Loading Pigs

I grew up watching pigs being loaded onto trailers. Once they were on the trailer, I knew they wouldn't be coming back. My parents explained that they were going to be meat, which is how I explain it to my kids with our own pigs. When we loaded pigs last week, it was quite a significant day for us.

Once my husband had all the gates in place, the first thing I did was to make a trail of kitchen scraps for the pigs. Much like Hansel and Gretel following the breadcrumbs, I was trying to lead the pigs into the trailer. I can usually get a couple of pigs loaded just by their own gluttonous nature, they are pigs afterall.

When I saw our eight pigs look into the trailer, I realized that they were contemplating taking the step up into the trailer because they wanted the carrot peel treats, but they were too fat to make the effort. Similar to a person that just had knee replacement surgery looking at a flight of stairs would contemplate taking the elevator to the second floor. My husband used a car jack to lift the front of the trailer, so the back would be lower and entice the pigs further.

(Video is 3x faster than real time.)

Half of them loaded up nicely when we showed them which way we wanted them to go with the red plastic hog panels. The other half decided to cause mischief when our backs were turned. One troublemaker used his brawny nose to lift the gate leading back into their pen in the opposite direction of the trailer. We hadn't secured both ends of the gate, which we quickly rectified.

We went slower with the last four just because they were more agitated, and we really didn't have reinforcements if they got through one of our loosely secured fence panels. The last four loaded one by one just to get back to their mob.

The three hour drive to the locker was uneventful, but when we got there it was brutal. We watched other farmers unload their animals, which didn't make me happy. These animals have less than 12 hours to live, and their owners are pissed they won't get off the trailer. I feel guilty when our pigs walk off the trailer into the holding pens because I'm leading them to their death. They can smell the blood. I feel guilty if they don't put up a fight. Many people scoff at me when I say that because the common attitude is to not think twice about it. How can you be a farmer and feel bad about it? Well, we've had these animals for six months; my kids give them treats everyday; my husband gives them their wake-up call every morning; how could someone not feel something for these animals? We know they aren't pets, but they still need to be taken care of.

When my sons saw the empty pens when they came home from school, they asked if today the pigs went to the butcher. I said yes, that today was the day. There were no tears but sad eyes, I think I would have preferred the tears.