Now a year old, our boar Charles needed to go into the freezer. We have lacked the time, the storage facilities, and today, Phil gathered himself together and, in a beautiful, sunny day in the 70s, we finally killed Charles. Based on the recommendation in one of my favorite homesteading books, Husbandry by Nathan Griffith, we gutted the boar and skinned him (which took about four hours), and then cut him into pieces (which took about half an hour). The pieces are in a cooler with ice, salt, and water, which we hope will chill the meat quickly and well.
Tomorrow morning, we plan to cook up a pork chop for breakfast. We want to see just how musky the boar meat will be. If it's particularly bad, we'll make it all into sausage, the most versatile of pork products.
In celebration of our first successful solo pig butchering, I would like to offer a story, told by a friend with the understanding that she be kept anonymous. I thought this a story unlike any I've read in any book, so either this friend has particularly bad luck, or the books aren't telling the whole story.
Be advised: it is not a nice story. My narrative resumes at "Speaking of dragging pigs," so you might want to skip to that part. (But if you want to farm, you should read these next paragraphs at all cost: they might spare you some trauma!)
For this friend, she went out with her husband to kill a pig. They hadn't had much experience with killing animals, and they were reverent enough of the act of killing, they prayed and thanked God for the gift the pig had been to their farm, and asked him to please bless the killing process. Keep them safe, help the pig die easily and well.
While the pig was merrily munching some feed, the husband got within a foot with his rifle and shot the pig point blank between the eyes. Now all the husband had ever witnessed, and all the books had ever said, was that the pig should have dropped. If not dead, at least stunned enough to cut the throat and kill the pig by bleeding out. This makes sense. Bullets kill.
But in this horrible example, so horrible this is probably why these stories are never told, the pig didn't drop, but backed up, squealing like a stuck pig, blood dripping from the mouth. The needed knife was right at hand, but the pig was in no mood to stand still for its throat to be cut. Nor was it interested in looking down the barrel of the rifle again, so it went off into the woods.
The brave husband, absolutely stymied and feeling ill, went off to fetch his pistol. For good measure, he grabbed his more powerful rifle as well, equipped with scope and special very deadly bullets.
After cautiously beating through the woods (after all, we have all read stories of wounded boars making deadly charges on man and beast), the husband finally located the injured boar, far from any area with easy processing. Since a 400 pound animal, dead across a small ravine, would be an absolute impossibility, the husband regretfully roused the pig, and, speaking coaxingly to it, managed to return the pig back to, almost, the starting place.
Clearly, the pig didn't feel good. It lay down and stared at the husband. So the husband, grieved at heart, shot the pig straight on, from a foot away, with the pistol.
Unbelievably, horribly, tragically, the pig did not die. It squealed again, and ran to the end of its pen, and then turned and blindly headed back to the woods.
The husband then shot the pig with the powerful rifle, through the chest. And though the pig spun from the force of impact, it managed to rush into the woods and die in, perhaps, the most inconvenient spot it could, a little ravine where the roots of a tree once tipped over. In order to extricate the pig from the ravine, the husband had to rig a hoist that could attach to the back of a tractor. The heavy pig ended up dragging the tractor, but by rolling the pig over, it no longer had to head up the steepest part of the ravine, and so made it safely out of the woods.
Then, when the husband tried to cut the pig's throat, despite having a knife so sharp it would cut human skin with a mere touch, let alone a slice, the pig's throat was so tough it took several minutes of serious pressure to get through membrane. In every way, a horrible experience.
If you are considering farming, heed the sad story of my friend. The promise of a better way of life for yourself and your animals may come true (and I hope it will): but there might be some horrible stories like these that are, generally, best kept to yourself.
And, perhaps, shoot the pig with a powerful gun from behind the head, where the bullet will go forward into the brain. Or, simply don't ever raise boars, so you can bring all pigs to the butcher. Easier by far!
Speaking of dragging pigs, I was amazed at how something as simple as getting a pig off the ground and into the air could be so difficult! The first time Phil raised the pig with the bucket, the chain was a little too loose, and the snout dragged in the ground.
So Phil got off the tractor, readjusted the pig so it was a bit higher up, and started to drive again. He asked me if I thought the rope on the pig might slip off the end of the chain. It looked like the hook was pressed firmly against the bucket, so I answered with a negative ... and then the pig hit the ground. Apparently it was about to fall off.
So Phil got off the tractor, rigged the pig up again, and started to drive again.
Instantly he was off. "The pig started to tip the tractor." So he readjusted the pig chains again.
And was stung by a wasp.
Could this story get any worse? (Well, had I been my friend, I suppose that could have been worse.)
But at last the pig was safely stowed in the shade. We should have rinsed him off with water, as he had apparently gone wallowing shortly before his final meal, and it made for a messy skinning. And despite our best efforts, the skinning was not smooth. I believe this is known as a hack job.
We did our best to save the precious fat as we peeled the pig, but it was quite difficult.
When we knew we would have to butcher several pigs, Phil bought special butcher knives and an especially long hack saw. Even I used it for a time, and it cut through the backbone quite easily.
I call this photo "Three Hams."
As we finished, I noticed that the pig had cooled enough that the marrow had started to leak out the spine, and turned gelatinous. Such a healthy food for joints: such an unusual, interesting sight.
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