Well today took an unexpected turn.
One minute it's pouring with rain and I'm planning a day deep cleaning our bedroom, and the next I'm in a field helping ear tag pigs for slaughter and getting chewed by weaners.
Just another day in Steelsville.
Martin had to drop off a car to someone, who turns out to breed porkers for a local butcher. He had to visit his pigs to do a spot of housekeeping and invited the two of us along. I was like a rat up a drainpipe. The Gloucester Old Spot weaners ate my jeans. They bit through one of my boots and gave my small toe a nip.
They rubbed their muddy snouts on me. I scratched tummies in return.
Then they got bored with the humans and went for a sleep.
Then it was on to the ear tagging in the next pen with a Tamworth and Middle White. Not so much fun. It hurts them. And it wasn't easy. When a pig wants out of a pen, it tries very hard.
First the Tamworth tried to get out my end of the pen and nearly succeeded. I had to press forward with my legs to keep the front in place and then hang on to the end with both hands.
Then the Middle White had a go. I gave up using both hands and tried to shove the pig away. All effort was focused on straining my left shoulder to keep that pen end in place. My teeth were gritted.
With all the wriggling pigs the smallholder is having problems getting the tags in their ears. They keep pulling their ears out of his hands and knocking the tags out of the gun.
The the Middle White charges up the other end of the pen, gets its muscly little snout under the pen and pushes it up and starts to wriggle under. The farmer just manages to get his hand on the top of the pig's head and pull it back.
In the end I pushed the Middle White into the top left corner with my right hand and kept the Tamworth at bay with my left hand when needed. The farmer managed to get the tag in and then we reversed the pigs and did the Tamworth.
Seriously wriggly beasts.
We returned home full of smiles only to find a sit-in in the kitchen. Holy Moly. Brought down to earth with a bump.
We didn't fill her munchie bowl before we went out (in our defense she had lunch before we went!) Three hours without munchies generates these kind of looks from Fleagle. "You have neglected your responsibilities. You galavanted with pigs and now you pay the price. I burn you with my piercing laser stare. Whether you feed me now or not the damage is done. I will ignore you all evening and not play with you."
And so she has.