This morning I determined to leave my grumpy attitude about feeding the pigs back at the house. I went about my usual trick of distracting the pigs with the scrap bucket at one end of the pen and then entering on the opposite side to pour their feed in the feeder. The problem, however, was I have emptied the fridge of all our leftover food.
So my master plan was to harvest some hay with the sickle and rake. You know, like Sally Field in Places in the Heart, minus the Great Depression, devastating tornado and KKK, plus it wasn’t cotton. But otherwise just like that.
It didn’t work. They really weren’t all that impressed with my hay and by the time I made it to the other side of the pen they had figured me out and all came running. Well, this city kid just isn’t walking into a pen with 11 happy-to-see-you pigs waiting for the feed bucket. Not happening.
My next plan was to create a parameter around the gate using the switch. A little tap behind the ear or on the rump and they clear out real quick. But as soon as I touched the gate latch, even though I was using my super sneaky stealth mode and barely made the tiniest noise, they came running back. Outsmarted. Again.
Next, I do what any citykid would do. Call her Old Man at work in tears.
We brainstormed a plan to pour the feed over the long gate on the ground for this morning. Not perfect but they get fed and I stay out of the pig pen. Works for me.
Tonight he’ll get me all set for the weekend until Monday when we can come up with a better alternative for the few weeks I will need to feed them this way. Then we go back to filling the feeder every 4-5 days and letting them free feed. Oh I can’t wait for that.
Who knew growing bacon could be such emotional work.