A word of warning: the following contains graphic details of an animal's death.
Last Friday was a rather difficult day for me on the farm. When I went out to do the morning chores and move the pigs to their new piece of pasture, I noticed that one of the piglets was not running to the food I'd just put in their bowl. This is not a good sign, as nothing seems to motivate a pig more than food. When I went to investigate, I noticed that he was actually trying to move toward the rest of the group, but he was lethargic. Then, something more serious came to my attention--he was vomiting.
I had been keeping an eye on this piglet because he had developed a rather large inguinal hernia in the first week of his life (his intestines had pushed through the inguinal canal and into his scrotum). Apparently, this can be caused by castration (the question of whether it's worth castrating is for another post) and since it was our first time castrating, we think we may have not had the technique down rock solid. Whatever the cause, the hernia didn't seem to be bothering him for the first seven weeks. He was actually one of the largest piglets. Nonetheless, since it was such a large hernia, I was concerned. The risk is that the hernia can become strangulated, which means that the intestines become blocked and blood circulation cut out to the strangulated area. While I didn't know it at the time, vomiting is a symptom of strangulation (basically, the body can't process food through the system so it tries to get it out any way it can).
I suspected the worst, and picked up the piglet in my arms and carried him to a barn stall. The mama pig was not very happy. The piglet was squealing and he was heavy at 40-50 pounds. Not fun. When I got him to the barn stall, I thought in that perhaps I could massage the herniated area to clear any blockage. No success. At this point, I realized the only thing I could do was end his suffering as quickly as possible. That's when I started to panic because I realized I didn't have a gun, which to me is the most humane way of ending an animal's suffering. I think part of me didn't want to come to terms with the fact that I might need it at some point, and part of just didn't want to own something I associated with violence. I'd slaughtered chickens and rabbits, but this was a much larger animal. My stress level was pretty high by this point, but I knew I couldn't wait. I found a sharp knife, carried the pig into the yard, and ended his suffering as quickly as I could while he died in my arms. It was such an intense moment, and I couldn't help but feel both ashamed for what I'd done to this animal, as well as at peace that his suffering was over.
When I embarked on farming with animals, I knew that these bad days would happen. I'd read enough of other farmers' stories to be wary, but wariness is no substitute for the actual experience. At the end of the day on Friday, I felt like quitting farming, but now, five days later, the sting of the day has subsided, and it's easier to see the big picture. I can take solace jn that I'm trying to raise my animals in the best possible condition. Plus, when I went out to check on the pigs tonight, they were all sleeping happily in a warm huddle in their shelter and I realized that today was a good day, and if there are more good days than bad, it's all worth it.
Last Friday was a rather difficult day for me on the farm. When I went out to do the morning chores and move the pigs to their new piece of pasture, I noticed that one of the piglets was not running to the food I'd just put in their bowl. This is not a good sign, as nothing seems to motivate a pig more than food. When I went to investigate, I noticed that he was actually trying to move toward the rest of the group, but he was lethargic. Then, something more serious came to my attention--he was vomiting.
I had been keeping an eye on this piglet because he had developed a rather large inguinal hernia in the first week of his life (his intestines had pushed through the inguinal canal and into his scrotum). Apparently, this can be caused by castration (the question of whether it's worth castrating is for another post) and since it was our first time castrating, we think we may have not had the technique down rock solid. Whatever the cause, the hernia didn't seem to be bothering him for the first seven weeks. He was actually one of the largest piglets. Nonetheless, since it was such a large hernia, I was concerned. The risk is that the hernia can become strangulated, which means that the intestines become blocked and blood circulation cut out to the strangulated area. While I didn't know it at the time, vomiting is a symptom of strangulation (basically, the body can't process food through the system so it tries to get it out any way it can).
I suspected the worst, and picked up the piglet in my arms and carried him to a barn stall. The mama pig was not very happy. The piglet was squealing and he was heavy at 40-50 pounds. Not fun. When I got him to the barn stall, I thought in that perhaps I could massage the herniated area to clear any blockage. No success. At this point, I realized the only thing I could do was end his suffering as quickly as possible. That's when I started to panic because I realized I didn't have a gun, which to me is the most humane way of ending an animal's suffering. I think part of me didn't want to come to terms with the fact that I might need it at some point, and part of just didn't want to own something I associated with violence. I'd slaughtered chickens and rabbits, but this was a much larger animal. My stress level was pretty high by this point, but I knew I couldn't wait. I found a sharp knife, carried the pig into the yard, and ended his suffering as quickly as I could while he died in my arms. It was such an intense moment, and I couldn't help but feel both ashamed for what I'd done to this animal, as well as at peace that his suffering was over.
When I embarked on farming with animals, I knew that these bad days would happen. I'd read enough of other farmers' stories to be wary, but wariness is no substitute for the actual experience. At the end of the day on Friday, I felt like quitting farming, but now, five days later, the sting of the day has subsided, and it's easier to see the big picture. I can take solace jn that I'm trying to raise my animals in the best possible condition. Plus, when I went out to check on the pigs tonight, they were all sleeping happily in a warm huddle in their shelter and I realized that today was a good day, and if there are more good days than bad, it's all worth it.
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