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The Boys Reunite
29 October 2008
Labour weekend arrived. Saturday was sunny but not particularly warm. Aaron had decided that Joy and Phyllis were too big for the van and they needed to be moved to the pond. That would leave Arthur by himself so we decided to reunite the boys. After all, Arthur and Spotty had been great mates just a few months back. After breakfast we got Joy and Phyllis out and they happily trotted down the drive with us. Easy peasy!
We got Spotty and Stanley out and they just as happily trotted up the drive. Spotty went straight to the gate and Stanley headed toward the shed. I went after Stanley and called back to Aaron that maybe we should get the boys to greet each other through the gate before opening it.
Too late. I turned Stanley around as Spotty was walking through the opened gate.
We threw crumbled camembert on the ground and the boys feasted happily. The whole thing was very pleasant, no fighting for cheese, just everyone getting his share. The cheese quickly disappeared and the boys looked up towards us to see if there was more.
And then all hell broke loose. Arthur and Spotty, started grunting and gnashing jaws and then slamming heads.
Shit!
With both boys close to 200kg each we were in no position to separate them. With sharp, tusk-like teeth they could easily slice human flesh to the bone. We watched and waited for them to recognize each other and… I dunno… shake trotters or something.
It didn’t happen. They fought and they fought and they fought. For 2 stressful hours we watched as they inflicted wounds on each other as we tried desperately to reason with them. We threw bucket after bucket of water over them but this just seemed to inflame the situation. At one point Spotty screamed and unholy scream and collapsed. I was beside myself with panic as Arthur stood next to him gasping for breath. Aaron had left the paddock to check on the girls and I didn’t know how to get Arthur away from Spotty. For about 30 seconds everything seemed to stop and then Spotty staggered to his feet and Arthur launched another attack. Again they fought, until eventually they were down the hill next to the swampy gully. I feared one would end up drowning in the mud but I could do nothing but stand and watch.
They both entered the swamp, the cool mud creeping up their legs. Spotty tried to run. He got a few feet away and collapsed. Arthur did the same. There they lay, unable to move for nearly an hour.
As soon as the boys collapsed in the mud Stanley went up to Arthur and the little sod decided that Arthur’s submissive position must mean he was a girl. He mounted Arthur. I waded through the mud and tried dragging off the 60kg worth of humping pork. He remounted and I dragged him off again. Consumed by utter exhaustion Arthur could do nothing but grunt furiously.
Over and over Stanley harassed Arthur and Aaron and I struggled to drag him away.
Eventually Aaron managed to divert Stanley’s attention but not before he was blue in the face from yelling and name calling.
And then I heard continual screaming from down the drive in the girl’s paddock. One of the girls was in serious pain. I sprinted up the hill, through the gate and down the drive. One of the fencing standards by the electric unit was out of the ground and part of the electric wire was on the ground. Joy ran up to me, grunting furiously. I stroked her and talked to her until she eventually calmed down and then I reerected the fence and went back to the boys.
Meanwhile Spotty had recovered enough to get out of the swamp and stagger over to the other side of the blackberry covered hill on the other side of the gully.
I checked their many wounds. Amazingly they were all superficial. The bruising however would have been tremendous.
We sat and waited, desperate for a chance to get one of the boys out of the paddock. Eventually they both got to their feet but they would not walk in the direction we wanted. Instead Arthur walked over to Spotty and the fighting started once again. It went on and on and I felt sure that it would not stop until one was killed or mortally wounded.
And then Arthur started screaming. He screamed and screamed and wouldn’t stop and so I started screaming “What do we do?! What do we do?!”
And then the screaming stopped and Arthur ran back to the mud and collapsed. Spotty collapsed on the spot.
We waited and waited. Every 10 minutes or so Arthur would get up and stagger a few more feet away. Spotty did the same in a bizarre game of pursuit that neither could fully participate in.
Stanley launched another assault on Arthur. This time he wanted to fight. Arthur managed to land a few bites but Stanley was confident of winning. Aaron lost it. His anger erupted into a tirade of abuse as he pushed and shoved at Stanley’s small but very strong frame.
I ran and fetched some cheese. Stanley’s desire for food over powered him and he ran up the hill after me and out the gate.
Aaron and I were exhausted. Arthur was struggling to breathe and Spotty could barely keep his eyes open. I tried to calm Arthur down but eventually it was clear he wanted to be left alone. Aaron and I returned to the house and watched them from the verandah.
After about 30 minutes Spotty got up again and started to walk very slowly up to the gate. Aaron sprinted down the hill and let him out.
