A Lot Can Happen in a Month

23 March 2009

The Fate of the Injured Piglets

It’s been a hell of a month on the block since Phyllis gave birth. We’ve both been incredibly busy both at home and at work and fatigue has set in. I’ve been struggling mentally to keep going. I feel like I’m caught in a rip. I’m fighting to get back to my happy place but I feel like the more I’m doing the less I’m achieving. There’s an awful feeling of getting sucked under the weight of ‘To Do Lists’ and deadlines.

For 2 weeks after Phyllis injured her piglets I cleaned and dressed wounds twice a day. At a week old the piglets were well and truly content to race around the paddock, to dig in the dirt under the trees and to wallow in mud. I observed this continual exposure to dirt and waited for infection to set in and for piglets to die.

The little girl with the broken leg learnt to run on 3 legs and kept up really well. In fact she often ran so fast she would trip and roly poly along the ground. I’d wince at the thought of the pain.

The whole thing was emotionally draining and Phyllis continued to be annoyed by my presence.

Today I observe these piglets and I cannot tell you which piglet had the broken leg. After 3 weeks of holding her leg in the air she tentatively stretched it out straight and started to hobble around on all 4 legs. 3 days later the hobble was gone and we could not detect even a slight limp in any of the piglets.

I cannot recognise the piglet with the degloved foot either. The skin reformed, closed over the wound and after a week of having a bumpy looking foot I cannot tell you which piglet he was.

As for the piglet with the horrific degloving injury, the only way to recognise him is that he has a very small tag of skin and hair in his groin. For the first 2 weeks he did not seem to grow and yet his wound seemed to heal, shrinking and scabbing over. The flap of skin that had hung from his body shrank and curled over, forming the tag of skin in his groin. He kept rubbing off his scab and I kept putting on the antiseptic cream. It worked.

Since his injury he has literally grown new skin and hair over the wound. Absolutely Unf***ing believable is really the only way to describe it. I have witnessed the amazing healing powers of pigs before but this just blows me away. No one would look at this piglet and believe it had suffered such an horrific injury with virtually no visible sign of it 4 weeks later. No human could survive such an injury without stitches, skin grafts, drugs and all manner of human intervention. The recuperation would be long and the scars would be ugly and a permanent reminder of the accident.

If humans could regrow skin and stave off infection like pigs we would have limited use for hospitals and drugs. The power of pig healing is far superior to anything we humans possess. They seem to have an incredibly high pain threshold and a very strong survival instinct.

Quite frankly, had I not witnessed these events myself I would not believe them. How is it possible to regrow skin and hair and for it to all join up and leave no scar? This piglet also started to put on weight at 2 weeks of age and has caught up so well that he is virtually the same size as his siblings.

The Pig Plough

When we moved Joy and the piglets into the top orchard we did nothing to the long kikuyu grass. There just wasn’t time to cut it. Instead we focused on putting barriers around the orchard trees. Joy had successfully eaten 3 in the lower orchard and we didn’t want to lose any more.

I moved them on Saturday morning at breakfast time. Aaron was in KatiKati picking up a saddleback sow so I was on my own. No worries at mealtime though. At mealtime a pig loses its ability to think and reason. I held the breakfast buckets in my hands, swung open the gate, called out “Here piggie, piggie” and they bolted after me. The whole operation took less than a minute.

I left them to eat breakfast and then went back down to the shed and got a bucket of apples. Back up at Joy’s paddock I threw apples all over the paddock and the pigs took off around the orchard, snuffling through grass looking for them.

I came back about an hour later to check on them and was stunned to see Joy and piglets working hard to clear a large square of earth to one side. They’d completely dug out a large karamu I’d ummed and aahed over whether to save. It was dug up with all roots intact and dropped on the spot. I picked it up and went and replanted it in the duck paddock.

By lunchtime the pigs were all fast asleep on the bare earth they’d cleared. There really is nothing so efficient at clearing kikuyu grass than a pig. Not only do they eat the grass but they absolutely love digging up all the roots and runners. What the pigs managed to do in a couple of hours would take me so long I wouldn’t even bother. Even better, once they clear an outside sleeping area they love to clear around all the fencelines and trees before starting on anything else.

Joy and Apron Strings

What the hell is up with our girl Joy?! Her babies are almost 4 months old and big, fat, baby porkers. She should have weaned them at approx. 6 weeks of age but still she has not. Joy has lost far too much weight and cannot compete with her babies at meal time.

Last week she was looking almost gaunt. That was it. Enough was enough. The babies had to go. We were due to move Joy and the piglets in to the top orchard on the weekend and after a day together we would remove the boys and put them in with Stanley.

Sunday arrived and 2 ½ buckets of apple bribes later we were finally able to sneak the boys out the paddock and while Aaron continued to distract Joy with apples I enticed the boys around the house and part way down the drive with handfuls of feta. All was going well until the boys sniffed something in the grass, temporarily froze as if in fright and then turned and bolted back to where they had come from. What the…?!

Meanwhile Joy had figured out her boys were gone and gone into another maternal rage and suddenly we had chaos again. I opened the gate to where Joy was and one of the boys ran in but the other 2 shot off around the side and raced up to the back fence. I opened the back gate and they shot in to where Joy was now waiting and then she seemed to race around mentally counting before mum and piglets all collapsed in the wallow.

