Never challenge Mother Nature!

Not too long ago I wrote about challenging Mother Nature and moving forward with my plans, to hell with the weather and all that she had planned.  Well, She answered back in a BIG way.

This summer challenged this farm with a 50 year drought.  Wells and springs that were plentiful ran dry, including the one on this farm.  Thankfully the generations before had provided backup systems that allowed this farm to provide water for its two and four-legged residents alike.   As fall came to a close and an earlier than usual winter closed in with ice-in on the lake a full week earlier than any that this farm had ever recorded, the rains came and the spring brought forth water once again.  The pipe that runs from the spring to the well has sunk and the gravity feed which was once reliable has become an every other day appointment to re-prime.  Family intervention brought a new drilled well with a gallon per minute source of water to feed the homestead.  Unfortunately, the drilling came a week too late and the ground has frozen so that the ditch from the well to the house will wait until spring before pipe can be laid.  No matter the weather and no matter the to-do list, the appointment with the spring will be kept every day for the next four months to ensure that human and critter alike will have plenty of water.

In August the boar broke through the fence and began romancing the sows.  This homesteader thought little more of it than to record the date in her calendar, just-in-case.  Well three months and three weeks later – and earlier this evening – while feeding, watering and providing extra hay, she noticed that one particular sow appeared to be coming into milk.  In three days or less, while evening temperatures are forecast to be below zero, we will – in all likelihood, be having December piglets.  An extra trip to the grain store, a few extra hours in the pigs pen shoring up housing and wind protection, running some new electric fence, and probably more than a few hours of lost sleep over the next few days; there will, hopefully, be a successful delivery.  All of the piglets from this summer remain on the farm.  Mother Nature answered my challenge in no small fashion.

Thursday, amidst snow squalls and falling temperatures, the high tunnel arrived.  I certainly was dreaming to think that the freight company would pull into the dooryard and plop a 30 x 72 high tunnel, completely constructed and ready for compost delivery, onto the site which is only slightly prepared for it.  Dreaming it was.  The truck who delivered her got stuck twice on the flat part of the driveway.  Were it not for my fantastic cousin, the truck would probably still be in the door yard.   The pallet she came on was only partially intact; the load was collapsing even before we came close to it with the tractor forks.  Patience, experience and some wire cutters were what was required to make a quick delivery into just over 90 minutes work.  Some more skilled tractor work and a strong chain to extricate the truck and trailer from the dooryard were required and now the pieces/parts rest on my front lawn.

Finally, tomorrow marks the close of muzzleloader season in Vermont.  The evening after rifle season closed – less than 24 hours – this beautiful (although the picture is quite blurry) eight-point buck posed about 75 yards off the front deck.  I am certain that he acquired a calendar from the local grain store and checks off the days of hunting season.  I expect around 5:00 tomorrow night, he will visit again knowing that he has made it safely through another season.

The balance of this weekend will be spent with family over coffee in the morning, shoring up pig housing, running some new electric fence, bringing in a pile of fresh, warm bedding in anticipation of farrowing, posting sales of pork at rock-bottom prices, staking out where the posts will go for the high tunnel, recycling the old greenhouse plastic into both swine housing and tarping for the new high tunnel parts.  All the while Christmas tree sales will thankfully continue, and in between all of the above, hopefully I might find some time for a little house cleaning, getting ready for the upcoming week of off-farm work and school, and, perhaps, a load of laundry or three in there somewhere.

I said, “Challenge accepted.”

It appears her response was - 

“OK Lady, Buckle Up!  It’s going to be a bumpy ride!”

Infrastructure & not so fixed pigs fence

If there is one lesson, word of wisdom, gem of information, tidbit of knowledge that I can pass on to a new farmer; it is infrastructure.  Spend your time and money on it.  Get it in place before you add new critters or gardens or crops.  The time and money that you spend in the beginning will save you hours later down the road.

This homesteading/farming adventure began when Little man's father brought home seven chickens.  We had discussed getting chickens to have some meat and eggs for our own personal use.  Discussed it.  One day he arrives home with seven of them in his car.  There was no place to put them.  They could have stayed in his car, anyone who knows him knows that he probably wouldn't notice livestock in the passenger compartment along with all manner of other stuff that he accumulates there.  But a car is obviously not the best living situation for a chicken so we scrounged around and found some plywood and a couple of old 2x4's and we made a small chicken coop for them.  

That was the beginning of the homestead style projects that have happened here.  Each of the pig huts are made from salvaged materials.  My shed is made from mostly salvaged material.  Two of the three greenhouses that we had were made from salvaged windows, plywood and bricks.  Our fencing was reclaimed from the farmer who leased this land before me and had beef cows here.  And the piglet's fence (some woven wire portable fence with step in posts) was bartered for from a friend two towns over.

Our salvaged/bartered for/hobbled together fencing has not held up to 11 pigs.  It has kept them in, but as they get bigger and the rains have turned their pasture into a very large mud yard, it hasn't stood up to their desire to find more palatable ground.  The fence posts are beginning to rot causing sections of the fence to ground out.  Woven wire without sufficient power to deter impatient piglets is nothing more than a big chew toy.

Yesterday's attempts at fixing the fence were successful until I put the fence tester on the wires.  The exterior fence was plenty strong, but the woven wire was grounding out in the mud somewhere.  I had traced and replaced the wire, checked for breaks and frays, and fought eight 200 lb piglets in the process.  When I thought I finally had it all repaired and back in place, the wind picked up.  Three to six inch deep mud is not strong enough to hold the fence against 35 mph wind gusts.

