Last Sunday Ben and I expected to have a somewhat leisurely day.
I had busted my butt on Saturday and needed a more low-key day, so I had determined to putz with a small farm project, do some reading, finish up a batch of soap, and plan out meals for the week.
I settled in to make last week’s blog post, blanket and cup of tea. Ben, who would normally be at church, wasn’t feeling well so he was bumming on the couch, bringing up the live stream of his church conference to watch.
Fifteen minutes later I get a text from our friend Andy. “Pig is loaded. Heading out soon.”
I had planned with Andy over facebook for him to bring out a pig for us and also butcher our yearling whether lambs the same day. We had said “next weekend”, so I was thinking Mother’s Day weekend. Andy was thinking THIS weekend. My husband was not at all pleased with my organization skills.
The next hour was a blur of hauling crap out of our predetermined pig paddock area, pounding in fence posts, stringing hot wire, setting up electric fence chargers, and scurrying about to gather things necessary for processing a lamb.
Andy arrived with his lovely fiancé and his son around 12:30. I’ve been friends with Andy for eight years. He is a good natured guy with a wealth of knowledge. I think he could make friends with a polecat.
We got Iris (name might change) unloaded in a snap and she is already making herself at home.
She is not quite a year old. In December we’ll breed her for piglets in early spring. Those we’ll sell as feeder pigs, maybe keep one or two to raise up for meat as well.
I love this photo of her. She looks like a classic old heritage breed.
Warning! Details of processing an animal to follow. Reader discretion advised.
Then it was time for processing the lambs. Andy doesn’t make a business of processing animals but he does do it for friends in the area.
After some effort we wrangled each of them up. Andy flipped them up on their butts one at a time as if to shear them. This, for reasons I don’t understand, calms the sheep and almost puts them in a trance. I thanked each of them and gave them an affectionate rub. Andy gently laid them on their side and in a smooth motion with a very sharp knife, sliced across their neck. There was no struggle, no crying out, and the animals were gone within moments. I said a silent prayer of gratitude to them as they left.
I was surprised that I didn’t cry. Though now as I type this I am welling up a little.
Raising animals for food is a tough business and I’ve talked about it before. Death is a natural part of the cycle of life. These sheep were born on this farm, lived a happy life with their mom, aunt, and cousins. Ate well, slept and played in the sunshine. The parts of them we can’t use will be buried in the pasture in the exact spot where they were born, fertilizing the ground and growing grass for the next generations. Ben and I will have plenty of lamb to last us through the year, enough to share with friends and family too.
Andy was careful removing their hides, which I salted and put in the freezer until this weekend when I’ll start the tanning process and make rugs.
As omnivores, the best we can can do is raise them with kindness and respect and treat them that way to the end.
In the midst of processing, we were scheduled to get a load of hay with the pickup. Ben had to venture off and do that on his own.
It was fun to have company over and cook for more than just me and Ben. We had chicken pesto pasta, kale salad, and Ben’s homemade bread. Elise brought some leftover birthday cake with canned strawberry sauce that was divine.
I had to leave before we wrapped up as I had an evening work meeting.
It was a busy, somewhat crazy day. Still, as the sun went down it was deeply satisfying. Pig nestled comfortably in her new paddock, freezer full of meat, animals contentedly chewing hay, and a few hours spent among friends.
Andy in the back working on processing, Elise on the left, me on the right.
