Chapter 21 Move Over----We're Coming

It was the last week in January and the building was complete. It sat just north and east of our house. Goodness, compared to our current little metal farrowing huts, we appeared to really be in business. It measured 24 x 80 and was brown in color with a white roof. Two grain bins sat at the north side. One held grain for the farrowing and one for the nursery. An auger tube ran from the bin into the building so you could fill your buckets inside. There was a large pit at the end where all the goody would go for storage. Inside, fourteen crates sat on top of slatted flooring. Seven on each side, with a wide aisle down the middle and an aisle behind each row of crates. At the end of the middle aisle was the door into the nursery. Four large pens lined both sides back there with feeders and automatic waters in each pen. This was where the baby pigs would come at three weeks to be weaned from momma. Everything about this building was brand new. There was a very important reason for that! Pigs are very, and I mean very, touchy about diseases! Mark did not want to take chances by buying any used equipment and bringing a disease onto our place. That could wipe us completely out. So everything was shiny new.

We were so thankful for my brother. He came down to stay with us for awhile and helped Mark put up the building. Some of our wonderful, thoughtful neighbors came to help when they could, and wouldn't take a penny from Mark when he offered to pay them for their help. That is how farmers do things. Our dear friend Roy came driving in once in awhile to check up on how things were going. He didn't drive as fast these days. Our dear friend was not feeling well. His poor old heart was getting tired. But he was still interested in everything and wanted to do the little he could. So we all worked and talked and worked some more until it was complete. I learned how to hold a nail with a pliers and hit it with a hammer at the same time. That was kind of tricky when you had a pair of gloves on! The only tragedy was when Bret and Kate were playing with icicles that were hanging from the half built barn, and Bret accidently threw one, hitting Kate just above the eye. That called for a trip to the doctor and some stitches. I think it hurt me the most. Poor little punkin!

This cold morning was the exciting morning! Mark and I were going to move the mommas from Grandpa's down here and into the new farrowing shed! He had made a homemade crate that fit on the three point hitch of the tractor. It would carry four at a time.

"Honey, are you up to riding to Grandpa's on the tractor or do you want to bring the pickup?" Mark asked me as he pulled his cap flaps down over his ears.

"Well, since there is no cab and it's around 20 degrees out here,  I will bring the pickup. How are you ever going to bare it?" I asked dancing around trying to keep warm.

"Well I'm dressed for it for one thing, and then I hold a feed sack in front of my face to block the wind."

"Oh your poor little cheeks! Is that why you look like you have a suntan in the middle of winter?" I asked going to him and giving the best person in my life a kiss on the cheek.

I went in to holler at Grandma while Mark hooked up the crate. "We are here to get our sows Grandma. Hopefully we can get them moved into the shed before Kate gets home at noon."

"Well if you don't dearie, don't worry. Grandpa and I will be taking a nap until 1:30 and then Kate can come up and stay with us while you finish."

"We may have to do that. It is cold out there and makes it hard to move. Well I better get out there. Looks like Mark is going to the pens. I'll let you know about this afternoon."

We had converted an old three sided shed of Grandpa's into a sow shed. It sat just behind the barn on the south side of the shelter belt. The open side was to the south and a divider ran down the middle making it so seven sows were on each side. Mark tried to keep straw in there, but sows eat up anything that is in reach so it was mostly dirt floor. Those big 600 pound bodies make quite a bit of heat though. All around the front was a pen made of hog panel. For good measure we ran an electric fence all the way around the inside of the pen about a foot from the ground. Grandpa would not be a happy camper if he would come out and find his garden "hog plowed" some morning!

It is a good thing Mark took welding in college. He was always fixing something or making something. He made feeding stalls out of square tubing and they sat all along the south side of the pen. Each sow had a spot she would come into and we would pour the feed in the troughs that ran in front. Now it was a very interesting thing to feed fourteen hungry sows every morning. Each stall had a gate that flipped up in the back and after putting out the feed you would go along and pull back the handle and raise the gate. One would go in and you would let down the gate and go to the next one.

Well, try and lift up the that gate with seven 600 pound sows fighting to get into the same stall! Not only are they shoving each other around but they are also squealing at the top of their voices, plus the other seven that you hadn't got to yet, were also letting you know that they were next door. I mean it is a hoot. There you are, just one of you tugging with all your might on this lever trying to get the gate up. Those 600 pound sows are jumping on top of each other shoving up against the gate, and squealing bloody murder. One time I was getting my fill of all this. I just stopped what I was doing, put my hands on my hips, and at the top of my voice I shouted, "You know what, you're acting just like a bunch of hogs!" Mark started to laugh and said, "Well honey you didn't insult them one bit!" And they just went on squealing. Mark had a lot more patience than I did.

