The Last Last Ride of El Guapo

Nothing Like a Trunk full of Guap Guap to Lighten One's Spirits!

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!

The Pigs and the Wallow

In recent weeks as the temperature gage sky-rocketed and the humidity hovered between 100% and 300%, sympathy for our panting and uncomfortable animals abounded. We racked our brains -- brain racking sounds rather awful, doesn't it? -- for a way to cool off our pigs. Highly trained and well-seasoned in the ways of animal husbandry, we thought to ourselves: "Pigs like cool mud, right?"

Our pig yard was cleverly paved, for lack of a better term, with large rocks that the real-farmers that previously owned the property had pulled out of the field over the years. For, pigs, as many of you know, are wonderful rooters: digging with their terrifically strong snouts for roots and other subterranean treats. The rocks were therefore inserted with the twofold purpose of keeping the pigs from destroying their yard and barring their escape beneath the fence.

To create our wallow we simply removed about a dozen of the rocks, filled the resulting hole with water and sat back and enjoyed hours of free entertainment.

Top Quality Pig Cinema!

In other news, there has been a slight let-up in the blazing heat the last few days -- though the high 80's still doesn't feel very comfortable. To capitalize on the tolerable weather, I spent the last two days splitting wood, thanks to our good friend Charlie lending us his awesome 25 ton commercial wood splitter. Yesterday we laid up about 2.5 cords of oak (thanks Rick!) and elm (thanks Martin!). Today I split a half a cord of pine for camp fires; the pine came from two trees that fell down this past winter. All in all, we'll need to collect another 6 or 8 cords to get us through this coming winter. 

Finally, the garden continues to burst; the turkeys continue to grow; the chicks continue to peep and warm our hearts; the puppy continues to play, chew, and amuse; and, in all things we continue to grow fonder and fonder of agrarian life and its many delights.

Momma hen herds her peeping flock

Baby chicks learn to scratch for food with mom

Turkeys enjoy a group hug

Ferocious Hildy scans the horizons for predators

'Lucky' enjoys a scratch from Steph

Hatches, Harvests, and Harrowing Escapes

Greetings friends of the farm!

We've received many prods and goads for further farm-updates over the last several weeks, but have not had the time or creative energy to post. Like a friendship slipping away, the longer the time between posts went, the more that had happened and the greater the burden of catching up. Our apologies!

Nevertheless, without further adieu: catch-up.

In addition to the regular chores of hauling water and feed for the animals, watering, weeding, planting and harvesting in the garden, and keeping the yard (roughly) in order, a number of exciting events have taken place here at Magdalen Farm over the past month or so: my parents came up for a brief visit; we brought 48 of our 51 meat birds through to maturity and butchered them on two separate weekends; we welcomed 15 chicks to our laying flock through purchase and another 5 through happenstance (more on this later); our pigs proved the inadequacy of our fencing on a number occasions, and we harvested the first food from our garden.

Let's start with the visit. Last winter we had a number of occasions and opportunities to travel southeast to Chicago to visit with the Hurtubise side of the family. But, on account of our increased responsibilities here at the farm, visits in the spring, summer, and fall will sadly be a rarity. Accordingly, my parents graciously offered to come up for a few visits this summer.

Much like me, my mom and dad both grew up in suburbia and had experiences with livestock limited to an occasional state fair and our St. Bernard, 'Big Mol'. As their visit drew closer, Stephanie and I were very eager to introduce them to our pigs, turkeys, chickens and Hildy. They were delighted to meet the animals, tour the garden and spend a few days adjusting to the serenity of life here on the farm.

Mom visiting with Hildy

Mom visiting with the piggies

Sunday of that weekend was truly wonderful. In the morning we went to Mass and to Mike and Sue's church, where Mike was sermonizing on James. Then, having lunched at the drive-in in Milltown, we returned home to an afternoon of lounging in the beautiful sunshine and relative cool of a Northern Wisconsin summer day. The highlight of the day, however, was giving my parents a crash course in firing a shotgun. We'd gotten one when we were in Dallas and my parents were eager to give it a shot--pun very much intended. They both enjoyed it thoroughly.

Best Picture Ever!

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As our meat birds, which Stephanie posted about most recently, were nearing butchering weight, we set about building an apparatus to assist in the slaughtering process. Like the chicken tractor, our only constraint for the project was that it be free. Thanks to our cache of old deck boards and a pile of scrap duct-work from old contracting jobs of Mike's, we had everything we needed. The 'apparatus' that we set out to build is what is known as a 'bleeder'; it is quite simply a contraption that holds the birds in a position of relative tranquility (and stillness) while they bleed out. The benefits of using the bleeder are myriad but the two that spurred us most of all are : 1. In the bleeder the birds can't flap about, bruising their wings or breasts and, 2. The blood flow is neatly controlled and contained--for the most part.

