (on the vet's advice) and rescheduled for 3 days later, when the gilt was acting just fine.  Now I've had to do it again.

I'll dose the pigs with the medicine the vet said to use, which (thankfully, and because of his advice a year ago, I actually have on hand!), and tomorrow we'll see if they are breathing differently.  Everything in their pens and nests is a bit damp, so it wouldn't be surprising if the pigs DO have some sort of respiratory thing going on.  Sigh.  I had a plan to shovel out damp bedding in the pig stalls in the barn anyway, but will need to re-think who goes where, to get these two gilts onto dry straw.

Tomorrow, two of Cameo's gilts should leave.  One was supposed to be picked up on Tuesday, but we had an ice storm.  One was supposed to be picked up a month ago, but the farmer down-state didn't have his hog housing ready.  I think I can count on ONE of them being picked up tomorrow...  But I was supposed to be heading to a friend's place to pick up two goats that belong to me.  Rescheduled.

All of this, in the middle of dreary weather, with bruised ribs making it hard to keep up with the basic tasks, and a rather foreboding sense of depression that is just waiting to set in.  

It won't, and I know that things will fall into place with pigs being picked up, and with Bessie leaving, and my ribs feeling better...and work getting done.

Just some winter days, it feels as if no progress will ever be made.

Baby season is just around the corner.  Something to look forward to!  Something to prepare for.  

Now to just get these pigs picked up and out of the barn stalls, so that I can prepare for the goat and sheep maternity wards!!!

 

Laura

Sweet Bessie

Yes....Sweet Bessie.  (Most of the time.)  

Opinionated, sometimes pushy, but I have sure learned an encyclopedia's worth of knowledge from having this cow in my care.

She's been a constant presence here, for over 4 years. There have been calves, and much to learn whenever the vet comes out... 

I learned that it is perfectly OK to carry a stick (for directing defiant cows, or for swatting them on the butt).  

It is OK to smack a cow between the eyes with the palm of my hand, because a 1000 pound animal that is crowding me needs to remember the safety zone.

It is OK to stand back and watch a birth...without rushing in to "help".  Bessie has not needed my help even once, and two out of four times has managed to evade my watchful eye and deliver the calf when I happened NOT to be present.

It is OK and even fun, to watch a small 45 pound blonde whirlwind (Taffy) expertly nip and bark at Bessie's heels when we need to bring her back to where she belongs.

It is OK to love such a large animal, and a beautiful thing to stroke or brush her and have her relax to the point that her nose is resting on the ground...

Allright, it's too soon for the waterworks to start!

There has been milk to experiment with... cheesemaking ("user-error" attempts except for cheese curds, which I can manage), delicious butter, microwave mozarella that was quite tasty, table milk that I will miss terribly. No other milk has tasted quite as good as Dutch Belted milk from our own cow.

In a week or so, she will move on to new pastures, at a farm quite a bit south of here. Talking to her new owners, I am sure she'll have great care, and a good life. 

She is healthy, bright-eyed, still opinionated but a bit calmer than when we first brought her here.  

A great mother.  I worry about coyotes getting into the pasture, but the only real danger to Bessie's calf would be when she is in the act of delivering it.  Before or after that, if there is a threat to her baby, WATCH OUT!!!  :)

At age 12, she is still providing lots of fresh milk that our family will miss, milk that a new family will enjoy. 

I'm treasuring these last days with her, not looking forward to loading her into someone else's trailer, but happy that she will be cared for.

 

Laura

Momentum....interrupted

Photos:  Two of Cameo and Lawnmower's most recent litter, and handsome gentle-giant Lawnmower the boar

What to do when your "momentum" is interrupted.  This is a hard one for me.

Examples:

Sick 9 week old rabbits....interrupted sales.

Bitter cold....longer time hauling water than anticipated.

Waiting for the feed delivery...rabbits get hay while we wait for their pellets on the delivery truck...

Break in the single digit temperatures....the hose needs to be run for refilling water barrels and troughs.

And this one:  

Hogs set up in the barn for the last month, for a buyer's ease in loading them this morning....sale delayed.

Our boar Lawnmower, sow Cameo, and Bea's youngster "Sassy Bea" (the little one who did the Winnie-the-Pooh imitation*) were supposed to go to Indiana, for a breeders start-up American Guinea Hog breeding program.  

They were brought into the barn for easier care, viewing, and loading.

