“I want to see the Guinea Pig,” asked Mason. “No, Mason, it's a Mini Pig, not a Guinea Pig,” explained his mother. Mason, a five-year-old boy and his parents, were spending the night at our Farm House Inn and wanted to snuggle with Tazzy, our mini porch pig.
Carole Soule's blog
Charlotte knocked the tub out of my hands and coleslaw tumbled to the ground. She was clearly excited about the kitchen scraps I was feeding, so excited she acted like a pig. Charlotte is actually a seven hundred pound friendly sow who smells like maple syrup. She has lived at Miles Smith Farm ever since she dodged being turned into bacon three years ago.
“Oh my, that is too much meat. I can't eat that much meat, really,” is a comment I hear a lot. “Wow, what a great price and value. I can put all meat in the freezer and not worry for a long time about where I'll get grass fed ground beef,” is also a comment I hear. Which are you?
It was going to be a cold night so Bruce and I had to work fast. Temperatures had been in the 40's and 50's for a few days and all the manure and water that was previously frozen had thawed to sea of six-inch muck. If we waited the muck would freeze solid, impossible to clear away.
The scrap bucket was empty and the feed bunker a mess. Who had done this? Who would trash the hay and steal the pig food? This was clearly the work of the delinquents; Rowdy and Hemingway.