Pig Parable

It has been a real slog lately.  All of the snow and subsequent rain left the pig pen a quagmire.  The porkers pushed all of the straw to the side of the pleasure dome collapsing the roof.  Filthy little beasts.  The original hog panel enclosure was sufficient for two animals but the third really multiples how quickly an area is reduced to muck and deep mud.

Mud raking

Petunia, Marigold and Piggy seemed unfazed by their filthy hovel and the general malaise brought about by winter.  They are growing at a good clip albeit at different rates.  Both girls are thriving and gaining girth around their bellies and sides.  Piggy is lower to the ground and at times seems a step slower but is certainly within striking distance of his kin.

The pen area has been doubled merely by adding two panels.  The panels incidentally can be a real challenge to transport because they are sixteen feet long and four feet high.  It is a good thing that they are flexible as I was able to bend them into the pack of the pickup truck I had rented.

Set boundaries

Moving the pen is to higher ground is not overly difficult but one can get mired in the muck.  The pigs were thrilled to be on solid sod again.  They squealed and oinked as they moved onto greener pasture.  The chickens also benefit by pecking around the trenches of unearthed sod looking for leftover bugs.

After the pen was moved, the three little pigs were given a healthy ration of grain and fed kitchen scraps consisting of some leeks, eggs shells and an aborted pizza.

The pizza was a spectacular failure a few days nights before.  If you have ever made pizza you know that there is a moment of truth when you have your pie loaded on your peel and try to slide it onto the pizza stone.  In our case, the peel was short of flour or corn meal because when I tried to shimmy the pizza off, it sputtered and a couple shreds of cheese flew off but that was it.  I tried again and the pizza did a NBA-esque step fake where all of the sauce and cheese went in one direction and the dough remained fixed to the peel.  The dough was dumped unceremoniously on top of the gooey mess with the hope that the whole fiasco could be salvaged into a calzone of sorts. Talk about putting lipstick on a pig.

In the end, the pizza turned out to be an unmitigated disaster.  It looked like baby Voldemort at the beginning of the heaven-like Kings Cross station scene with Harry Potter and Dumbledore.  Rather than waste it, the pizza that must not be named was given to the pigs and a riot ensued.

Hog wild

Out of the gates, Petunia tried to monopolize the pizza fetus by boxing out the other pigs and standing in the trough.  She seemed to be the clear front runner.  Marigold would not stand for this and put her snout underneath Petunia's hind legs and upended Petunia on her head.  At this point, the girls started to scrap and nudge for better position.  During the ensuing melee, Piggy who had been waiting in the wings, snuck in and grabbed the pizza abomination and ran off with it but not before Thomas the Cock pecked out a juicy strand of cheesy goodness.

He who remains above the fray gets the last laugh.

In the end, Piggy made out like the bandit that he is.  The two other pigs were overly cocky with their large reserves of fat and muscle to notice the pig of lessor stature steal away with the prize amid all of the mud flinging. 

Meet the Porkers

Bye bye fence.

There has been a lot of action on the farm lately.  The garden lies in repose but we cannot afford to remain idle.  There are fences to be demolished and ironically, mended and installed.  The chicken coop has been moved which is more of a feat than it sounds.  The coop probably weights at least five hundred pounds.  In hindsight, it should have been built with lighter materials and wheels.  Skids were added under the coop.  My neighbor graciously let us borrow his tractor to haul it fifty feet to its new site which is closer to water and electricity.  Moving the coop gave me serious tractor envy.

Hello greenhouse hoops.

Speaking of toys, our farm could really use a full-sized pickup truck.  A week and half ago we brought home three little pigs from Bruce King http://ebeyfarm.blogspot.com/.  In addition to the pigs, the car was loaded to the gills with five by five by eight foot long juniper timbers and a full keg.  The timbers will be the base of a greenhouse and the keg is for all-grain beer brewing.  The juniper smells like cedar while the pigs smelled like pigs.  In fact, to this day the car still smells piggy.

Marigold, Piggy and Petunia eating out of a handcrafted trough.