The sale was arranged around Thanksgiving.  The deposit was received.  The hogs were brought into the barn between snow storms and cold snaps, so that when the arranged pick-up day (today) arrived, no snow/ice/bitter temperatures would stand in the way.

Vet came out last week to issue the necessary paperwork, for Illinois hogs to leave the state and enter Indiana.

All was (and still is) in order.

The day after the vet was here, I got word from the buyer.  Truck broke down.  Repairs cost around the same amount still owed for the hogs.  Not sure on timing for pick-up, or if he'd even still be able to buy them.  

Sigh.

Choices:  I can choose to wait for him.  The vet papers are valid for transport for 30 days.  

Or I could keep his deposit.  I could refund his deposit (minus the vet fee).  I could move the hogs back to the outside pens and re-integrate them into the breeding line-up for the rest of the year.  

I could and probably should market the three of them again as a breeding trio of unrelated hogs, who will produce low COI (inbreeding %) piglets, and their piglets will/should be quality hogs with good growth rate...  And someone else may be the lucky winner of a nicely put together starter package...

It is a breeding trio that was hand-picked, which I wouldn't mind keeping.  

However:  The plans for this year did not include these three, because of the "sale".  I've already bred the remaining pigs for spring piglets with the absence of these three in mind.  And the numbers of hogs on the property was better if these three favorites were sold.  Sigh, again.

A new wrinkle...  The Lincoln Park "Farm in the Zoo" finally contacted me, and wants to "rent" pigs from us.  They have a program set up where our vet approves certain types of livestock for the zoo to bring in, the zoo representative picks up the expectant mama from our farm, the Chicago zoo visitors get to observe farm animals (what a novel idea!!!....sarcastic tone intended), and baby piglets or other types of young farm animals are at the "farm" part of the zoo for a few months before mama and babies are returned to the farm of origin and the next pregnant mama is brought back to the zoo...  

It is not a petting zoo where babies would be mauled by clumsy visitors.  They have a full vet staff, and there is an observation area but the general public is not milling around with mama hog and baby piglets.  

I talked at length with the representative about what timing might work, how the pregnant mothers adapt with the transportation, all the details that were trying to set off red flags in my over-protective brain...   We will give it a try, if we pass the upcoming "inspection"...  

The presence of Cameo (if she stays) would be perfect for this Farm in the Zoo program.  

The presence of Lawnmower (if he stays) would still fit in well with the piglet production here (although I don't need him, I LIKE him...)

The presence of Sassy Bea keeps some good genetics here, which I also have in the presence of her mother (Bea) and her half sister (Batman's daughter by Cameo).  

So what to do.  Momentum interrupted.  Pigs are not leaving today.  Pigs might not leave anytime soon.  The plan might be completely changed and rearranged...and the rearranged again...and again...and once more.

And here I sit, typing, because the plans for the day were to be ready to load pigs, to accept payment, to get the money to the bank...  Sigh, times three.

Anyway, for today, the pigs received the usual attention inside the barn.  Lawnmower flopped his full-grown 250+ bulk on the ground for his jowl rub and inch forward so that I can reach to his belly.  Cameo allowed me to scratch behind her ears ONLY if there is food involved.  And Sassy Bea looked at me warily, her usual tightly-wound self, and squealed in indignation if I reach in to invade her space.

I'd like to see the customer get these three and have a good start on his breeding program.  But it is not in my control.  

Audible....SIGH.

 

Laura

*Winnie-the-Pooh demonstration by Sassy Bea:  This is the piglet who routinely hopped through the livestock panels and went foraging wherever she pleased in the barnyard and barn.  At one point, she ate so much chicken feed that she could only lie forlornly outside of the pig pen, waiting for her large belly to reduce in size.  She squeezed back in at some point that afternoon, but it was the last time she went strolling confidently around the property to go wherever she pleased.  :)

Piggy Pairs

Happy New Year!  

Today, the first day of 2017, the American Guinea Hog pairs were out in their pens, enjoying the mild temperatures and sunshine.  

They met each other a few weeks ago, just before the snow storm and terrible cold temperatures set in.  I would have waited a few more weeks, but....worrying that the gates would be frozen to the ground indefinitely, I opted to introduce the males to the females a bit earlier than planned.  And a good thing, too.  The weather certainly did freeze anything and everything, and only in the past few days would I have been able to say "And now...allow me to usher you into the presence of your soul-mate"

Usually, I obsess about whether or not they are being more than *friendly*....but the brutal wind and temperatures in the teens made that observing process a bit impractical...  So we'll guess at due dates, which will drive me crazy until their piglets make their spring appearances.  :)  

Huddled in their little A-frame pallet houses, they had plenty of time to get cozy...but staying warm may have been the priority for a few weeks there!

