Farm Fresh Blog

I was at work last night, minding my own business, when Other Half called. He was a most happy camper. The rancher next door had caught a hog in a trap and didn't have time to deal with it. He had called asking if we wanted said hog. (And it's Christmas in the Langford Household . . . )

Naturally, being a man recovering from hernia surgery who has been off work for four weeks, Other Half said "Of course!" and called Son to come help butcher (translated: do it for him.) But having his father's genes, it goes without saying that Son also jumped at the opportunity to butcher a hog in the dark, in the cold. Alrightie then.

Since I get my share of blood and guts at work, I wished them the best and hung up the phone.

I didn't think any more of it until I got home. Other Half met me in the driveway. He had that giddy look that men get when they've been doing man-things, and they've still managed to get all their barn chores done before you get home from work. Thus proving that they are indeed, useful creatures to keep around, even when they are only partially housetrained. 

Any homecoming around our house is cause for much canine celebration but on this night I noted the dogs barely gave me much more than a glance and a "Hi Mom, you're home" before they went back to sniffing around the front yard.  It was then that Other Half proudly pointed out that for supper Briar had eaten testicles, heart, and (I stopped listening after that)  I watched the dogs crisscrossing the yard in a mad search for Porky Pig Parts. Oh dear. Then he shared the little tidbit that stopped me in my tracks.

"We had to string him up and butcher him in the front yard. There's still a lot of blood over there. See? Briar has been rolling in the blood."

Ahhh yessss.  Yes, the dog that I just petted in the dark appeared under the porch light.  Blood was smeared all over her shoulders and the top of her head. (the part I had just petted) I mentally flashed forward to dog fights over Porky Pig legs, diarrhea, and dogs rolling in pig blood.

In retrospect, this line of thought merely proves that Other Half and Son are not the ONLY Rednecks in this family. Because although my mind immediately leaped to the problems of mixing yard dogs and butchering hogs in said yard, no other problem sprang to mind.

 Apparently with the recent rains, the regular "butchering oak" in the horse pasture was not an option so the boyz had chosen to use an oak in the front yard. I made mental note that all diarrhea accidents on the carpet were now HIS responsibility.

I still didn't realize how far into the Realm of Redneckdom I have come until Other Half told me about a call he received from a friend of his. It went something like this:

"Hey Man, watcha doin'?"

"Cleaning a hog in the front yard."

"The front yard! You REDNECK M#*@)^ F@%*(! Why would you do something like that in the front yard where people coming home from work can SEE THAT?!"

Hhmmmm... yes, there is that . . . He did have a point. Apparently this basic social grace escaped the entire Langford Clan. I guess nothing quite says "Rednecks live here!" than butchering hogs in your front yard.

And on that note: Guess who had diarrhea resembling Starbucks coffee this morning?

And guess what Dillon found and ate for breakfast this morning?

A Swamp Oyster. Yes, apparently Briar didn't eat both of them and Dillon found a Porky Pig Testicle. He was in heaven. 

That's a good thing too, because we go through 40 pounds of dog food a week. In the 1990's I fed the raw diet. (That was when I had 2 dogs and not 8 dogs.) It was expensive then, and a lot of trouble. Over the years I ended up switching back to commercial dog food and table scraps, but I still believe the raw diet was best for my dogs. And now that we now have so many wild hogs at the ranch, once we're at that ranch full time, our dogs will be eating a lot more raw meat and bones.

The hogs have to be taken out, and we can only eat so much pork. There is no reason not to supplement the dogs with raw meat after our own freezer is full. I even have a second freezer we can use for their pork.  Fortunately the ranch is so remote that the neighbors won't see us butchering hogs in the front yard. But for now, something tells me that as long as we have mud up to our ankles in the pasture here, this won't be the last hog hanging from the oak in the driveway.

"I'm ready to move to the North Ranch FULL TIME!"