Retreat at Summer's End

This past week we were blessed with the opportunity to take a few days respite from the constancy of farm life and relax on the beautiful southern shore of Lake Superior in Bayfield, Wisonsin. Bayfield, like Mackinaw Island or Door County, is a typical midwestern vacation destination: a beautiful spot on the Great Lakes, artsy antique stores, some used book stores, good eating, and fairly small crowds. In other words, it has what most midwestern families are looking for: good food and scenery and peace enough to enjoy it with loved ones.

Leaving the farm in the competent hands of some kindly friends of the family -- who we are delighted to learn enjoyed a 'farm getaway' -- we left late Tuesday morning and got back shortly after noon on Friday.

The view from our patio.

Wednesday, after a hearty breakfast at the Egg Toss, we spent the day visiting shops, local farms and a regional fish hatchery. My biggest interest in the shopping was looking for a book on the early Jesuit missionaries in the region. While I never found a comprehensive edition -- perhaps it doesn't exist... -- I did get a long and scholarly account of Fr. Jacques Marquette, S.J.'s life. I've only finished the first few chapters, but may put up a post on my blog later on this summer about this and the other religious biographies I've recently read.

Thursday we ate a light breakfast on the mainland at Big Water Cafe, before booking passage on the ferry to Madeline Island. The ferry, reminiscent of the ferry trips to Mackinaw in my youth, was a thrill. It's only around 2 miles (or twenty minutes) from dock to dock, but it was a thrill nonetheless.

Once on the island we dithered a bit as to what to do, tired as we were from walking after a few days of taking it easy. So I decided to take charge and declared that we would rent mopeds on which to scoot around the island. At 13 miles long and several wide, Madeline Island is far too large to traverse on foot, and while bikes were another option, on a warm day it just didn't sound very appealing. So we stopped by Motion to Go, got a quick tutorial, strapped on our remarkably attractive bike helmets and hit the road!

Thanks to our trusty steeds, we were able to visit Big Bay State Park and tour the rest of the island in style!

Stephanie onboard ship.

The happy couple aboard ship.

Looking out on one of the 22 Apostle Islands.

A view of Bayfield from the ferry.

Big Bay State Park

Big Bay State Park

We spent Thursday evening on the deck of the Pier Plaza Restaurant, enjoying a delicious supper and the beautiful scene as the boats all came in and docked for the night.

On our way out of town on Friday morning we stopped by another farm to look for fresh berries and get ideas for lovely Magdalen Farm; the three farms we stopped by were all lovely and served to re-inspire and reinvigorate us at the end of a long season.

Thanks so much again to our farm-sitters, the Lundgren family, Trish and Charlie! We returned convinced that little getaways like this need to happen more often!

This little piggy went to market...

This morning, after many lessons learned in the El Guapo debacle, we successfully delivered two more pigs to the butcher.

Things went rather uneventfully, except for one precious little anecdote.

As I dressed this morning, I was sorrowed to realize that my jeans were dirty and that I would have to don my work khakis, which have a sizable tear across the left knee.

As I reported in my post on loading El Guapo, the only way that works in getting a scared and angry hog up a ramp he has no wish to climb is to get as low as one can, firmly place both knees in his rump, and push like one's life (or at least one's long-desired bacon consumption) depends on it. (Real farmers out there, please enjoy a hearty laugh at our expense and then send us an email detailing a reasonable way of doing this.) Well, as I was saying, I was donning my torn khakis when at one point this morning as I was muscling Ned toward the ramp I detected a strange sensation on my leg. That's right, you guessed it, our little friend was pooping directly through the hole in my knee and into my pant leg. Luckily I realized it before too much had stormed the breach; nevertheless, one would be correct in saying that any pig poop in one's pants is too much pig poop in one's pants.

Having realized the error of my wardrobe choice and the no-holds-barred approach our adversary was taking, we renewed our zeal and manhandled the swine into the truck.

Then, after Lucky uttered a terrible grunt we muscled Lucky up the ramp as well.  I can assure you, there wasn't a smellier duo ambling across Polk County this morning than the two of us!

Sadly, we only managed one small pic on Steph's cheap cell phone. Here's Neddy, taking one last breath of clean, fresh Wisconsin air before heading in to meet his sausage maker!

Bye Neddy! (Lucky napping on the floor to his right)

A Veritable Horn of Plenty

These days our garden is simply bursting with produce: carrots, cucumbers, beets, cabbages, kale, leeks and onions -- not to mention our first tomatoes are finally ripening. The corn is starting to form it's ears and our potato plants seem to have withstood the worst of a vicious siege put on by the potato bugs.

This morning Steph spent 20 minutes in the garden while I was doing an interview and when I came into the kitchen this is the sight that greeted me!