The pigs are predominantly Berkshire, hence the black markings.  Berkshire pigs are a heritage variety known for higher marbling and darker flesh.  My father-in-law, who has raised his share of animals and pigs, says that they have more of a “dish face”.  Not sure what that means but they do have a more upturned snout than our previous pigs.  Their backs appear more humped too.  They are much calmer than the two Durocs that we got last year.  

Hmmm, brussell sprouts or an old gingerbread house?

The two little ones are siblings.  They were in a paddock with about fifty other pink pigs.  They were the only ones of their type and Piggy had scars on his flank.  Not sure why the other pigs would have beat-up on him but I have noticed discrimination amongst the different chicken breeds that we keep.  It is true that “birds of a feather flock together.”

The third pig, Petunia, was still in a farrowing pen with her mother and siblings.  Her red coloration mostly likely indicates that she is part Duroc though I am no pig expert.  She was by far the largest of the litter.  She likes to ham it up by running laps around the pig dome and standing on top of Piggy.  Poor Piggy.  All he can do is squeal mercy until something else catches Petunia’s whim.  She has broader shoulders and more condensed hams but still manages to prance.  Petunia is without a doubt queen of the roost and will probably outweigh the other animals by twenty pounds.

Pig plows and the stately pleasure dome.

We opted to get the pigs earlier this year than last because we intend to develop a new vegetable patch on the side of the old fenced yard.  The new vegetable plot will have a greenhouse.  We wanted the pigs to break up the sod prior to the greenhouse being built.  In one week the pigs rooted and manured their pen which is sixteen feet by sixteen feet.    The pen was moved recently and within an hour the pigs had torn up the sod which would have taken at least 15 minutes with a tractor or a day by hand.

"I'm worth only a few bags of grain." -Lucinda Williams

Tonight, I bought 1360 pounds of pig feed.  Feed prices are really high right now which will no doubt equal higher food costs for everyone.  Buying in bulk brings down the price to roughly $.22 per pound versus $.34 per pound if purchased in single bags, like we did last year.  You may think that ten cents is minor but over the course of raising three pigs it can add up quickly.  There is a razor thin margin of profit when it comes to hobby farming which is why most people hold a full-time job to support their farming habit.

Xanadu

The low profit margin per animal gave rise to factory farming where volume equates to profit.  After reading descriptions of industrial pig farming, we are all the more happy knowing that our pigs will have a pretty decent run even if it would be cheaper and easier to buy pork from the supermarket.

Food Folly

The news these days can be downright depressing with the Wall Street protests, middling economic growth, reports of higher food costs and the birth of the seven billionth baby.  In this season of discontent, we sought refugee by traveling to eastern Washington to fish Lake Roosevelt.  The terrain differs so greatly east of the Cascades that it felt like Arizona more than the Pacific Northwest.

Lake Roosevelt is big.  It was created by the Grand Coulee dam and stretches 150 miles practically to the Canadian border.  The Columbia River is no joke either.  No wonder the federal government is spending billions of dollars trying to reform the Hanford Nuclear reservation given the enormous value of the river to so many.

Occupy Lake Roosevelt

Fishing Lake Roosevelt is not for the faint of heart or the cash poor.  We used a 24 foot aluminum hulled boat with a gigantic inboard motor.  There was a separate engine for trolling along with a downrigger and sonar.  Despite all of technology, we managed to land a solitary rainbow trout, which is probably the most expensive fish ever.  Chalk it up to experience and quality family time.

Meet my catch, Spruce Goose.

 Upon our return home, we resumed the final harvest which included quince and squash.

Quintessential goodness.

 

Our neighborhood apparently was once an apple orchard.  Vestiges of the orchard remain in heirloom varietals scattered over our neighbors' lots.  We were invited to a cider crush where two of our neighbors combined the harvest from roughly five trees.  The total output was close to 25 gallons of the best cider ever.  The juice was not quite as sweet or rich as store bought but the price was right.  More importantly, we were able to add to our locavore karma after the fossil fueled fishing trip.

