"Onions Are The Only Food That Make You Cry." - Liars.

This past weekend, we had to say goodbye to Rootin' Tootin'.  Every time, it gets a little harder.  I know to be a farmer, you have to steel yourself when it comes time to send the animals off to slaughter, but I swear, he knew.  He knew we were saying goodbye.  He knew we were leaving him and not coming back.  What's worse, the kids knew.  What's worst, I knew. 

I think, had we bought him as an 8 week old piglet, it might not have been so hard.  But we held Rootin' when he was born.  He was the runt.  The smallest pig in the litter, and all of the literature that we had read said that fuzzy piglets, in other words piglets who had hair that stood on end, were never going to be good growers, and would likely die early in life. 

As time went on, we just couldn't help but fall in love with the littlest piglet.  We always knew there would be a chance he would not make weight for the State Fair.  It didn't matter.  He was a favorite, and we just told ourselves that he could be our Ham/Bacon pig, without really weighing the ramifications of such a declaration. 

When the day rolled around to haul him to Valley View Farm for the grand haul to the western part of the state for processing, there weren't many words spoken.  We all just got in the truck, and went down to the barn to get him.  I think he knew something wasn't right.  Animals can sense it.  We opened the gate, and as usual, he didn't want to go into the trailer.  Lucy, Marigold and Petunia all ran into the trailer where they ate the food that was waiting inside.  After a minute, Rootin' Tootin' went in.  We ushered the girls out, and he was alone in the trailer, eating the food. 

When we got there, and he walked slowly out of the trailer into the pen, he turned around.  He wasn't interested in the other pigs.  He was interested in saying goodbye.  It wouldn't be such a big deal if he was a jerk, but he wasn't.  He was a doll.  A real sweet pig.

Now, I know it will get better.  I know that two weeks from now, we'll be okay with it.  Working the hams will be therapeutic in a cauterizing way.  And when we butcher Marigold and Petunia, it won't be that big of a deal, because they're meat hogs. 

There's a huge difference between meat hogs and a pig you've developed a relationship with.  To show them,  you have to develop a relationship with the animal.  They have to trust you, and you them.  You're asking an animal that is almost 300 pounds of pure muscle to do things just because you ask it to, and not run you over or hurt you, and that animal has to trust that you're telling it to do something that violates its instinct to fight or flee.  You are concerned when it gets a sniffle or has a limp.  You'll do almost anything to make sure it gets the best food and is in best condition.  You'll experiment with a hundred different treats desperate to find out what your pig likes from peanut butter to marshmallows with a touch of jam.  Meat hogs, you just show up, dump some feed in a bin, and walk away. 

Show pigs take a little bit of your heart with them when they go.  You see, onions aren't the only food that make you cry.  Whoever said that was a liar.  Pork makes you cry, too.