Aaron and I were gobsmacked. This whole situation is completely insane. Aaron threw his hands in the air “I give up!” Joy would surely get sick and die if this carried on.

We had to ensure Joy put on weight. And then I got an idea. In their new paddock Aaron had rolled in one of our large octagonal picnic tables for the piglets to lie under and Joy to scratch against. I suggested we try putting Joy’s trough on the seat and the piglets ones on the ground.

At dinner time we trialled it and we had success. While Con figured out he could stand on his back legs and partake of the food in Joy’s trough it proved to be too much of a strain and he eventually resorted to the easy on the ground trough system.

As long as Joy can get nearly a bucket of food into her each mealtime, we should be able to get her to put on weight. I wonder if she will ever cut those apron strings though…

Rings Do Not Belong in Pig Noses

Since Arthur has been alone in his own paddock, just over 4 weeks now, he has been listless. Occasionally he will grunt at the girls across the drive but last week I noticed a slightly disturbing habit. Arthur had started sleeping all day, only rising to eat. In turn his weight had suddenly shot up. He now seems absolutely enormous when I stand next to him.

He has a big paddock with lots of interest. What was the problem? And then I stood there and looked around his paddock and the problem suddenly became very clear. Other than the pond, there’s been no digging since Phyllis left. Arthur can only forage for roots and bugs when another pig helps him with the digging. Alone and unable to dig Arthur is bored. Very, very bored.

What the hell does a pig do when it can’t act on its desire to dig? Nothing, that’s what. A pig can do nothing and so it does nothing. It is the equivalent of putting a child in a sandpit with a bucket and spade and then tying his hands behind his back. My god, I curse that god forsaken ring every time I see the bloody thing. It was an enormous thing when he arrived but now Arthur is so big it is barely noticeable. Not to Arthur of course. It’s a permanent reminder to him. It’s not like putting a tongue stud in, where the inconvenience is only there for days. A nose ring equals permanent discomfort. It’s a barbaric practice and quite frankly, if you want to put a ring in a pig nose then you don’t deserve to own such a wonderful creature.

Who are these people with such pristine paddocks that they cannot cope with the thought of a little ploughing? It’s such a common practice here in good old Kiwi land that no one thinks twice. It should be banned. But that doesn’t help Arthur.

I keep trying to turn it to get to the hinge part of it but he flinches and pulls away. I have noticed it has started to rust inside his nose. I hope this means it will eventually break and fall out. It is unfortunately the only solution.

So anyway, Aaron suggested we try stimulating Arthur’s imagination and so he opened the gate to the bottom paddock so that Arthur can roam in and out at will. He regularly goes for walks around the paddock now and we have cut back the size of his meals. Aaron and I have also started walking with him and he seems to like it. He grunts constantly as he ambles along next to us. It is a shame we don’t have the money to properly fence Phyllis’ current paddock in 2, Then he could be on one side and the girls on the other and they could all keep each other company without the girls getting pregnant. I’m sure the piglets would also have great fun getting to know their dad.

The Return of the Glorious Ute

After one too many spills of cheese in the boot, a couple of flat tyres and a seriously bouncy suspension, Aaron finally decided he’d thrashed the Caldina one too many times.

He logged onto Trade me and for a week we scanned the listings for a ute. Finally we found a double cab, Ford Courier ute just out of Matakana. We bid, we got and $2,200 later we suddenly became a 3 car family.

I parked my Levin for the last time and took the keys of the Caldina. Now it’s my turn to list a car on Trade Me. I looked at the Levins on Trade Me and they’re all listed at ridiculously high prices. No one is selling my model for less than $3000. Dude, if I’d known they were worth something I might have cleaned her every now and then!

So anyway, I wasn’t expecting to get over $1000 so once I’ve finished cleaning her (you have no idea how hard it is to clean away 3 years of dirt!) I’ll list her for $1500 and hope for the best. It’ll be hard saying goodbye. Talk about reliable. But to be fair she’s no farm vehicle. She isn’t capable of carrying anything more supermarket shopping.

