Mike CHS
Herd Master
A little trivia for the day - WD-40 literally stands for Water Displacement, 40th formula. That's the name straight out of the lab book used by the chemist who developed the product back in 1953.
Ridgetop - our place and how we muddle along
- Thread starter Ridgetop
- Start date
- Thread starter
- #62
Ridgetop
Herd Master
It is also one of the few things that will remove So Cal beach tar and oil from your feet!
- Thread starter
- #63
Ridgetop
Herd Master
Sooooo . . . The new lambs are in the barn training to return to the barn for their delicious grain feeds at the end of the day. We will leave them there while we discuss other occurrences over the years on our place.
I will be jumping around chronologically on this thread as I think of other things to talk about that have happened here. Back when we first moved here the only thing standing in this place was the house which needed renovations, a strangely placed 10 x 20 flat roofed concrete block building, and portions of unconnected chain link fencing at random intervals. There were also a couple of flat, or rather semi flat areas, that had apparently been graded at some time. There was also a lot of trash that the previous owners were suppose to remove from the property but "forgot". The house sits on a private road because the street it is legally on does not exist. It is a "paper street" only in the imaginations of the city map makers. We are hard to find even by people who were born and brought up in this area. Our little town has a lot of these private roads winding around the hills and canyons.
Anyway, our old house was being torn down to build apartments so we retained the right of salvage. We tore out all the ceiling fans, light fixtures, kitchen cabinets my FIL had made for us, the antique glass door knobs and cabinet knobs, sliding mirror closet doors, the solid mahogany front door, the HVAC unit, the rolling chain linkgates and hardware, our 18' x 36' Doughboy pool, and the entire 400 sf brick patio that DH had laid in sand. Sadly we couldn't bring the 100 year old orange trees or the 75year old Camellia bushes that lined the drive. I did dig up and bring as many of the landscaping shrubs that I could. Sadly, they all perished since our soil in the middle of the valley was beautiful and the soil at our new home was clay and shale with a PH of 9. Once we were on the property, with all our possessions, DH went back to work.
Culture Shock! I quickly found out that just because you have the same number of rooms in the new house, it won't compensate for the loss of 1,200 sf! Too late now. We had moved with 4 children, 2 Weimaraners, 2 cats, 27 breeding rabbits, 12 chickens, and all their assorted equipment. We set up a temporary rabbitry and poultry yard on the driveway surrounded by our kennel runs. There was no patio, no complete fencing, no towel rods, and we were down a bathroom since we told the owners we did not want them to finish the 2nd bath they were renovating. We didn't like their plan and planned to change it.
Our city dogs had never been around coyote filled hills. For the next 6 months they barked every time coyotes yipped or howled. DH was working 6 and 7 10-12 hr days every week. I got up in the am, fixed breakfast, drove the kids to school, brought the toddlers home, unpacked, did school pickup, unpacked some more, cooked dinner, put everyone to bed, and unpacked. We moved into the house in mid October. Halloween came and the children got ready to trick or treat BUT we had no lights on our private road and the nearest house was 1/4 mile away! After driving around we realized that our new rural neighborhood had no sidewalks or streetlights. The only lights in town were at the neighborhood park. There was a small Halloween carnival inside so the kids got to go there. The following year we learned that there was one neighborhood where everyone went and took the kids there. 30 years later that neighborhood is still the only place anyone goes to trick or treat. They have an HOA, the residents hire security guards, and close the neighborhood to automobile traffic - only trick or treaters and parents are allowed to walk in.
At first everyone was unpleasant which really surprised us. Then we bought our first ponies. Suddenly people smiled at us. We gradually met our neighbors. We learned that they all feared new people moving in, suspecting them of wanting to do away with the horse keeping and livestock. Once they saw that we had horses and animals, we were accepted. Our kids joined the local 4-H club. Where I thought my children would learn about animal keeping from their leaders I found out that there were n livestock leaders in this club anymore. We were on our own. I bought books and ordered them from the library. Every animal the children wanted to raise, I had to learn about it. 4 children raise a lot of livestock, and not just terminal for the market auction. We wanted dairy goats for house milk. I read everything I could about them and we fenced in a yard with a shelter for them. I found a dry yearling for sale locally and went to see her. She was very pretty, friendly, and would make a nice showmanship goat for DS. I bought her and she came home in the back seat with us. That night the mother of the only other dairy goat project child called me. She said, I just found out that since you want to drink your goats milk, you should NOT buy a Toggenburg since their milk is the least palatable of all the dairy breeds. I wanted to warn you. Unfortunately, the goat I had already purchased was a Toggenburg. I eventually got 2 Nubians, twin sisters and both exceptionally high yielding does on milk test. The breeder wouldn't let me take them until they had completed their milk stars. She then bred them before we picked them up. So now we had our chickens, rabbits, milk goats, and the children had their ponies. The house as still falling down, but we were optimistic. Our last house had been falling down too and we had rebuilt it - no problem! We had graded off one of the flat spots and installed our huge Doughboy so the kids were able to swim. They had to wade through the nettles to get to the pool, but farm kids are tough.
A year later we began building our rabbit barn. 24' wide by 36' long with a shed roof sloping from 16' to 14'. DH and I built it our-selves using power pole cross arms. The LADWP has its own training center for linemen to teach them to climb the poles. They relocated the climbing yard and we could have all the cross arms we could carry away. Our property drops 4' down to the level where the barn was to be build. The goats were located another 4' down from there. there were retaining walls but no stairs. The children and I had build rudimentary steps down so we could feed and milk. DH was working those terrible hours and did not have time to build proper steps. Our family does not believe in hiring people to do what we can do ourselves so the make shift steps were going to be there until DH had a few days off and felt like they were important to build. He decided to go down and check the feed situation one evening. After the steps collapsed under him and he returned from the emergency room on crutches, he made a call. We had concrete steps by the end of the week.
While he was on 2 weeks of sick leave, I drove DH in the truck back and forth to the climbing yard and loaded 12' and 14' crossarms into the truck, came back and unloaded them. Cross arms are 4" x 5" creosote soaked lumber. After DH decided we had enough cross arms to build the barn, we started bringing home pole butts. These are 10' pieces of creosote soaked power poles, 12' TO 14' in diameter. Naturally I could not load these like I had the cross arms. I drove DH down and he hobbled into the "pole cat". Once in the seat, with his crutches balanced on the side of the machine, he used it to pick up the pole butts and load them into the pickup. Our poor little 1/2 ton extended cab was a bit overloaded and I had to drive carefully. Once we got the load home DH rigged a line around each pole butt and tied it off. Then I drove slowly forward while he balanced on his crutches and guided the pole butt off the truck. Now the driveway was filled with giant poles and we had to move them into an area to store them. Summoning all the kids, we rolled the pole butts into a pile. Back and forth several times a day, load after load, for the 2 weeks DH was laid up we brought home the materials for his rabbit barn. Then we started the work.
More later . . . .
I will be jumping around chronologically on this thread as I think of other things to talk about that have happened here. Back when we first moved here the only thing standing in this place was the house which needed renovations, a strangely placed 10 x 20 flat roofed concrete block building, and portions of unconnected chain link fencing at random intervals. There were also a couple of flat, or rather semi flat areas, that had apparently been graded at some time. There was also a lot of trash that the previous owners were suppose to remove from the property but "forgot". The house sits on a private road because the street it is legally on does not exist. It is a "paper street" only in the imaginations of the city map makers. We are hard to find even by people who were born and brought up in this area. Our little town has a lot of these private roads winding around the hills and canyons.
Anyway, our old house was being torn down to build apartments so we retained the right of salvage. We tore out all the ceiling fans, light fixtures, kitchen cabinets my FIL had made for us, the antique glass door knobs and cabinet knobs, sliding mirror closet doors, the solid mahogany front door, the HVAC unit, the rolling chain linkgates and hardware, our 18' x 36' Doughboy pool, and the entire 400 sf brick patio that DH had laid in sand. Sadly we couldn't bring the 100 year old orange trees or the 75year old Camellia bushes that lined the drive. I did dig up and bring as many of the landscaping shrubs that I could. Sadly, they all perished since our soil in the middle of the valley was beautiful and the soil at our new home was clay and shale with a PH of 9. Once we were on the property, with all our possessions, DH went back to work.
Culture Shock! I quickly found out that just because you have the same number of rooms in the new house, it won't compensate for the loss of 1,200 sf! Too late now. We had moved with 4 children, 2 Weimaraners, 2 cats, 27 breeding rabbits, 12 chickens, and all their assorted equipment. We set up a temporary rabbitry and poultry yard on the driveway surrounded by our kennel runs. There was no patio, no complete fencing, no towel rods, and we were down a bathroom since we told the owners we did not want them to finish the 2nd bath they were renovating. We didn't like their plan and planned to change it.