In between electrical work on the old tractor and site work for the new hoop house, I will be running new fence for the pigs this weekend.  They aren't happy being all mixed together, but at least no one is in heat right now!  Let's hope that between Little man's father and I, we managed to save the fence post insulators that came off the old fence posts and that at least one of the two chainsaws hasn't been beaten up too bad by Christmas tree brush that it can be used to cut fence posts.

One more thing that I recommend keeping in running order - your washing machine!

Rain, mud and fences

This summer was one of the driest summers in more than two decades.  The ponds at the top of our driveway were almost completely empty.  The farm ran out of water in July – thanks to my grandfather’s foresight we have a back up supply.  The lack of water made the ground pretty hard but we managed to install the piglet’s electric netting fence in the hard, dry ground using a little extra elbow grease and a heavy hammer.

Four weeks ago it started to rain again.  It has rained for two to five days out of each week for the past month.  Our ponds are full again and the ground water is slowly rising to where the farm has a nominal supply of water if we are careful.  While we are thankful to have the rain to replenish the water supply; it makes a pile of mud.  Livestock, especially our pigs and chickens, tend to stir up only the first two to six inches of dirt leaving hard packed earth underneath.  The recent rains have only penetrated the ground so far creating two to six inches of mud.  Pigs also love to root.  Where they have changed the layout of the topsoil, the water has tendency to settle instead of runoff where it traditionally had.

“Mom, I think there is a problem with the pig’s fence.  Cole is in the piglet’s hut.”

All the rain we have had lately and the resulting mud are grounding out our electric netting making it difficult to keep the pigs where they belong.  Changes in the grade of the ground in the pasture caused by pigs doing what pigs do has caused some water issues in their huts as well.

Instead of working on the site work for the new high tunnel this afternoon, my adventures will include going out in the pouring rain, separating piglets from boars and sows, and seeing if their fence can be repaired.  I will also continue working on the drainage around their huts.  This work is done by hand, with a shovel since working on the electrical system of the tractor in the rain probably isn’t the smartest idea.

Here’s hoping my new jacket and my washing machine can stand up to yet another afternoon of pouring rain and slick mud.

I think I will go vote first while I am still dry.

Piglets - finally - and cautiously throwing caution to the wind.

The history of pigs on this farm is very similar to the history of the next generation of this farm.  I can't say whether my great-grandparents played safe bets or whether they were gamblers of the truest sense.  I know that my great-grandmother worked too hard, often on the farm alone with hired hands and a team of twelve horses in her hand while my great-grandfather was off chasing his next business venture.  I am eternally grateful for her hard work and that of her sons, since I am afforded the opportunity to show my son what it is like to live in this tiny corner of northern Vermont.  The history of pigs on this farm has been a balance of safe bet versus, 'you have got to be kidding me, I am five months pregnant, I can't take care of piglets!'

Much like the the first chickens that Little Man's father brought home, the first piglets arrived with a hobbled together pig hut, some scrap lumber, an old carpet and a couple of pallets stood on end.  They arrived in a dog kennel in the back of a minivan and we managed to keep them alive, raise them amazingly well for not knowing what we were doing and provided almost 400 lbs of pork for ourselves and to trade with for beef and hay. The next set arrived with only slightly better accommodations, but at least one year's experience under our belt.  Although the first two were a welcome surprise, the second two were planned for even if we had no real idea of the scope of raising pigs to pork on pasture.  Our first pig illness hit during the summer of our second two pigs, alongside a visit from my step-children.  You learn fast when a recent farm transplant is looking up at you with big eyes as night is beginning to fall, your infant is screaming for you to feed him and your young pig is down in the field with a raging fever.

From there we rescued a sow who was bound for sausage.  We thought long, read a lot and then tempted fate with a terribly unsuccessful artificial insemination.  Our poor sow even ended up having a false pregnancy going so far as to get big, fill with milk and then - nothing.  After spending some serious change for this little farm on mail order sperm, I was hooked on pigs and wagered on a new boar.  One from the same heritage as our sow.

I drove three hours to lower New York state, spent better than half a weeks paycheck and brought home an eight week old, heritage breed boar from one of the best reputed breeders around.  Zeb was carefully raised and he tried his darndest, but the sow was too old and never got pregnant, no matter how hard he tried.  She was pretty old, so she filled our freezer.

Six months later, I purchased a gilt from friends two towns over.  I was determined to make this pig operation work here on the farm.  We waited until the time was right, took down the electric fence between Zeb and Little One and let nature take its course.  Well the first heat cycle passed, and not for Zeb's lack of trying, but there was no pregnancy.  Then the same farm we got Little One from had a sow that they were going to send for sausage; instead they delivered her to us and we were thrilled to have an opportunity for Zeb's good lines to meet with Sally's and for certain we would have spring piglets.  21 day cycle, after 21 day cycle - each time we were met with the girls in heat.  Although he was trying Zeb was just not getting the job done.

In December I had seen the posts about some boars for sale in lower Vermont.  I already had a boar, so I glossed over them hoping my girls were growing their next generation.  When heat came again in January, after the girls had been with Zeb for almost four months, I knew, for certain, that there was a problem.  I only assumed that problem was Zeb.  Two weeks later, that fateful Facebook post popped up again in my news feed.  The two boars were still available.

It was late at night in January and I tempted fate, almost 11:00 p.m., I messaged the seller.  He immediately responded and told me that both boys were still available and that they were only about 225 lbs.  I jumped on the opportunity, talked with him over a couple of days and we made an arrangement for a payment and then scheduled a weekend where I could travel down to get him.  Then the weather turned.  We couldn't have a second boar on the farm without the two of them fighting and there was too much snow on the ground to get Zeb from the pasture to the freezer without serious excavation.  It looked like my impulse was all for naught and there would never be piglets on this farm.  Well, the following weekend the weather turned, my cousin was available with the big tractor, a friend could come and help with the major parts and my mom could come and help with the packaging and labeling.  It was a sad day as the pig with the longest history with us was no longer.  The one pig I had figured as the future of my life here on the farm was being relegated to the chest freezer.