Mother Nature Lashes Out

7 March 2009 In the last week we have had 2 tropical storms hit the country. Our farm has been hit by intense rainfalls and strong winds. Last weekend the stream level steadily rose and as we lay in bed on Friday night listening to the driving rain the possibility of flooding became more and more likely. The weather was so foul we opened the bar door and put towels on the sofa and floors so the dogs could take shelter if they wanted to. Whisky at least spent the whole night in dry and comfort. At 3am on Saturday Aaron awoke. The rain had not stopped. “We better go check things out”, and so we dressed and set off by torchlight down the drive. The cows were on the flood plain but with a hillside to shelter on we hoped they’d been sensible. I shone my light on the paddock but although I could pick up the reflection of flood water I couldn’t see the reflection of eyes. The paddock was flooded and I felt genuinely fearful. Too many times we have had to rescue our cows from flood waters and I wondered if this time I our number was up. I refused to think about the potential financial loss. Our main concern was Arthur. His paddock was almost completely flooded and the water was getting dangerously close to his house. We looked in his house and he was lovely and dry and fast asleep. I felt terrible waking him up but if the rain continued his house would soon be under water and as it was on the highest point he would have nowhere to go. He got up and thinking he was going to be fed walked straight around the side of his house and into the flood. Confused he kept on walking. We tried calling him back but he wouldn’t listen. I was starting to panic. If he suddenly stepped into a hole or got caught in a rip we’d have major problems. I raced up the hill to get a bucket of apples while Aaron kept watch. Arthur had walked through the water and was now on dry ground by his toilet area. I didn’t want to risk his walking back through the water so I raced around the drive and gave him some apples and then Aaron and I lifted the electric tape up and over his head and refixed it behind him. As I slowly managed to coax him up onto the drive Aaron also moved the electric wire in front of his house to behind it. We had nowhere to put Arthur and so the plan was to open the stockyards and let Arthur mill between the drive and the yards. We placed a sheet of corrugated iron over a thin section of the yards and hastily filled and dumped crates of woodchip on the ground underneath. We then dragged his trough into the yards and put the rest of the apples in. We left Arthur in the yards to eat. It was thoroughly unpleasant for him but at least he was safe. We headed back to the bottom paddock with a sense of dread, but then I picked up the reflection of 4 sets of eyes. 3 of the cattle were standing on the edge of the flood but Baby Red was standing in up to her knees. We called and called to coax them up the hill but they just looked at us. Aaron went up to the shed to get a crate of cabbage. I hopped in the paddock and got in behind the cows. As Aaron threw cabbage over the fence I slowly moved forward, waving my arms, saying “Let’s go. Let’s go”. They ambled slowly up the hill to the fenceline and then stood there eating cabbage. Aaron and I went back to bed. In the morning the cattle were still on the hill where we’d left them and Arthur stood on the drive outside his house, confused and wet. Poor boy. The flood had got no higher and had we left him he would have slept through it. Still, better safe than sorry. Now we know that we need to raise the ground underneath his house and put some fencing around so that in a storm he can be contained within his house area without fear of drowning. I’m thinking a rock retaining wall and a truck load of lime is probably going to be the answer.

Babies, Babies Everywhere

28 February 2009 Saturday morning as Aaron and I went about our daily tasks Aaron advised me that Phyllis had pulled a few bits of grass into the shed. She was definitely nesting. Today would be the day. A couple of hours later I went into check on her. Holy crap!