Our city dogs had never been around coyote filled hills. For the next 6 months they barked every time coyotes yipped or howled. DH was working 6 and 7 10-12 hr days every week. I got up in the am, fixed breakfast, drove the kids to school, brought the toddlers home, unpacked, did school pickup, unpacked some more, cooked dinner, put everyone to bed, and unpacked. We moved into the house in mid October. Halloween came and the children got ready to trick or treat BUT we had no lights on our private road and the nearest house was 1/4 mile away! After driving around we realized that our new rural neighborhood had no sidewalks or streetlights. The only lights in town were at the neighborhood park. There was a small Halloween carnival inside so the kids got to go there. The following year we learned that there was one neighborhood where everyone went and took the kids there. 30 years later that neighborhood is still the only place anyone goes to trick or treat. They have an HOA, the residents hire security guards, and close the neighborhood to automobile traffic - only trick or treaters and parents are allowed to walk in.
At first everyone was unpleasant which really surprised us. Then we bought our first ponies. Suddenly people smiled at us. We gradually met our neighbors. We learned that they all feared new people moving in, suspecting them of wanting to do away with the horse keeping and livestock. Once they saw that we had horses and animals, we were accepted. Our kids joined the local 4-H club. Where I thought my children would learn about animal keeping from their leaders I found out that there were n livestock leaders in this club anymore. We were on our own. I bought books and ordered them from the library. Every animal the children wanted to raise, I had to learn about it. 4 children raise a lot of livestock, and not just terminal for the market auction. We wanted dairy goats for house milk. I read everything I could about them and we fenced in a yard with a shelter for them. I found a dry yearling for sale locally and went to see her. She was very pretty, friendly, and would make a nice showmanship goat for DS. I bought her and she came home in the back seat with us. That night the mother of the only other dairy goat project child called me. She said, I just found out that since you want to drink your goats milk, you should NOT buy a Toggenburg since their milk is the least palatable of all the dairy breeds. I wanted to warn you. Unfortunately, the goat I had already purchased was a Toggenburg. I eventually got 2 Nubians, twin sisters and both exceptionally high yielding does on milk test. The breeder wouldn't let me take them until they had completed their milk stars. She then bred them before we picked them up. So now we had our chickens, rabbits, milk goats, and the children had their ponies. The house as still falling down, but we were optimistic. Our last house had been falling down too and we had rebuilt it - no problem! We had graded off one of the flat spots and installed our huge Doughboy so the kids were able to swim. They had to wade through the nettles to get to the pool, but farm kids are tough.
A year later we began building our rabbit barn. 24' wide by 36' long with a shed roof sloping from 16' to 14'. DH and I built it our-selves using power pole cross arms. The LADWP has its own training center for linemen to teach them to climb the poles. They relocated the climbing yard and we could have all the cross arms we could carry away. Our property drops 4' down to the level where the barn was to be build. The goats were located another 4' down from there. there were retaining walls but no stairs. The children and I had build rudimentary steps down so we could feed and milk. DH was working those terrible hours and did not have time to build proper steps. Our family does not believe in hiring people to do what we can do ourselves so the make shift steps were going to be there until DH had a few days off and felt like they were important to build. He decided to go down and check the feed situation one evening. After the steps collapsed under him and he returned from the emergency room on crutches, he made a call. We had concrete steps by the end of the week.
While he was on 2 weeks of sick leave, I drove DH in the truck back and forth to the climbing yard and loaded 12' and 14' crossarms into the truck, came back and unloaded them. Cross arms are 4" x 5" creosote soaked lumber. After DH decided we had enough cross arms to build the barn, we started bringing home pole butts. These are 10' pieces of creosote soaked power poles, 12' TO 14' in diameter. Naturally I could not load these like I had the cross arms. I drove DH down and he hobbled into the "pole cat". Once in the seat, with his crutches balanced on the side of the machine, he used it to pick up the pole butts and load them into the pickup. Our poor little 1/2 ton extended cab was a bit overloaded and I had to drive carefully. Once we got the load home DH rigged a line around each pole butt and tied it off. Then I drove slowly forward while he balanced on his crutches and guided the pole butt off the truck. Now the driveway was filled with giant poles and we had to move them into an area to store them. Summoning all the kids, we rolled the pole butts into a pile. Back and forth several times a day, load after load, for the 2 weeks DH was laid up we brought home the materials for his rabbit barn. Then we started the work.
More later . . . .
Bruce
Herd Master
White lithium is longer lasting. Good stuff. I think one place it is used is on car door hinge slides.
Friend of mine had a small set of bolt cutters (maybe 14" handles) in the back of his truck that were all rusty and could not be opened. He had tried WD-40 a bunch, no joy. He was going to toss them as they were unrepairable. I sprayed them with PB Blaster, waited 5 minutes. All fixed.
And yet it isn't recommended as a lubricant for electronics, it isn't water displacing enough I guess. Fun and interesting info though!
- Thread starter
- #65
Ridgetop
Herd Master
On we trudged . . . .we spent 6 months building the barn by ourselves since DH was working 6 and 7 day weeks and the kids were small - oldest 11 years old. After breaking 2 manual post hole diggers on the concrete we call our soil, we rented an electric post hole digger. We sited it in and prepared to dig our first post hole for the barn. The post hole digger began its mechanical rotations and DH couldn't hold it in place (and this was when he had muscles strong enough to pick up a washing machine by himself!) He yelled for me to grab one side of the handle to help him keep it in place. The 2 of us were twirled around by the machine as it tried to bore into the shale. The children clamored for their turn on this nifty ride. DH returned the post hole digger ad returned from the equipment rental yard with an electric jack hammer. This did the trick. DH jack hammered. I cleared the loose soil from the hole. He jack hammered again until we had a hole 2' deep. We repeated this procedure for several days until all the support posts were in the ground. Now to plumb them and set them. DH used fiberglass pole set to anchor the poles in place. Cross arms have holes drilled in them to bolt them too the poles. We bolted our entire barn together. Once the framework was in place, DH started to lay in the plywood loft. He would come home from work, cut and fit the pieces until dark. The next day I would take the 2 older children to school, come home and nail down the loft decking. Day after day . . . . Then he put the rafters on for the roof. This was our first building of this size so he put each rafter on then measured for the next, cut the fireblock, then laid in another rafter. Now we know better. We cut all the fireblock spacers at once, then use them to space the rafters - so much faster. H could only put in a few each night as the days got shorter. Once the rafters were in place he started the roof plywood. Again he came home every night and cut and laid the pieces of plywood until the light failed. Each day I took kids to school, came home and nailed down the plywood. Day after day, over and over until one day we had a barn ready for the roofing!
In the meantime, we had aToggenburg, luckily she was a dry yearling. I shopped around for another milk goat. I found a lady in Ramona, Ca, who was selling a couple of 2 year old Nubian milkers. Nubians had the best milk apparently. I drove 3 hours with my 3 and 4 year olds to see them. The breeder and I talked inside while my children played outside. the milkers were twin sisters, in the process of obtaining their milk stars. the breeder did not want to give them up until they got their stars. Milk stars are awarded in a program where you milk for 10 months and have a tester come out once a month to test your milk, check the output, then you send in the reports with a milk sample from each goat currently milking in your barn. if the goats produce enough milk while "on test" they qualify for a milk star. The milk star carries down to each daughter if the daughter qualifies for her own milk star. Some breeders have does with 4 or 5 stars after their name. A buck earns a milk star when a certain number of his daughters qualify for a star. The breeder was putting a star on her buck so she wanted to keep both does until they finished qualifying which would be in another month. If I bought them I had to wait that long for my goats. In return the breeder would breed them back to her other buck. I tried the milk and it was good. My sons tried it and asked for more. I bought the does.
When it was time to pick them up, my husband and I drove down alone to pick them up. We did not have a horse trailer but DH was confident that it would be ok and "we would figure it out". and did not feel comfortable cross tying them in the bed. We hired a sitter and drove 3 hours south to the breeder. Once there we got all the paperwork and went to load the goats. Dh was uncomfortable with them riding in the open bed of the truck. The breeder tried to convince us that we could cross tie them in the bed and offered us ropes but DH decided to put them in the cab. With the goats loaded in the back seat of our extended cab pickup we set off for home. Sparkle, the red roan, rested her head on DH's shoulder, occasionally letting out an aromatic burp as she brought up her cud. Halfway home, DH realized in all the excitement he had not eaten any breakfast and decided we should stop and pick up food. The goats were travelling as though they constantly went in road trips so I agreed. Oblivious to my suggestion that we use the drive through lane, he into the parking lot. I suggested that we might want to get the goats out for a potty break. He laughed at me, saying they could probably hold it for another hour. As he parked the car and swung out of the cab the sound of running water from the back seat taught us that when you stop a vehicle it is a signal to animals to release their bladders.
As I tried to mop up the goat pee with napkins, a lady in the next car asked what breed of dogs we had. Our stop was short.
Once we got home we put the goats in their pen. Everything was fine except Sparkle could open any gate latch. At least once a day my 3 and 4 year olds brought the news that the goats were out. After the first 2 weeks, they just returned the goats to their pen. Sparkle and Firecracker were large Nubian does, but 2 of the calmest does we ever had. They were easily led around by anyone easy to milk, and the reason we ended up loving our dairy goats so much. Each of them routinely had 3 or 4 kids, gave 6 quarts a day for the first half of their lactations, and 1 gallon for the second half I had trouble drying them off. Their daughters were just as high yielding as they were and their milk was delicious and very high in butterfat.