The following night I put a plywood wall between the second row of seats and the rear of the minivan, put a tarp on the floor and added a third of a bale of hay.  Saturday morning, I drove 100 miles south into the unknown and completely on a whim and loaded a 300 lb boar into the back of my minivan.

We got him home, and although it appeared he was trying his hardest - he was too small to effectively breed Sally and Little One wanted nothing to do with him.  I was concerned that I had spent far too much money and far too much time on another failed piglet venture.  Each month I watched as  at least one of the two of them appeared to come into heat.  When the heat stopped,  I saw no signs of pregnancy.  I bought a doppler ( I now know I spent far too little money on too cheap of a unit) only to hear nothing week after week.

Little man's father and I were having serious discussions about who was going to go into the freezer first.  Too many months with no visible signs of pregnancy, an ever increasing feed bill and a significant lack of cash flow.  I said to him - the one time I was spontaneous, threw caution to the wind and tried something just a little crazy and now I have to consider how much room there is in the freezer and that we might be done, completely done with pigs on the farm.  I was heart broken.  But the fateful day, 3 mos, 3 weeks and 3 days from the last confirmed heat cycle were just a week away.  We would wait two more weeks before we made a final decision.

Little One did not disappoint, although I was sure that Sally was the one that would be delivering first if it was at all possible that she was pregnant.  After a night of violent thunderstorms, Little One was in the pasture, pulling down old fence posts to make a nest in the hut.  She would eat, drink, then tear out another piece of fence and try to fit it into the hut.

Exactly one week after arriving on the farm, Cole did his job, and three months, three weeks and three days after that, the first piglets to be born on this farm arrived.  Eight were born and seven survived.

One week later Sally started grabbing some of those same fence posts and pulling them into the other hut.  Unfortunately her labor was not so successful - six piglets were born but only two survived.  Almost five months later we have eight healthy 'piglets.'  They remain for sale as breeding stock or as Christmas roasts.

This level-headed, normally cautious, list-building woman threw caution to the wind an bought a boar, sight-unseen, on facebook late on a Tuesday night.  Then she followed through, actually went down and got him in the back of a minivan!!  Perhaps this woman should learn to be a little more spontaneous.  She has learned not to be so cautious.  She will attempt a little more risk and sense of adventure... 

On a whim she called the National Resource Conservation Service (NRCS) about a grant for a high tunnel.  The deadline was the following day - she scrambled, applied and was awarded a grant for a high tunnel.  She now has 90 days to get the tunnel constructed and the plastic on.  Did she mention that it is the beginning of November and it snowed two days ago...

Time to jump in - to hell with the consequences!

Ear scratches

Little one loves her some scratches behind the ears!

She isn't so little any more with a weight measurement of just under 250 lbs.  I will be watching this weekend for signs of heat from her and Sally.  Late last month Zeb appeared to be on his game so I am hoping...

Prepping pigs for piles of snow

Snow, and lots of it.  That is what Mother Nature has in store for the farm for the next 12 - 24 hours.  Being prepared for storms is essential in all walks of life, but a little more so for folks who have livestock depending on them for their well-being.  Fortunately my off-farm job let us leave early as the road conditions deteriorated.  My 23 mile ride back to the farm took almost 45 minutes instead of the usual 25.  Just over two inches were on the ground when I arrived so I changed and went directly outside to complete chores, thankful that I could get them done before the worst of the storm arrived.  

Each pig hut received extra hay.  The pigs immediately set to work rearranging it, piles were moved to the front of each hut to ward off the snow which normally blows in from the North, but today is blowing in all directions.  Both houses have enough hay for the pigs to completely bury themselves with extra to spare.  I took a couple of flakes and tucked them into the north facing corners to ward off the worst of the forecasted wind.   

Back across the pen to their water bowls (sawed off bottoms of 55 gallon plastic barrels), the snow is falling harder and I am reminded why I bought a good pair of bibs when I moved back to Vermont, now if only I had put them on!  I attempted to turn each bowl over only to find them frozen to the ground.  I headed back across the yard to get some hot water only to forget the splitting maul.  The hot water works on Zeb's dish, but not on the girls'.  Back over to the garage, the hood of my jacket is little match for the blowing snow.  Splitting maul and one bucket of food in hand, I head back over to the pen.  Several whacks with the maul and a little more hot water and the girls' dish is emptied.  The rest of the hot water added to their dish and before I can rinse it out - they dive in.

Across the dooryard one last time for five more gallons of water and the second bucket of food for Zeb.  I notice my face turning pretty red and that my worn out jeans are no match for this weather.  Inside the heat washes over me as I fill the water bucket.  Once upon a time this girl might have said to heck with it and left the rest of the chores for later to enjoy being warm.  Back outside I went, pigs watered and fed, then back into the garage with my empty buckets and maul then onto the chickens.  Eggs were collected, more water was thawed and re-filled and their feed dish topped off.  I also let them out of their coop - if chickens could talk I would have gotten some choice words as the girls headed for the open garage door only to turn quickly and head back in the other direction.

