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Andreades
Guest
Thought I'd pass this one on to ever'body, about this friend of mine that runs a south Alabama hog farm. He got to asking me about computers, what with me being a MAC user and all... said he needed a good computer for his hog business. I wish now I'd never even told 'em I was a computer lover. But you know the old saying... "hind sight's always 20-20."
Anyway, I told him straight out that Windows was alright but that it got hacked too much, and that my choice was a MAC running OS-X.. So we got to talking things over and one thing led to another about the subject of money... and before I knew it he was telling me that I ought to go into the hog business like him. I already had the computer and everything.
He said I could start small with a few pigs and build up over time, without hardly spending any money at all; that he'd practically give me 5 or 6 nice little breeder pigs to get going with. Well, I told him I'd think about it, and then later I decided to take him up on the offer for the breeder pigs.
See, he's got 27 sows that do nothing but produce one litter of piglets after another, and so there's always some just-weaned pigs around. So we was in church this one Sunday back in the early summer of 2003, and out of a clear blue sky he tells me to be at his farm at 5 AM the next Saturday to pick out the breeders.
Okay, I says, I'll be there, but couldn't I come down a little later... like around 10 AM instead of 5? No, says he, I can't see nobody that late; it's 5 AM or nothing on account of all the chores. So I agreed begrudgingly to be at the Hog Heaven farm that Saturday at 5 in the morning.
My wife was a good sport about it and got up at 3 AM to cook my breakfast. I shoved off in the old pickup at 4:15 and was just pulling up my friend's dirt drive at 5 o'clock. There he was, standing outside wearing hip boots and champing the bit, glancing at his watch. I think he'd really wanted me to get there early.
So, seeing as how he was in a hurry and all I cut the small talk and we got right to business. I picked out 5 of the plumpest little females I could find, and paid my friend what he said he had to get for them. Before long we'd loaded my cargo into the back of the old truck and I was on my way home.
As I was leaving my friend gave me one of his familiar wry looks and said that when the pigs got up to shoat-size it would be about time to bring 'em back down, so's he could put 'em in with 'ol Oscar, his boar, and get 'em bred. I said okay, that I'd be sure and let him know when, and left.
Wasn't long before the pigs were up close to 200 lbs. each. One of them was a mauve and gray little lady that sort of took a shine to me right off the bat! She would do anything I told her and was very smart. She it was that helped me get the other 4 of 'em back into the truck again that Saturday the breeding appointment had been set for.
They'd all got so dogonned big by that time that I couldn't squeeze more than 4 of 'em into the bed, so Bertha had to ride up in the cab with me. She didn't seem to mind, though. After the breeding session with 'ol Oscar had finished, my friend gave me another one of those discreet looks of his and said that I'd have to "watch 'em real close for the rest of the week," that I'd know if the breeding "took" by the way the pigs was acting the next morning and the next few days afterwards.
He told me to get up before dawn every day and look out towards the sty to see what they were doing... and if they were up on high ground I'd be a piggy daddy before long, 'cause that was a dead sign of success. But if they were down rolling in the sty and geting all muddy I'd have to bring 'em back again the following Saturday at 5 AM, to let 'ol Oscar earn his keep. "Alright," I said, and went home.
Friday night that next week the missus got up early and went out to the back room window that faced the sty to see what was going on. So far the pigs had spent all their time in the mud, acting like pigs, and the news she reported was not good. So I was forced to get up and put 'em all back into the truck- four in the back- and Bertha up front again with me. She rode like a dog, I swear, with her head out the window and hooves up on the dash board! She sure was game, I give her that!
After the session I left and drove back home. Them pigs was in some high spirits, I can tell you, yes siree. They didn't give me a bit of trouble getting out of the truck, and never strayed once going back to the sty. I told my wife I sure hoped that things "took" this time... because I was getting mighty tired of the strenuous schedule.
But low and behold, the same scenario continued for the next 3 months, until I was completely frazzled! Finally I told mama that I wasn't going to do anything come that next Saturday except sleep; that I didn't give a dang whether them pigs was in a family way or not. Well, about 4:30 Saturday morning I'd finally slept, for once, past 3 AM; but a loud noise coming from somewhere kept disturbing me, and I finally woke up to find my wife's side of the bed empty.
"Hey honey," I called into the kitchen, "what's them pigs doing this morning... are they on high ground or wallerin' in the sty?" "They ain't in the sty," she answered, an amused tone in her voice. "Where are they," I asked excitedly, hoping she'd say that they were up on the much-anticipated high ground. "They ain't even out there," she said. "Four of 'em's in the back of the truck and Bertha's up in the front seat blowin' the horn."