From left to right in each photo: 

CC's Bag of Chips (boar) and Old Beach Setty Raspberry (gilt) are bred for early to mid-April piglets.   Chips is a little on the young side, and Raspberry will be one year old in March.

And....Dykstra's Camille (yes, Cameo's 2016 baby by Batman!!!) and Old Beach Setty Michigan are bred for a slightly later litter.   Camille will be one year old in April, while Michigan is just a month older than she is.  

Raspberry (Razz) and Michigan (Mitch) are full siblings, all the way from the northern reaches of Wisconsin, with a very nice  (and enviable) pedigree, if you're breeding with preservation in mind.  Obviously they won't be bred to each other, so....enter Camille for Mitch, and Chips for Razz.

Chips is the boar which we brought back from Kentucky, because of what his pedigree would add to our breeding program.

And Camille.  She is a Batman daughter, bringing strong traits from her father into the mix.  If I had known which direction our goals with these pigs would be taking us, Batman would not have left the farm for my friend's place in Wisconsin.  But I'm excited to see what his daughter adds to the mix!  I had planned to sell her, but as time went on and no-one else wanted a gilt from Cameo's spring 2015 litter, I began to see a lot of potential in the "leftover" gilt, and when we acquired Mitch, I knew he would be paired with her...

Both pairs have strong "Setty" influence from both boar and gilt, and it will be exciting to see what traits are present in each litter.  

(A bit of Guinea Hog history:  When it was realized 20 or 30 years ago how rare this breed had become, only ELEVEN hogs were found across the country which were deemed purebred and worthy of keeping the breed from extinction.  They were registered and became the "founding hogs" for the present day registered population of guinea hogs. "Setty" is the herd-name of a few of those hogs.  Represented in the pedigrees of the four hogs pictures, we see Setty Houdini, Setty Rose, and Setty Little Old Stiff Guy among the other names...  Because the focus lately seems to have been on achievinng the lowest % of inbreeding, the pedigrees are starting to look a bit of a mish-mash, and specific lines are becoming blurred...)  

With these hogs, and their specific pedigrees, this is my little experiment.  It may not yield any spectacular hogs, but it will address my interest to "play" with genetics a bit, while keeping in mind that once everything becomes too mixed up, the specific traits will/would be lost!  It is part of the challenge, and the adventure...wondering which traits could be lost, experimenting with which strengths should be maintained and preserved.  And since all of our livestock are heritage breeds, meaning....old-time valuable breeds in which the numbers are low and sometimes even dangerously low...it is important to understand as much about the genetics as I can wrap my mind around.

I can tell you some instances from my very limited experience...  Rose passed on her pigeon-toed front ankles and her inverted nipples to some of her offspring, and it was interesting to see that when I paired her with one boar, the traits showed up in MORE piglets than in the previous pairing.  If Rose had not moved to another farm, there would have been some breeding to explore that inheritance a bit more.

And this "trait" which also seems to have some genetic importance...  If you're reading out loud to a small child, or easily blush when body parts are talked about, best to skip to the next paragraph!  When Cameo was bred to Batman, she produced some very nice piglets, very well endowed (the males).  Very easy to castrate.  The vet had a marvelously easy time.  Cameo paired with Lawnmower produced a larger litter.  The babies are a little smaller in size but not by much.  Certain parts were not so....um....obvious as in Batman's male offspring.  When it came to castrating...the vet declared that he had NEVER had such a difficult time.  Swear words were muttered through clenched teeth...  Something about the connecting tissues in the Cameo/Lawnmower babies made it so much more difficult to find and remove certain things.   Ahem.  That trait, as well, could be explored in future breedings.

And back to spring piglets and happy thoughts.  

Not pictured: Bea (aka RAF Anna Suey) was bred *either* by Chips for late February babies (not the intended match!), or hopefully by Ham Sweet Farm Lawnmower for mid- to late-March.  If it was Chips, I expect a small litter.  But then, this is BEA we're talking about.  Her last litter was eleven!

The next two months may be cold, or even VERY cold, but knowing that piglets are in process and waiting to make their spring-time appearance is a happy thought.

 

Laura