As I rounded the barn I could hear the squealing. You see, Mark hadn't fed them yet. His plan was to give them a taste, get them in the stalls and lock them there. Then he would let four out at a time, and get them in the crate to take to their new home.

Every morning I was greeted with this noisy bunch. They squealed so loud that I couldn't hardly hear myself think. But it always amazed me that as soon as all of them are eating, there's pure silence. Not a sound. That is, except their sloppy eating. I swear they are the sloppiest eaters! They scoop up the slop and chomp down and half of it runs out the side of their mouths. I loved to watch them.

Mark has the tractor parked in the west corner of the pen and the three point hitch is down. The crate gate is open and a few small piles of grain lay on the floor. He unlocks the first four stalls, and encourages them to back out. A couple go out like a bullet, but one decides she wants to stay. So she and Mark have a bit of a scuffle. He tries to push her out, and she comes back in. He does it again and again and she comes back in. After about four tries, she finally decides that he isn't going to give up so backs out.

I jump into the pen, forgetting about the electric fence. "Oh crud!" Touching an electric fence is one of the worst feelings ever! I swear that jolt next to stops my heart. It actually makes my teeth smash together. I hate it! Mark can jump over it, so he never remembers to unplug it. Well it's unplugged now!

We each use a piece of plywood that is broke on one corner and wet from laying in the snow. He is in the back and me on the side. We take one at a time up to the corner and pull an old panel up next to her and push her into the crate. She finds the feed and is content while we go back for the second one. Once we have them all four in there, that poor crate is carrying some weight!

Down at the house, I walk into the farrowing shed and flip on the lights. Mark backs up to the door and lets down the three point hitch. We are ready to "cut the ribbon" and bring in the first four sows! Mark climbs over the back of the seat, down the back of the tractor and over the top of the crate into the shed. The sows were hooking their noses into the side of the crate and making it bang around. Mark opened up the gate and let the first one out.

The plan is for them to come one at a time down that middle aisle, turn left or right at the end, and come back up the back aisle into the crate that is hers. So while Mark follows her down and around, I run to the back and open the gate, standing there so she will go IN and not around. After she gets into the crate we shut the gate and that is her "home" for a month or so. In a way, I felt sorry for them in that little crate, but they get tender loving care in there, and it is the nature of pigs to love laying around so it's probably not so bad for a few weeks.

Well, some did just want we wanted them to do and then there were those who wanted to entertain us with their acrobatic abilities! They would go down the middle aisle and about at the end they think, "Now I don't know if this is what I really want to do! No I don't think it is." So she puts herself in reverse and rams backwards. Mark, and whatever else is in the way kind of "gets out of the way" really fast! There is one thing about Mark . He never quits until he gets what he wants so that can be very entertaining!

On both sides of the crate, there was a small space where the babies can be away from the mother. There are some sows that come a bolting out of the crate like a bullet out of a gun, straight down the aisle, until about half way. Then they decide to take a short cut, and leap over the side, right into that area between the crates. There she is, front legs in the side space and hind legs out in the hall, squealing her head off. So once again, Mark eases her back to where she is suppose to be and once again he gets his way.

We did manage to get all fourteen moved in before the bus brought Kate home at noon, so we didn't need to use Grandma this time. After lunch, Kate and I went back out to "give them a bath". Their utters are dirty so we take a bucket of water and a brush and scrub down each one. Sometimes they get a complete bath if they are caked with mud. It is quite a picture: all those sows standing in there, their stomachs hanging low with babies. The whole farrowing shed smells like disinfectant. The propane furnace is coming on and off, keeping it all toasty and warm.

Raising pigs is a lot of work. Especially the more that you have. With them down at our house, it involved all four of us. That is one reason Mark decided to put up the shed and increase our herd. He knew that someday soon Bret and Kate would need something that they could help with and wanted to start involving them in making decisions plus learn responsibility. Well, that they did!

At night, the kids would help me do the feeding. We had a wheelbarrow that we put under the auger and filled with feed. I would push it down the middle aisle, while Kate put a half gallon of grain in each feeder. Then Bret would come along with the water hose and wet down the grain. This was important especially after a momma had had her babies. Sometimes her appetite wasn't the best for a couple days. They had to be fed morning and night, so of course Mark or I would do it in the mornings.

