The four pigs up at Barry’s, which we expected we would be butchering in early January as is our custom, are puny. At five months old they should weigh in the neighborhood of three hundred pounds, and hang over two hundred, and as they are now we doubt they would hang at one. We have been observing the slowness of their growth for some time, comparing their size with that of the milk-fed pigs at our place, and scratching our heads over it. We do that a lot. Another odd thing they have been doing is throwing feed out of their self-feeder onto the floor; sometimes they’d get as much as half a bag’s worth spread out around their feeder, good feed, dry and sweet, so then we’d leave the feeder empty until they cleaned it up. And still they were unusually small.
Someone got creative a few weeks ago and changed the type of feed we were giving them. They went crazy. Gobbled it. You don’t think of pigs, who will eat almost anything, being picky about their food, but we have to guess these are. What it is they object to in Mr. —-‘s mix we can’t guess, but they are eating the new stuff avidly. Still, there is no way they can make up the weight in the next three weeks, and we estimate they won’t be ready to butcher until some time in March. Our home pigs, the ones on swill and milk, should be ready in February. It never rains but it pours; how are we going to get four pigs into the freezers?