The girl had gone into nesting overdrive. She had pushed all the chip from the edges of the shed into the middle, I swear she’d actually turned over and rearranged most of the chip in the shed. Then she’d added mounds of kikuyu, twigs and branches of manuka she’d ripped off the trees in her paddock. It was impressive to say the least. This was the ultimate in pig nests. Most of the stuff was mounded on one side, with a hollow in the middle for her and the babies. To me it looked like a bit like a death trap for piglets, with no easy escape route. However, through recent experience we’ve learnt that you do not interfere with a sow’s nest. I left her to it. At dinner time I checked in on Phyllis. She was in labour. I talked to her for a while and gently massaged her side and back and then left her to it. About 5ish I headed back down to the shed with a bucket and rubber gloves. I wasn’t going to have any more dead babies if it could be helped. At 6 o’clock the first piglet arrived. I quickly cleared the afterbirth off it and then watched as the piglet tried to find its mum’s teats. It wasn’t the smartest piglet and headed the wrong way, nudging up and down her spine. I picked it up and put it in the right spot. Twice more it shakily staggered its way around her back before it finally cottoned on to where it should be. I heard a car pull in the driveway. Our CouchSurfers had arrived. It was bad timing really. Magret and Terry were only here for the night and I suspected they wouldn’t see much of me. Aaron and the dogs greeted them as they came in the driveway and invited them into the shed. I didn’t think Phyllis would appreciate having an audience but Aaron didn’t have a problem with it. And so for the next 30-40 minutes Magret and Terry watched and witnessed the birth of 3 more piglets. They seemed quite thrilled with the whole experience and when Phyllis seemed to reach a break in proceedings we made our way up the hill. An hour or so later Phyllis started having contractions again and by 8 O’clock had had 4 more piglets. Two of them had been born encased in the placenta, unable to move or breathe. It was a relief to know I had been there to help them. One of them struggled to breathe for several minutes as it tried to clear the mucous from its throat. I tried using some techniques I’d seen when watching Jimmy’s Farm and eventually it came right. And so my evening was spent continually running between house and shed as I looked after piglets, cleared up afterbirth, made dinner and tried to entertain. Thank god Aaron’s the better host. Despite my continual absence and preoccupation our guests seemed to have a good time. Sunday morning Magret and Terry left and Aaron and I got stuck into working. I continually checked up on Phyllis and the babies during the day and discovered that Phyllis' hormones had kicked in and she seemed unhappy with my presence. I had always assumed Joy would be the least favourable of human presence as Phyllis and I seemed to have a good bond. However my relationship with Phyllis has become more and more strained as the week has progressed. It’s Time For Weaning Joy’s piglets are 7 weeks old and are drinking so much milk that Joy cannot put on weight. It was time to separate mum and babies. Sunday afternoon we opened the gate next to the dogs’ run and called the pigs. They smelt the buckets of food we were carrying and raced after us as we walked around the back of the house to the top orchard. The piglets ran in and we shut the gate and turned Joy around. She quickly followed the bucket. Aaron fed the piglets and I took Joy back to her orchard and fed her. Talk about easy! I left and shut the gate and went back and checked on the piglets. They were a little unsure of their new surroundings and kept trying to get out underneath the fence. I suspected we would need to reinforce it before they found an escape route. Damn, more work! I let myself out as Aaron tried to encourage the piglets into the wallow. I thought I could hear Joy grunting and wanted to check on her. As I came around the corner of the house I saw her attacking the gate and then she lifted the gate clean off the hinges and started running towards me. “Aaron! Open the gate!” Joy raced up to her piglets and they shot out the gate to greet her. I banged 2 buckets together and they followed me back to their old home. I shut the gate. Joy was very wound up. She stalked around the paddock in a very agitated state, her piglets running excitedly after her. She came over to the gate again and started attacking it. I tried to hold it in place and talk soothingly to her but she was in no mood to listen and I was no match for her incredible strength. She broke through the gate again and mum and piglets headed towards the back of the house. Joy took a swipe at one of the chickens and they flew off squawking. We couldn’t convince any of the pigs to turn back so I ran down the hill to get some camemberts. When I came back up Aaron had virtually given up in frustration. Joy had found the dogs bones and was crunching them rather loudly and the piglets had split up and were racing here, there and everywhere. However, pieces of camembert waved enticingly in front of piggy noses did the trick and once again they followed me back into their paddock. Aaron refixed the gate and I walked Joy and the piglets down to the wallow. Joy was still very wound up and the piglets were reacting excitedly to her agitation. They all jumped in the wallow and peace was restored. Or so I thought. 10 minutes later Joy emerged from the wallow, paced around the paddock and then broke through the gate once more. She headed straight for the dog bones. Aaron tried physically pushing her backwards but she wouldn’t budge. As the piglets ran back and forth in front of the verandah I grabbed a large piece of roofing iron and stood blocking the path to the front of the house. Aaron tried pushing and talking to Joy and she slowly made her way back to the gate. The piglets ran in the gate but Joy refused and turned around. The piglets ran out again. Aaron started to get agitated. Joy got even more agitated and very quickly it became a battle of wills. After a couple of minutes of trying to coax Joy through the gate Aaron lost his temper and started yelling at Joy and shoving her. Joy reacted by getting more and more agitated. The situation was fast spiralling out of control. I kept telling Aaron to calm down but this only seemed to incense him. The madder he got, the madder she got. Eventually I found myself screaming at Aaron to calm down and to use the bag of empty mussel shells on the verandah as an enticement. He completely ignored me of course, his only interest at that point to show Joy who was boss. The situation was ludicrous. It was obvious Joy’s maternal instinct had gone into overdrive and she was experiencing a massive adrenaline surge. Aaron’s anger was only serving to fuel that surge. But I guess it is the way of things, tell an angry person to calm down and it only serves to do the opposite. “Use the mussels! Use the mussels!” I screamed. Aaron grabbed the bag of mussels and hurled it in my direction and then stormed off, leaving the pigs to walk off. I grabbed the mussels and a piece of camembert on one of the bbq tables and got the pigs to walk back to the paddock with me. Aaron fixed the gate and held it shut. I ran down to the shed and filled a bucket full of pig nuts and cheese and then ran back up the hill. I fed Joy and the piglets and kept feeding them while Aaron raced down the drive and fetched an electric wire and unit. As the pigs ate Aaron set up the unit inside their paddock. Joy and the piglets ate until their tummies literally bulged and then Joy stormed back up to the gate again. Her nose connected with the tape and she screamed and bolted back behind the dog kennel where she collapsed on the ground. One after another the piglets came up and sniffed the tape, squealed in shock and ran back and collapsed next to mum. Within 10 minutes they were all in a deep sleep and calm descended. They slept for hours and eventually all awoke calm and happy. We were both shocked. Every pig farmer we’ve spoken to has assured us that sows get heartily sick of their piglets and are only too happy to give them up once they start eating solids. Joy it seems has unnaturally strong maternal instincts. We decided at that point that providing she doesn’t lose any more weight she can make up her own mind about when to wean. The Harsh Realities of Animal Rearing Sunday evening Aaron and I took the dogs for their last walk of the day. Aaron decided to give Arthur a bit of attention while I gave Phyllis a last check on. Phyllis was rearranging her nest and the piglets were milling around watching. They looked fine but then they moved and I discovered the smallest piglet had an horrific injury. I couldn’t believe that it was a) standing and b) not squealing in pain. I walked outside and called Aaron. And so we stood and stared in shock at the wound. Part of its side, groin and thigh had been degloved, exposing all of the muscle. The skin hung in a flap from its body. The first horrifying thought for both of us was that we would have to end the life of this poor little piglet. Phyllis wandered outside to check if we’d put anything in the trough for her. I grabbed the piglet and we raced up the drive. Up at the house we looked at the wound. It was altogether too shocking. This was surely a death sentence. Aaron quietly voiced the words I couldn’t, “We have to kill it”. