Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Another Breeding Season in the Books

Breeding season was somewhat chaotic this year. Having a baby in October threw me off for a few months, leaving me scrambling to find a buck in late December. Our goats go into heat seasonally, from September-January, so missing it completely was a growing possibility. Thankfully, I found a registered Nigerian Dwarf buck in the area available for a three week lease. Leasing a buck would save me from frantically driving my girls over one at a time when they went into heat (like last year), so I jumped at the offer.

Enter Totes Ma Goats. I actually failed to ask the name of the buck when I picked him up.  I could not have a nameless goat running around our farm, so I left it to my eight year old daughter to name our temporary addition. I later found out his registered name is River-Raisin Whistler's Spitfire, but I still prefer Totes. He was a cute little thing, with a mohawk and a friendly personality, and he didn't even stink that much. Or maybe my farm nose is just becoming acclimated.

Totes, mid jump, attempting to flee from Bass

Most Nigerian Dwarf goats are small, and Totes was no exception. His fuzzy mohawk reached just halfway up the shoulder on most of our full-sized does. Because of the height discrepancy, breeding required a little more involvement than I would prefer. And, that's all I will say about that.

If all goes as planned, we will have five bred does on our farm due to kid in June. I am so excited for another round of goat babies, as well as fresh milk flowing on our farm again! These long winter days have been dragging on me and planning for "farming season" is now consuming my thoughts. I am ready to get out from behind this computer and put my hands in some dirt!

Thursday, January 29, 2015

The Big Pig Harvest

If I could label this last weekend, it would be "The Weekend of the Pig." I saw more pig in two days than in the entire rest of my life combined. I closed my eyes at night and saw piles of bacon. Not pristine prepackaged stacks on store shelves, but massive slabs of pork belly just waiting to be brined and smoked. It was tedious. It was exhausting. It was sometimes sad, but it was incredibly rewarding.


I highly recommend this book: Basic Butchering of Livestock & Game (Amazon link)

There were ten pigs ready for slaughter. All of them were of various heritage breeds and pasture raised on organic fermented feed and raw cow’s milk. They had the happiest life possible, and they were about to die the easiest death possible for an animal. One minute they would be eating feed, a split second later they would be gone.

Seeing the cost of our food firsthand in both life and labor definitely causes one to pause before a meal. A prayer of thanksgiving for sustenance provided by God becomes so much more meaningful after witnessing the price paid. The fact that animals die in order to sustain us is a harsh reality, but it is not a cruel reality. Pig life on an industrial farm—that may be considered cruelty.

While the pigs were all raised on one farm, they were owned by various people who assisted in the harvest. On Saturday, we all assembled and the process began. First, the pigs were shot in the head and stuck (their throat was slit to allow all the blood to drain out). Following this, they were dunked in scalding water and scraped to remove their hair. Unlike deer processing, the pig’s skin is left on the body. The pig was then hung and gutted, before being moved to a pole barn to hang overnight.
Scalding and gutting
Aren't we cute?
Photo credit: Cindy Caro

I stuck a pig and scraped a few before picking up little B from the babysitter. I spent the rest of the time sitting inside nursing and downing coffee, cheering on the occasional worker who came inside to use the restroom or regain feeling in their toes. The last pig was hung about eight hours after the process began, after which we raided the local barbeque place. We showed our waiter videos from our afternoon over heaping plates of pulled pork and chatted with the owner about hog farming. We were pretty cool.

On Sunday, a chef came out to teach us an entire course on butchering. A few of us had slaughtered pigs and processed deer before, but all of us were newbies when it came to pig butchering. We cut the pigs in half, and then each half was portioned out into four large cuts. These sections were then further broken down: picnic shoulders, St Louis ribs, baby back ribs, pork belly for bacon, chops, hams, and roasts. Bones were saved for stock, and scraps were saved for grinding.

Starting at 9 am, the last of it was cut and bagged by about 6 pm. Of course, by that point I had long since checked out of the process, leaving my husband to labor over the carcass while I drank coffee by the fire with a baby on my lap. (Can you spot a trend here?)

We immediately threw some chops on the grill, and—let me tell you—the fat was like butter. You could pretty much taste the wild herbage and cow milk seeping through the muscle fibers. Or, maybe we were all delirious from a ridiculously long weekend and the effect of one beer on our tired frames. To say it was satisfying would be a drastic understatement.

On Monday and Tuesday, I redeemed myself. I spent a total of seven hours washing, repacking, cutting, and grinding meat, and there is more yet to do. Our freezer is stocked with chickens, venison, and pork to last the better part of a year. I am thankful: thankful for the pigs, for amazing friends, and for another lesson learned on this homesteading journey.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

You Might be a Redneck if...

There have been many moments in my life in which I thought I reached the pinnacle of backwoods living. However, little compares to what happened the other night. I have recounted this story to a few people around here, most of whom have nodded in assent, "Uh-huh, that's one way to do it." But the truth remains--we now eat road kill.

View from the tree stand
My husband spent a few hours in his tree stand nearly every day from October 1 to January 1. He hunted bow season, shotgun season, muzzleloader season, and late doe season--all with nothing to show for it. He shot one buck the day I came home from the hospital with our own little B.  He spent five hours tracking it to no avail, coming home tired and empty handed to a less-than-thrilled wife. After bow season, the deer patterns changed and he just wasn't seeing much of anything. After another day of frustrated attempts, he said a prayer from his stand, "Lord, I just want meat in the freezer."

BAM. Tires screeched and a reverberating thump was heard from the road directly behind his tree stand, just as my husband was descending to come inside for the night. He ran out in full camo and carrying his muzzleloader to find a massive doe lying near the asphalt, hit directly onto our own property. My husband talked to the lady who hit the deer: yes, she was alright, and no, she did not mind if we took the carcass. Did she want to pull her SUV into our driveway while she waited for a tow truck? No, thank you.

We immediately set the children in front of the TV and started processing the deer. This involved gutting, hanging, removing the head and legs, and skinning the deer. This went fairly quickly with two of us working and only became awkward when a car accidently pulled into our driveway to turn around. They were greeted with quite a sight.

After a quick break to run to the store for freezer bags, fix supper for the children, and nurse a fussy baby, we began the butchering process. While my husband quartered the deer, I stayed in the kitchen cutting the pieces of meat from the bone. The tougher pieces were saved for grinding while roasts, tenderloins, and backstraps were packaged separately. All told, everything went quickly and smoothly. The deer was in pretty good shape for being clobbered by an SUV, and we were able to get a sizeable amount of meat in the freezer. Even though the method was slightly unconventional, I am thankful for the result!

The Lord heard you when you wailed, “If only we had meat to eat! We were better off in Egypt!” Now the Lord will give you meat, and you will eat it.
Numbers 11:18b