A Shocking Event
Finally it was over. We took Spotty down to the stockyards where Stanley was waiting. As we shut the gate Aaron turned around and noticed an entire section of electric fencing on the corner of the drive had been pulled out of the ground and was tangled in the manuka trees. It was then I realized why Joy had screamed. She must have become completely entangled in the wire and been unable to free herself for a good 20 – 30 seconds.
We decided to move the girls up to the shed and the boys back to their pond.
I opened the new gate to the shed and lifted the electric wire. Joy quickly trotted out and up to the shed. Phyllis on the other hand refused to move. That’s when I realized it hadn’t been Joy caught in the fence but Phyllis. Unfortunately both Spotty and now Phyllis have had bad experiences with electric wire and fear it so much they do not want to go anywhere near. Even held high above my head it is a source of fear for the pigs. In the end the only option is to free a large length of wire from the standards and quickly move the wire over and past the pigs so that they are automatically on the other side of the wire and too scared to move backwards.
This is exactly what we did with Phyllis and she hurriedly walked over the drive and into the paddock with Joy.
Spotty & Stanley Return Home...Eventually
We then let Stanley and Spotty out of the stockyard. Stanley quickly crossed the drive and walked under the wire to his old paddock. Spotty on the other hand shot along the fenceline to talk to his sisters. For the next 15 minutes we did everything we could to persuade him back to the pond. He was still mentally wound up though and totally opposed to going anywhere near the wire. I was close to tears with frustration and Aaron blew a fuse again, telling Spotty in no uncertain terms that he was very close to joining Belle as ham and bacon.
Eventually we managed to get him far enough onto the driveway for me to rush the wire over him and just the touch of it had him running over to Stanley.
We were now well into the early afternoon with absolutely none of our usual chores achieved. In fact nothing had changed except the girls were in the shed and all the pigs were now mentally and or physically scarred from the day’s events.
I told Aaron I didn’t think I was capable of doing anything for the rest of the day. Aaron felt the same, and so we trudged up to the house and collapsed on the sofa.
What Exactly Does Bacon Look Like?
After a sufficient period of time doing nothing but reflecting regretfully on the error of our ways we decided we had better start sorting through the pork pieces we had defrosted overnight. Some of it was to become bacon and the rest of it salamis.
Quite frankly, despite our photographic guide to pork cuts we looked and looked and decided we hadn’t a clue what were looking at. A couple of pieces looked vaguely like they could be streaky bacon and 1 piece possibly like middle bacon but quite frankly we weren’t convinced. Eventually Aaron decided it didn’t matter and we had to make a decision so he now deemed them bacon. I protested but Aaron’s patience had worn thin from the day’s events and he was in no mood to argue. Either they were bacon and we would cure them together or they weren’t and I could forget about his helping.
I agreed they were bacon.
We mixed up a container of bacon cure – salt, brown sugar and a small amount of the sodium nitrate cure. We massaged this into all 3 bacon chunks and then shut them in a large plastic container and put the container in a cool spot for 24 hours.
Troy, Jacqui and Frit turned up for dinner with Chas. I had asked them to buy burger buns so I could make burgers but by the time they arrived I was so knackered I’d already thrown the mince into a pan with beans and chilli sauce. We had nachos instead.
Whisky was thrilled to see Chas. Coppa was not. Being both unneutered males as soon as a bitch comes on the property tempers often flare and fights ensue. Several times during the weekend we had to separate them.
The only other thing that had to be done that night was to dice the remaining thawed pork cuts. Frit chopped up one, then Aaron the other and I was left with a piece that was so awkward in shape it took me an hour to chop it up.
In the end we had something like 11 kilos of diced pork and a large amount of fat. All ready for the next day’s salami making mission.
Phyllis Is Unwell
It was our usual early start to Sunday morning. We got the pig food ready. Arthur was waiting by the gate. We took the opportunity and walked him down the drive and up into the girls paddock.
We fed all the pigs and then I noticed something disturbing. Phyllis appeared to have what I could only assume was afterbirth hanging from her rear. We checked the shed. Nothing. It started to rain heavily. While I watched Phyllis Aaron raced around the paddock looking for and signs that Phyllis might have given birth. He found nothing and so we left, both of us acutely aware that the situation did not look good.
Back at the house we had breakfast and then started grinding and mixing meat. We had 2 salami mixes - 1 Genoa style and 1 Italian style. I made the first salami with Troy and then donned raincoat and boots and headed down the drive to see Phyllis.