The Toggenburg was dry but was a precocious milker. She milked as a dry yearling - our first experience with that! She also came down with a case of goat pox! This was the start of what we called our family experiences in animal husbandry. If it happened, it happened to us! But only once because as soon as it happened I ordered the equipment to deal with it if it ever happened again. Of course, it seldom did! So, over the years, we had broken legs which we had to set ourselves, cuts which we had to stitch ourselves, a rectal prolapse taken care of with Prep H, a uterine prolapse which we washed with cold water and iodine, then replaced and stitched with a carpet needle and dental floss, and 2 cases of hermaphroditism. This was in addition to the normal go round of pink eye (annually after L. A. County Fair in September), pneumonia, nasal bots in an older purchased ram, mastitis, etc. and that is just goats and sheep. Oh yes, and dehorning (not dsbudding) 2 wethers when our Fair suddenly decided to allow kids to show meat goats. And 4 premature kids whole mother died within 3 days after kidding.
We saved 3 of the kids. They were practically hairless so I cut neck and leg holes in DH's socks and made preemie blankets to keep them warm. We had to feed them laying across our knees since they couldn't stand for a week, then massage their bellies so they would poop and wipe them with a paper towel to keep the rectum from blocking up. The 2 does were lovely and 1 eventually freshened with a beautiful show udder. Eventually we castrated the buckling, whom my 9 year old youngest son kept as a pet. He grew into a huge wether whose name was Goatzilla. DS bought a carting harness for him and converted a skate board and beach chair into a "cart" using electrical tape. He would harness Goatzilla and then ride down the steep hillside road on his "cart" until he reached the bottom. Then he would attach the harness to the chair and the goat would run home pulling DS with him. They would do this until Goatzilla got tired and didn't want to pull the skateboard chair quickly. Then DS would unharness him and put him away. He explained that he did not want to take a chance that Goatzilla would decide not to pull him back. DS didn't want to walk 1/2 mile uphill carrying the skateboard chair and dragging Goatzilla!
Our Nubians were always bred for January kids and the Toggenburg was bred for late spring kids, figuring we would be able to drink the Togg milk while our Nubians dried up before kidding. Yes, Togg milk tastes horrible!
It is supposed to be excellent for making sharp cheese, but in order to drink it I had to mix it heavily with chocolate milk powder. Later we had a couple Alpines and their milk was not as good as Nubian milk either. In the end, we sold the Toggs, and the Alpines and just kept our Nubians and LaManchas. We still bred for January kids but decided to just drink store milk for 2 months. It was cheaper than the price of the chocolate powder I went through with Togg milk! LOL
Our oldest son and daughter got market lambs when they were 9 and 12. They were told to tame their lambs, halter break them, and exercise the lambs by walking them. DD would faithfully walk her lamb down the steep 1/2 mile road from our house to the main street, and back up. DS would walk with her until around the first bend, then sit down and let his lamb graze in his halter until his sister walked back up to where he was. Then he would jump up and accompany her back to the house.
Halter breaking lambs is an experience in itself. The entire family would turn out for the show. First, chase the lamb around and around the small pen until it is tired enough (or dizzy enough) that you can jump on it and wrestle the halter onto its head. Now that you have the lamb in a halter, you have to convince it to move. Once it is moving, it does not move ahead, but often jumps from side to side, backwards, or sometimes just straight into the air. If they let go or the lamb tore the halter out of their hands it was an hour chase into the brush to drive it back up and retrieve it.After losing the lamb twice, DS decided to tie a second rope around its neck and around his waist. He was very impressed with his foresight as his sister fight with her plunging, twisting lamb. Did I forget to say that occasionally the lamb would throw itself to the ground and attempt to strangle itself with the halter rope? In fact, many times. . . . Remember that sheep have solid bone between their ears - there is little or no brain inside their skull. As DS sneered at his sister working diligently with her lamb, his lamb started walking on the halter. Impressed with skill at training his lamb he forgot that lambs are unpredictable and you have to watch them all the time. As he took a step forward his lamb bolted onto the field. Caught between steps, he flew horizontally through the air behind the fleeing lamb. Occasionally there was a bounce and cloud of dust as he made contact with the ground. Helpless with laughter I could not move to help him. About the time the lamb stopped, and DS climbed to his feet, his 2 small brothers ran onto the field shouting to "get a turn". The lamb took off again, this time circling around and heading back toward the driveway where his sister stood trying to keep her lamb on the ground. I was able to catch the lamb as it scrambled through the gate. DS, covered in dirt got to his feet, and walked his lamb twice around the driveway. The exhausted animal staggered after him. DS announced that the lamb was now completely trained, put him away. Seeing his older sister's hysterical lamb again flinging itself to the ground in an act of attempted suicide, he told DH she still needed to do a lot of work with her lamb.
As time went on, the children learned to handle their lambs more confidently. Towards the end of their time in 4-H they did not work with their lambs much since a tense lamb tightens its muscles and gives the impression of harder muscle. All tricks of the show ring learned over the years.
One year when DS1 was showing his breeding sheep in Visalia we needed another handler in the youth ring for Grand Champion judging. DS2 had a lamb and all the other 4-Hers were busy with their own sheep. I grabbed DS3, age 8, whipped his t-shirt off and turned it inside out so it was all white, and handed him a lamb on a halter. "Go in the ring with your brothers and show this lamb" I said. "But I don't know how" he whined. "Of course you do" I said. "No I don't!" he complained. "Don't give me any back talk" I said, "you have been working with sheep for years". "But you never taught me how to show" he whimpered, "only them". Suddenly I realized that he was right! He had been working and handling the sheep since he was 5 but he had never learned showmanship since he was only 8 and he couldn't show market lambs until he was 9! OOOPS! Quick lesson and I shoved him into the showring. No pampering around here worrying about positive experiences and self esteem!
So many experiences, so much we learned, so many memories, SO MUCH FUN!
Next time, some of our hog experiences - this little piggy went to market . . . .
In the meantime, we had aToggenburg, luckily she was a dry yearling. I shopped around for another milk goat. I found a lady in Ramona, Ca, who was selling a couple of 2 year old Nubian milkers. Nubians had the best milk apparently. I drove 3 hours with my 3 and 4 year olds to see them. The breeder and I talked inside while my children played outside. the milkers were twin sisters, in the process of obtaining their milk stars. the breeder did not want to give them up until they got their stars. Milk stars are awarded in a program where you milk for 10 months and have a tester come out once a month to test your milk, check the output, then you send in the reports with a milk sample from each goat currently milking in your barn. if the goats produce enough milk while "on test" they qualify for a milk star. The milk star carries down to each daughter if the daughter qualifies for her own milk star. Some breeders have does with 4 or 5 stars after their name. A buck earns a milk star when a certain number of his daughters qualify for a star. The breeder was putting a star on her buck so she wanted to keep both does until they finished qualifying which would be in another month. If I bought them I had to wait that long for my goats. In return the breeder would breed them back to her other buck. I tried the milk and it was good. My sons tried it and asked for more. I bought the does.
When it was time to pick them up, my husband and I drove down alone to pick them up. We did not have a horse trailer but DH was confident that it would be ok and "we would figure it out". and did not feel comfortable cross tying them in the bed. We hired a sitter and drove 3 hours south to the breeder. Once there we got all the paperwork and went to load the goats. Dh was uncomfortable with them riding in the open bed of the truck. The breeder tried to convince us that we could cross tie them in the bed and offered us ropes but DH decided to put them in the cab. With the goats loaded in the back seat of our extended cab pickup we set off for home. Sparkle, the red roan, rested her head on DH's shoulder, occasionally letting out an aromatic burp as she brought up her cud. Halfway home, DH realized in all the excitement he had not eaten any breakfast and decided we should stop and pick up food. The goats were travelling as though they constantly went in road trips so I agreed. Oblivious to my suggestion that we use the drive through lane, he into the parking lot. I suggested that we might want to get the goats out for a potty break. He laughed at me, saying they could probably hold it for another hour. As he parked the car and swung out of the cab the sound of running water from the back seat taught us that when you stop a vehicle it is a signal to animals to release their bladders.
As I tried to mop up the goat pee with napkins, a lady in the next car asked what breed of dogs we had. Our stop was short.Once we got home we put the goats in their pen. Everything was fine except Sparkle could open any gate latch. At least once a day my 3 and 4 year olds brought the news that the goats were out. After the first 2 weeks, they just returned the goats to their pen. Sparkle and Firecracker were large Nubian does, but 2 of the calmest does we ever had. They were easily led around by anyone easy to milk, and the reason we ended up loving our dairy goats so much. Each of them routinely had 3 or 4 kids, gave 6 quarts a day for the first half of their lactations, and 1 gallon for the second half I had trouble drying them off. Their daughters were just as high yielding as they were and their milk was delicious and very high in butterfat.
