Open Writing

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At Fragrant Farm, we have had a number of pigs over the years — we usually get one at Easter time, and another around about September, (ready for Christmas). We always get a female, because they do not have the trauma of being neutered. If a male pig is uncastrated, then the meat is quickly tainted by male hormones, which is why sometimes you get strong-smelling bacon. The female meat is fine, no matter what the age of the animal.

I know some of you will be horrified at the prospect of us eating our animals, but one has to be practical on a farm, and they all have a great life here while they are with us. There is no way we could keep them all! We did not eat all our pigs, as some of them went off to a pig breeder as in the following story.

Pigs are greatly amusing creatures, and from time to time we have had two or three. Three is a bit of a handful, as they do not tame as easily. Two are company for each other, and keep each other warm, but one is ideal because they become very friendly and quiet, and enjoy human company. They have a little house and yard and plenty of straw to bury themselves in. It is a wonderful life for them, as they get heaps of food, and sometimes vegetable scraps, and lots of company.

One such pig was Babe (naturally). She was a character, and although our pigs usually leave us at about four or five months old, Babe decided she was on such a good thing, she wasn't going anywhere. We have the Pig Man (who curiously enough looks exactly like a pig himself — with a barrel body, short legs, and a decidedly piggy nose!), who comes and buys our half-grown pigs from us for breeding purposes.

No amount of pleading, scolding, begging and coaxing was going to get Babe onto the truck. She was staying put and that was it. At this age, she was the size of a small pony with short legs. If you have ever seen a pig angry, then this was it! We decided she could stay, and stay she did until she was a massive sow.

As she was eating us out of house and home by this stage, she really did have to go, no matter how fond of her we had become. The Pig Man came again, and this time he brought a ramp with sides positioned so that there was a gentle walk up into the back of his truck. The ramp had wooden slats across so the pig could get a grip as she walked up the ramp. It seemed like a great plan, but again, she was highly suspicious, and simply wanted to enjoy the good life on Fragrant Farm forever.

We had starved her for the day before, and coaxed her with carrots, lettuce leaves, and other delectables, but she would only go so far. She was so quiet that my husband was actually able to pick up her front feet and position them on the beginning of the ramp. We pushed and shoved, waved lettuce leaves in front of her, and tried every trick in the book to get her up that ramp. Slowly but surely, she would put one foot in front of the other. We wedged a piece of wood across behind her bum so she couldn't back down the ramp.

You should have heard the screaming and bawling from her — sounded like someone being murdered in the most ghastly way! By way of protest, she began to EAT the ramp, bit by bit, piece of wood by piece of wood. We pushed and shoved harder, realising that the ramp was going to disintegrate around her. Finally, we got her on board, but the Pig Man's ramp was nearly destroyed behind her. This took hours, so we were very pleased to see the last of her by the time she left.

We later learned she had 13 piglets and she is still happily living in Pig Heaven with the Pig Man.

Anne Mayne is an author, dollmaker, guesthouse owner and tour operator who lives and works in Mudgee, New South Wales, Australia