Tag Archives: farm humor

Pig Dicks and More

I’m not sure if I have shared with you all my new boar is an idiot who can’t figure out how to actually breed the sows? He’s been living with them for a few months and I’ve been suspicious he hasn’t done his job for a while but I’ve never caught anyone breeding. 

When I pulled him out of the pen and put him with Lola who i just weaned I discovered the awful truth: he’s just sticking his dick out 3 inches. Humping their faces and leaving them with a pearl necklace. 

 Yesterday my sows who were still unbred by him decided to assist me in heat detection by breaking out and spending the morning laying next to the boars pen gazing dreamily as their beady eyes would allow. 

They were out so I figured I would let him out, too. I want prepared to get involved in breeding, but now was my chance. I let him out of his pen and he b lined to the sow who wasn’t in heat, just enjoying some freedom for the day. I had to encourage him to leave her alone and try one of the girls camped out by his pen. He got one to stand up and started massaging her. 

Titanium is a nice little tank, but I’m pretty sure he’s not firing on all cylinders. He lets the tip of his tounge hang out slightly askew and his mouth always slightly agape. His eyes are set in the same look of Pixie mischief sans the intellect for any actual mischief. I have other swine who are quite expressive and I can tell their feelings and thoughts looking at them (you’re planning a breakout, hum?). Titanium is a blank slate.  After my sister pointed out how stupid his expression was I can’t look at him without thinking, “duuuuhhhh.” To my surprise his face can get even dumber when he gets to hump. Yes, his sex face is somewhere between ecstasy and a stroke as his eyes loose that brightness of consciousness and glaze over. “Huuurrrrrr” is the sole thought I imagine going on in that noggin. 
He proved me right as he continually attempted to mount their faces. The girls were in full standing heat and made no protest to the grinding action bestowed upon their jowls. In no time their faces were dotted with white splatters of piglets who never will be. With the help of a friend we got him on the right end.

I looked at my hand: clean enough and cleaner than my work groves. With a sigh I ducked down and did what I swore I would never do: I tried to grab his pulsating weiner getting more involved in porcine copulation than I wanted. 

Did you know pig dicks are slippery? Somewhere in-between “wet baby” and “bar of soap” and trying to grab the damn thing as it springs and spins spraying all kinds of body fluids is not for the faint hearted. Nor is doing it without gloves as the scent is disturbingly like the musk of stinky tofu wafting from the back of an authentic Chinese restaurant. (Unfortunately for me, I was also making Chinese for lunch so I continually questioned if the scent I was smelling was Chinese ferments or pig dick)

In frustration I called George, a pig breeding expert and asked his advice. He told me let the boar settle a little he’ll calm down and I should have some luck then (I looked over into the pen to watch Titanium bouncing between the two sows faces) Next time I should bring the girls to him, but for now just keep trying to grab his Weiner and if you get it in the right spot behind the corkscrew so it feels like vuvular contractions he should extend out aka give your boar a good hand job. New addition to my resume: swine fluffer.

Over and over he would mount and we would attempt to readjust and someone would move and he’d fall off. Over and over I cursed his sweet innocence and wondered if pig porn is a thing and maybe he could learn? (Naw. Doesn’t work for humans, why would it for pigs?) Finally he started to slow down. We shoved him to the sows rear end and I ducked down again. A few grabs and I lost it as it spun wildly around (fun fact: pig penises gyrate). Who would think 3 inches was so darn hard to grab? 3 inches of pig penis one inch away from the goal…. Why is this so hard?! (Or not hard enough if ya know what i mean. Giggidy)

I grab at his corkscrew again and all the sudden it shoots out like a footlong harpoon straight into a very willing and ready Cinnamon. His eyes widen and go crosswise. I am shocked, staring wide eyed inches away from the most graphic sex I have ever seen, assured that, yes, he has a full sized, fully functioning penis! Maybe, maybe this will be a succe–Cinammon adjusted herself and he lost balance and fell out and over. Five seconds of extreme jizz will probably not result in a litter but he’s spent. I’m spent. Peppercorn is so frustrated she’s off in the corner just over getting teased. 


I consider trying to encourage him aga when he rolls in mud and moves on to digging a trench. “Hey, Titanium, you want to try that again?” No amount of pleading can make him try again. My friend pushes on the boar to encourage him over towards the girls and he misunderstands this as an invitation for belly rubs so he falls over with his dumb happy face, tongue hanging out, ready to receive belly rubs. My friend instead sits on him. Because boys.


We quit for the day. I have it marked in my calendar: 3 weeks from now I week have time to come up with a plan. it will be game on.