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Anyway, I told him straight out that Windows was alright but that it got hacked too much, and that my choice was a MAC running OS-X.. So we got to talking things over and one thing led to another about the subject of money... and before I knew it he was telling me that I ought to go into the hog business like him. I already had the computer and everything.
He said I could start small with a few pigs and build up over time, without hardly spending any money at all; that he'd practically give me 5 or 6 nice little breeder pigs to get going with. Well, I told him I'd think about it, and then later I decided to take him up on the offer for the breeder pigs.
See, he's got 27 sows that do nothing but produce one litter of piglets after another, and so there's always some just-weaned pigs around. So we was in church this one Sunday back in the early summer of 2003, and out of a clear blue sky he tells me to be at his farm at 5 AM the next Saturday to pick out the breeders.
Okay, I says, I'll be there, but couldn't I come down a little later... like around 10 AM instead of 5? No, says he, I can't see nobody that late; it's 5 AM or nothing on account of all the chores. So I agreed begrudgingly to be at the Hog Heaven farm that Saturday at 5 in the morning.
My wife was a good sport about it and got up at 3 AM to cook my breakfast. I shoved off in the old pickup at 4:15 and was just pulling up my friend's dirt drive at 5 o'clock. There he was, standing outside wearing hip boots and champing the bit, glancing at his watch. I think he'd really wanted me to get there early.
So, seeing as how he was in a hurry and all I cut the small talk and we got right to business. I picked out 5 of the plumpest little females I could find, and paid my friend what he said he had to get for them. Before long we'd loaded my cargo into the back of the old truck and I was on my way home.
As I was leaving my friend gave me one of his familiar wry looks and said that when the pigs got up to shoat-size it would be about time to bring 'em back down, so's he could put 'em in with 'ol Oscar, his boar, and get 'em bred. I said okay, that I'd be sure and let him know when, and left.
Wasn't long before the pigs were up close to 200 lbs. each. One of them was a mauve and gray little lady that sort of took a shine to me right off the bat! She would do anything I told her and was very smart. She it was that helped me get the other 4 of 'em back into the truck again that Saturday the breeding appointment had been set for.
They'd all got so dogonned big by that time that I couldn't squeeze more than 4 of 'em into the bed, so Bertha had to ride up in the cab with me. She didn't seem to mind, though. After the breeding session with 'ol Oscar had finished, my friend gave me another one of those discreet looks of his and said that I'd have to "watch 'em real close for the rest of the week," that I'd know if the breeding "took" by the way the pigs was acting the next morning and the next few days afterwards.
He told me to get up before dawn every day and look out towards the sty to see what they were doing... and if they were up on high ground I'd be a piggy daddy before long, 'cause that was a dead sign of success. But if they were down rolling in the sty and geting all muddy I'd have to bring 'em back again the following Saturday at 5 AM, to let 'ol Oscar earn his keep. "Alright," I said, and went home.
Friday night that next week the missus got up early and went out to the back room window that faced the sty to see what was going on. So far the pigs had spent all their time in the mud, acting like pigs, and the news she reported was not good. So I was forced to get up and put 'em all back into the truck- four in the back- and Bertha up front again with me. She rode like a dog, I swear, with her head out the window and hooves up on the dash board! She sure was game, I give her that!
After the session I left and drove back home. Them pigs was in some high spirits, I can tell you, yes siree. They didn't give me a bit of trouble getting out of the truck, and never strayed once going back to the sty. I told my wife I sure hoped that things "took" this time... because I was getting mighty tired of the strenuous schedule.
But low and behold, the same scenario continued for the next 3 months, until I was completely frazzled! Finally I told mama that I wasn't going to do anything come that next Saturday except sleep; that I didn't give a dang whether them pigs was in a family way or not. Well, about 4:30 Saturday morning I'd finally slept, for once, past 3 AM; but a loud noise coming from somewhere kept disturbing me, and I finally woke up to find my wife's side of the bed empty.
"Hey honey," I called into the kitchen, "what's them pigs doing this morning... are they on high ground or wallerin' in the sty?" "They ain't in the sty," she answered, an amused tone in her voice. "Where are they," I asked excitedly, hoping she'd say that they were up on the much-anticipated high ground. "They ain't even out there," she said. "Four of 'em's in the back of the truck and Bertha's up in the front seat blowin' the horn."
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