The Toggenburg was dry but was a precocious milker. She milked as a dry yearling - our first experience with that! She also came down with a case of goat pox! This was the start of what we called our family experiences in animal husbandry. If it happened, it happened to us! But only once because as soon as it happened I ordered the equipment to deal with it if it ever happened again. Of course, it seldom did! So, over the years, we had broken legs which we had to set ourselves, cuts which we had to stitch ourselves, a rectal prolapse taken care of with Prep H, a uterine prolapse which we washed with cold water and iodine, then replaced and stitched with a carpet needle and dental floss, and 2 cases of hermaphroditism. This was in addition to the normal go round of pink eye (annually after L. A. County Fair in September), pneumonia, nasal bots in an older purchased ram, mastitis, etc. and that is just goats and sheep. Oh yes, and dehorning (not dsbudding) 2 wethers when our Fair suddenly decided to allow kids to show meat goats. And 4 premature kids whole mother died within 3 days after kidding.
We saved 3 of the kids. They were practically hairless so I cut neck and leg holes in DH's socks and made preemie blankets to keep them warm. We had to feed them laying across our knees since they couldn't stand for a week, then massage their bellies so they would poop and wipe them with a paper towel to keep the rectum from blocking up. The 2 does were lovely and 1 eventually freshened with a beautiful show udder. Eventually we castrated the buckling, whom my 9 year old youngest son kept as a pet. He grew into a huge wether whose name was Goatzilla. DS bought a carting harness for him and converted a skate board and beach chair into a "cart" using electrical tape. He would harness Goatzilla and then ride down the steep hillside road on his "cart" until he reached the bottom. Then he would attach the harness to the chair and the goat would run home pulling DS with him. They would do this until Goatzilla got tired and didn't want to pull the skateboard chair quickly. Then DS would unharness him and put him away. He explained that he did not want to take a chance that Goatzilla would decide not to pull him back. DS didn't want to walk 1/2 mile uphill carrying the skateboard chair and dragging Goatzilla!
Our Nubians were always bred for January kids and the Toggenburg was bred for late spring kids, figuring we would be able to drink the Togg milk while our Nubians dried up before kidding. Yes, Togg milk tastes horrible!
It is supposed to be excellent for making sharp cheese, but in order to drink it I had to mix it heavily with chocolate milk powder. Later we had a couple Alpines and their milk was not as good as Nubian milk either. In the end, we sold the Toggs, and the Alpines and just kept our Nubians and LaManchas. We still bred for January kids but decided to just drink store milk for 2 months. It was cheaper than the price of the chocolate powder I went through with Togg milk! LOLOur oldest son and daughter got market lambs when they were 9 and 12. They were told to tame their lambs, halter break them, and exercise the lambs by walking them. DD would faithfully walk her lamb down the steep 1/2 mile road from our house to the main street, and back up. DS would walk with her until around the first bend, then sit down and let his lamb graze in his halter until his sister walked back up to where he was. Then he would jump up and accompany her back to the house.
Halter breaking lambs is an experience in itself. The entire family would turn out for the show. First, chase the lamb around and around the small pen until it is tired enough (or dizzy enough) that you can jump on it and wrestle the halter onto its head. Now that you have the lamb in a halter, you have to convince it to move. Once it is moving, it does not move ahead, but often jumps from side to side, backwards, or sometimes just straight into the air. If they let go or the lamb tore the halter out of their hands it was an hour chase into the brush to drive it back up and retrieve it.After losing the lamb twice, DS decided to tie a second rope around its neck and around his waist. He was very impressed with his foresight as his sister fight with her plunging, twisting lamb. Did I forget to say that occasionally the lamb would throw itself to the ground and attempt to strangle itself with the halter rope? In fact, many times. . . . Remember that sheep have solid bone between their ears - there is little or no brain inside their skull. As DS sneered at his sister working diligently with her lamb, his lamb started walking on the halter. Impressed with skill at training his lamb he forgot that lambs are unpredictable and you have to watch them all the time. As he took a step forward his lamb bolted onto the field. Caught between steps, he flew horizontally through the air behind the fleeing lamb. Occasionally there was a bounce and cloud of dust as he made contact with the ground. Helpless with laughter I could not move to help him. About the time the lamb stopped, and DS climbed to his feet, his 2 small brothers ran onto the field shouting to "get a turn". The lamb took off again, this time circling around and heading back toward the driveway where his sister stood trying to keep her lamb on the ground. I was able to catch the lamb as it scrambled through the gate. DS, covered in dirt got to his feet, and walked his lamb twice around the driveway. The exhausted animal staggered after him. DS announced that the lamb was now completely trained, put him away. Seeing his older sister's hysterical lamb again flinging itself to the ground in an act of attempted suicide, he told DH she still needed to do a lot of work with her lamb.
As time went on, the children learned to handle their lambs more confidently. Towards the end of their time in 4-H they did not work with their lambs much since a tense lamb tightens its muscles and gives the impression of harder muscle. All tricks of the show ring learned over the years.
One year when DS1 was showing his breeding sheep in Visalia we needed another handler in the youth ring for Grand Champion judging. DS2 had a lamb and all the other 4-Hers were busy with their own sheep. I grabbed DS3, age 8, whipped his t-shirt off and turned it inside out so it was all white, and handed him a lamb on a halter. "Go in the ring with your brothers and show this lamb" I said. "But I don't know how" he whined. "Of course you do" I said. "No I don't!" he complained. "Don't give me any back talk" I said, "you have been working with sheep for years". "But you never taught me how to show" he whimpered, "only them". Suddenly I realized that he was right! He had been working and handling the sheep since he was 5 but he had never learned showmanship since he was only 8 and he couldn't show market lambs until he was 9! OOOPS! Quick lesson and I shoved him into the showring. No pampering around here worrying about positive experiences and self esteem!
So many experiences, so much we learned, so many memories, SO MUCH FUN!
Next time, some of our hog experiences - this little piggy went to market . . . .
- Thread starter
- #66
Ridgetop
Herd Master
Well, the barn was up. The rabbit cages were hung, water lines in and automatic waterers working. Worm pits established, and the rabbits breeding like - well, like rabbits. Our kids had been to a couple of SFV Fairs where we became friends with one of the Ag teachers. Their rabbit meat pens had taken Champion and Grand Champion 2 years in a row. DH had set up the FFA rabbit program with several trios of good New Zealand Whites, then the standard of meat rabbits. DH was really into showing them, and was clerking at the rabbit shows. He had learned to judge meat rabbits and consistently bred, raised and showed the best. DH went to the school and taught the kids and their instructor what to look for in choosing meat pens and replacement stock. This was the first of many such trips to help the FFA kids with their rabbits. In many rural areas FFA kids come from farm families, the kids in our local Ag programs are city kids. They may have pets but have no idea of meat animals, breeding, etc. The trios were lovely quality, show animals in their own right, to get the kids off to a good start with quality stock. Show meat rabbits are good meat producers. The animals the FFA had been working with were bony stock, cross bred with non-meat types. The only claim they had to being NZWs was they were white rabbits. Several months after the trios (show animals in their own right) had been delivered, and housed in the rabbitry, I got a call from one of the students. She was practically in tears. The students were breeding their rabbits for the first time and had discovered a large growth in the stomach of one of the bucks. 
Was it bleeding? No. Did it have any discharge? No. The students were afraid the rabbit had developed a disease or cancer. DH was at work so I drove out myself to the school 20 miles away. Anxious faces looked me as I removed the buck from his cage. Turning him upside down, I examined his belly for the lump. There was nothing there. I placed the rabbit on the exam table and palpated him gently. Still nothing. I asked if they were sure this was the right rabbit. Yes. Where they had seen the lump? I turned the buck over again and had them look. Right there! They pointed at Mr. Bunny's testicles. Rabbit testicles are placed on the forward side of their penis instead of behind it like other mammals. They had gotten the young rabbits at the end of summer after the Fair. It was still hot then and rabbits often suck their testicles up into their bodies when the weather is too hot or too cold! This was the first time the students had seen them hanging free. After checking both of the other bucks, I reassured them that the rabbits were normal and so was their equipment! Happy students, happy bunnies. 
Having announced I would be telling tales of piggies, I went off on discussing rabbits. We can come back to them later as they run through our farm life consistently.
So, barn built, rabbits and chickens housed (we brought our chicken coop with us and fenced it in), we decided that the next thing would be to get a pig for meat. I mentioned that our 4-H club had no livestock leaders anymore, didn't I? So I brought home all the library books on hog raising I could find. Now we just needed the pig. I had no idea where to get one. Finally, DH said that a guy he worked with lived in the Antelope Valley and there were some pig breeders near him. Armed with the cross streets and the vaguest of ideas where to go, we packed a picnic and set off. We didn't find the pig breeders we had been told about, but we did find a U-pick peach orchard and picked lugs of peaches for me to can. As it grew dark and the street signs disappeared, we navigated the roads from gravel to asphalt and back. DH can find his way anywhere - he is like a human homing signal!
