"Mom, you smell like a dead pig."
Buttercup is the first preteen to ever say something like that without getting slapped.
Because it's true.
And I'm disconcerted by the fact that we both know exactly what that smells like.
This morning I went out to feed the pigs, and only three came out to greet me. My first thought was, "Oh, Dear God, please not again."
I scanned the pen, and found this:
There are no words.
Or lots of words.
Of the four-letter variety.
Yes, I discovered that overnight a pig drowned himself in the waterer. Ponder that for a moment.
Or move on to another, cheerier blog.
We don't want to think about what this pig would look and smell like by the end of a 100 degree day. We needed to resolve this situation quickly. And by "we" I mean "me." Hubby doesn't get home from work until 6:30.
Luckily, I have a big, strong teenager who loves his mama and still does whatever she asks.
No way we were going to be able to lift a 200 pound pig out, so we decided to tip the waterer over, pig and all.
When we couldn't get it to budge, I had my light bulb moment. Two days ago, I noticed that the dirt under the waterer was beginning to erode. I wedged a big brick underneath to hold the waterer steady until the weekend, when Hubby and I could move it. That brick is what meant the death of the pig. If I hadn't have put it there, the waterer would have tipped when the pig struggled.
Of the four-letter variety.
I moved the brick, and we were able to push the pig right on over.
I find it quite embarrassing that as I am doing this manly, hard, disgusting work, I pull a girly pose when the mud splashes on me. Perhaps there's a little lady hiding inside of me after all.
The pig didn't fall all of the way out, so I had to reach in and grab an ear to pull it out.
That's when Phoenix really got into the melee in order to help me get it out of the mud puddle. Can you even believe I make my children do these things?
Just because we were out of the puddle didn't mean we were in the clear. The Dixie Chopper can't fit through the gate of the pen, so we had to drag it all the way over. My hands got too muddy and couldn't get a grip, so we resorted to a chain.
The pig put up a good fight, but we finally won that little tug of war.
As I go through these photos, I realize that Phoenix wasn't working nearly as hard as I thought. Like the person riding on the back of a tandem bicycle, he just pretended to help while my muscles strained to the breaking point.
Of the four-letter variety.
We finally made it to the gate, and I now see that Phoenix really wasn't helping at all. He's actually just standing there, holding the chain, looking at me, and probably counting each and every vein breaking in my face.
He is in super big, very bad trouble.
Does this picture look familiar?
Not quite the way I imagined myself riding out into the sunset.
As I was dragging the pig through the gate, Turken, who had watched the entire process from his perch on the fence, asked me, "How are you going to make the pig alive?"
I'm good, but I'm not that good.
Although, I do think I deserve an award.
As no one has come up with the "Best Dead Pig Wrangler Award", I will be happy with the ones I did get. While I was on vacation, I came home to find that two lovely ladies had nominated me. They have similar "rules" so I'm addressing them together.
My new friend, Suzie, nominated me for the Kreativ Blogger Award. Suzie is a wonderful mom to an adorable little boy. She was a middle school teacher before staying home, and she has all sorts of good ideas and stories from her teaching days.
And another friend, Susan, nominated me for the "Very Inspiring Blog". Susan and I have a lot in common, as she has a few boys and lives on a farm, too. Now that I have just inspired you to live in the city, go read Susan's blog. She will inspire you to live the country life the right way.
With each award I am to list seven random things about myself. Here goes:
1. I am not a fan of dead pigs, unless the dead pig is in a bunch of neat, little, one-pound wrappers labeled "sausage."
2. I do love a Dixie Chopper.
3. I have come to realize that my oldest child isn't the hard worker I thought he was, but is a lazy slacker who lets his mother think he's helping her drag a 500 pound dead pig half a mile.
4. My husband is the luckiest man alive.
5. I need to have a chat with a certain four-year old about life and death.
6. My daughter is learning to be a pretty good photographer.
7. I had to type this now, because I will most likely not be able to move a muscle by 4:00 today.
OK, so that wasn't so random.
Anywho, I now get to nominate some other folks for these awards. People that I find to be Creative and Inspiring.
So, for the Kreativ Blogger Award, I nominate
The Redneck Mommy
That Nolen Chick
Salt and Serenity
Cup of Tea And a Blog
It Feels Like Chaos
And for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award, I give you:
A Cape Wearing Mom
Still Me Only Stronger
Big Happy Nest
Mom to 8 blog
Hugs, Kisses, and Snot
A Homesteading Neophyte
Click, read, enjoy.