Cider crush rules

Monster (apple) mash

Next stop, hard cider or a lot of vinegar

Silence of the Lambs

Hoptober

Autumn has arrived in its full glory.  Harvest has been in full swing.  We have been harvesting hops, tomatoes, cucumbers, Asian pears and squash.  Last weekend we collected over five pounds of chanterelles.  Firewood collection has been going full tilt with the daytime temperatures in the sixties and overnight temperatures dropping to the low forties.

Burn baby burn.

The change in season has given impetus for meat curing and meat harvesting. Two weeks ago, we made sopresseta which is curing in the basement.  When visitors come to the farm, I always offer to show them my sausage downstairs and then my wood outside.  Husbands are usually shocked by my audacity but soon fall into jealous envy of my well-hung meat and turgid wood pile.

Dirk Diggler has nothing on me.

Yesterday, we slaughtered the lambs.  Gary and Ginger had become great additions to the place.  We lost Lovey to coyotes at the beginning of August.  We found poor Lovey eviscerated and missing her leg.  Damn coyotes could even bother to eat the choice ribs cuts or loin.  After that we made sure the lambs were penned in at night.  Farming teaches you that hubris or inattentiveness leads to loss.  Some events can be arbitrary and uncontrollable (like summer happening late) but by in large you have to be in constant motion if you want to even attempt to keep up with all that nature throws at you.

The lambs were Katahdin, a hair sheep, bred to survive the tough climate of Maine.  Our lambs, once they got over their scours did a great job in the pasture that had a variety of grasses, brushes, alders, nettles and of course blackberries.  Amazingly the sheep stripped the blackberries of their leaves and ate ivy.  Their palette was not as diverse as goats but we were impressive nonetheless with their overall hardiness and temperament.  In the afternoons they would frolic while eating fallen apples and plums.  They refused to eat Asian pears probably because they were racist.

Tools of the (skinning) trade

We lost two chickens a few days ago to either raccoons or coyotes signaling increasing predator activity.  The slaughter has been planned for sometime but it is nice not having to worry about the lambs or rushing home before dark to be able to find the lambs.  On more than one occasion the lambs were stuck in a bramble or in the rain and would not go to their shed easily.

This time, the slaughter was done by us.  Our goal was to drop both lambs at the same time with a head shot. Ginger went right down but Gary was tougher.  My shot must have been off because he seemed to be still breathing albeit labored.  We drug him out and I cut his throat and he was still moving.  I shot him again and after one great death throe he finally passed.  The scene reminded me of Good Fellas when Tommy DeVito (Joe Pesci) brutally beats Billy Batts (Frank Vincent) and stuffs him in his trunk.  After a leisurely dinner with Tommy's mother, Henry Hill (Ray Liotta), Jimmy Conway (Robert De Niro) and Tommy learn that Billy is in fact not dead and are forced to finish him with swift brutality.  My mob analogy continues with the bodies hanging in the garage with plastic sheeting on the ground.

Slaughter, not  funny like a clown or meant to amuse you.

We might have the lamb livers tonight with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.  Oops, I am mixing my movie metaphors.

Apple of My Eye

Pure joy in the garden of eating.

We have been harvesting the ancient craggy apple tree that we inherited with the property.  Funny, we had no idea what and if it would fruit but I spent the better part of three weekends this winter pruning.  The reward was a bounty of apples that our neighbor calls "Golden Transparent".

The apples range in size from golf balls to softballs covered with a thin yellow skin.  There was no water core but on the larger apples the cores can be hollow and cavernous.  The flesh bruises easily and has a texture of a golden delicious.  The flavor on the greener apples is tart but sweet, like a granny smith only more intense.  Overripe apples can be mushy but still edible in the same way you can devour all of a perfectly ripe pear until only its seeds and stem remain.

How do you like them apples?

All in all, we were happily surprised that our magnificent tree produced such good produce. The tree produced about five large shopping bags of fruit with a lot of fruit still left on the tree, out of reach of our climbing and ladder efforts.

Being "food industrious" can be oppressive.  You feel as if you must process every piece of fruit even if after peeling and coring some of the smaller apples all you have is a bite. We gave a couple of bags away not wanting to have guilt of wasting food on our souls.  It is better to spread the oppression of being food misers.  