I walked into the shed and there was an explosion of noise. Phyllis, Joy and Arthur rushed at me grunting madly, and then I saw that Phyllis had miscarried. The pigs turned and stood over the tiny, stillborn piglets. Joy grunted madly at Arthur and pushed him away and then she cuddled up to Phyllis and grunted soothingly.
I knelt down and hugged Phyllis. I made a move to pick up the piglets and afterbirth and Phyllis quickly blocked my path. She was clearly very upset. And so I sat by her head and stroked and hugged her and talked. Not that I knew what to say. What does one say to a first time mum who’s lost her babies? It didn’t matter. She leant into me and seemed to calm. Eventually she lay down and I removed the piglets and soiled hay and put them to one side.
I walked back up to the shed for more hay, a bucket and gloves. When I came down Joy and Phyllis were cuddled up together and Arthur lay in the doorway keeping guard.
I put the piglets and hay into the bucket and then sat down next to Phyllis. I cried as I hugged and stroked my darling, red-haired, pocket rocket.
Eventually Phyllis drifted off to sleep and I walked back up to the house.
The salami making continued and a couple of hours later I went back to see Phyllis. She’d miscarried more piglets. Despite being only weeks old the tiny piglets were perfectly formed. It broke my heart. Phyllis let me take them.
The weather was miserable. It rained persistently and the bitter southerly slammed into the shed, finding its way though every gap. Phyllis was shivering. Joy snuggled into one side and I lay down on the other and covered her with hay.
As the shivering subsided I got up and left.
Aaron took Coppa for a drive down to Warkworth orchard.
When he returned we started making the 2nd lot of salamis.
I went and visited Phyllis. There were more piglets and placentas to clean up and Phyllis was clearly exhausted.
I had stopped feeling sad but I felt emotionally exhausted. Cleaning up had been unpleasant so I hadn’t counted piglets. I guessed there had been 8 – 10 in total, about the right amount for a first time mother. I stayed a while but the salamis needed to be finished and interest was waning at the house. Phyllis, Joy and Arthur slept. It was pig dinnertime but they were all too tired to realize.
We fed out 2 hours late. Phyllis got up to eat. It was a good sign.
Troy and co left late afternoon.
We Hear A Bang
Monday morning arrived and after breakfast we headed down the drive to clean the troughs and clean the pig housing. We finished cleaning in the pond area and walked towards the girls paddock.
There was a loud bang outside the property. I recognized the sound instantly.
“I think someone’s blown a…” my words were drowned out by a squealing of tyres and a loud crash.
Shit.
Aaron and I sprinted back up the drive. Aaron raced across the paddock and over the stream and I carried up the drive with the dogs. I could hear cars pulling up on the highway. I climbed to the top of Naniwha hill and saw a campervan lying on its side in the middle of the highway. A middle aged couple climbed slowly out the driver’s passenger window. They appeared unhurt, although I suspect they were suffering from shock and bruising. I went back down the drive and carried on cleaning. Aaron stayed on the highway directing traffic for the next half hour until someone else offered to take over.
The couple were very lucky to have been travelling when they did. By lunchtime the highway would be heavy with traffic returning home after the long weekend. The accident could very easily have been a lot worse.
The rest of the day passed by relatively smoothly. It was a sunny day and perfect for getting stuff done. We cleaned, we chipped and we turned the compost.
The Chickens Leave the Coop
Now the chickens have been free ranging for the last 2 or 3 months cleaning the chicken coop is a breeze.
Every morning we open the door to the coop and half fill a bowl with pellets. The chooks eat and then when there’s sufficient light in the day they let themselves out and start exploring and scratching around. Interestingly enough the dog’s boundary around the house has also become the chickens boundary. They walk all around the outside of the house looking for food and entertainment but never stray very far. They appear to have become quite attached to myself and Aaron, for reasons we don’t quite understand, and follow us around much like the dogs.
The only real issue we have with the chickens is that they no longer use their own water bowls, preferring to instead share the dogs’ water bowl. The dogs’ bowl is located on the verandah outside the living room doors. The chickens like to stand around the bowl a lot, as though it were a bar at the local pub. 
Occasionally the dogs push them out of the way to relieve their own thirst. And if we should be sitting inside and the dogs are lounging either inside or out the chooks will occasionally wander up to the door and just stand there and watch, observing, somehow making themselves part of the family unit. So now, despite having cursed there very beings not so long ago we find ourselves occasionally including them in conversation and treating them as we do the rest of our menagerie of animals. They seem to like being included.