Usually in the mornings those girls were hungry! As soon as you would open the door, the banging would begin. They would use their front foot and raise it up and bang on the front panel of the crate or take their noses and rut up on the feeder. Bang, bang, bang until you got the food in the feeder. By the time you made it to the end you were next to nuts.

I came in one morning about three days after we had moved them. The "band" started right up bang, bang, bang....so I started humming at the top of my lungs, trying to out do their drum effect. I filled the wheelbarrow, started down the aisle. Half a gallon to this one, half a gallon to that one. I looked up and noticed one of the momma's wasn't standing up. I tiptoed back to her stall. Three wet bloody little babies were crawling around on momma's utter trying to get a place to eat! Momma was in deep concentration, working to bringing another baby into the world. Exciting! I walked quietly back to the wheelbarrow and continued feeding but left her feeder empty. I didn't want her to get up. She may smash a baby. They were so small!

Later that afternoon, Mark and I go out to check. She had 10 little white babies all trying to nurse. We went to the back of the crate, and Mark removed the afterbirth and put it in a bucket. I started to catch each one and put them in a big box in the aisle. Mark reached into the box, picks up one, holds it tight in his lap, and opens its mouth and clips off its upper and lower eye teeth, docks their tails, and puts it back with momma. There are two reasons that these procedures are necessary. The tails have to be docked because pigs are a bit cannibalistic and for something to do they would start biting on each others tails. This would not be good! So our pigs were tailless. The reason for clipping the teeth is that from the very start they love to fight and bicker over momma's dinner plates. If you did not clip the teeth they would get all scratched up, and also I wouldn't be surprised that momma wouldn't thank us too!

The next job is to give them iron shots. At about three days, we once again caught each one and put them in a box. We fill a small syringe with black iron and Mark once again picks one up out of the box, gives it one cc of iron and back with momma. Sometimes there was just one set of babies ready for the shot, but sometimes there were three or four. By the time we caught three or four litters with ten to twelve piglets in each litter we are tired. I really think that Mark could pass the state tests to be a veterinarian after having a farrow to finish hog operation. He has seen and cared for about everything in the book!

By the time the momma's have been in the shed for two weeks, there is quite a few little fellows and gals added to the herd. I loved to go in to the barn around noon to check on a momma. They are laying down so quietly, feeding their babies. All is quiet except for the mommas' gruntings. Momma's do that to let down the milk. I walked down the middle aisle and saw ten or twelve babies all lined up just nursing as if their life depended on it. They are all laying still and each have their own dinner plate for a few minutes, but then momma quits and the fight is on. They try to shove each other off theirs and take over. Goodness, they are little pigs for sure! Poor momma. But she just lays there, seemingly having lots of patience! Some momma's actually appear to be asleep!

When the babies are three weeks old they have to leave the comforts of momma and learn to live on their own. We move them back to the nursery. It takes both Mark and I to catch them and put them in the middle aisle. Sometimes Bret and Kate got to be involved in this business after school or on week ends. The piglets average weight by now is somewhere between 12 to 15 pounds plus they just love to run from the front to the back of the crate, daring you to catch them. We then herd them back into the nursery and into the pen. The temperature back there is at least 80 degrees. We have laid a good size mat on the floor for them to lay on. There is special feed we give them for the first week. We had to make sure they are getting plenty of water. It doesn't take them long and they are eating like little hogs. We keep the momma's in the crate for another three days to make sure she is doing fine. Then she goes back outside and starts all over again.

I just loved the job of cleaning up the crates and floor after the babies were all weaned and mommas moved out. It was very important to wash down every inch of crate and floor and disinfect between sets of sows. We invested in a power washer that sat outside the shed and its long hose ran in through a side window. We would take the middle panels out and lay them on top of the crate and start washing. It would be a three or four hour job, and you got wet! Someone told me once that it was a job that you didn't sing or chew gum while you worked! True! You looked a bit "speckled" with pig poo from head to toe afterwards! Even the nose and mouth! But after it was all done it was beautiful! All shiny clean and smelled so good and fresh. We had to do the same to the nursery, but it wasn't so bad. One thing that would stop me in my tracks though was a wet soaked mouse trying to get away. Ohhhhh I HATED those little creatures! I would just have to shut it all down and run for either Mark or Bret. Of course, by the time we got back, the poor little mouse was gone.

Our quiet little farmstead was not quiet anymore. Every morning we were greeted with "hello we are here and hungry." During the day there were lids banging, and Mark is usually running the grinder mixer. We had "hog heaven" in our backyard, and we loved it. Those four legged animals just made themselves at home here on our farm, and in our hearts!