Pig club - the documentary

This clip was filmed yesterday and for once I sound like I know what I am talking about.

Tonight has been one of those pleasant evenings spent with friends watching them do your jobs. As The Stable Sprite is custodian of the bacon slicer we share I took over half of Patches pig in bags to be transformed into rashers. This is an essential exercise, first and foremost it stops me eating three pound of bacon in a buttie as I hack at Patches remains with a blunt knife.

We sat in the sunshine eating salad and quiche (real men have always eaten quiche) marvelling at the joys of smallholding and wishing we had been able to do it years ago. The Stable Sprite is a bit of a chef and salad was soon followed by home made profiteroles and chocolate sauce. Fantastic.

So after dinner on the sundrenched terrace it was down to work, the slicer was plugged in and pretty soon The Stable Sprite was piling up the rashers. I had the tricky task of making appreciative noises and distracting him from how long he was actually spending cutting up my bacon. By nightfall I had three carrier bags of potential bacon butties and he had a sore arm from working the machine.

It wasnt all plain sailing for me though, I did make a coffee for him, well its the least I could do.

Supersize me!

Oh how they have grown, Pixie against the wall and Patches closest to the camera.

So much bacon, so little time!

Snow Pigs

Pixie and Patches first time in the snow and they seem to be enjoying it as much as the rest of us at Rock HQ!

Getting to know you..

A convincing performance from Patches and Pixie as to why they should stay on pet status.

Chase me!

These are our Berkshire piglets venturing outside their new quarters for the first time. They were so excited they didn't know what to do, eat or run around, so they did both.

These have achieved pet status so they are safe from being turned into bacon. They will however be expected to produce piglets for Pig Club.

Pig club has two members so far.

There are rules to Pig Club.

The first rule of Pig Club is that you tell people you are in Pig Club.

The second rule of Pig Club is that you TELL PEOPLE you are in Pig Club.

There are other rules, watch this space, but so far we have two members in Pig Club.

Tight Fit!

These are our Berkshire piglets grazing for sheep nuts alongside the Ryeland lambs, the largest of which is Daffodil who was bottle fed and the only survivor of the four bottle fed lambs from last spring.

Patches confirmed a rule of smallholding first thing this morning, that an animal can get itself through a hole half their body size. Well she confirmed a variation of the rule actually and by the time I found her she was a good way along the road to piggie heaven. Her neck is thicker than my thigh and somehow she managed to get her head through a hay net hole some four inch square. Where she had dug this up from remains a mystery but it was clear from her distress and difficulty in breathing that unless some help was given soon she wouldn't need any help at all.

Worse still she had twisted the rest of the net around her body, it was dark and to top it all I was carrying a bucket of pig pellets. For a moment hunger overtook panic and she lunged at the bucket tripping over in the mesh and tightening the grip around her neck. I usually have on my belt a sheath knife, in fact I am so used to carrying it I wandered into town last weekend with it still attached. Halfway down the highstreet I realised and spent the other half conspicuously pulling my coat down over my buttocks to hide the offensive weapon. Actually given the locality I could have pulled it out, brandished it around and no one would have batted an eyelid.

Anyway back to the pig in crisis, she lying on the floor of the sty squealing wrapped in the net like an extra in Gladiator, me knelt over her with my huge weapon drawn, looking much like Russell Crowe, trying to find something to cut in the dark. First wild stab in the dark and I was grateful I had not ever sharpened the blade as I sliced a chunk off my finger. I managed to get the blade between pig and nylon cordage of the net and began to cut her free. Patches did not react like the Aesop's fable lion caught in the net freed by the mouse, she did not lie still patiently waiting to be released. I suppose it might have felt like I was strangling her as I pulled the blade and sawed back and forth. She went mental, and squealing erm well squealing like an about to be stuck pig bit my already bleeding hand and suddenly free of the net ran around the sty shouting her contempt until she remembered the bucket of feed, dived in and consoled herself with food.

Gratitude is not one of her traits.

If you want gratitude get a dog.

Apollo lift off

Ever wondered how horses stand up?