The unfortunate downside of their new found freedom is that they shit anywhere and everywhere. The verandah is now covered in great big gobs of chicken shit.
Initially I didn’t think it would be a problem – just wait for it to dry and brush it off. It would seem not. The stuff sets like concrete and has to be scraped off, even then it does its best to stay put. So now it seems we will need to invest in our own water blaster. (I can see this becoming another weekly chore to add to our list.)
It was Aaron’s idea to set the chickens free. I was sure with the dog’s penchant for attacking anything with feathers that we would soon be chickenless. But Aaron said “It’ll be fine. I’ve told the dogs to leave the chickens alone”.
Oddly enough I was not reassured by this comment.
In all honesty I think maybe Aaron was secretly hoping we would become chickenless. I suspect he let them out in the hope they’d move onto greener pastures.
It seems the chickens have no desire to leave though and in fact are so well trained that without any prompting from us they actually put themselves to bed at night (in the coop).
As for the dogs, for the most part they let the chickens do their own thing and there has been no territorial behaviour as far as the water bowl goes. Even when the chickens venture into the dog run the dogs just watch them and leave them to it. However, just occasionally the dogs will very casually, as if almost accidentally, chase the chickens around the patio. And every now and then Marty will be on the receiving end of a paw tap as the dogs remind the chickens of the pecking order (as it were).
When the dogs do step over the boundary a firm “Be nice!” quickly pulls them back into line.
Of course I’m under no illusions that there isn’t potential for carnage in the future. Especially with Marty’s habit of crowing or squawking loudly when you least expect it. A sudden loud crow in the ear of a peacefully sleeping dog could easily cause an unsavoury reaction.
But in the meantime there is relative peace and harmony and so things will carry on as they are for the time being. There is the possibility that when we’ve finished fencing the new duck area the chickens will be moved into there, if only to stop the mess on the verandah, but nothing’s decided.
It was our usual early start to Sunday morning. We got the pig food ready. Arthur was waiting by the gate. We took the opportunity and walked him down the drive and up into the girls paddock.
We fed all the pigs and then I noticed something disturbing. Phyllis appeared to have what I could only assume was afterbirth hanging from her rear. We checked the shed. Nothing. It started to rain heavily. While I watched Phyllis Aaron raced around the paddock looking for and signs that Phyllis might have given birth. He found nothing and so we left, both of us acutely aware that the situation did not look good.
Back at the house we had breakfast and then started grinding and mixing meat. We had 2 salami mixes - 1 Genoa style and 1 Italian style. I made the first salami with Troy and then donned raincoat and boots and headed down the drive to see Phyllis.
I walked into the shed and there was an explosion of noise. Phyllis, Joy and Arthur rushed at me grunting madly, and then I saw that Phyllis had miscarried. The pigs turned and stood over the tiny, stillborn piglets. Joy grunted madly at Arthur and pushed him away and then she cuddled up to Phyllis and grunted soothingly.
I knelt down and hugged Phyllis. I made a move to pick up the piglets and afterbirth and Phyllis quickly blocked my path. She was clearly very upset. And so I sat by her head and stroked and hugged her and talked. Not that I knew what to say. What does one say to a first time mum who’s lost her babies? It didn’t matter. She leant into me and seemed to calm. Eventually she lay down and I removed the piglets and soiled hay and put them to one side.
I walked back up to the shed for more hay, a bucket and gloves. When I came down Joy and Phyllis were cuddled up together and Arthur lay in the doorway keeping guard.
I put the piglets and hay into the bucket and then sat down next to Phyllis. I cried as I hugged and stroked my darling, red-haired, pocket rocket.
Eventually Phyllis drifted off to sleep and I walked back up to the house.
The salami making continued and a couple of hours later I went back to see Phyllis. She’d miscarried more piglets. Despite being only weeks old the tiny piglets were perfectly formed. It broke my heart. Phyllis let me take them.
The weather was miserable. It rained persistently and the bitter southerly slammed into the shed, finding its way though every gap. Phyllis was shivering. Joy snuggled into one side and I lay down on the other and covered her with hay.
As the shivering subsided I got up and left.
Aaron took Coppa for a drive down to Warkworth orchard.
When he returned we started making the 2nd lot of salamis.
I went and visited Phyllis. There were more piglets and placentas to clean up and Phyllis was clearly exhausted.