All of a sudden he slammed on the brakes and swung a fast left turn. He had seen a sign for a swine breeding farm. When we drew up in front of the house, the owners came out to tell us that they were not allowing anyone in to see their pigs because of disease. Saddened we confessed that we wanted to buy a pig to raise for meat. We were invited in and the couple sensing a couple of city suckers said that they might have pig for sale. Apparently a sow had savaged her litter and they had been able to save only one of 15 piglets. They were rearing the 2 week old piglet on formula and baby cereal. If we wanted it we could buy it for only $20. Now I realize they wanted to get out from the chore of feeding this piglet round the clock and probably did not expect it to survive. This crazy couple with 4 small kids cooing over the tiny Duroc piglet were easy pickings. It's ears were already notched and it had been vaccinated, etc. DH handed over $20, the farmer carried the piglet out to the car in its cardboard box, and we had our first pig.
Ham Hocks thrived on our nice rich goat milk. Pretty soon she was eating pig pellets soaked in got milk. The children would play with her, and she would follow us around the farm like a dog. Our friend, the AG instructor, came out to look at her since we thought she might be large enough for the Fair. He told us she would not large enough and it would take another 200 lbs of feed to get her to butcher weight. I bought 200 lbs. of pig feed and we sat back to wait for her to grow. When she finished the last of the 200 lbs. of feed, we made arrangements to take her to slaughter. We had located a fellow on the other side of Antelope Valley who did slaughter and cut and wrap. We had no horse trailer, but DH's dad had located a free camper shell that would fit on the Datsun bed trailer he had made years ago. We would transport the pig in that.
The day came that Ham Hocks would take her last ride. According to my pig book, we could easily get her to load by dragging a pan of corn in front of her into the trailer. She would follow it right in. Getting the pan of corn, I dutifully dragged it to the back of the trailer where I came to a sudden stop. The floor of the trailer was on a level with the top of her back. This had escaped our notice when planning to transport our sweet HH to the butcher. We had also neglected to train her to leap into the bed of a Datsun pickup which was what the trailer had originally been before its second life as a utility trailer. Since she was now docilely eating the corn at the back of the trailer, DH said we would just lift her into the trailer. After all, she only weighed 225 lbs. Together DH and I put our arms around her. We tried to pick her up together but couldn't get her off the ground. In fact she didn't even notice us trying as she continued to gobble her corn. DH said we would just lift her front feet into the trailer and then heave the rest of her in. She noticed this. Not happening. I think DH said he thought she weighed more than 225 lb. but although his mouth was moving I couldn't hear anything over the shrieks of porcine rage in our ears. As she slipped through our arms, she caught sight of the trailer with its camper shell door looming open. Ham Hocks announced that she would not enter the trailer, nor would she ride in such a vehicle, and in fact she would stay home. She ran straight back to her pen.
We discussed new plans to get her into the trailer. We needed a ramp so she could walk up into the trailer. DH and I hauled 2 long 2 x 12 planks over and propped them on the back of the trailer. I scattered corn up the ramp. Once again we brought her to the trailer and the new ramp. She greedily ate all the scattered corn as she walked along the side of the ramp. DH tried to push her onto the ramp. She resisted. One side of the ramp fell off in the struggle catching DH on the shin. Squealing insults Ham Hocks retreated to her pen again. I offered DH ice, he angrily refused .
We needed reinforcements. Our children were summoned from play and informed they must act as side rails. Dubiously they looked at Ham Hocks who was much larger than they were. DH limped into position, DS1 and DD went to chivy Ham Hocks up to the ramp again. Hocks Hocks snorted and charged through us, scattering small children like bowling pins. Satisfied, she returned to her pen, refreshed herself with a long drink of water, and waited for our next assault on her person. She gave a whole new meaning to "Just Say No!" Strange that I had never noticed that she had a particularly malevolent stare.
After a 15 minute break to bandage up and pacify the troops. I went inside to my trusty library and retrieved "Everything You wanted to Know About Raising Pigs" Volume I. Apparently I should have ordered Volume II as well, it probably had the recommendation not to raise pigs. Under the heading "Moving and Loading Your Pig", after the bit about dragging pan of corn into the trailer and happily shutting the gate on the loaded pig, I noticed it continued on the next page. There was the next chapter, What To Do When Your Pig Won't Load. It said to put a bucket over her head, tie a rope around her rear leg and guide her backwards into the trailer. Right. I went outside and told DH this news. When he finished laughing, demanded to see the book. I went to get a bucket, he went to get the rope and we sent DS1 for the large push broom which was also mentioned in the chapter. Maybe to sweep up the pig poop that was beginning to accumulate n the drive way. Once armed with our weapons we sent the children to retrieve Ham Hocks. They came back pigless. Apparently she was napping and refused to wake up. I went down to get her. Finally, she agreed to come up to the driveway again if I would stop slapping her butt. I hoped I was not bruising the ham but it was all I had. Walking triumphantly along she saw the refilled corn pan sitting enticingly on the driveway. Measuring the distance from it to the trailer she swaggered up to it and dropped her snout into the corn. Gently we scratched her back and murmured endearments as DH swiftly tied a loop around her rear leg. The rope ran through the back of the camper shell through the window and was held by DS1 and his sister. At a signal from DH we sprang into action. DS1 and DD pulled on the rope, I swung a large rubber bucket over Ham Hock's face and pushed her back. Keeping her steady, DH maneuvered her feet onto the ramp. As I backed her up the ramp, DH struggled to keep her feet on the boards and pulled the rope backwards and into the camper. Quickly kicking the ramp boards aside, DH slammed the tailgate and camper shell gate on the surprised porker. Running around to the front of the trailer he quickly tossed the rope end into the camper and slammed that window shut. Loud squealings and grunts began as Ham Hocks tried to break out of the trailer. The little trailed rocked back and forth as the enraged hog tossed back and forth. The camper shell gate started to open as she thrust her nose against it! As I leaned on the gate to keep her in, DH grabbed another length of rope and tied it shut. We were exhausted, but couldn't stop to rest. We had to get Ham Hocks to the butcher before he closed, he was almost 2 hours away, and we had wasted most of the morning trying to load our pig. Shoving all the children in the truck, we drove off. Once on the road, Ham Hocks settled down a bit. When we arrived at the butcher, after the fateful deed was done, he weighed her. So much for our friend the Ag instructor judging weight - Ham Hocks clocked in at 340 lbs.! She was delicious by the way.
Other pigs have come and gone. We bought a used Miley 2-horse trailer eventually. We had 2 pigs for DS1 and DS2 to raise for the Fair. They lived in the old wire chicken coop with a little house in the middle. The rains came late and the pen flooded leaving them sitting in their house like Noah's ark. During the day after feeding time they would seem to vanish only to reappear in their pen at supper time. I thought I just didn't see them in their house since I did not go in during the day. But one day I went out with a load of fresh fruit scraps from canning and decided to give them a treat instead of throwing them to the chickens. No pigs in the pen, no pigs in the pig house, NO PIGS. We didn't have any LGDs yet, could a coyote have gotten them? They were only about 35-40 lbs. That afternoon after school I had the children all go out looking or the pigs. DS1 and DD came in and said the pigs were in their pen. Impossible! I looked and there they were, oinking for supper. The next day, same scenario. Pigs gone then mysteriously back in the pen at supper time. Finally, I decided to accept it. Some sort of pig magic, apparently. Then came the day the children came in and said that the pigs were not in the pen. We went searching and there they were sitting under a bush disconsolately eyeing their pen where their dinners sat. We opened the door and in they ran. I did what I should have done weeks before. I searched every inch of the pen, only this time I pushed and pulled every bit of wire. Nothing appeared to be out of place until one overlapping piece of fencing wiggled. It looked perfectly fine, not bent, It overlapped another piece of fence wire which was firmly attached to the posts. The top layer however, was not firmly attached and when it was lifted, a small pig could squeeze out between the 2 sections of wire. They came back into the pen at night the same way until - they got too big to fit! Once out they couldn't get back in!
Case of the disappearing magic piggies closed.
Then there was the case of Devil Pig. After several years of our kids raising livestock somehow I was promoted to livestock leader. Until then I had been livestock leader in default of anyone else. If your kids wanted to do a project and there was no leader, guess who became the leader? So, I was the pig leader, and the lamb leader, and the veal leader, and the goat leader, and the dairy leader, and DH was the rabbit leader, and a few other things if there was ni other parent doing the project our kids wanted to be in. Of course, once there was a leader for the project other kids joined up. If you build it, they will come . . . .
Was it bleeding? No. Did it have any discharge? No. The students were afraid the rabbit had developed a disease or cancer. DH was at work so I drove out myself to the school 20 miles away. Anxious faces looked me as I removed the buck from his cage. Turning him upside down, I examined his belly for the lump. There was nothing there. I placed the rabbit on the exam table and palpated him gently. Still nothing. I asked if they were sure this was the right rabbit. Yes. Where they had seen the lump? I turned the buck over again and had them look. Right there! They pointed at Mr. Bunny's testicles. Rabbit testicles are placed on the forward side of their penis instead of behind it like other mammals. They had gotten the young rabbits at the end of summer after the Fair. It was still hot then and rabbits often suck their testicles up into their bodies when the weather is too hot or too cold! This was the first time the students had seen them hanging free. After checking both of the other bucks, I reassured them that the rabbits were normal and so was their equipment! Happy students, happy bunnies. Having announced I would be telling tales of piggies, I went off on discussing rabbits. We can come back to them later as they run through our farm life consistently.
