Apparently, Pig Testicles Are Tasty
This week on our farm, we had another first — something I have never experienced before and hope to never experience in the same way again. We had to castrate our male pigs who are now three months old and about 50 pounds each. Being new farmers means that sometimes other people take advantage of that newness and a lot of times, we don’t even realize we are being taken as “green farmers” until it is too late. This is what happened with our piglets and you know, the learning curve is steep for us newbie farmers.
We did not find out until the day we bought our piglets that there were three males and only one female. We were also totally unaware that we would have to castrate our piglets so that they would not impregnate their sister and hound her endlessly when she is in heat. The woman we bought the pigs from told us we could castrate the pigs up until they were six months old. By the time our pigs are six months old, they will be well over 100 pounds each. Can you imagine castrating a 100 pound pig? I can, and it would involve twelve men who are all close to 200 pounds each. We also happened to receive the runt of the pig litter, which I don’t mind because I love an underdog, but when it comes to butchering our pigs for meat, most people don’t enjoy having the runt of the litter.
In usual pig farming practice, pig castration is done when pigs are about 4-6 weeks old and you can still hold the tiny piglet in your hand — easily flipping them over on their backs so you can remove their testicles. The smaller they are, the less stress it is to the pigs when you have to restrain them so that you can do the procedure.
We did not think there was a rush to castrate our growing pigs. Little did we know, we had already missed the golden window of opportunity for ball removal. When we asked the woman who we bought the pigs from about her thoughts on castrating our 50 pound pigs she said, “Just sit on them. It will all be fine.” She did not seem at all concerned with how our 3-month old pigs would take this unpleasant procedure.
Jack began researching pig castration devices until we found one that seemed suitable for our pigs. Basically, it’s a device that swaddles them and wraps them tight so they feel both held but are also restrained. In the videos we watched of other people using this device it with their pigs, the pigs seemed to calm down once they were inside the contraption. I cannot say the same was true for our pigs because well, our pigs were much bigger.
Fortunately, we found a vet who makes house calls although I was ready to get my scalpel out and do the procedure myself. For some reason, I have a knack for surgical procedures — it doesn’t make me queasy or anxious. Blood, guts and internal organs really do not bother me. This vet happened to be doing another castration in the neighborhood that day (a neighbor’s stallion) and so we got in on the castration rotation. I knew when our vet stepped out of his truck, after putting on his prosthetic leg, that he was going to be the perfect vet for us. He was rough and real and ready to get down to business. He also brought his steady companion, Dan the sheep herding dog, along with him who watched everything very closely from the passenger seat of the truck.
I think it’s safe to say that the vet was skeptical of our capacity to get our pigs into the castration contraption and hold them down while he did the cutting. I don’t think I look like much of a farmhand upon first glance but I love to surprise people with my willingness to get my hands dirty and to be front and center for the clamping of a vas deferens. The vet warned us that when the pigs got going, they would let out a sound that would forever haunt us: a pig scream. It is not a grunt, but a high-pitched scream that rings in your ears hours after it’s over. It is maybe what ten toddlers screaming in unison sound like…
It took four of us to restrain one pig while the vet did the castration. Luckily, our neighbor showed up at the right time and lent her arms and body weight in holding down our pigs. And let me just say this, it is not so much the pain of cutting the testicles out that hurts the pigs, but it is the awkward maneuver of getting them flipped over on their back that puts them under a lot of stress. The vet was right — the screaming was profoundly terrible. It was like watching a bris be done on a 40-year old man — very unpleasant and not something you want to invite your grandmother to.
Our vet stayed calm — this of course, was not his first castration. He cut swiftly and quickly, holding the scalpel in his teeth in between cuts. He smiled at us softly and gently after it was all over, placing his hand on my shoulder to reassure me. There was something very comforting and grandfatherly about his presence. He immediately made me feel safe. I think he was mostly concerned about how bonded we were with our pigs if we also intended to butcher them once they got old enough. I feel the same way dear vet grandfather, I am concerned about that as well. He asked if we wanted to save the pig testicles and fry them up — apparently, they are quite tasty. I declined. No pig testicles for me today but maybe one day, I will be ready for that.
Most people have been asking me, “Are the pigs acting different with you since you castrated them?” And I have to say that they are not acting any differently toward us. I was prepared for the cold shoulder from our pigs but they are as warm and friendly as ever. Moments after the surgery, they let us rub their bellies and comfort them in the shade while spraying their rear ends with colloidal silver and homeopathic remedies. Keeping our pigs infection free with homeopathics and herbs has so far proved to be working. We did not have to use any anesthetic or antibiotics on our pigs in this process and hopefully, their wounds continue to heal without the need for allopathic medicine. They are eating well and scratching their butts all over their pen, which I take as a sign that everything is in the process of healing.
Back when I worked and apprenticed as a midwife, I was initiated into the world of blood and guts and umbilical cords. I was inducted into the human and physical world of the body and the process of suffering we have to endure in order to bring life onto the planet. Somehow, I feel like that experience and training is serving me now. The experiences I am having, with the butchering of our chickens and the castrating of our pigs, do not seem traumatic to me or even out of the ordinary. There is something ancient and deep inside of me that nods to this world, recognizes it and knows it has its place within me. It doesn’t seem foreign or insane, it doesn’t seem barbaric or unimaginable. It just seems like something I’ve always known how to do. It’s deeper than words — it’s almost a somatic memory, something that my body recognizes before my brain.
Many people say to me, “I don’t know Jen. I don’t think I could do what you’re doing.” But I think that’s a normal human response. It’s hard for us to imagine things we have never done before, especially when it involves a certain idea we have about ourselves. For example, I am not someone who kills animals. Right, same. I have felt the same way about that piece of my identity. I have never hunted and did not grow up hunting in the inner city streets of Phoenix, Arizona. I have never participated in the butchering or slaughtering of animals before but I have always known I could if I needed to and if the opportunity presented itself. I have always known that this primal and wild edge inside of me existed and somehow, my hands know what to do. I can feel the axe and the bow in my hands, I can feel my knees in the dirt and my breathing becoming slow and quiet as I make myself invisible in the woods. I can feel the history that is carried in my soul even if I cannot recall the exact story. It is in there and it remembers the time of living close to all the wild edges. Something remembers, something already knows how.