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. “But he’s not in pain, he’s not in shock. Look, he’s alert. We can’t just kill him. Let’s bandage him up.” “And then what?” “I dunno” “Honey, he’s going to die” “We’ve got to give him a chance” “He’s going to die” Nothing can prepare you for this. We’ve managed to slaughter animals for food, chopped the heads off chickens, pick up dead animal babies and tried desperately to ease the discomfort of a badly concussed piglet. This was altogether something very different. Different thoughts were flying through my head. There are so many things to consider. What’s best morally, ethically and financially? Our philosophy, as we keep driving home to anyone who will listen is that above all else our animals must be happy. But then this has to be weighed up with our commitment to being able to sustain this lifestyle financially. Running to the vet for every animal injury would send us bankrupt. If this piglet must be euthanised we would need to do it ourselves. Neither of us have medical training above basic First Aid skills. I am especially weak-stomached when it comes to any blood and gore and yet sometimes you just have no choice but to try and cope. I grabbed our First Aid box. It seemed woefully inadequate. Neither of us wanted the responsibility of caring for such a wound. I suggested we ask Marj if she wanted to try out some of her St John’s first aid skills. Aaron phoned but I was secretly glad when she didn’t answer. We both suspected she would tell us to euthanise the piglet. And so Aaron held him as I applied betadine ointment, a gauze pad and a bandage. I was feeling panicked and I couldn’t get the bandage on tightly enough, Aaron tried and then I tried again and eventually the piglet started to stress so much that Aaron insisted we stop. I made the decision to return the piglet to his mum. The fact is he was going to die and the best we could hope for was that he would do so in his sleep in the comfort of his mother’s presence and surrounded by the warmth of his siblings. We took him back and Phyllis made it clear she wasn’t happy we had taken her baby. She sniffed the bandage with displeasure. Monday morning Aaron went to work and I got up at 5 so I could feed out and go back to bed to catch up on sleep. Amazingly the piglet was still alive. Its bandage was missing and I couldn’t see it anywhere. I fed Phyllis and raced up the drive with a squealing piglet. I tried desperately to repeat the dressing by myself but I was scared I would hurt him and did such a bad job that by the time I returned him to an angry Phyllis his bandage was off. I felt completely helpless but I just couldn’t stress the piglet or his mother out anymore so somewhat guiltily I left him to cosy up to his siblings. Phyllis lay down and the piglets all moved in for a feed. I watched as he drank and then left him to it. I would come back later and dress the wound again. It’s hard to know what to do medicinally for animals. I’m well aware that human medicine can have fatal consequences when used on animals. But when you have nothing else you just have to hope for the best. The betadine ointment had worked fine and I knew from experience that MediPulv antiseptic powder was fine on pigs. And so that evening I doused the flesh with MediPulv and applied a large, very sticky plaster. There was a chance he would react to the adhesive but again I deemed it worth the risk. Tuesday morning he was still alive, minus his bandage, and once again I stole him out of the shed and up to the house. The wound looked a lot less raw but was now filthy with mud after leaning up against a freshly wallowed mother. He didn’t like the bath I gave him, nor the drying afterwards. He started to shake and so I quickly powdered and plastered his wound and raced him back to mum. Phyllis had refused to eat her breakfast in my absence and as soon as I returned she shunted her babies into the back corner of the shed and lay down and curled around them. Phyllis was making it abundantly clear that she did not want me anywhere near her babies and quite frankly I am now constantly on alert in case she attacks. There’s a part of me that can’t believe she would but the gnashing teeth and foaming mouth are a clear sign I am making her angry. Things Don’t Get Any Easier Each day I awaken and find 8 live piglets is a small miracle. I do not understand how infection has not set in. By Wednesday he is itching so much that he is rubbing his bandages off. Human plasters just won’t stick or stand up to constant rubbing. Wednesday afternoon Aaron rings me at work. I wait for the inevitable news but it is much worse. Phyllis has badly injured two more piglets and the original injured piglet has rubbed his wound so hard it has started to bleed. Not only that but they have all learnt to wallow and their wounds are caked in mud. Aaron doesn’t want to touch any of them and so I struggle through the rest of my afternoon at work with a heavy weight upon my shoulders. I think now I am beyond coping. There has been too much death, injury and distress in the last few weeks and I feel like I’m teetering on the edge with my coping skills. For the first time since I arrived on the block I actually consider packing my bags and leaving. I want to run away and pretend this is not happening. I arrive home and once again pick up the smallest piglet and take him to the house. I want Aaron to help but he seems to struggle with it. He thinks I am hurting the piglet unnecessarily with trying to clean and bandage him. Aaron has resigned himself to the fact that all our attempts will ultimately be futile and that I am causing the piglet unnecessary stress. We have now both made our decision as to what is best and we do not agree. I am hit with realisation that I now have to do this alone. Phyllis is waiting when I get back. I check the other 2 injured piglets and feel utterly helpless. One of the piglets has had his foot degloved and the other appears to have a broken leg. I can’t do this on my own and Aaron insists that I have to face reality, we are going to lose some piglets and we will just have to cope. I spend the evening with the piglets, bandaging a foot and making sure the broken leg piglet gets enough feed. I want to splint the leg but I know it will be impossible. Phyllis stresses in my presence but puts her babies welfare first and tries to ignore me when she’s feeding. Thursday evening I am home alone. I decide to try clean and bandage the wounds in the paddock but it proves to be a bad mistake. The first injured piglet starts screaming as soon as I pick him up and struggles so much that it takes me a good 15 minutes to finish cleaning and bandaging him. Meanwhile Phyllis and Arthur (across the drive) have become incredibly upset with the piglet’s constant squealing for help. I fully expect to get attacked and a part of me wonders if I deserve it. What the hell am I doing? This isn’t raising happy animals, this is just making animals stressed. And yet I struggle to believe that Aaron’s “Let nature take its course” stance is really the right thing. Friday morning I feed out and check on all the piglets. As Phyllis has breakfast all the piglets engage in an all out piglet brawl, except for one which I suddenly notice lying lifeless in the front corner of the shed. It is not one of the injured ones. Oh my god. With trepidation I reach out to touch it. It’s still warm. I firmly rub his tummy and back. It must have been rolled on. I cannot believe this is happening. I pick him up and he hangs limply from my hand. Despite needing to go to work I decide there and then that I will cuddle him until he passes quietly away. And so I cuddle him, gently rubbling his back and talking quietly too him. And then his eyes suddenly open and he looks at me and I at him and then I see the realisation in his eyes. I’m holding him and he freaks out. I put him down and he races off outside to a couple of his siblings. “You little shit. Don’t you ever to do that to me again!” I am so relieved. The little bugger was just in a very deep sleep.