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Goodnight, Sheep

I’ve been exhausted and fighting a cold this past week. It took me a few days to realize I was sick and not just unusually tired. I decided to go to bed early. Sheep could come in the barn and take care of themselves, I’ll mix up the pig food in the morning…. I decided just to put my head to the pillow at 8pm or so, not both with evening chores. Dancing between consciousness and sleep I was suddenly shaken by a chorus of screaming sheep.

Did they get out and can’t get back in? Is someone stuck n a fence? Is a coyote in the barnyard?! I hop out of bed and grab something to throw on. I look out the windows without my glasses to try and spot them. Where are they? Meanwhile, the cacophony only crescendos. I scramble, dizzy and half unbuttoned in a pink summer dress and rubber boots, towards the barn. I open the door and am greeted by my sheep right where they are supposed to be.

“You didn’t tuck us in! We want our grain! Lambs need to be locked up!”

So I fed them, locked up lambs, mixed up pig food and passed out scratches. As I left the barn the sheep all agreed: all was right with the world again.

New Pig

So it seems like this winter weather is here to stay for a bit, so i went and picked up a new pig that supposedly fairs well in the cold. “Alaskan Snow Pig” they day.

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Seems to be friendly enough. Only here a day and already rolled over for belly rubs.

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I’m a little concerned about the back hoof, but you don’t find a snow pig often so even if its got a peg leg, ya take it! Hopefully she breeds out a good litter. We’ll see.

Country Caroling

I suggested caroling to our neighbors last night since I figured no one has ventured down our little old road to carol. Well, first of all it confused everyone because they didn’t know what to do. “Hey! Sandy! Theres carolers!”

“Carol who?”

“So, do you want to come in and sing?”

“No, your supposed to come outside and freeze you butt off with us!”

“So do we pay you now, or what?”

 

“Okay, don’t fall in the creek now!”

The best was going up to road to a friends. We drove up in the diesel truck but parked at the end of the drive way, hopped out and tried to light the candles and sneak up on them. Only their dog started going nuts. They saw giggling strangers in the dark lighting something and got freaked out. I realized this may be a bad idea when they turned on THEIR truck lights to see who was coming up their driveway with candles. Luckily we started singing and they realized it was us. As we finished singing and left Kes said, “I’m pretty sure I heard them cock a shotgun.”

The Great Christmas Carol Massacree (in five part harmony) was narrowly avoided. Maybe a lesson as to why people don’t carol in the country.

Next time we’ll be more prepared….we’ll bring the Baretta.

Butchering My First Chicken

I was out in the barn trying to finally build the wall to the feed area so I could let my cold wet animals back in the barn when I went to borrow a tool from my neighbors. While over there they asked me if I wanted a dead chicken.

“Um…how long has it been?”

“About ten minutes.”

“What happened?”

“We killed her. —- shot her. I can’t do it, but —- is heartless.”

“Um…why?”

“She went broody again and was driving all the other chickens crazy.”

Ah, so not disease…just insane. As my neighbor put it “Imagine having to go to the bathroom and everytime you went in there someone else was ALWAYS in the stall next to you. EVERYDAY AT THE SAME TIME. Its freakin’ weird and they don’t want to be next to her.” I would like to add, she probably muttered to herself. The weirdo in the bathroom stall next to you…yeah, you too would probably think twice about laying an egg next to her.

Well, despite being in the middle of another project I won’t say no to free food. Especially not when I was about to go to the store and buy a chicken for soup because I might be fighting a cold (but I’m to busy to stop and figure out if I really am, haha!). So why not give it the old college try and clean a chicken that wasn’t slaughtered correctly in

the first place?

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I always thought she was a pretty one, too bad she was driving all the other girls away from the nesting boxes and screwing up production. So I got a pot of water on the stove, dragged a 70 lb table that I think was originally used for butchery by myself across the back yard under to my back porch where I could work without getting rained on.

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Into the pot she went and 10 minutes later she was plucked

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It all went to hell from there.  Like, suddenly realizing since they just shot her she didn’t get bleed out…so I finally cut her head off just for a few drops on blood. Going broody often means not eating so she had hardly any muscle left. Yet oddly enough her butt was super fatty. So fatty I had a hard time finding her rectum. She was a literal fat-ass. I got to it without puncturing it and carefully started trying to pull out her innards.

But not carefully enough. I ripped a hole in her rectum an poop started falling out. GROSS.

I managed to squeeze most of it on the ground, but I still had a hold in her guts. Aw, screw being careful. I just shoved my hand in and ripped out everything I could possibly find. Then I decided not to bother with gibblets or anything else…so the pigs got the innards.

Cleaned out, great! Not much meat but i needed a stewing chicken, anyway. There were a few feathers left and according to one website “old timers used to take a rolled up newpaper and singe off the remaining hairs.” Well let me tell you.

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That doesn’t work.

The lesson I learned: I can pluck a chicken, but anything else? I fail.