Returning to the warm house, I was well aware that my choice of clothing did not protect me well from the weather.  When I moved back to Vermont ten years ago, I purchased a good quality jacket, some warm bibs (ski-pants), great boots and a good pair of gloves.  The gloves have since met their demise and the jacket has survived longer than any garment that has seen as much as it has, should.  I do not have a pair of farm/rain boots so my older shoes act as a non-waterproof version of farm shoes.  Each chore on the farm requires an appropriate tool or set of supplies and I have learned to be better prepared to complete those projects before they are even started.  The other thing that this farmer needs to learn is that she isn't going to be very successful in getting anything done if she is appropriately attired for the weather.  Good rain/muck boots have been added to the to-buy list for spring and a new jacket has been added to the list for fall.

For now all the animals, including the two-legged ones, are tucked in and nice and warm.  Snow totals are forecast between 14 and 24 inches.  Everyone will be checked twice more before we settle in for the evening and tomorrow morning will come earlier than normal as fences are checked, feed and water containers are dug out, the driveway is cleared and the storm heads out.  Little man is pretty excited to be able to go sledding again and mom will certainly join him!   

Upset tummy again!

In an effort to save money, we get a lot of our pig food from the cheese factory in the next town over.  Most often pelleted pig food is supplemented by cheese, vegetable pieces, whey and food scraps from a local organic foods market.  If Little man's father and I don't communicate well, the pigs might get too much in scraps one week and not enough grain.  Last week that was apparently the case as Zeb had an upset tummy again.  

I wasn't sure if it was the wormer I gave him or if he was getting too many scraps from the cheese factory.  It looks like it was probably the latter.  Combine the rich food with the fluctuating temperatures from highs in the 60's to highs in the teens, anyone's system would go a little whacky.  He was put on pig pellets alone, given some extra hay and a scratch behind the ears.  Monday afternoon he looked much better and by Tuesday things seemed to have returned to normal.  He is the first pig I have had where we had to watch what he eats.

The timing of his ailment was unfortunate though as both Sally and Little One came into heat over the weekend.  Last time Sally was in heat, Zeb had also been under the weather. The calendar has been marked and in addition to checking the girls, we will relegate him to pellets and vegetables for the week before they are scheduled to go into heat again.

We will have piglets on the farm this summer, albeit behind schedule.

Weights and measures

In high school I hated Geometry - just despised it.  Worse even was trigonometry: sine and cosine and tangent.  Experiencing such a strong emotion for this discipline must have helped me retain something.  Each time I put a new roof onto a shed, coop or hut, I manage to figure out what angle the chop saw needs to be set at to accommodate my roof rafters.  It may not be perfectly square when I am done, but since I am not building any houses (yet), I am managing just fine.

Along with angles, weights also play an important role on the farm.  For example, it was time to worm Zeb this week.  This medicine is dosed by weight.  Last time I checked, a six to seven foot long pig doesn't fit on my bathroom scale.  There is also little chance that I would get him into a sling to measure him from a hanging scale.  Thankfully they make a formula (darn that algebra coming into play in adult life)!  Measuring squirming pigs isn't easy so I am certain that my weights came out a little heavy but they were close enough to ensure Zeb got enough medicine to combat any parasites.

Zeb - 750 lbs
Sally - 700 lbs
Little One - 250 lbs
Chicken - 6 - 15 lbs

Chickens you can put in a milk crate from a hanging scale - they are easy to weigh.  You can also step on a scale without a chicken in your arms and then back onto the scale with the chicken and the difference between the two is the weight of the chicken.  

Sunday I was pretty thankful that my girls are a little well-endowed.  The boys (two-legged ones) had settled in to watch the race and I went to write this blog post after my driver wrecked.  As I logged in, the squawking and crowing from the front yard immediately drew my attention.  I couldn't see what the rooster was upset about so I stepped out in my stocking feet.  (It is mud season here.)  At the corner of the house, the hawk had one of my newest layers pinned.  He wasn't the least bit deterred by my presence or my hollering.  I went back in to grab my shoes and the camera of course.  The second time the door opened he knew I meant business and flew away before I could even aim the camera.  I scooped up the bird, brought her inside, checked her all over and gave her a couple of treats for her ordeal.  She had lost a couple of feathers but otherwise wasn't much worse for wear.

Whether you choose to home school, un-school or go the traditional route - make sure you find some good old-fashioned math for your bag of tricks. 

No March piglets

Friday night, as I returned to the farm after my off-farm job I noticed some flirting across the fence line between Sally and Zeb.  I parked the car, put my bag and my groceries down and started across the driveway.  "Hey piggles!"  Sally turned straight towards me and bee-lined for the new gate that Little man's father completed earlier in the week.  Zeb followed intently, nose pressed as close to the fence as possible.  Stepping over the electric fence I was almost knocked over by a sow who wanted nothing more then through that gate.  One check around her back side and I knew that the farrowing hut could be knocked down a rung or two on the priority list - she was in heat.

By the time I had said hi to Sally and Little One and checked them over for anything out of the ordinary, Zeb had decided it was late and he retreated to his hut.  Concerned, I headed over to look closer.  He had a little loose stool, probably from the rich food scraps that he had been consuming during the past week.  I would watch him.  I left them separated overnight and checked on them in the morning.  Sally jumped right up out of her hut and waited for me at the gate again.  I checked on Zeb - he wasn't warm so I took the risk and let Sally into Zeb's pen.  He was still pretty cozy in his hut and didn't pay her any mind for the first 5 minutes.  When Sally decided she wanted to snuggle, Zeb perked up and realized that she was over for a visit.  I left them to their business and ran some errands.  When I got home she was in his hut and he was doing anything he could think of to get her to come out and play.  She had enough and as I got out of the car, she met me at the gate to go back with Little One.