All the Chip We Can Handle

21 February 2009 Friday morning we had 20 cubic metres of woodchip delivered. Phyllis still hadn’t given birth and in fact didn’t even appear to have reached nest building phase. I’d taken the day off so I worked hard for an hour putting new chip in Joy’s paddock and outside Arthur’s house. Then when Phyllis had finished her morning sleep I started raking out and replacing all the old chip on one side of her shed. I had just started raking the other half when Phyllis made it clear that enough was enough. As I raked she pushed the chip back and started to spread out the small mound of hay I had given her. She even tried to remove the rake from the shed when I put it down for a minute. The nesting instinct had clearly kicked in so I stopped and left. Iron Maiden Visits Auckland Aaron and I had tickets for the Friday night Iron Maiden show at Mt Smart . We fed the animals an early dinner and at 3:30 we headed down to Auckland. There were 12 of us going so it was a good crowd. I can’t remember the last time I went to a concert and despite the rain I expected it to be a good night. It must be an age thing but I really didn’t enjoy myself. We were in the stands and quite frankly the sound quality was abysmal. I could hear noise but no words. Most of our group, including Aaron decided to join the masses on the bottom field. In fact a good 3rd of the people in the stands did the same. Maybe I should have joined them but the thought of standing, squished in the middle of a crowd for a couple of hours lacked appeal. Aaron returned to the stand after an hour or so and tried to persuade me to join him amid the throng of fans below. I declined and he left again. Perhaps it was the sound crew adjusting things or maybe a shift in the direction of the wind but I was actually able to hear the last half a dozen songs reasonably well. They’re definitely a great live band but all the same I feel like it was a complete waste of my money. I enjoyed them far more when I watched a DVD of their concert from the comfort of my own livingroom. Needless to say, it is probably the last concert I will go to. It’s a criminal waste of money if it proves to be a disappointment. Aaron on the other hand managed to get to the front of the stage and had an excellent time. 51 Departs The Block We had decided that it was 51’s turn for slaughter. I had thought we still had to settle on a date but on Wednesday I rang Aaron from work and he told me he was walking up the hill with a bucket of offal. “What?” I was confused “What do you mean offal?” Aaron then told me Alec had just left with 51. I had mixed feelings. On the one hand our relationship with 51 hadn’t been particularly great. He was a bit bolshy, prone to escape and distrustful of me and Aaron. I didn’t mind that he was being sent for slaughter. On the other hand I felt bad for not saying goodbye and for telling him I respect him. I was a little annoyed at Aaron for not telling me when Alec was coming but Aaron knows that it upsets me. If he’d told me when Alec was coming I would have felt guilty for several days beforehand. Aaron can’t win really.

