one more anecdote
Nov. 27th, 2019 02:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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Oh I forgot about this one. So we’re doing turkey processing. The guy who raised most of the turkeys was helping, and the last turkey had just been uhhh how do I euphemize this, I don’t. Killed. So BIL (who was doing the knife work) and the turkey-raising guy had come around to the door of the evisceration room to check in with Sister and come up with the plan for when he was going to retrieve his birds.
They were talking, which necessitated Sister turning away from the work counter, and toward the door. There’s a window in that wall, a fixed one that doesn’t open and isn’t cleaned much but does still work as a window to let in light.
BIL said something like, “Well, so you figure we’ll have him come back in an hour or so for–” and mid-word, Sister cut him off by shouting at him, apropos of apparently nothing,
“PIGS”
and we were all like, “… what?”
“THERE ARE PIGS I SEE PIGS THERE ARE PIGS,” she said all in one breath, pointing at the blurry grungy window.
Sure enough, something quite large and red lumbered past, visible enough despite the grime and cobwebs across the panes.
“Shit,” BIL said, because the pigs are all rather firmly stabled in a barn some hundred yards away across a creek and absolutely have no business whatsoever wandering around the barnyard.
Fortunately, turkey-raising guy is of farming stock on both sides of his family, so he had absolutely zero hesitation and ran off with BIL to make the pigs not be wandering loose in the barnyard.
Two of the sows, the pair who farrowed about two or three weeks ago, had decided it was too hot in the barn, and they remembered there used to be a door in this wall somewhere, so they’d collaboratively crashed through the plywood panel that had been screwed into place over the door opening, and then had gone adventuring, leaving their piglets behind. Later, we found hoofprints going most of the way up the hill to the hedgerow where their pasture used to be. Probably, they hit that hedgerow, followed it down to the creek for all of the normal sort of fun times a pig can have in a creek, and then presumably smelled the slaughterhouse and came to check it out– who knows, they could have been out for hours at that point, and probably had been. But when BIL, who in their minds is either Food Monkey or Sometimes Steals Our Babies Monkey, came running out, they were perfectly happy to follow him back up to the barn and go back into it (apparently, he must be Food Monkey first and foremost, in their tiny but improbably cunning brains. No really, pigs have absurdly tiny braincases, I’ve seen them in great detail, so it makes no sense that they’re about as smart as dogs but they definitely are).
BIL quickly set up a fence because it was easier than trying to replace the smashed plywood panel, and then he came back down and he and Raises Turkeys Guy finished their conversation about logistics.
Oh I forgot about this one. So we’re doing turkey processing. The guy who raised most of the turkeys was helping, and the last turkey had just been uhhh how do I euphemize this, I don’t. Killed. So BIL (who was doing the knife work) and the turkey-raising guy had come around to the door of the evisceration room to check in with Sister and come up with the plan for when he was going to retrieve his birds.
They were talking, which necessitated Sister turning away from the work counter, and toward the door. There’s a window in that wall, a fixed one that doesn’t open and isn’t cleaned much but does still work as a window to let in light.
BIL said something like, “Well, so you figure we’ll have him come back in an hour or so for–” and mid-word, Sister cut him off by shouting at him, apropos of apparently nothing,
“PIGS”
and we were all like, “… what?”
“THERE ARE PIGS I SEE PIGS THERE ARE PIGS,” she said all in one breath, pointing at the blurry grungy window.
Sure enough, something quite large and red lumbered past, visible enough despite the grime and cobwebs across the panes.
“Shit,” BIL said, because the pigs are all rather firmly stabled in a barn some hundred yards away across a creek and absolutely have no business whatsoever wandering around the barnyard.
Fortunately, turkey-raising guy is of farming stock on both sides of his family, so he had absolutely zero hesitation and ran off with BIL to make the pigs not be wandering loose in the barnyard.
Two of the sows, the pair who farrowed about two or three weeks ago, had decided it was too hot in the barn, and they remembered there used to be a door in this wall somewhere, so they’d collaboratively crashed through the plywood panel that had been screwed into place over the door opening, and then had gone adventuring, leaving their piglets behind. Later, we found hoofprints going most of the way up the hill to the hedgerow where their pasture used to be. Probably, they hit that hedgerow, followed it down to the creek for all of the normal sort of fun times a pig can have in a creek, and then presumably smelled the slaughterhouse and came to check it out– who knows, they could have been out for hours at that point, and probably had been. But when BIL, who in their minds is either Food Monkey or Sometimes Steals Our Babies Monkey, came running out, they were perfectly happy to follow him back up to the barn and go back into it (apparently, he must be Food Monkey first and foremost, in their tiny but improbably cunning brains. No really, pigs have absurdly tiny braincases, I’ve seen them in great detail, so it makes no sense that they’re about as smart as dogs but they definitely are).
BIL quickly set up a fence because it was easier than trying to replace the smashed plywood panel, and then he came back down and he and Raises Turkeys Guy finished their conversation about logistics.