Sunday was a little bit chilly and forecast to snow pretty heavily.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to leave Sally with Zeb all day long or not.  Little man's father had fed and watered the pigs and they didn't even stir.  Their huts and all that hay was pretty warm.  An hour or so later I went outside and Zeb was waiting on his side of the gate.  "Hey piggles!"  Sally jumped right up and was ready for another day with her buddy.  I opened the gate and she went right over to Zeb.  For three or four minutes she stood and I waited to witness the actual sealing of the deal.  I guess Zeb had some performance anxiety so I left them alone.  While I went about my chores I would intermittently check out the window and across the dooryard; I never did witness a 'completed' breeding this weekend.  

By the time it started snowing in earnest early Sunday afternoon, Sally had taken up residence in Zeb's hut and he was standing out in the weather.  It took a few minutes but Little man's father and I got her back to her side with Little One.  Zeb came out a few more times Sunday night in the white-out conditions looking for her, but retreated back to the warmth of his hut pretty quickly.  Monday morning I checked Sally before I left for my off-farm job.  It didn't look like she was in heat any more.  

I will note the calendar for 21 days from this past Thursday and see if she comes into heat again.  Little One is almost due for her second heat this week as well.  If she is on schedule then I will probably try and get her and Zeb together in March.

Women!?#$%!

This farm has two female pigs, a gilt and a sow.  Little One came to us shortly after Labor Day as a nine week old piglet.  Sally joined us the week after Thanksgiving as a three year old sow.  Our goal is to breed both of them for the next couple of years to put pork in our freezer, trade for beef and lamb, and sell a few of the piglets to cover feed, bedding, housing etc.

Two weeks after Sally arrived, and reportedly one week before she was supposed to go into heat again; Sally lifted the wooden fence separating her and our boar Zeb.  They did not have any rules about waiting until the third date, sealing the deal at the beginning, in the middle and at the end of their first date.  This early encounter would result in March piglets; a little to early for my liking, but if Sally got pregnant from that first date then that is what I will be looking at.

In the weeks since, I have been diligently watching for Sally to come back into heat.  I didn't notice any in December so I figured, yep, March piglets it is!  Then New Year's weekend Sally was definitely in heat again.  Unfortunately, even though she stood for Zeb, he didn't seal the deal.  She should have come into heat again this past weekend and although she was extra social on Friday, she showed no other signs that she was ready for another date with Zeb.  

Little One - at just over six months old - came into her first heat yesterday.  Thankfully a lot of reinforcement was done on the fence after Sally broke through.  The calendar has been marked and I will watch again next month for a good heat.  If she starts to have a regular cycle I may get Little One and Zeb together in March for late June or even piglets on her birthday - the 4th of July!

http://sugarmtnfarm.com/2011/08/28/pregnancy-indicator/

Two and a half years ago, after an attempted artificial insemination on a five year old sow, I went searching the interweb for a tell-tale sign that a sow/gilt was pregnant.  Sally's hind end doesn't look like this.  Again, I may be forced to go the high tech route to see if Zeb and Sally are proud parents to be.  Little man's father seems to see something different than I and thinks that the pregnancy 'indicator' is positive.  Ever pessimistic, I will wait and watch for the next 21 days and if there is no sign of heat and no significant, noticeable change in her weight, then I will resort to the high tech route.

In the meantime I will start gathering materials for a corral and sourcing a better farrowing hut on higher ground so that if Sally is pregnant, the pasture is ready for the little ones in early March.

January thaw

Mother Nature usually teases me in January.  She will give me a day or two of rain and warm temperatures just long enough for my brain to turn to incubators, seeds, soil, and spring farm projects.  This winter we have been hovering in the upper 30s for daytime highs and dipping not too far below freezing at night for almost two solid weeks now.  This past weekend it was warm enough for sap to run and a few sugar makers I know have put up over 20 gallons of Fancy.  (It’s called something different now like Grade A fluffy delicate, the VT Maple Sugar Makers Association will help you with the official grade names).

Usually it doesn’t take more than two or three days and we are back in the deep freeze.  Not this time – Mother Nature is being especially cruel.  While my mind knows that it is only January and starting tomatoes in my unheated greenhouse is not too smart, the weather and my heart are thinking it is more like March than January.

The pigs have been feeling their oats with the warmer weather.  They have been talking and nudging the fence in their version of courting.  The last time this happened was New Year's Weekend.  Sally and Zeb were pretty excited for their midnight kiss.  Alas, I didn't notice the heat until Sunday morning and missed our opportunity.  This weekend and early this week I will be keeping watch for signs of another heat in hopes of having mid-April piglets.

Ten-day forecasts are predicting more seasonable temperatures for the coming weekend with daytime highs in the upper teens and low 20’s.  Seed starting will take place on a limited basis inside the house this weekend for the longest season veggies.  A recycled heater could be coming soon for my ramshackle greenhouse.  That would allow me to start everything a little earlier and perhaps add a second farmers market to calendar this summer.  I would be in heaven if I could bring a low tunnel onto the farm this year, but baby steps!

Until then I will enjoy a little less humming from the circulating pumps as the thermostats don’t demand as much heat in the warmer temperatures.  Inside projects will continue, like finally painting the wall that we tore down three years ago.  Spring projects will come soon enough.  In the meantime I will use the cooler temperatures this weekend to prune the fruit trees while the sap isn’t running!

Remodeling on the coldest day of the year

My horoscope for the beginning of 2017 says that the stars are aligned for successful home remodels, general home repairs and making my bedroom and oasis for better sleep.  Well, neither of my pigs are Libra's so I am not quite certain why they picked the coldest week of the season so far to remodel theirs.
  