Sarah Stays for a Couple of Nights

19 February 2009 Little sis Sarah arrived last week for a visit and a break from Auckland. Having just been knocked back for a job she desperately wanted and back living at home until she can find a job she’s feeling just a little frustrated. She stayed for 2 nights and cooked our dinners and did our dishes. It’s such a wonderful feeling to be able to just relax in the evening and be looked after. I think maybe I’m starting to get a little bit too used to guests looking after me. Sarah left on Thursday. Who knows when we will see each other again. She has plans to go back overseas in a couple of months and it is unlikely she’ll be back anytime soon. The New Orchard Paddock Awaits With Phyllis due to give birth on the 20th we needed to move Joy and the piglets up to the orchard. The intention is to turn the big pig shed into a maternity suite as there is less chance of piglets being rolled on. Wednesday afternoon Aaron attempted the move alone. Joy followed him up the drive no problem but the piglets were too scared to leave. When I got home it was raining and after an hour alone in her new paddock Joy was clearly not very happy. Aaron and I took the car down the hill. The plan was I would catch the piglets and hand them to Aaron through the gate. I tried over and over but kept letting the squealing, wriggling, slippery piglets go. Finally I managed to catch one and hand him to Aaron through the gate but his ear-piercing squeals over excited Coppa and he raced up to the gate and lunged forward as though to grab it. I was horrified. Aaron dropped the piglet, yelled in fury at Coppa and aimed a boot at the backside of a quickly fleeing dog. I called a halt to the proceedings. I was literally covered in mud, the piglets were running scared and I was not prepared to risk Coppa biting a piglet. We returned back up the drive. I suspected Joy had heard the piglets squealing as she was doing her best to rip up the sheep netting. The fence wasn’t designed for a full on pig attack. We let her out and she raced back down the drive. We opened the gate to the paddock and the piglets ran out and raced towards the front gate. Unbelievably I’d shut the gate when I got home (not my usual practice) and the piglets came to a halt. I couldn’t believe my luck. I herded them back the other way but then Joy had her own plans to go exploring and a good 10 minutes was spent trying to encourage mother and children back into the paddock. We’d had enough. We trudged back up the hill and collapsed on the sofa. Sarah had dinner waiting for us. Bliss! More CouchSurfers Kate and Rhiannon arrived Friday afternoon. From England and Wales they have just started a year’s O.E. in New Zealand. They’re a lovely couple with an interest in tattoos, piercings and rugby. I think Aaron was the perfect host for them to pick in that respect. They were only staying the night, with an early start the next morning but as so often happens their morning drifted by and they left closer to lunchtime. We enjoyed their company and there’s a possibility they may come back up for a visit at the end of their tour. It would be good but such is the nature of travel that I suspect they will probably have other places to check out. The New Orchard Paddock Awaits Saturday morning arrived and it was Aaron’s turn for a sleep in. I had other plans. The piglets needed moving and I wasn’t doing it alone. Breakfast time was the perfect opportunity. I made Aaron get up and promised him we would both sleep in on Sunday. The animals would cope with a late breakfast for one day. We got up and fed Stanley and then we took Phyllis and Arthur’s troughs and breakfast into the bottom paddock so they wouldn’t be a distraction to the piglets. We then opened the gate to Joy’s paddock and out they all ran, bar 1 piglet who was back up by the wallow. It didn’t take him long to sprint around and through the gate though. With breakfast in a bucket by my side the pigs trotted at a very fast pace up the drive and into their new paddock. It was as easy as that. What can I say? A pig struggles to focus on anything but food at mealtimes. The pigs ate breakfast in their new home and then all piglet attention was focused on Stanley who watched excitedly from the other side of the fence. They were fascinated and the feeling was mutual. With so much excited grunting Joy stepped in and she and Stanley had a long conversation involving a lot of grunting, snout touching and high pitched squeals. Goodness knows what was said but perhaps as they have met before it was a catch up on what had happened in the last 5 months. More Guests Aaron’s cousin Tracey arrived with 3 kids in tow on Saturday afternoon. The kids spent much of their time entertaining themselves, which is always a good thing. It was a rainy afternoon so they all ended up getting a bit wet when we went and fed out the pigs and ducks and Josh required a change of clothes. We hung his wet ones on the clothes drying rack and they hang there still. I’m not sure when they’ll be collected. It’s a common theme. I swear nearly all our guests leave stuff behind! Saturday evening was pleasant enough and we did end up going to be a bit late. No worries, Aaron and I would both get a sleep in on Sunday morning. It was not to be though. Marty sat outside the bedroom door at 6:30 and crowed and crowed and not long after that we could hear Josh racing up and down the hall. We gave up on sleep and got up. Phyllis Moves to the Maternity Ward Sunday afternoon we moved Phyllis into Joy’s old paddock. She wasn’t entirely happy though. We hadn’t yet managed to get hold of new woodchip for the shed and she didn’t seem to like the smells in there. For 3 nights she slept outside. In the meantime I kept spraying the old chip with white vinegar with a few drops of eucalyptus oil added. Eventually it seemed to do the trick and she moved into the shed. With her due date tomorrow I was more than a little worried that we’d have a repeat of Joy’s outside birth.

How Hot Is Too Hot?

