The best laid plans...

I had planned to get a couple of piglets early this spring. Once the goat kids were weaned, they could drink up the extra goat milk and grow, having a happy life and then go to freezer camp in the fall.  I put off finding piglets because I was busy at work and with a million baby goats and life in general.  My friend, who was going to take one of the piglets after I raised it, called and told me I was probably too late. That I most likely would not be able to get a date for processing, (these things need to be planned well in advance) and that this late in the spring the piglets wouldn't have time to grow big enough to be worthwhile. I figured he was right, but just for fun called the butcher to see if I could get a date. I was able to, for November. I made an appointment just in case. 

Yesterday my friends wife sent me a link to an advertisement she had seen for 9 week old piglets, only about an hour away from here, at a good price. I answered the ad and in 2 minutes had agreed to buy the pigs. 

It was raining tonight when Rachel and I set off for Searsport, where we planned to rendezvous in a parking lot to pick up our new charges.  I put a crate in the back of the truck, bedded it down with hay, and tied a tarp over it. The pig people showed up right on time.  We had swapped truck makes so we would know each other. He was in a Ford F150 and I was in a Toyota Tacoma. That's how we do things in the country! Swapping the pigs from their crate to ours went surprisingly well.  Two cute little white girls. By "little," I mean 25 pounds or so.

Chris had rigged up a pen for them the night before.  A calf hutch stuffed with hay was ready and waiting.  A nice sized area with strands of hot wire was prepared to keep them in their own paddock.  The whole drive home, I planned the steps we would take to get the girls from the crate to their new home.

 Once they got here I put a pan of fresh water outside the hutch, and pan of food for them inside, out of the rain. We pulled the truck into the pasture, (always tricky, with hot wire to deal with, and animals we don't want to escape.) Chris gently got the first piglet out of the crate. She screamed and carried on. He tenderly carried her to the hutch and set her inside. Then he came back to get her sister.  When I opened the crate door, the sister pig flew out like a shot, leaping off the truck and sprinting through the pasture.  The first pig, who had been content in the hutch, blasted through the hot wire to join the runaway.  Mayhem ensued.  My blood pressure shot up several points.

Abraham noticed the newcomers first, and raced to see them, ears pinned.  He didn't quite know what to make of them, two grunting, short little things, nosing in the dirt.  Then Chanel saw them. Chanel hates pigs. I once read that horses dislike pigs because they are related to bear, and smell like them, and horses don't tolerate bear.  Chanel has had pigs share a portion of her pasture twice since she's been here. She was not amused either time.

Tonight, streaming in rain, she snorted and chased them. They ran nimbly out of reach.  Chanel snorted and stomped, and ran to me, as if to say, "Help!  Pigs in the pasture!"  The goats galloped in a herd, to and fro, confused and worried.  Chris and I went to work on the electric fence.  We had some mesh fence, which would be a more substantial barrier for the piglets, in the garage attic.  Chris got it down and we put it up around the hutch. It was tangled and hard to handle. He was so patient. Even after a long day, methodically working to solve the problem. I admire that about him more than words can say.

 All the baby goats "helped," sticking their naughty heads through the mesh, getting their legs tangled, chewing on it. When they were not doing that they were jumping on my nice truck with their hard little hooves. It was maddening.  Meanwhile, the piglets trotted and rooted and explored, looking quite happy. The horse, donkey and goats ran around in a lather, visibly distressed.  We got the reinforced fencing up, but still had no idea  how to catch the little pink things.  Friend Marion stopped in.  She has some kind of magic, (or the piglets were tired from their transport and explorations) and as soon as she got here the piglets stepped over the electric net (which was not turned on) and hopped into the hutch. They ate their supper, they had a drink, and Chris hustled to the garage to turn the electricity on. We stood back, swatting flocks of mosquitoes, and watched as the new girls came out of their hutch and tested the fence.  Zap. Squeal. Repeat. They walked the perimeter of their new enclosure, testing, testing. Zap. Squeal. I know it sounds horrible, but it was a good sound. It was the sound of pigs that will be safe. 

I hope they will stay where they should be for the night, snuggled into the deep hay in their cozy hutch. We will work on reinforcing their fencing to keep them safe as they grow.