It only took them two days and they managed to do enough damage that I might as well have put them in the middle of the ice-covered front lawn with a bed sheet and they would have been just as warm.  Saturday (almost the coldest day of the season so far), they decided to knock out the back wall removing four or five of the boards.  Not terrible since the back wall faces primarily west and is up against a hill, but still far enough away that they lost the wind break from that direction.  It was late, there was very little wind and they were buried deep in the hay so I knew they would be fine for the night.  

Sunday morning, with temperatures hovering around zero and a steadily increasing wind, I went out to find that they had taken boards out of and the tarp off the north wall.  Almost all of our weather comes from the north and west.  They had now removed about all of their protection from the elements.  If you have livestock, or want to have livestock, you will learn that it doesn't matter if the wind chill is 15 below and dropping; when your animals need attention, you take care of it.

At those temperatures the battery operated circular saw and drill wanted nothing to do with me.  The drill went inside to warm up.  I went out to the hut to take measurements albeit at the displeasure of the girls who had to move from their warm pile of hay so I could measure the back wall.  Back to the garage and the OSB (composite plywood) was cut to size.

Over the past couple of weeks we have had up and down temperatures with snow one day and rain the next.  Anyone who lives on a dirt road or has a dirt driveway in Northwestern Vermont has honed their ice walking skills this winter.  When you also take almost the same path each morning and evening over to feed and water the pigs, it gets pretty slick as well.  42 x 90 sheets of OSB make great sails against a steady wind - oh the you tube video might have gone viral if there had been a camera.

We climbed back inside the hut, unseating the girls, again!  The pieces slid in with only a little chopping of frozen hay and some nudging where it was too thick to be chopped away without bigger tools.  A bale of fresh hay to the girls and one to Zeb to top them off against the extra chill and it was over to the garage to clean up my mess.  

One thing that seems (knock on wood) to be working in my favor this year over last is that pre-planning, thinking it through, and triple checking that the materials and tools needed are on hand or procured before the first cut is made, has exponentially decreased the amount of time spent on farm projects.  Proper maintenance or checking that proper maintenance was completed before enlisting a particular tool to a task has also decreased the time that these projects are taking.

Perhaps, I am finally learning!

Zeb's got a girlfriend

Sally arrived on the farm today.  She is a three year old Gloucester Old Spot/Yorkshire cross.  She is Zeb's new girlfriend.  Zeb paced the fence all day today even though Sally is not in heat.  Little man thinks that Sally is pretty special.

Today also marked the first day that Little One (named by Little man) was let loose into her larger pasture.  Before Sally got here, Little One showed us where our weak spot in the fence was.  After 20 minutes, we finally corralled Little One.  She was pretty happy when her new playmate arrived shortly thereafter.

As the sun sets on this cool evening, Sally has taken up residence in Little One's hut and Little One in Sally's, and Little man snoozes on the couch after a very busy day.

Rain and lots of it!

It rained.  The good old fashioned spring time rains that come every year, but usually not until mid April.  It started raining yesterday and continued off an on throughout the evening and most of the day today.  As I traveled home from my off farm job, the steam poured forth from most of the sugar houses in plain view of my twenty-three mile journey.  I thought for a moment that perhaps I ought try and throw together some kind of sugar house so that I could boil this year and have some of that delicious gold, boiled and bottled with my own hands, for our personal use on the farm this year.  A few more miles past ice jams and flooded fields and I thought better of it - the focus is Christmas trees, vegetables and chickens this year.  Stay focused!  I am better off trading some pullets, a few trees or several pounds of tomatoes for that delicious sweet Vermont tradition instead of taking taking my focus away from what needs to be done to make this farm a success.

Pulling into the driveway this evening, any thoughts of straying from the plan were quickly washed away.  I was met with a half flooded pig pen as I crested the hill.  The porcine pond took over more than half of the pasture.  Zeb was comfy and dry in his house with plenty of hay and his side of the pasture above the water level.  Unfortunately, his fence goes around the entire pasture, which includes the south side where sows or gilts might reside while pregnant.  The southeast corner of the fence was underwater, not sufficient to keep Zeb home.

By the time I got into the house, hugged little man and discussed the excitement of his day, the rain had turned to snow.  I changed clothes, got Little man and I bundled for the weather, grabbed a few more dog treats to keep Peter on the West 40, and headed into the now blowing snow with DH in tow.

Zeb's fence is a three strand system - the repair was short, moving the power from the bottom/middle to the middle/top and turning the charger back on.  This weekend, weather and lack of rain permitting, the bottom strand will be moved out of the water and the bottom/middle will be charged again.  For now, plenty of hay, a little extra delectable treat and plenty of water should combine with a strong charge on the middle wire to keep Zeb home.  

This weekend will start with a meeting to discuss this seasons farmers market, then returning to farm to visit with family and weather permitting and water receding - heading outside to make some fence repairs.  The tool for the plumbing repairs along with a new mixing valve part was located in the shop among the twenty plus years of spare supplies.   I knew it was there, but I was rushing and frustrated the other night so I couldn't have found it if it flew off the shelf and hit me in the head.  So, fence repairs to avoid the water and mixing valve/tub repairs to get the right temperature water are on the agenda for the weekend.

The incubator was powered up tonight.  First temperature checks were over 110 degrees.  If we can get it adjusted, eggs will move from the coop to the incubator too.  Spring is coming!