I had stopped feeling sad but I felt emotionally exhausted. Cleaning up had been unpleasant so I hadn’t counted piglets. I guessed there had been 8 – 10 in total, about the right amount for a first time mother. I stayed a while but the salamis needed to be finished and interest was waning at the house. Phyllis, Joy and Arthur slept. It was pig dinnertime but they were all too tired to realize.
We fed out 2 hours late. Phyllis got up to eat. It was a good sign.
Troy and co left late afternoon.
We Hear A Bang
Monday morning arrived and after breakfast we headed down the drive to clean the troughs and clean the pig housing. We finished cleaning in the pond area and walked towards the girls paddock.
There was a loud bang outside the property. I recognized the sound instantly.
“I think someone’s blown a…” my words were drowned out by a squealing of tyres and a loud crash.
Shit.
Aaron and I sprinted back up the drive. Aaron raced across the paddock and over the stream and I carried up the drive with the dogs. I could hear cars pulling up on the highway. I climbed to the top of Naniwha hill and saw a campervan lying on its side in the middle of the highway. A middle aged couple climbed slowly out the driver’s passenger window. They appeared unhurt, although I suspect they were suffering from shock and bruising. I went back down the drive and carried on cleaning. Aaron stayed on the highway directing traffic for the next half hour until someone else offered to take over.
The couple were very lucky to have been travelling when they did. By lunchtime the highway would be heavy with traffic returning home after the long weekend. The accident could very easily have been a lot worse.
The rest of the day passed by relatively smoothly. It was a sunny day and perfect for getting stuff done. We cleaned, we chipped and we turned the compost.
The Chickens Leave the Coop
Now the chickens have been free ranging for the last 2 or 3 months cleaning the chicken coop is a breeze.
Every morning we open the door to the coop and half fill a bowl with pellets. The chooks eat and then when there’s sufficient light in the day they let themselves out and start exploring and scratching around. Interestingly enough the dog’s boundary around the house has also become the chickens boundary. They walk all around the outside of the house looking for food and entertainment but never stray very far. They appear to have become quite attached to myself and Aaron, for reasons we don’t quite understand, and follow us around much like the dogs.
The only real issue we have with the chickens is that they no longer use their own water bowls, preferring to instead share the dogs’ water bowl. The dogs’ bowl is located on the verandah outside the living room doors. The chickens like to stand around the bowl a lot, as though it were a bar at the local pub. 
Occasionally the dogs push them out of the way to relieve their own thirst. And if we should be sitting inside and the dogs are lounging either inside or out the chooks will occasionally wander up to the door and just stand there and watch, observing, somehow making themselves part of the family unit. So now, despite having cursed there very beings not so long ago we find ourselves occasionally including them in conversation and treating them as we do the rest of our menagerie of animals. They seem to like being included.
The unfortunate downside of their new found freedom is that they shit anywhere and everywhere. The verandah is now covered in great big gobs of chicken shit.
Initially I didn’t think it would be a problem – just wait for it to dry and brush it off. It would seem not. The stuff sets like concrete and has to be scraped off, even then it does its best to stay put. So now it seems we will need to invest in our own water blaster. (I can see this becoming another weekly chore to add to our list.)
It was Aaron’s idea to set the chickens free. I was sure with the dog’s penchant for attacking anything with feathers that we would soon be chickenless. But Aaron said “It’ll be fine. I’ve told the dogs to leave the chickens alone”.
Oddly enough I was not reassured by this comment.
In all honesty I think maybe Aaron was secretly hoping we would become chickenless. I suspect he let them out in the hope they’d move onto greener pastures.
It seems the chickens have no desire to leave though and in fact are so well trained that without any prompting from us they actually put themselves to bed at night (in the coop).
As for the dogs, for the most part they let the chickens do their own thing and there has been no territorial behaviour as far as the water bowl goes. Even when the chickens venture into the dog run the dogs just watch them and leave them to it. However, just occasionally the dogs will very casually, as if almost accidentally, chase the chickens around the patio. And every now and then Marty will be on the receiving end of a paw tap as the dogs remind the chickens of the pecking order (as it were).
When the dogs do step over the boundary a firm “Be nice!” quickly pulls them back into line.
Of course I’m under no illusions that there isn’t potential for carnage in the future. Especially with Marty’s habit of crowing or squawking loudly when you least expect it. A sudden loud crow in the ear of a peacefully sleeping dog could easily cause an unsavoury reaction.
But in the meantime there is relative peace and harmony and so things will carry on as they are for the time being. There is the possibility that when we’ve finished fencing the new duck area the chickens will be moved into there, if only to stop the mess on the verandah, but nothing’s decided.
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