11 February 2009 Summer is wonderful. I love summer. Sunny blue skies, trees in full leaf, ripening fruit, birds singing, animals frolicking, and wonderfully warm days. But something’s gone wrong with this summer. The temperatures are soaring. It seems to me the average daily temperature for the last couple of weeks has been about 30, with the highest being 34 last Sunday. 34?!? What the hell? Throw in humidity between 80 and 100% and just the act of sitting becomes exhausting. I wouldn’t have a problem with it if I was living in the city and spending my days at the beach. I’m not though. Instead Aaron and I are trying desperately to get through our summer task list and finding ourselves collapsing with exhaustion after just minutes. The sun is fierce and unrelenting and despite lashings of sunscreen I’m burning. I try to cover up in a desperate attempt to fend off any future skin cancer episodes but I overheat so much I end up making myself feel sick. Sunstroke and heatstroke are becoming familiar companions. There’s so much to do and I feel slightly panicked as we get further and further behind. Trying to get up early is all very well but when the temperature’s in the mid 20s by 9am and there’s no cloud in the sky I can see my day slipping by with little progress. The pigs have been spending virtually all day in their wallows and the sheep and cattle just sit under trees for hours on end. Last Thursday Aaron noticed Joy only ate half the dinner he’d prepared for her. The piglets on the other hand have well and truly adjusted to solids and leapt into the troughs on mass, gobbling cheese and fruit as fast as their little mouths would allow. Perhaps the piglets were less interested in their mother’s milk and so Joy did not feel the need to eat so much? Thursday morning I fed out Phyllis and Arthur. Joy was strangely quiet, usually she grunts madly at me to hurry up and fill her trough. I went into Joy’s paddock and put food in the troughs. The piglets appeared out of the darkness and leapt into the troughs. Joy on the other hand wandered slowly down from the back of the paddock, sniffed the food and just stood there not doing anything. She walked shakily over to the water trough and took a couple of sips and then shakily walked back to the troughs. She didn’t eat and only grunted lightly. I tried giving her a light body massage but she moved away. She wasn’t well. My first thought was Erysipelas. She slowly staggered off back into the darkness. If it was Erysipelas we had just the day to take action. I had to go to work, there was no choice with Friday being Waitangi Day. I arrived at work sick with worry. It was 2 hours before the vet opened and all I could do was wait. I took half a day’s leave and met the vet at home at 1. Our homeopathic vet had the day off so we had to get in a standard vet. He arrived and stayed for maybe half an hour, taking her temperature, listening to her heart and stomach, checking her gums, etc. It wasn’t erysipelas but that was all he could tell me. And therein lays our frustration with vets. They don’t know pigs. No one it seems actually knows pigs. He could give her general antibiotics but he wasn’t prepared to do that unless she was tied up or in a crush. We didn’t have a crush. Alternatively I could do it myself if I wanted to. I ummed and ahhed and felt quite unsure about the situation. Tying Joy up was absolutely not an option. And antibiotics? Well, my views on antibiotics are not exactly positive. The vet suggested she may have a stomach upset. Her tummy was gurgling and her stools were soft. I was worried she had heatstroke but with ready access to water, wallow and shade the vet wasn’t convinced. I ummed and ahhed some more and then decided to use the wait and see method. If she wasn’t about to drop dead on me I’d leave things as they were and call in the homeopathic vet if things didn’t improve. The vet left. Call me stupid, but if I was struggling with the heat surely it wasn’t unreasonable to assume Joy was suffering from heatstroke? When I think about how I feel when I get heatstroke Joy was displaying some very similar symptoms. I’m not an expert though so it scares me to make a diagnosis. Even scarier is that my knowledge of pigs seems to be more advanced than the average vet. Still, sometimes you just have to trust your instincts. With the vet gone I poured buckets of cold stream water over Joy until she got annoyed with me. She seemed to perk up as the day progressed and ate some dinner. By Friday evening she was back to her normal self but then Saturday morning she seemed off colour again. Monday night we experienced 100% humidity and Tuesday morning all but the piglets were disinterested in breakfast and even Coppa refused to eat. Phyllis and Arthur had spent the night submerged in the pond. That was enough evidence for me. At work several staff suggested I either put a fan next to my pigs or turn on my garden sprinkler for them to play in. While these were both excellent ideas I’m not sure how I was meant to achieve either of these in the paddocks they currently reside in. Where did these people think I kept my pigs? I was afraid to ask… As of today the pigs all seem fine. Rhooky and Sarah Visit Waitangi weekend Rhooky and Sarah cruised up North for the long weekend, returning Saturday to spend a night with us. We enjoy their company a lot and each time we meet Aaron and I can’t help think what a shame it is that we moved north and they moved south. Still, the move away from Auckland has done us all a world of good so I shouldn’t complain. I decided to try out some new vegetarian recipes on them and they seemed to go down well. Who knew potato and pea croquettes could be so tasty?! Sunday morning Rhooky helped Aaron put wooden barriers around our fruit trees. We needed to put Joy and the piglets in the orchards and the last thing we wanted was for Joy to dig all the trees up. And so the boys hammered and sawed while I scrubcut paths through the waist high kikuyu. Rhooky was forced to stop when he got to the plum tree as a German wasp flew inside his singlet and started to attack. I had noticed wasps buzzing around some of the fallen plums. I felt a bit bad, wasp stings aren’t unusual on our block, although to be fair, it’s usually paper wasp stings and Aaron and I are usually the recipients. Rhooky doused himself with vinegar and Stingose but he still had to deal with 2 big, burning welts on his side. Too Much Testosterone Ever since Whisky and Coppa turned 2 back in October their testosterone levels seem to have hiked up a level. We were used to playful fights for dominance but now it’s turned aggressive, resulting in at least one vicious, snarling attack a week. It can be started by either one of them but while Whisky is all for a quick fight in which Coppa quickly submits, Coppa now has other ideas and pretty much loses the plot. We usually know it’s coming as Coppa nearly always starts growling and glaring at Whisky. That often gives us time to grab a dog each and shut Coppa in the bar to calm down for 5 or 10 minutes. The problems start when it’s just me around and I have to separate them by myself. Not only are they heavy but I worry I’ll accidentally get a hand stuck in the middle of the fray. My best option is to grab Coppa and drag him kicking and snarling away while Whisky stands and tries to look intimidating. Monday, at home I heard Coppa growl. I rushed outside and for some reason grabbed Whisky. Coppa launched his attack as I ran inside with Whisky. It was all so quick and as I started across the livingroom floor I felt an intense pain in the back of my thigh. I dropped Whisky and the 2 dogs ran outside and fought. I grabbed Coppa and dragged him through the house into the bar and shut him in. I checked my thigh. There was a massive purple bruise already with 2 puncture wounds in the middle. I was shaking, a mixture of rage and relief I think. It was bad, the pain was awful, but it could have so easily been worse. I covered the bite in antiseptic ointment and then sat down and tried to calm down. The problem is obvious, we have 2 unneutered male dogs. What to do? The idea of neutering makes Aaron squeamish and we wanted to breed from our boys, but dogs biting humans wasn’t acceptable. The bite wasn’t aimed at me but that’s not the point, if it had been a guest or a child in my place we would be in a much worse situation. As we made the decision not to neuter I have to accept the blame for this accident but can I honestly expect someone else to feel the same? I’m torn. We got good pedigree dogs so we could breed and recoup our costs. Now what? Aaron and I talked it over and we’ve decided we need professional advice. If we can neuter just one that will be the best option. The dogs are due a vet visit so we’ll ask then.