Be careful what you write about

Last night after we came to a stopping point in the work on the greenhouse and had everybody fed and watered, we sat in the lawn chairs beside the garage looking at all the spring chores that still need to be done just in the back yard.  Talking over finances with Little man splashing in mud puddles, we heard a slam.  Before either of us could react, a streak of white ran snorting across the back yard and out towards the corn field.  Sandwich had broken out the back wall of the shed and took off running.  So much for relaxing before heading in for dinner.

Little man’s father got up, cursing and swearing and headed for the shed.  Little man brought over two hammers while I grabbed the bucket of used nails and scrounged the pile of salvaged pallet wood so repairs could be made to the shed.  All the while Sandwich tore around the house and down to the corn field and back again, thrilled to just run!  When the simplest of repairs were made, I went to the garage to grab a bucket with some food leaving Little man’s father to finish the repairs.

I was able to walk right up to Sandwich; it was reassuring to see that he is no longer afraid of me.  Not so encouraging was that he had absolutely no interest in my bucket or its contents.  We made one lap around the house before Sandwich decided to join Zeb.  I was a little surprised that the fence didn’t zap him as he went through it, but my concern now was that Zeb didn’t hurt him and getting him back into his shed.  They chased each other around the pig pasture and managed not to hurt one another before Sandwich ran out through the fence again and headed into the corn field.  I retreated to the car for something to use as a snare; I hate them, but there was still dinner and a bath for Little man before Mom could start her evening indoor chores.

I chased him up from the corn field, beside the barn and across the yard, back past Zeb’s pen and into the Christmas trees.  Just as it looked like we were headed for another lap, Little man’s father stepped from behind the shed and Sandwich turned.  He walked beside the shed, up the ramp and directly into his pen.  It was good timing.  Little man’s father shored up the walls with one more board to be sure he would be safe for the night and then we headed in for dinner only a little more than an hour after we had originally planned.


This morning, Sandwich was warm and snug in his shed.  As I came back inside to finish getting ready for my off-farm job, the phone rang.  It was early, that couldn’t be good.  My neighbor just under a half mile up the road was calling to tell me that my pig was on her front lawn.  ‘Is he white or black and white?’  After all, I just checked on Sandwich, he couldn’t have gotten that far, that fast.  Zeb was out!  I knew I should have checked that fence last night.  Thankfully he went north toward my relatives and not south toward the swamp.

Little man’s father tore out of the driveway and up the hill, expletives trailing behind him.  I sent a note to work telling them I would be late, woke up Little man, changed out of my work clothes and back into farm clothes and headed up the hill to catch my other pig.  An hour later we had walked him back home.  I then waded through ice-topped, knee-deep water with calf high boots to raise the bottom wire of the electric fence up out of that water.  We checked and the electricity flowed well again.  Little man’s father repaired the fence post which had been dislodged and I walked inside bare foot on a 30 degree morning since it was warmer than walking in ice water filled boots.

At work they laughed and asked if I got my workout and if I had fun - all but the part where Zeb lifted my not so light person and carried me ten feet down the road!  This body is getting up there and I don’t bounce as well as I used to.

Meet Sandwich

Sandwich is a another rescue pig.  He was found, in February, in a small enclosure with no food, no water, no hay, and his fur was caked with mud and poop.  The hut he was in was chewed on every available corner as he attempted to garner any possible nutrition.  When he arrived on the farm, he was just over ten months old and weighed just under eighty pounds.  Normally a feeder pig reaches eighty pounds around four weeks of age.

He was scared and cowered into the back corner of the shed.  We gave him food but his fear was stronger than his hunger.  Retreating to the doorway of the shed, we watched him devour one pound of food and two gallons of water.  He licked and pawed at the dish for every last morsel of food.  A couple hours later we went back into the shed with more food and water which he again devoured.  Since he had been without food and water for so long, we didn’t want him to gorge himself and get sick.  The first two days we fed him small amounts at regular intervals.   When we didn’t notice any problems, he was put on our regular feeding schedule of twice per day.

When he thought we weren’t looking he rolled and played in the fresh hay trying to rub the mud and muck from his hair.  Unfortunately a bath in February when the temperatures are hovering below zero was not feasible.   It took about two weeks before he decided that it was OK for us to pet him.  An additional week or so passed with us being in and out of his pen before he decided he could initiate play and ask for food or attention.

Today, two months later, Sandwich has gained just over one hundred pounds.  He is happy and healthy and will join Zeb out in the pasture when fences are completed to keep the two separated and safe.  He no longer cowers in the corners but now puts his feet up on the top rail of the pen to greet you.  Food continues to be his main motivator, coming in especially handy the one time he decided he had had enough of the shed.

We are happy to give Sandwich a good home.  Later this summer Sandwich will be traded to the farmer at the end of the road for a side of beef.  Zeb will remain and with any luck we will find a gilt or sow for him soon.

Wandering mind

There are days like today when working off the farm is extremely difficult.  Even after a morning low temperature of twenty below zero, the sun came out and temperatures reached well into the teens this afternoon.  While many may consider teens intolerable, after double digits below zero with double digit wind speeds to match over the weekend, high teens is WARM.

For the second year in a row a good snow pack and below normal temperatures have inhibited progress on outdoor projects.  Looking out from my office window as I shuffled papers from in progress to completed and billed, I thought about the greenhouse and how today's sunshine and warm temperatures would allow for some melting around the base if only I were there to remove the top layers of snow.  This warmer weather also might entice our pampered birds out from inside their coop if I could get out and clear some snow from on top of and inside their run.