The beginnings of the frame

Cutting out the cones

Folding back sharp edges

The finished product

"Ummm, could we have a snack while we're waiting?"

Ready for action! 

The butchering station

I think I'll spare any unwilling readers the details of chicken slaughtering, but those interested in the gritty details need only ask! Many, many thanks to Sue and Cindy (a friend of the family) for all their help -- thanks to them, butchering was a breeze and we now have 48 birds stored away in our chest freezer in the basement!

(Anyone interested in buying from us is welcome to: we have about 20 birds for sale.)

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As the demand for farm fresh eggs has continued to increase (thanks to our growing clientele in the Twin Cities), we decided to increase the size of our laying flock. So we ordered 15 more hens. They are going to be heavy layers like the other breeds we already had, some red and some black. 

The chicks arrived a couple of weeks ago now, while our good friend Kate Janke was visiting from Louisville. She and Stephanie helped get the peeping little brood settled in with one of our 'broody' hens who had been sitting on a clutch of plastic Easter eggs for a couple of weeks. The hen accepted them as her own and has raised them all healthily thus far.

Playing on Mom's back

Learning to eat and drink

[Nota bene: when a hen decides it is time to sit on her eggs, one is left with only a couple of options. He can: a. Let her sit on them and hope that some hatch and by raising them she gets over it; b. lock her in a shed for a few days where there is nowhere to nest; or c. cook 'er up and have chicken soup for dinner. In this case we decided to go with 'a'. We have since tried 'b' with some success on other hens but have not, as yet, decided to impose so draconian a discipline as option 'c' on these hens for simply indulging their mothering instincts. Though with more than 40 hens in the coop now, it's surely within the realm of possibilities.]

Last week, perhaps the most interesting and exciting thing that has happened to us to date occurred. I had gone out to the feed mill in nearby Luck, WI to get food for the pigs, turkeys and hens and when I got home there was a hen with 5 baby chicks meandering about the barnyard. I figured that 5 of our chicks had somehow escaped and that this other hen had stepped in to protect them and give them a tour of the facilities. Much to my surprise, upon investigation, all of the chicks were in with their broody momma. These five were in fact chicks of the hen that was with them.

We had had a fox in our field a month or so ago and it had scared two of our hens away. Both came back eventually, but one continued to roost somewhere outside of the coop every chance she could. It turns out that she had a clutch of eggs in the garage in a pile of scrap metal and was sitting on them. 

We caught the hen and the chicks and placed them safely in a brooding box inside the coop where we are now feeding and watering them safely and getting the chicks acclimated to life near the flock.

So, with the 15 we purchased and the five mystery chicks, we now have 20 more chicks to augment our flock of 21 hens and 1 rooster. The 15 we bought were 'sexed' and are sure to all be hens. We're hoping that the others are all hens as well, but only time and more mature anatomies will tell.

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In other news, our turkeys are really cool. They have very different habits and instincts from the chickens; they tend to be more flock-focused, running and flapping about like a flock of land-bound seagulls or something. 

Also, apart from being really hot, the pigs are doing wonderfully. They have really fun personalities and for the most part are a pleasure to take care of. Hildy has come to be very fast friends with them and seems to be 'one of the guys' when she finds her way into their pen. It's a very symbiotic relationship: she likes to chew on their ears and they like to have their ears chewed on--everyone is happy. She will be sad to loose her dear friends this fall.

As alluded to earlier, the pigs have found that unless we take every precaution to prevent it they are very much able to escape their pen. So far, it has happened three times. Each time Stephanie has been out there when it happened and was able to coax them back into the pen relatively easily (if nervously) after a happy romp around in the grass of the barn yard. We will be taking measures to make their gate a bit more sound before they get any bigger. Unfortunately, the last thing on one's mind will strategizing a means to get a 150 pound pig back into the pen is to grab the camera... Alas!

Finally, we were delighted to complete the transaction of purchasing Stephanie's grandparent's truck. It is in great shape and only has something like 70,000 miles on it. So hopefully it will be a feature of life on the farm here for many years to come. It has already come in very handy, hauling this and that around the farm and helping us get the garden fence finished.

Built Ford Tough

Well, that's it for now. Now that we're caught up to speed hopefully we'll manage to get posts put up more regularly! Thanks for checking in!

Hildy keeping watch