So, barn built, rabbits and chickens housed (we brought our chicken coop with us and fenced it in), we decided that the next thing would be to get a pig for meat. I mentioned that our 4-H club had no livestock leaders anymore, didn't I? So I brought home all the library books on hog raising I could find. Now we just needed the pig. I had no idea where to get one. Finally, DH said that a guy he worked with lived in the Antelope Valley and there were some pig breeders near him. Armed with the cross streets and the vaguest of ideas where to go, we packed a picnic and set off. We didn't find the pig breeders we had been told about, but we did find a U-pick peach orchard and picked lugs of peaches for me to can. As it grew dark and the street signs disappeared, we navigated the roads from gravel to asphalt and back. DH can find his way anywhere - he is like a human homing signal!
All of a sudden he slammed on the brakes and swung a fast left turn. He had seen a sign for a swine breeding farm. When we drew up in front of the house, the owners came out to tell us that they were not allowing anyone in to see their pigs because of disease. Saddened we confessed that we wanted to buy a pig to raise for meat. We were invited in and the couple sensing a couple of city suckers said that they might have pig for sale. Apparently a sow had savaged her litter and they had been able to save only one of 15 piglets. They were rearing the 2 week old piglet on formula and baby cereal. If we wanted it we could buy it for only $20. Now I realize they wanted to get out from the chore of feeding this piglet round the clock and probably did not expect it to survive. This crazy couple with 4 small kids cooing over the tiny Duroc piglet were easy pickings. It's ears were already notched and it had been vaccinated, etc. DH handed over $20, the farmer carried the piglet out to the car in its cardboard box, and we had our first pig.Ham Hocks thrived on our nice rich goat milk. Pretty soon she was eating pig pellets soaked in got milk. The children would play with her, and she would follow us around the farm like a dog. Our friend, the AG instructor, came out to look at her since we thought she might be large enough for the Fair. He told us she would not large enough and it would take another 200 lbs of feed to get her to butcher weight. I bought 200 lbs. of pig feed and we sat back to wait for her to grow. When she finished the last of the 200 lbs. of feed, we made arrangements to take her to slaughter. We had located a fellow on the other side of Antelope Valley who did slaughter and cut and wrap. We had no horse trailer, but DH's dad had located a free camper shell that would fit on the Datsun bed trailer he had made years ago. We would transport the pig in that.
The day came that Ham Hocks would take her last ride. According to my pig book, we could easily get her to load by dragging a pan of corn in front of her into the trailer. She would follow it right in. Getting the pan of corn, I dutifully dragged it to the back of the trailer where I came to a sudden stop. The floor of the trailer was on a level with the top of her back. This had escaped our notice when planning to transport our sweet HH to the butcher. We had also neglected to train her to leap into the bed of a Datsun pickup which was what the trailer had originally been before its second life as a utility trailer. Since she was now docilely eating the corn at the back of the trailer, DH said we would just lift her into the trailer. After all, she only weighed 225 lbs. Together DH and I put our arms around her. We tried to pick her up together but couldn't get her off the ground. In fact she didn't even notice us trying as she continued to gobble her corn. DH said we would just lift her front feet into the trailer and then heave the rest of her in. She noticed this. Not happening. I think DH said he thought she weighed more than 225 lb. but although his mouth was moving I couldn't hear anything over the shrieks of porcine rage in our ears. As she slipped through our arms, she caught sight of the trailer with its camper shell door looming open. Ham Hocks announced that she would not enter the trailer, nor would she ride in such a vehicle, and in fact she would stay home. She ran straight back to her pen.
We discussed new plans to get her into the trailer. We needed a ramp so she could walk up into the trailer. DH and I hauled 2 long 2 x 12 planks over and propped them on the back of the trailer. I scattered corn up the ramp. Once again we brought her to the trailer and the new ramp. She greedily ate all the scattered corn as she walked along the side of the ramp. DH tried to push her onto the ramp. She resisted. One side of the ramp fell off in the struggle catching DH on the shin. Squealing insults Ham Hocks retreated to her pen again. I offered DH ice, he angrily refused .
We needed reinforcements. Our children were summoned from play and informed they must act as side rails. Dubiously they looked at Ham Hocks who was much larger than they were. DH limped into position, DS1 and DD went to chivy Ham Hocks up to the ramp again. Hocks Hocks snorted and charged through us, scattering small children like bowling pins. Satisfied, she returned to her pen, refreshed herself with a long drink of water, and waited for our next assault on her person. She gave a whole new meaning to "Just Say No!" Strange that I had never noticed that she had a particularly malevolent stare.After a 15 minute break to bandage up and pacify the troops. I went inside to my trusty library and retrieved "Everything You wanted to Know About Raising Pigs" Volume I. Apparently I should have ordered Volume II as well, it probably had the recommendation not to raise pigs. Under the heading "Moving and Loading Your Pig", after the bit about dragging pan of corn into the trailer and happily shutting the gate on the loaded pig, I noticed it continued on the next page. There was the next chapter, What To Do When Your Pig Won't Load. It said to put a bucket over her head, tie a rope around her rear leg and guide her backwards into the trailer. Right. I went outside and told DH this news. When he finished laughing, demanded to see the book. I went to get a bucket, he went to get the rope and we sent DS1 for the large push broom which was also mentioned in the chapter. Maybe to sweep up the pig poop that was beginning to accumulate n the drive way. Once armed with our weapons we sent the children to retrieve Ham Hocks. They came back pigless. Apparently she was napping and refused to wake up. I went down to get her. Finally, she agreed to come up to the driveway again if I would stop slapping her butt. I hoped I was not bruising the ham but it was all I had. Walking triumphantly along she saw the refilled corn pan sitting enticingly on the driveway. Measuring the distance from it to the trailer she swaggered up to it and dropped her snout into the corn. Gently we scratched her back and murmured endearments as DH swiftly tied a loop around her rear leg. The rope ran through the back of the camper shell through the window and was held by DS1 and his sister. At a signal from DH we sprang into action. DS1 and DD pulled on the rope, I swung a large rubber bucket over Ham Hock's face and pushed her back. Keeping her steady, DH maneuvered her feet onto the ramp. As I backed her up the ramp, DH struggled to keep her feet on the boards and pulled the rope backwards and into the camper. Quickly kicking the ramp boards aside, DH slammed the tailgate and camper shell gate on the surprised porker. Running around to the front of the trailer he quickly tossed the rope end into the camper and slammed that window shut. Loud squealings and grunts began as Ham Hocks tried to break out of the trailer. The little trailed rocked back and forth as the enraged hog tossed back and forth. The camper shell gate started to open as she thrust her nose against it! As I leaned on the gate to keep her in, DH grabbed another length of rope and tied it shut. We were exhausted, but couldn't stop to rest. We had to get Ham Hocks to the butcher before he closed, he was almost 2 hours away, and we had wasted most of the morning trying to load our pig. Shoving all the children in the truck, we drove off. Once on the road, Ham Hocks settled down a bit. When we arrived at the butcher, after the fateful deed was done, he weighed her. So much for our friend the Ag instructor judging weight - Ham Hocks clocked in at 340 lbs.! She was delicious by the way.
Other pigs have come and gone. We bought a used Miley 2-horse trailer eventually. We had 2 pigs for DS1 and DS2 to raise for the Fair. They lived in the old wire chicken coop with a little house in the middle. The rains came late and the pen flooded leaving them sitting in their house like Noah's ark. During the day after feeding time they would seem to vanish only to reappear in their pen at supper time. I thought I just didn't see them in their house since I did not go in during the day. But one day I went out with a load of fresh fruit scraps from canning and decided to give them a treat instead of throwing them to the chickens. No pigs in the pen, no pigs in the pig house, NO PIGS. We didn't have any LGDs yet, could a coyote have gotten them? They were only about 35-40 lbs. That afternoon after school I had the children all go out looking or the pigs. DS1 and DD came in and said the pigs were in their pen. Impossible! I looked and there they were, oinking for supper. The next day, same scenario. Pigs gone then mysteriously back in the pen at supper time. Finally, I decided to accept it. Some sort of pig magic, apparently. Then came the day the children came in and said that the pigs were not in the pen. We went searching and there they were sitting under a bush disconsolately eyeing their pen where their dinners sat. We opened the door and in they ran. I did what I should have done weeks before. I searched every inch of the pen, only this time I pushed and pulled every bit of wire. Nothing appeared to be out of place until one overlapping piece of fencing wiggled. It looked perfectly fine, not bent, It overlapped another piece of fence wire which was firmly attached to the posts. The top layer however, was not firmly attached and when it was lifted, a small pig could squeeze out between the 2 sections of wire. They came back into the pen at night the same way until - they got too big to fit! Once out they couldn't get back in!
