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“You’ve got pigs? Really? How brilliant is that?!”
We walk around the corner of the house…

“Oh wow… they’re adorable. Look how they roll in the straw. Oh they’re looking at me! Those ears… their noses! Oh my goodness! They’re beyond cute!”

Then…

“Can I feed them? They like apples? Haha, oh they LOVE apples. Look it’s gone! Oh they’re gorgeous.”

Then, finally…

“No! You can’t eat them. How can you? They’re so lovely. They’re as intelligent as dogs you know. Did you know that? Surely you’ll not be able to do ‘it’?”

It’s undeniable: they’re very endearing. And now, after two weeks of settling in to their new home, getting to know the rhythm of their day, their meals times, our comings and goings, they have definitely nosed their way into at least a corner of our hearts. For our middle child I suspect that they have taken up residence at the very centre.

But the truth is this: We like bacon… and ham, sausages, shoulder, neck… For me, and many I suspect, say the word ‘bacon’ and my taste buds get lost in a state of reverie! (Though there have been occasions when we haven’t sourced sensibly, perhaps the pig hasn’t lived the best of lives, and there’s no doubt the meat will always be a mirror for this.)

But over the years a deep seated nagging has taken hold of my sensibilities. If we’re happy to eat pork, then we should be prepared to take some responsibility for it’s provenance. The idea was simple. We’ve got a bit of land: we should ‘grow’ our own. In doing so we’ll have a more realistic understanding of the process… from field to fork… and all the bits in between.

The aim is to give them the most contented lives possible as they grow. And when the time comes, I’ll go with them to slaughter. I’ll learn how to butcher them. We’ll make our own sausages, ham, and bacon if possible. And if, during this journey, we become too attached, too squeamish, and indeed don’t fancy eating pork ever again, then this will be an educated response. Not an automatic ‘make mine a full English’ reaction. We’ve all ‘signed up’ for this in our family, and I’m pretty certain it’s going to be an unforgettable education.

I’ll keep you posted.

In fact it’s likely the next essay will be entitled: Running (wild and unplanned) With Pigs