Hogs Gone Wild

Have you ever browsed tv channels and something caught your eye?  That's what happened to me last year.  The show was on the Discovery Channel and the title was "Hogs Gone Wild."  Right before my eyes, I saw pigs swarming property, attacking humans and destroying everything in their path.  The show entirely changed what I thought about pigs.

I've been interested in adding pigs to the farm for years.  I did my research (or so I thought) and I decided on Red Wattle Hogs.  Red Wattles used to populate many of our farms years ago but they fell by the wayside as factory farming came into existence and the emphasis changed from family farm to large scale food production.  There's been a resurgence of Red Wattles lately and after learning more about them, they sounded just right for my farm but that was until I saw Hogs Gone Wild.

Pigs are wonderful but they have one thing on their mind - eating.  And in their frenzy to eat they can become quite excited.  Red Wattles weigh in at 1,000 pounds.  Hmm, a 1,000 pound eating machine?  Not for me.  Especially after hearing true stories of people killed by pigs at feeding time.

I decided to remain pigless.  I saw photos of adorable teacup pigs who shared homes with their people but I really was looking for farm animals and the idea of sharing space with a pig just wasn't that appealing to me.

I started seeing posts on Facebook (where else?) about Kune Kune pigs.  Supposedly they were very friendly and didn't look intimidating at all.  I did lots of research and discovered they mature at around 150 pounds or less and they were bred to graze on pasture.  I knew I didn't want a boar or a gilt (female pig) and probably wouldn't have found them anyway as KuneKune pigs are snapped up like hot cakes.  But I did finally find two neutered KuneKune pigs (called barrows) who I named Wilboar and Festus.  They were tiny at first and it was winter here so I housed them in the barn where they quickly discovered my hay.

And just as it was when the geese arrived, I was intimidated by these piglets at first.  Visions of marauding pigs floated through my head as I approached these tiny creatures cautiously.  I learned more about pigs those first few days.  First, they SQUEAL.  When they are excited, they squeal.  When they are scared, they squeal.  Even such tiny pigs can make ear splitting sounds.  And they smell.  Yes, they do.  They have a distinctive odor unlike any I've smelled.  And even with two tiny piglets, you need to be vigilant in clean up or suffer the consequences.

I introduced them slowly to the horses.

And everyone got along just fine.  Finally, it was warm enough to move them outside. And that's when the real fun began.  I learned pigs love wading pools.

And they develop bonds with each other.

It wasn't long before I was so smitten with these Kunes, I wanted more so I added another barrow, Lorenzo.

And then my fourth and final barrow named Calvin Houdini.

Calvin Houdini is not as innocent as he appears.  He knows how to climb and open gate latches and it's been hard staying one step ahead of him.

I spend time with my pigs every day.  Sometimes we play dress up.

But most of the time, we just hang out.  I'll sit with them and they will plop down right on my feet.  I'll tickle their bellies and they'll grunt with pleasure and fall fast asleep.

I've learned how friendly pigs can be, how smart they are and how easy they are to train but now and then when I carry their bucket filled with food into their pasture and they swarm around me squealing with delight, I can't help thing of Hogs Gone Wild!

In The Pasture...

I'm aching these days.  My body has crossed some invisible line of aging and my arthritic joints creak.  Oh,, and there's no sunshine.  Day after day of drabness comprises winter this year.  Until yesterday.  The sun decided to make a rare appearance and stay for the day and I decided it was time to find solace where I always do; in the pasture.

I climbed to the top of the hill not expecting to have any company.  The horses never travel far from the barn during winter.  I sat in the snow, gazed out over the beautiful mountains.  Lost in thought.  Alone but not for long.

Two of my mares decided to join me.

And it wasn't long before the rest followed and what happened then filled my heart with joy.  The girls decided to engage in a game of chase, running, kicking, twirling before ending up back at me.  It was as if I were home base in a game of tag.

I've decided I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.  My hope is that if your spirits are low and you are burdened, you will be able to lose yourself for just one moment in the joy of the mares as they play on a beautiful Vermont day.

We're all done playing and it's time for evening chores but the experience I've had this afternoon will stay with me forever.  Yes, I ache and yes, I'm aging.  But I promise myself to never close my eyes to the beauty that surrounds me and the joy in the simple things.

Thank you for joining my Horses In The Pasture on a beautiful winter day.

My Senior Manifesto

I admit it.  I'm older.  Headed to 60 soon and my dearly beloved is now eligible for social security.  Most people consider us old.

And yes, I had a wake up call the other evening.  I was sitting in my favorite chair, legs propped up.  Time to go to bed.  I start to rise and oh, no, I can't.  My joints had locked, specifically my hip bones did not want to  attach correctly to my legs and I was immobilized for a few seconds.  Wow, that was a sure sign my arthritis is starting to catch up with me.  Note to self:  Need to concentrate more on stretching.

Older bodies need more care.  We have to be proactive about exercise and our eating and assessing our health.

BUT being older does not mean telling yourself you can't do the things you'd like to do.

I have horses.  I spend my days mucking stalls, pitching hay, hauling water buckets and attending to their needs.  At night, I have no trouble sleeping because I'm exhausted and yes, my bones ache.  But it's a good, satisfied tired; knowing I've spent the day pursuing an interest I love.

I see so many posts lately from people saying they aren't going to continue with a hobby they love because they are too old.  Huh?  You're never too old and playing that negative message in your head only reinforces your body to believe you're old.

Instead, I'd like to see us say, "I choose to no longer do...."

Age is the final frontier.  Many people see us differently, treat us differently and think we are of no consequence because we are old.  That's just not true.

One of my favorite books, "And Ladies of The Club," was a first book written by a woman (Helen Hooven Santmyer) when she was in her 80s and what an epic book it is!

There are those of us who are suffering from serious illnesses who might not be able to pursue certain physical activities but that doesn't mean they can't find their passion for living in other things.

Age IS just a number and I truly believe you are only as old as you allow yourself to think you are.

This quote from Mark Frost should be our senior motto:

"“Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body. But rather, to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up,totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming .... WOW what a ride.”

Time for me to get up.  I shall rise slowly, hear those hips creak, rock gently back and forth to get them into place and then head out to spend time with the horses I adore.