We ate as many ripe apples as we could manage in order to capitalize on our good fortune. After that we set out trying to preserve and store the apples.  The apples represent storage of the sun's energy just as all food does.  Animals are energy batteries in that they convert their feed into flesh. For farmers, being able to preserve or extend the energy saved in plants, fruits or livestock resulted in great inventions such as beer, jam and bacon.  (Yum, that sounds like the start of a good meal.)

The old-timers must have taken great satisfaction staving off starvation through the bleakness of winter with calories that they had grown and processed the summer before.  So when life gives you apples, then make apple sauce (among other goodies).

We added some ripe rose hips to coarsely chopped apples and boiled the essence out of them.  Rose hips incidentally are pretty delicious fresh picked too, almost plum like.

Life through rose hip glasses.  Isn't it grand?

After several hours, the remaining mash was taken off the heat and added to a cheese cloth lined colander where it dripped drop by drop overnight.  Add some sugar and the result was about seven small jars of apple rose hip jelly which tasted like floral honey.

Trade for two tickets to Jerry band?

Some of the apples were chopped and frozen for future fruit pies, more was made into apple sauce and canned.  The remainder was processed into slices and run through the food dehydrator.  We ran several loads and we got three quart baggies.  The kids love them and are chowing them constantly.  If we were in the olden days, we would have starved two weeks after autumn began.  We will have to plant at least ten more apple trees if we are to produce enough for a full year.

Return of the Prodigal Pigs

Bringing home the bacon.

Fat and unctuous meat, just like yo mamma (would have wanted it).

The pigs are back, albeit in the deep chest freezer.  We sold Lenny to two families who decided to have Farmer George process the belly and hams for them at an additional cost.  The bacon made by the butcher turned out great but the curing and smoking took an extra two weeks.  We opted to keep our belly and hams unadulterated.

Lenny and Squiggy's hanging weights were 178 and 158 respectively.  Not bad considering they started at 25 lbs and we had them four months.  That is a lot of pig meat but surprising not as much as you would think especially if you give away a bunch.  We wanted to engender good will with those who helped or tolerated our swine raising.  A pound of flesh, when not given in the Biblical sense, goes a long way with neighbors and friends.

Slow and steady, that's what she said.

The meat has been incredibly tender and flavorful.  By far, the best cuts involve some fat.  We had some of the jowls which were tender and almost nutty when cooked in a red sauce.

The belly and hocks were cured for a week in the refrigerator in kosher salt, pink salt and brown sugar.  After rinsing the meat, it sat in the fridge another two days to form pellicle, then it was cold smoked for five hours.

Stay tuned as the other slab of belly is made into pancetta.

Bacon slabs and smoked hocks.

Peas and Deer

It is July -- the beginning of summer abundance, say all the homesteading and garden books (John Seymour, you lied).  With no spring this year the peas, spinach and other early spring crops are just now starting to produce, or in the case of the spinach reach a mature growth of 1.5 cm and then bolt -- irritating -- resulting in a grand total of half a salad per spinach seed pack, just slightly more expensive than buying fully formed spinach from the grocery store if you don't count the cost of land, water, and labor.

The peas, however, were doing great.  One little 4 x 4 plot of ground where I felt good about our vegetables.  They were tall and vigorous and the children were eating handfuls of peas a day straight off the vines.  These peas are supposed to be allowed to mature and then shelled for the delicious green peas soaked in butter that is a favorite health food (much like fresh green beans cooked in bacon -- another favorite health food).  Then we went on a family road/camping trip for a week.  When I returned, I found the peas suspiciously gone and the top foot of the pea plants shorn off.  Deer!  Thinking I'm smarter than a deer, I wrapped the plot in netting and stuck all the pretty little pea tendrils inside the wrap.  The next day . . . the deer had opened a hole in the netting and eaten another 8 inches off the tops of the peas.  I need a fence, a tall, 8 foot, sturdy, deer proof fence, preferably with razor wire on the top and spring loaded shotgun attached to trip wire on the peas, much like the below delightful garden structure.