The problem with Yorkshire cross pigs in an urban setting is that they get too big. My pigs grew up on a Mississippi farm where they infrequently saw people. By the time I got them, they were almost 100 pounds and practically feral – kind of frightening when running full speed, kicking an squealing. I thought they would get more used to being around people as they were in my care, but it wasn’t the case. The pigs were set in their ways and never quite seemed comfortable in their new surroundings, which I felt bad about. Their offspring on the other hand, come up to me for scratches and treats whenever I step into their pen. Their enjoyment of their life is evident in everything they do. Running, squealing, rooting, scratching vigorously, and rolling in the mud or their food.
But since I managed to end up with 5 pigs instead of the 2 I had planned for, space was limited in the pen and the muck started becoming unbearable. So, sadly, the big pigs had to go a few weeks earlier than initially planned, at slightly under 200 pounds.
The night before sending the pigs to the slaughterhouse, I couldn’t sleep. I had nightmares about them getting out on the street and getting hit by a car. I kept waking up nauseous with worry and stress – maybe I could have given the pigs a better life. The only answer I have for certain is that I know the pigs ate well. A diet rich in soft cheese, french bread and plenty of mixed greens and basil made for healthy looking pigs.
After some deliberation, it was decided to rent a U-haul trailer for the task of getting the pigs to the slaughterhouse an hour away. I bedded it down with straw and wood chips, and put the food bowl in the far corner. Unfortunately, pigs are smart and wanted nothing to do with this strange, dark metal box, even if it did smell like food. After two hours of goading, coaxing, shouting, and nearly getting run over in frigid weather, there were two pigs in the Uhaul. Unfortunately, the Uhaul wasn’t connected to the truck. We had had to unhitch it as we moved from plan A to B to C. So, with the help of two strong men, nearly 400 pounds of pig in a Uhaul was moved from the back of our lot, into the middle of it where the truck could back up and re-hitch.
Then it was off to Verdun’s Meat Market in Raceland, LA, about an hour away. I picked them for their proximity to New Orleans, and the fact that the owner, who I talked to on multiple occasions, always thoroughly answered my questions, even though she was (I know now) extremely busy.
When we got to the stockyard to unload, the threatening gray clouds began spitting sleet. Squinting amidst the weather, I opened the door to the Uhaul and the first pig (known as ‘Spaz’) bolted out, followed by the other pig at a more leisurely, but inquisitive pace. The pigs settled in to a nice shelter, bedded down with a thick layer of straw. I said good bye. I looked in the extremely clean processing facility where the pigs would get killed, then scalded and scraped before being moved on into a walk in-cooler.
I think the most stressful part of the pigs’ experience was the travel. Getting loaded into a dark trailer and taken to a different place abruptly was, I’m sure, a very traumatic experience, but I didn’t want to slaughter these pigs myself. A big pig requires a lot of time and a lot of man power to kill, scald, scrape and then process and package into cuts. The Verduns have been doing it for multiple generations, and they have the proper equipment to ensure that nothing gets wasted, nothing goes wrong, and that the animal is killed in a quick and humane manner.
When we got back in the truck, towing an empty Uhaul trailer, I couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief, mingled with the sadness. I always feel a sense of guilt – these animals trusted me. But I provided them with food, shelter, and the chance to just be pigs without fear.
That evening, the slaughter went according to plan and the following weekend, I received 4 120 qt coolers full of meat, fat, feet, organs and two heads. We sold some to friends and gave some to those we owed. I had a very hard time selling any of it, although it was necessary. But how do I measure the value of my pigs? How does their life add up to a price per pound? It doesn’t. It simply can’t. I’m glad I recouped some of the slaughter costs and the initial purchase price, but beyond that I’m just extremely thankful to have the freezer full. So, when I eat that first pork chop, I will toast the pigs’ life and thank them for providing me with a bounty of sustenance.
Great Blog! Very informative
Good pics.