I turned back to my billing for the items which we moved from their origin to their destination, then proceeded on to monthly statistics.  When I broke for lunch and warmed up last night's supper of shepherd's pie - made with local potatoes and squash from last year's garden - my mind wandered to fences.  Some to keep the chickens out of the garden and some to keep this spring's feeder pigs separate from the boar we bought last year.  The plan is to raise one to trade for half a cow and keep the second for a breeding sow.  While the walking would be a little difficult, the sun would be shining on the pig's pasture right about now and it is pretty well protected from the wind.  Any leftovers from the fence material could go to the minor repairs needed on the smaller of the pig shelters.

Stepping outside for a few minutes of fresh air was probably the nail in the coffin of productivity today.  It was all I could do not to keep walking towards my car - after all my keys and wallet were already in my pocket.  Reluctantly I headed back inside and answered the phone and updated my databases and did a little more billing, all the while the mind was 23 miles northeast of my current physical location mentally working through all the projects which have only seen slow progress; all done in fifteen minute segments before my fingers froze or the skin on my face started turning white from the early stages of frost bite.

As I traveled those miles home with the sun dipping below the hills to my west, I thought about the future of our farm and whether or not my dream of being home when Little man gets off the school bus each day is financially possible.  Being met at the door by a toddler with the story of four-wheeling down by the landing where my cousin is logging on the family's land recharges the desire and fuels the enthusiasm which started this humble homestead in the first place.

Sitting next to the tub while stories of swimming in the lake this summer spill forth from Little man's imagination, I am planning the framing for the revised greenhouse and perhaps scheduling a day off from off-farm employment to work on farm projects.

No piglets

Alas, there were to be no piglets on the farm this summer, she wasn’t pregnant after all. 

Pig, as you may be aware, came to us as a rescue with a somewhat notorious history of reproductive difficulties as well as the general obstacles associated with trying to retrain an adult sow.  When we tried to relocate her last fall from her pasture into a warmer, drier shed for the winter, she refused to cross the line where her electric fence was.  No matter what we tried she refused to leave her pasture. 

The money was finally saved and in early April we tried artificial insemination.  Three months, three weeks, and three days later, it was time for piglets (or so I thought) and we watched, and we waited.   Midnight checks after what I thought was her ‘water breaking’ – still no piglets.  Pig’s labor wasn’t progressing; it was time to call the vet.  She came and we tried to check Pig’s private parts – she wasn’t having any of us monkeying around back there.  600 plus pounds of unhappy sow isn’t easy to wrangle.   Little man’s father, the vet, little man and I offered food, treats, water, cake, pancakes and more to Pig so that we could catch her – no such luck!

The following day there was no change.  Pig was panting and not eating or drinking.  We called the vet and she came back with sedation. Three shots with the tranquilizer gun and she still wouldn’t go down.  They say that animals can take on the characteristics of the caretakers – well stubbornness certainly runs in this family!  After returning from my off-farm job I found Pig in the middle of her pasture, still panting, although slightly groggy from the medication.  I chased her around her pasture once with no luck and finally managed to convince her that her house was a much nicer place to hang out.  We put in some barricades and secured her as best we could.  It certainly helped that she was already pretty loopy.

Back inside for yet another call to the veterinarian.  It was after office hours and this would be the third visit out to the farm in two days.  Before he even agreed to come out, he made sure we had her secured so she could actually be examined this time.  He arrived and little man’s father and I held the barricades in place while he went in and checked for piglets.  She wasn’t happy, but she didn’t escape.

This farm's first piglets - 9 weeks old - 2011

“I’m not feeling anything,” he said.

My heart sank, months of waiting, signs of pregnancy, signs of labor and now no babies.  He went back to his truck and got the ultrasound and confirmed that there were no piglets.   She had had some sort of phantom pregnancy.   I guess I wasn’t going to be a father after all.  We talked some more and I asked if we should try again given her age and the cost of artificial insemination and he confirmed that it is very difficult for older sows to become pregnant and when they do, they have harder pregnancies.

Alas, the decision has been made that Pig will leave her pasture this fall and take residence inside the house in much smaller packages.  With the two vet bills, the artificial insemination and the extra grain that we fed her because we thought she was growing piglets, we have a little over $725 invested in this rescued pig.  We can expect around 500 lbs of pork from her in various cuts at a cost of $1.60/lb. after buying the wrapping material.

Lessons learned from the Pig breeding adventure include –

• Invest in or manufacture good equipment to secure your animal so that it can be examined by a veterinary professional.  ‘Cattle panels’ or some other material so that the next sow, Zeb when he gets older, or any other animal that weighs more than we do can be contained in one visit with the vet, not several. 
• Next time we try to breed a gilt or a sow, we will get confirmation from the vet much earlier in process.  We might have tried to breed Pig one more time in May if we knew that she hadn’t become pregnant.

Once the heating season is over, we will be on the hunt for a new gilt or sow.  Ideally we would love to breed early this winter for spring piglets, but that will depend on cash flow.  If anyone has a healthy, heritage breed, gilt or sow for rescue/barter in Northern, Vermont or upstate New York, please reach out to me.

Piglet watch

It has been approximately 116 days since we bred Pig.  Her milk hasn't come in yet and she is now officially late.  This week I have checked on her even before I make my coffee each morning, I check on her as soon as I get home, I check on her right before I go to bed, and Monday night when I truly thought she was in labor, I checked on her at 2:30 a.m.

Last night before I went to bed I saw slightest hint of milk/colostrum from her - but no other signs so I didn't do a midnight check.  This morning, still nothing - but she wanted nothing to do with me checking her undersides.  Little man's father checks on her throughout the day as well although he doesn't get nearly as personal with her as I do.

I am watching for signs of distress and fever and thankfully none of that so far.  The vet says that I should wait two days past her due date, my father-in-law says that she will have them when she is darned good and ready.  In the meantime I wait - relatively impatiently!