Case of the disappearing magic piggies closed.Then there was the case of Devil Pig. After several years of our kids raising livestock somehow I was promoted to livestock leader. Until then I had been livestock leader in default of anyone else. If your kids wanted to do a project and there was no leader, guess who became the leader? So, I was the pig leader, and the lamb leader, and the veal leader, and the goat leader, and the dairy leader, and DH was the rabbit leader, and a few other things if there was ni other parent doing the project our kids wanted to be in. Of course, once there was a leader for the project other kids joined up. If you build it, they will come . . . .
Bruce
Herd Master
Fun stories!
You had me rolling picturing your child bouncing through the yard while roped to a flighty sheep! 
Thanks so much for sharing your stories and the humor associated! The pig story hit close to home as well, which you may have realized if you've read through my journal. My episode didn't work out so well however.
Thanks so much for sharing your stories and the humor associated! The pig story hit close to home as well, which you may have realized if you've read through my journal. My episode didn't work out so well however. 
Baymule
Herd Master
We have a stock trailer and we load pigs the day before we take them to slaughter. Soured corn in the trailer after missing a couple of meals, plus lobbing boiled eggs in the trailer, and they hop in with no problem. I got a good laugh on your pig loading! LOL LOL
- Thread starter
- #70
Ridgetop
Herd Master
I had now become the Livestock Leader of our 4-H club. Lucky me. ![:\](/styles/default/xenforo/smilies/side.png "side :\")
Where before I only had to learn enough for my own children and keeping our market and breeding animals, I now had to learn EVERYTHING about ALL market species. Apparently being the livestock leader for all kids who know nothing about livestock entails a whole new skill set. In addition, as each market animal project grew, I had to plan meetings for each species. In addition to our monthly general meeting, I now had to set up meetings for dairy goats, meat goats, market lambs, veal calves, rabbits, etc. We had the only breeding sheep so that project meeting met when we had to do something extra with the sheep.
In addition to those meetings, my children were also in rocketry, shooting, cooking, sewing, film, horses, dogs, junior 4-H, leadership, self-determined, etc. If it was a listed project at least one of my children signed up in it. We participated in all the activities, Field Day, Judging Day, parades, etc., and, because I was a leader, the Leader’s Council. I eventually held several offices in the Council, was on the camp committee for our district, set up and ran the Field days, Judging Days, etc. that each district in our County was required to run. This entailed finding the premises, people to bring animals and exhibits for judging, finding people to man each station, and set up the questions, then finding people to correct each set of answer pages to find the high scorer in each category, on and on. There were years where I counted the days we did not have evening meetings instead of the days we did. While doing all that, I also taught at a preschool, and my family was called on to do school visits with our animals to publicize the Fair and 4-H. In addition, as the children's interest in their animal projects grew we attended seminars on showmanship, ethics, and market animals. These seminars were always over 2 hours away since there was no longer any farming in our area.
Once a year I took the children from our club to H summer camp where I was a chaperone and ran the camp store. This entailed shopping for the merchandise, setting up the store once there and keeping track of each kid’s money that they had to spend. At the beginning of camp I collected all the money, listed it on a card with name of the kid, and kept the cards. When the kids came to buy something at the store I marked off what they spent then at the end of each day, checked everything, and at the end of camp figured out how much money they got back, counted it out into envelopes to hand out as they went home.
Looking back, I am amazed at the work load I carried! In addition to keeping a clean house, we were still renovating our house, and I ws driving kids to school and picking up, ran a high school car pool, drove to after school activities – yes, they did those too ! I was raising rabbits semi commercially, DS2 was milking 12-15 does each morning (machine by then), running 3 pasteurizers twice through each morning, raising all the doe kids on bucket feeders, and raising feeder calves for sale. Once a month I drove to the feed mill, the dairy supply store, and either the auction yard to drop off buck kids for sale, the dairy to pick up new bull calves, or the cattle auction to drop off feeder calves.
It was exhausting, exhilarating, and the best time of our lives – we had so much fun with our kids living that life! So many stories to remember and put down here. I should try to copy them off these journal pages to keep them for my kids to read after we are gone so they will remember their childhood.
So back to the first sentence- I had now become the Livestock Leader of our 4-H club. Since I now had additional project kids who wanted to show market animals at the Fair, and since we were the only ones with a trailer, you can figure out where I am going with this . . . .
DS1, age 11, and I set off to pick up pigs for my 4 children and the other 2 kids who wanted to raise pigs for Fair. In addition to the sale pigs, DH had a friend at work who wanted a hog for his freezer, and we wanted a hog for our freezer. We raised our hogs on pig chow and rolled corn soaked in goat milk for 12 hours twice a day. They carried a little too much fat for Grand Champion but the ate so much better. We had bidders coming to fair just for our pigs. So, we needed 8 pigs. I had contacted a breeder in the Antelope Valley, an hour away, who had weaner pigs ready to go. These were not the normal breeds used for Fair pigs, these were Poland Spot hogs. These Spot pigs are not as lean as Durocs, Yorks, Blue Butts, or Belted hogs. They put on marbled fat instead of normal hogs that layer it on top of the meat. This was the first time we had ever raised them, but the breeder assured me that once we tried them we would be back. Besides, the other hog leaders would not tell me where they got their hogs, so I was on my own to find a breeder.
We arrived at the ranch via the normal ranch directions – get off the freeway at exit **, go 3 miles to where the old gas station used to be, go east??? OK turn right, go to the dead tree, turn left . . . . Arriving at the ranch, we met with the breeder who was a very nice fellow and he took us back to the pigs. I had brought our muck boots which was a good thing. Although pigs will usually potty in just one spot of their sty, they like to dump their water and make a mud hole out of their pen. Pigs do not sweat or pant so covering themselves with mud is the way they stay cool in the heat. These pigs had decided they wanted to be very, very cool. DS1 and I put our boots on preparatory entering the muddy pen to catch the pigs. The breeder was limping on a cane, so we told him we would get the pigs if he wanted us to. First, we looked them over while the breeder gave us a lesson on what we should look for. I had studied my books, but it is harder to judge fast moving little weaner pigs. Having decided on the first pig, a nice long barrow with large hams and width across the loin, DS1 started the chase. DS1 tried to catch the pig but his hands kept slipping off the smooth sides. Study a pig and you will see there is really nothing to grab hold of. The breeder told him to catch the pig b the rear legs and pick him up that way. Finally catching him by a rear leg DS1 held on for dear life as the ornery porker tried to kick loose, meanwhile deafening us with his ear-piercing screams. Grabbing the other rear leg, I helped DS1 lift him upside down. Surprisingly, he shut up. The silence would have been equally deafening except his siblings were oinking and squealing too. Tossing him into the trailer, we returned to the pen. The breeder apologized for not being able to help, but DS1 was enjoying this chase & capture adventure. Another few pigs were discussed as possible picks and DS1 went into action again. Now we had 3 in the trailer. I was writing the ear numbers down as the breeder graded the pigs in order. By now DS1 was really getting into the spirit of the chase. 
As each pig was identified by the breeder, DS1 approached it slowly and captured it. Now there were 6 in the trailer, only 2 left to choose. But as the number of pigs in the pen decreased it meant they had more space to run. They were getting harder to catch and DS1 was getting tired. He also had slipped in the muddy pen several times and there was a good bit of pig pen on him. Determined, he approached the remaining pigs. He eyed the pigs, the remaining pigs eyed him. Just as they broke from the herd and scattered he pounced and grabbed another pig by the hind leg. Unfortunately, it was the wrong pig. 
Turning it loose he caught the right pig and into the trailer it went. Only one left to select - it was quickly identified and caught. The breeder, meanwhile, had been giving DS1 lessons on choosing the best market hogs in the pen. DS1 was a quick learner and enjoyed pointing out the pigs he thought would be best. By the end of the experience he was doing a pretty good job of selecting pigs. The breeder was a 4-H dad himself, with his youngest daughter approaching her last Fair. As I pulled out my checkbook and prepared to pay for the market pigs, the breeder quizzed DS1 on what he had taught him to look for in a market pig. Impressed with DS1’s pig catching skills and willingness to cover himself with pig mud, as well as having had a good laugh, the breeder now offered to give DS1 another pig for free, if he wanted it. A free pig? 
Why yes, he did! Leaping back into the pen, he prepared to go into battle once more. With a limited selection now, he approached the pigs. They had decided they did not like this game of catch, and having had a rest while we took care of business, scattered. Catching that last pig was more like a game of keep away. DS1 got hold of a leg but his hands were muddy and the pig kicked free, dumping DS1 in the mud again. Finally, bruised, muddy, and tired, DS1 caught his pig and carried it triumphantly to the trailer. Unlike his siblings who had stopped screaming once they were hoisted upside down, this particular pig squealed all the way to the trailer. It was a sign of things to come.