The Morning's Cornucopia

Thanks to Ken and Kathy Wegrzyn for the beautiful basket to collect produce in! And, Deo gratias for a bountiful harvest thus far!

The Last Ride(s) of El Guapo

There are a great many things that any pig farmer must know; we're coming to realize how few of these we started out with. Nevertheless, as of this morning we are bona fide, successful hog-farmers, having gotten our first hog -- El Guapo -- up to Daeffler's Fine Meats in Fredric, WI.

El Guapo was a fine pig, the biggest of our four by plenty. He was red and chubby; a Duroc by breeding, a Hurtubise by fate. He weighed in somewhere around 240 to 280 lbs according to our best estimates and was a happy hog all of his days. That is, until this morning...

Yesterday evening we backed the truck up to the cement ledge at the high point of the pig pen, found materials for a ramp and a hog-guide and, trusting in our innate farming know-how, thought that we'd be in good shape to get Guappy loaded up in about a half hour on Monday morning and on to our 7 a.m. drop off at the butcher.

Ready for action

When one is accustomed to getting up between 7 and 7:30 in the morning, 5:55 a.m. comes rather early -- especially when the hideous shrieks of the alarm clock double as a call to arms in the treacherous warfare of loading a hog into a pick-up truck. Nevertheless, we happy farmers ambled over to the pig pen around 6:10, reminded ourselves of our well-laid plans, and got to work. We went into the building, isolated our prize-hog, and got him locked in the confinement of the feeding area. Then we went out and armed ourselves: Steph wielding a small PVC tube for 'motivation' and I a spare door for guidance purposes.

What came next will surely strike the seasoned farmer as a ludicrous parody. But, to other ignorant suburbanites, like myself, it may sound like a good plan. And yet, what we know now is that in loading a hog into a trailer or the back of a pick-up, you want a sturdy chute leading directly from door to door. What we relied upon instead of such an apparatus was the docility and good-nature of our beloved pig. Big mistake.

We loosed the beast: I guided with my door; Steph goaded with her impromptu whip; El Guapo seemed to comply. We grinned, believing that we, indeed, were naturals. Guappy approached the ramp and pawed at it. We tried to guide him into the truck. Then, a sight that was to occur a great number of times unfolded: we pushed, the pig pushed harder and he escaped. Each escape was more disastrous than the last. On approximately attempt number seven, Stephanie sustained a jammed thumb.

A few attempts later -- with many splashes in the wallow and innumerable poops and pees in between -- El Guapo made his move. We had him pinned against the building, ready to guide him toward the truck again when he turned and made a dash for daylight through Steph's legs. Now, at 5' 4" you wouldn't think hurdling a pig would be too difficult for a former collegiate track runner, but El Guapo was no ordinary pig. His girth and height made this feat impossible. 

It ought be interjected that, by this point, the proceedings had become something of an ordeal and patience was beginning to wear thin. 

As I was saying, the feat was regrettably impossible. As she lept, he lunged. And all-of-a-sudden, my wife was riding Guappy backwards and, needless-to-say, bare-back across the pig pen. She clung to him valiantly, but his course was charted and his intent malicious. He bucked her lose after roughly 25 feet into the poop end of the pen, where, thanks to torrential downpours in recent days, the sloppy poop was some four to eight inches deep. In one last show of balance, poise and grit, Steph landed with her feet on the fence rail, and hands on the rocks -- narrowly averting the disaster of a most unpleasant face plant.

Having returned from a quick wash up in a nearby five gallon bucket, we redoubled our efforts and started using our brains. We pounded a few fence posts in and positioned a heavy duty pallet and a solid oak door to form a chute. Then we called on the beast one last time. Steph manned the guiding door and I the whip, and with my knees in his rump I pushed the mighty hog into the truck at last. We hastily removed the ramp and guides and closed the tailgate. Predictably, El Guapo stood in the truck grunting placidly, as if nothing had happened, munching on a bit of the sawdust bedding.

The ride and delivery were uneventful, apart from one last Guapo gift... When Steph opened the hatch to the topper to make sure Guappy had survived the trip alright a big poop came flying off the hatch. One last crappy booby trap for our efforts, as if to say, "that was a good trick, too -- eh!?!?"

Thanks, Guap Guap!

His sumptuous pork products will be ready for pick-up in about two weeks when his hams and bacon are smoked. We look forward to tasting the fruit of our labors and remembering our hog bite after delicious bite! We will be selling pork throughout the fall. Be sure to contact us with all of your porcine needs!

This is a shot of the pigs when we picked them up less than four months ago, shivering and scared in the back of the truck.

Lucky, Dusty, El Guapo (the red one) and Ned

Here's El Guapo loaded up and ready for his last ride.

This, is our sorry attempt at a ramp and chute. We'll be better prepared next time!