As for Phoenix, he also got an award. Before I saw the photos and after he washed his hands, I let him have a big treat for actually grabbing a dead pig's leg and pulling it out of a mud puddle.
Have a lovely day!
I have to say, those pictures are hilarious. You are one tough broad! I really laughed at the picture of you working your tail off and your son 'pretending' to help. Hilarious. Poor dead pig. Sad.ReplyDelete
I'm glad you got a good laugh out of it. And yes, poor,stupid, dead pig.Delete
I cannot even tell you how much this story had me laughing! I am not going to lie I needed that pick me up! So thank you dead pig for giving it to me! Thanks for the laughs!ReplyDelete
I'm glad I could be there for you in your time of need.Delete
Hilarious! I love reading your blog. I started a new job and behind in my writing and reading. Thank you for nominating me. Keep writing!ReplyDelete
Thanks, April. I hope you aren't stressing about your writing. It is supposed to be fun, after all. We can be patient and wait for you to have the chance to write again.Delete
I was closing the way too many open tabs on the browser, and happened across your blog, that I haven't looked at since VBC. So I scrolled through, and read the post that lead to this one. I now realize that my day could have been so much worse! I did not wrangle a dead pig, only some small, ornery children. Can't wait to hear these stories in person again!ReplyDelete
UUUUUUUGH! So glad I heard this story twice in person before viewing the pictures. EW EW EW EW. Your husband IS the luckiest man alive;)ReplyDelete
Oh man! I'm glad you were around to do that job because I could not have.ReplyDelete
I'm visiting from finding the funny.
I really wish I wasn't around to do the job either! Thanks for stopping by!Delete
THis is so something that would happen to me, namely that the man of the house isn't here to move a dead animal and waiting until he comes home would mean certain death for the humans. So, I'd have to be all manly just like you. But what really made me laugh is that in the picture where you're striking a girly pose, for a second, I thought you were just wearing a t-shirt and no shorts, like you had literally just jumped out of bed to deal with this and would worry about shorts later! Found you at finding the funny.ReplyDelete
OMG. "There are no words" is right. I only wish I had waited until I had finished my supper before checking out this post. I would have left the pig there until my husband came home, which is why I'm not married to a farmer.ReplyDelete
And I don't understand...why are these pigs so stupid? I thought they were supposed to be one of the more intelligent animals.
Oh, I wish you had waited, too. Hope you weren't having pork chops.Delete
If we wouldn't have taken care of it, the other pigs would have eaten it. Then we'd have had a whole new kind of awful mess on our hands. And I'm not married to a farmer, either. He's a lawyer. We just happened to buy a house on a farm.
As for their intelligence, all I can say is that they are more intelligent than chickens. Clearly not by much, though.
My dad owned a farm supply store in pig farming country, so I may not know how a DEAD pig smells, but I can recognize the smell of a LIVE pig (or two or 200). I bow to you. And you did it all without benefit of Mentholatum smeared under your nose!Delete
A fellow country girl! We didn't need the mentholatum, thanks to the outdoor area and a good breeze. :)Delete
Thanks for stopping by!
I hope I'm not a horrible person for laughing the whole way through this. You are a rockstar.ReplyDelete
Found you on the BlogHole BlogHop, by the way! Great to meet you. I look forward to reading more about pigs and your family.
I'm pretty sure that the only people who don't laugh through this whole post are Phoenix and me. :)ReplyDelete
Nice to meet you, too. Thanks for stopping by!
Oh my gosh, what a hoot! I saw that you are in Indiana. I was born in Ft. Wayne, lived in Indianapolis for awhile. Love them Hoosiers!ReplyDelete
from The Dugout
Hello fellow Hoosier! My husband will be in Ft. Wayne on Saturday. Shall I have him wave to anyone?Delete
Oh you are such a hoot. I really love your blog - it is one of the few that makes me literally LOL!!ReplyDelete
Aw, thank you. I'm glad you like it. I enjoy yours as well. I love all the photos you post of your animals. You are quite talented. And it is clear you adore the country living. I can't wait to see what you do next in your master plan.Delete
I've just read through this for the second time, sorry but I'm still laughing. The photos are great, I love the one of you having your 'girly moment'. Poor pig though, what a sad way to go.ReplyDelete
I actually have a similar story involving a cat and a washing up bowl, I may include it in my blog sometime when I'm short of something to write about.
I know this isn't the point of the post, and I also know that I may come off as super creepy ... but girl, you've got some nice legs. =)ReplyDelete
And I'm so, so glad you have photographic proof of all this, you poor, poor thing.