When Pigs Fly

There’s a rumor going around that I’m becoming a pig farmer.

Like most rumors, there’s a hint of truth to it. But like all rumors, it sounds more certain than reality.

The idea of hogs on the farm started a few summers ago, sitting on the porch with my brother, Scott. He and I talked business, farms, family history and everything else that could be discussed during the course of a couple of cigars.

Pigs played an important part of the late-night bullshit session.

My mother’s ancestors were hog farmers. Her great-great-grandfather immigrated from a Bohemian pig farm, moved to Iowa and continued his pig-rearing ways. While in Prague for Scott’s wedding, the entire family went to visit the old homestead and sure enough, generations later, they still raised hogs. Just enough to eat, just enough to sell.

And so it was, wanting to travel full circle, that raising hogs was on the bucket list.

Since that summer, the realities of making a living off the land have come into clearer focus. I’m no longer willing to dive into new ideas regardless of how fun they sound or how ‘easy’ they seem to be. These days all new ideas are scrubbed with the hard bristle brush of return on investment.

Don’t worry. This doesn’t mean the joy of farm-life is lost or that all of my decisions are judged financially. It simply means that I’ve finally come to grips with the hard truth that there is only one of me and only so many hours in a day. If I can’t do it well, and it doesn’t help feed and clothe me, it doesn’t make the cut.

So yes, I may become a pig farmer. After this year, depending how the farm and business grows, and if the hours necessary to raise hogs can be justified, we might have a few oinkers roaming the back forty. Just enough to eat, just enough to sell.

I’ll keep you posted, and as always, thanks for stopping by!

Carolyn

#FarmLife