Apollo was exhausted after his little adventure around the hill on Friday night and spent most of Saturday asleep, not standing on all fours nodding type sleep but proper lie down on his side fast asleep. After today's efforts I know how he feels.

As always we had the routine to attend to, pigs got fed, sheep got shouted at and fed, goats had their bad behaviour ignored and fed, horses were mucked out and fed, all were watered, dogs were walked and wheel barrow loads of muck were taken along something akin to an assault course for wheelbarrows to drop off horse business onto the raised beds. This should rot down over the next few months, the worms will have a party and it will also raise the temperature of the ground a bit, especially with a layer of black polythene type cloth over it, it all looks really neat and tidy for a while. All this effort soon attracted the attention of the Ryelands and Apollo the wonder foal and a fairly accurate reenactment of Custer's last stand took place in the gateway as I bravely fought off the horde of sheep led by a pony and prevented them entering the hallowed ground of the garden. Roxy being especially quick did manage a ten yard incursion but I managed to wrestle her along the path and eject her to join her comrades.

Geisha looked miserable and was lying down, a quick look at her hooves and she had a minor spot of footrot. So started a mammoth chiropody session for all the sheep and goats. Maggie being armed and dangerous was the most trouble but luckily her feet needed the least amount of trimming so saving us being gored on her horns. My chest still bears the scar from the time we simultaneously tried to lean into a feed bin. In her panic to get out her horn punctured my jacket and gave me a very fetching wound.

Both sheep and goats have hooves that continually grow, left unattended they fold over on themselves, collect dirt which rots and so the poor beast gets an infection which unchecked cripples them. So two or three times a year we open the chiropody clinic and shortly after I go to see the chiropractor to have my bad back put right.

It looks like Bailey has a new home to go to, just as well as he has a fondness for our ducks and the cats absolutely hate him, poor lad. I think Greyhounds are a bit of a Marmite dog, you either love them or hate them.

Bonny continues to thrive, she looks a mess but since the scary night when we thought she, Sandy and Katy were about to shuffle off their mortal coils she has gone from strength to strength. As you can see she has lost most of her wool from the fright she had when attacked by the dog fox.

Final update, Patches continues to win the battle for supremacy in the pet status race over Pixie, she continues to be twice the size and twice as friendly.

All in all, what with getting Beth a different car, The Stable Sprite and his wife coming to dinner and taking Mad Keith a Sunday roast it has been a packed weekend at Rock HQ.

We wouldn't have it any other way!

Ground hog day

Ben and Beth went to town today and are not returning to the sanctuary of Rock HQ until Sunday when we hope Tracey's family will come over and help eat the turkey leftovers.

Its been a very sunny and pleasant day and the sunshine prompted me to move the barrow loads of fresh offerings from the horses bottoms to the garden. This sudden attack of green fingers ended with a coughing fit that almost produced a lung to garnish the fresh steaming horse offerings and so with my desire to breathe stronger than my desire to be the new Alan Titchmarsh I gave up the garden and spent several hours brushing the pony, trying to get rid of the tide mark from his forehead and just sitting and watching the pigs.

Patches has cottoned on to the idea that its best to make friends and influence people and so allowed me to pick her up for a bit of a cuddle before being returned to the trough to continue stuffing herself with fresh veg, fruit, pig nuts and unexploded popcorn. Pixie, the one closest in the picture maintains her vigilance against human pig contact and explodes with mock piglet rage if you try to touch her by surprise. I am sure she will settle down, especially once she considers the alternatives.

The pigs were not the only ones having treats, below you can see Apollo on his knees in excitement at a bucket of carrots, a present from friends down the road whose dogs we are looking after while they are in America.

So once again there are ten dogs at Rock HQ, five of which are Bernese Mountain Dogs, all sat around the fire. We saw The Oracle while we were collecting the dogs, he was celebrating Christmas, full of Christmas spirit in his yard having just come outside to walk his dinner off as he missed it yesterday. I waved at him in the dark as I drove Rene through he jovially shut the gate for me. I didn't think to ask why he had missed yesterday, well you don't ask those sorts of questions round these parts.

Altogether now........

.......aaaahhhh! How cute are these two?

Pixie and Patches.