Last weekend, we finally got our pigs for this year. We went with the intention of getting two, but a couple of people at Fred’s job expressed interest, so we ended up with a third. The man we get our pigs from is known as “Egg” (we call him “Egg the pig man”), so here are some sights from around Egg’s farm.
Cute little baby pigs (these guys were too small to be separated from their mama yet. I did get a shot of their mama – who kept giving me the “Don’t you think about touching my babies!” eyes, but it didn’t come out.)
Puppy, keeping an eye on the pigs.
Our pigs, not sure what on earth was going on.
What’s a farm without a barn cat or two?
White donkey, hangin’ with the cows.
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And, of course, sights from around Crooked Acres.
One little,
two little,
three little girly pigs.
Thus far, one of them will take a cookie from Fred’s hand, but the other two are too skittish. They wait ’til Brave Pig takes the cookie from Fred, then follow her around, trying to take the cookie from her. They’ll learn soon enough – they always do!
That’s Gracie in the front and George in the back.
“Hallo, shweetheart.”
Even though George and Gracie never come into actual contact with the pigs (the pig yard is fenced off), they still get excited when we get new pigs.
This is inside the pig shelter (before Fred added straw, not that it’s been cold enough for them to burrow down inside the straw lately, but still) a few days before we went to get the new pigs. This hen decided this was a good place to raise some babies, so she made a nest, laid a clutch of eggs, and sat on them looking angry when anyone came close. Fred moved her to the maternity yard, and she decided she didn’t want babies after all, and abandoned her eggs.
Mamas and babies.
They’ve hit their gawky stage.
If you look closely, you’ll see Gracie inside the fence and Coltrane outside the fence, on the other side of the ditch. He comes and goes constantly, and the dogs completely ignore him.
First fresh veggies from the garden for 2011 – baby romaine, purslane, and radishes.
Happy Hydrangea.
Pansies have taken root in the cracks on the front steps. I should probably pull them up, but they’re so pretty I don’t want to!
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Dorothy loves to pick fights with Jake, and he puts up with her shenanigans for far longer than you’d expect him to, but eventually he snaps and fights back. Then she gets all “Oh, wah! I am but a wee baby! Please save me from this horrible beast who would pick on a tiny helpless baybeeeeee!”
Dorothy is off to the vet today to be spayed and ID chipped and all that. I’d say y’all should wish her luck, but she will be perfectly fine, and I expect she’ll be racing around here tonight like nothing ever happened.
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Oh Cillian, how I love your worried little face.
If you couldn’t guess, I was waving the feather teaser around wildly, and they were pretty interested in what was going on.
He leaps! He misses!
This is a pretty good shot of all six of them.
And this.
Declan and his toes.
Ciara really likes to hang out underneath this cat bed for some reason.
Maggie’s been getting some alone time this week – not every day, but about every other day, I put her in the room at the other end of the hall and leave her in there for two or three hours. She doesn’t really care for it, I think it worries her to be away from the babies, or possibly she just doesn’t like being in a strange room. The babies don’t even notice that she’s not there until I bring her back in, which is when they gather around her like “Mama! We missed you! WE THOUGHT YOU WAS A TOAD!” and she gets a look on her face like “I wanted to come back in here why, exactly?”
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Snoozin’ Spanky.
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Previously
2010: “Zip it. ZIP it. ZIP. IT.”
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: He is the POOPIN’ KING.