The piglets are gone. Today a friend came with a gun and shot them in the heads and killed them at the farm. Their throats were immediately slit with a sharp knife to allow the blood to come out. They were skinned and gutted and hung for a few hours to relax the tissue and then they were cut up and wrapped and put in the freezer.I would have far preferred that they were sold to other farms, but in the winter, it seems no one wants to purchase animals because they require work. They also do not see pot belly pigs as livestock, but that is what they were bred for. It was a low input way that families with little land could still have fresh home raised meat that they could keep just on table scraps.
I knew, when the piglets were born, it was not a good time to think about rehoming them as pets. Spring piglets are much more apt to find new farms. The pigs are smart little creatures, trainable and friendly by nature, even the boar. Wilbur likes to have his ears and back scratched. Clara, his wife is a little standoffish, but she will allow some pats on her head from time to time. The agenda for this summer is to build an area for the boars to separate them from the female piglets, the father, Wilbur as well. Pot bellies breed precociously early, so by 4 months, they are able to become pregnant and to sire piglets. They are still too small then to butcher, though, so they would need separate pens for the remainder of the time. I am thinking though, since I cannot sell the meat and it is not easy to rehome piglets, that I will only keep the sow and one daughter as pets or possibly none at all. I do not want to raise animals for meat. This morning tears were running down my cheeks. I thanked the little piggies for their lives and told them I was grateful for them, I loved them and said goodbye. The gunshots jarred me and the dogs, and we wanted to hide out in the house. And I do not enjoy cutting and wrapping the flesh of animals either.
Goodbye little piggies. Goodbye.