The pigs escaped yesterday for a ten minute run of the neighborhood. I heard a commotion, walked downstairs and encountered one of the monks (in full robes) holding a street cone in order to get the piggers back in their stall. A neighbor, newly arrived from Puerto Rico, held a stick, and everyone was laughing, but serious at the same time. The hogs thought this was great fun. I finally lured them back with a bag of bread. The monk spoke pig–he was making some very detailed snorting noises. Afterward, he told me (as a vegetarian Buddhist monk must): “They want to be free.” Have I mentioned how much I love our street?
The plan is to have them slaughtered in Dixon by a nice lady named Sylvia in early September. I’m hoping I’ll get to watch and learn for next year. Then I’ll bring the carcass and offal to Berkeley, where my salumi-maestro will show me the proper way to butcher a pig. He said it’ll take two days to do the deconstruction. His payment? Just a leg to make proscuitto. As you can see from this photo–the leg needs to get bigger.
Other farm news: a new batch of baby bunnies! Born to our third female who hasn’t had babes yet. Looks like 5 in all.