Standing a good distance away, we hosed DS1 off as well as we could. We tossed our muck boots were in the bed, along with DS1’s shirt. He refused to shuck his britches though, so we drove home with all the windows open, breathing through our mouths. On arrival, we sorted all the pigs. DS1 got first pick, DD1 got second pick, the 2 younger boys chose their pigs based on cuteness. There were now 5 pigs in a separate pen for the other 2 pig project members to chose from. Over they came and DS1, now a master pigman, shared his newly acquired knowledge (and smell) with them. Based on our (minimal) market hog knowledge, we showed the kids what to look for and they chose their pigs. DS1 grabbed each pig by the hind legs and showed them how to carry it to their car. Impressed by DS1’s masterful handling of their hogs, and hoping to escape from his odor, they quickly climbed inside their cars with their pigs. As they drove off we could hear their pigs squealing all the way down the hill. Taking the remaining pigs to the barn we tossed them into the pen we had built. They had plenty of room, we thought.
Remember the mantra of animal keepers? – always go bigger . . . . We would learn.
Where before I only had to learn enough for my own children and keeping our market and breeding animals, I now had to learn EVERYTHING about ALL market species. Apparently being the livestock leader for all kids who know nothing about livestock entails a whole new skill set. In addition, as each market animal project grew, I had to plan meetings for each species. In addition to our monthly general meeting, I now had to set up meetings for dairy goats, meat goats, market lambs, veal calves, rabbits, etc. We had the only breeding sheep so that project meeting met when we had to do something extra with the sheep.In addition to those meetings, my children were also in rocketry, shooting, cooking, sewing, film, horses, dogs, junior 4-H, leadership, self-determined, etc. If it was a listed project at least one of my children signed up in it. We participated in all the activities, Field Day, Judging Day, parades, etc., and, because I was a leader, the Leader’s Council. I eventually held several offices in the Council, was on the camp committee for our district, set up and ran the Field days, Judging Days, etc. that each district in our County was required to run. This entailed finding the premises, people to bring animals and exhibits for judging, finding people to man each station, and set up the questions, then finding people to correct each set of answer pages to find the high scorer in each category, on and on. There were years where I counted the days we did not have evening meetings instead of the days we did. While doing all that, I also taught at a preschool, and my family was called on to do school visits with our animals to publicize the Fair and 4-H. In addition, as the children's interest in their animal projects grew we attended seminars on showmanship, ethics, and market animals. These seminars were always over 2 hours away since there was no longer any farming in our area.
Once a year I took the children from our club to H summer camp where I was a chaperone and ran the camp store. This entailed shopping for the merchandise, setting up the store once there and keeping track of each kid’s money that they had to spend. At the beginning of camp I collected all the money, listed it on a card with name of the kid, and kept the cards. When the kids came to buy something at the store I marked off what they spent then at the end of each day, checked everything, and at the end of camp figured out how much money they got back, counted it out into envelopes to hand out as they went home.
Looking back, I am amazed at the work load I carried! In addition to keeping a clean house, we were still renovating our house, and I ws driving kids to school and picking up, ran a high school car pool, drove to after school activities – yes, they did those too ! I was raising rabbits semi commercially, DS2 was milking 12-15 does each morning (machine by then), running 3 pasteurizers twice through each morning, raising all the doe kids on bucket feeders, and raising feeder calves for sale. Once a month I drove to the feed mill, the dairy supply store, and either the auction yard to drop off buck kids for sale, the dairy to pick up new bull calves, or the cattle auction to drop off feeder calves.
It was exhausting, exhilarating, and the best time of our lives – we had so much fun with our kids living that life! So many stories to remember and put down here. I should try to copy them off these journal pages to keep them for my kids to read after we are gone so they will remember their childhood.
So back to the first sentence- I had now become the Livestock Leader of our 4-H club. Since I now had additional project kids who wanted to show market animals at the Fair, and since we were the only ones with a trailer, you can figure out where I am going with this . . . .
DS1, age 11, and I set off to pick up pigs for my 4 children and the other 2 kids who wanted to raise pigs for Fair. In addition to the sale pigs, DH had a friend at work who wanted a hog for his freezer, and we wanted a hog for our freezer. We raised our hogs on pig chow and rolled corn soaked in goat milk for 12 hours twice a day. They carried a little too much fat for Grand Champion but the ate so much better. We had bidders coming to fair just for our pigs. So, we needed 8 pigs. I had contacted a breeder in the Antelope Valley, an hour away, who had weaner pigs ready to go. These were not the normal breeds used for Fair pigs, these were Poland Spot hogs. These Spot pigs are not as lean as Durocs, Yorks, Blue Butts, or Belted hogs. They put on marbled fat instead of normal hogs that layer it on top of the meat. This was the first time we had ever raised them, but the breeder assured me that once we tried them we would be back. Besides, the other hog leaders would not tell me where they got their hogs, so I was on my own to find a breeder.
We arrived at the ranch via the normal ranch directions – get off the freeway at exit **, go 3 miles to where the old gas station used to be, go east???
OK turn right, go to the dead tree, turn left . . . . Arriving at the ranch, we met with the breeder who was a very nice fellow and he took us back to the pigs. I had brought our muck boots which was a good thing. Although pigs will usually potty in just one spot of their sty, they like to dump their water and make a mud hole out of their pen. Pigs do not sweat or pant so covering themselves with mud is the way they stay cool in the heat. These pigs had decided they wanted to be very, very cool. DS1 and I put our boots on preparatory entering the muddy pen to catch the pigs. The breeder was limping on a cane, so we told him we would get the pigs if he wanted us to. First, we looked them over while the breeder gave us a lesson on what we should look for. I had studied my books, but it is harder to judge fast moving little weaner pigs. Having decided on the first pig, a nice long barrow with large hams and width across the loin, DS1 started the chase. DS1 tried to catch the pig but his hands kept slipping off the smooth sides. Study a pig and you will see there is really nothing to grab hold of. The breeder told him to catch the pig b the rear legs and pick him up that way. Finally catching him by a rear leg DS1 held on for dear life as the ornery porker tried to kick loose, meanwhile deafening us with his ear-piercing screams. Grabbing the other rear leg, I helped DS1 lift him upside down. Surprisingly, he shut up. The silence would have been equally deafening except his siblings were oinking and squealing too. Tossing him into the trailer, we returned to the pen. The breeder apologized for not being able to help, but DS1 was enjoying this chase & capture adventure. Another few pigs were discussed as possible picks and DS1 went into action again. Now we had 3 in the trailer. I was writing the ear numbers down as the breeder graded the pigs in order. By now DS1 was really getting into the spirit of the chase. As each pig was identified by the breeder, DS1 approached it slowly and captured it. Now there were 6 in the trailer, only 2 left to choose. But as the number of pigs in the pen decreased it meant they had more space to run. They were getting harder to catch and DS1 was getting tired. He also had slipped in the muddy pen several times and there was a good bit of pig pen on him. Determined, he approached the remaining pigs. He eyed the pigs, the remaining pigs eyed him. Just as they broke from the herd and scattered he pounced and grabbed another pig by the hind leg. Unfortunately, it was the wrong pig. Turning it loose he caught the right pig and into the trailer it went. Only one left to select - it was quickly identified and caught. The breeder, meanwhile, had been giving DS1 lessons on choosing the best market hogs in the pen. DS1 was a quick learner and enjoyed pointing out the pigs he thought would be best. By the end of the experience he was doing a pretty good job of selecting pigs. The breeder was a 4-H dad himself, with his youngest daughter approaching her last Fair. As I pulled out my checkbook and prepared to pay for the market pigs, the breeder quizzed DS1 on what he had taught him to look for in a market pig. Impressed with DS1’s pig catching skills and willingness to cover himself with pig mud, as well as having had a good laugh, the breeder now offered to give DS1 another pig for free, if he wanted it. A free pig? Why yes, he did! Leaping back into the pen, he prepared to go into battle once more. With a limited selection now, he approached the pigs. They had decided they did not like this game of catch, and having had a rest while we took care of business, scattered. Catching that last pig was more like a game of keep away. DS1 got hold of a leg but his hands were muddy and the pig kicked free, dumping DS1 in the mud again. Finally, bruised, muddy, and tired, DS1 caught his pig and carried it triumphantly to the trailer. Unlike his siblings who had stopped screaming once they were hoisted upside down, this particular pig squealed all the way to the trailer. It was a sign of things to come.Standing a good distance away, we hosed DS1 off as well as we could. We tossed our muck boots were in the bed, along with DS1’s shirt. He refused to shuck his britches though, so we drove home with all the windows open, breathing through our mouths.
On arrival, we sorted all the pigs. DS1 got first pick, DD1 got second pick, the 2 younger boys chose their pigs based on cuteness. There were now 5 pigs in a separate pen for the other 2 pig project members to chose from. Over they came and DS1, now a master pigman, shared his newly acquired knowledge (and smell) with them. Based on our (minimal) market hog knowledge, we showed the kids what to look for and they chose their pigs. DS1 grabbed each pig by the hind legs and showed them how to carry it to their car. Impressed by DS1’s masterful handling of their hogs, and hoping to escape from his odor, they quickly climbed inside their cars with their pigs. As they drove off we could hear their pigs squealing all the way down the hill. Taking the remaining pigs to the barn we tossed them into the pen we had built. They had plenty of room, we thought. Remember the mantra of animal keepers? – always go bigger . . . .
We would learn.
