Who's Your Pig Farmer?

We drove to Eureka (very northwest Montana) this weekend to get in a little camping in near Lake Kookanusa and to pick up our large black barrow hogs from Cranky Carl's Farm.

Cranky Carl is married to Gritty Gretchen; their nicknames are apt descriptors. Use your imagination. Carl made a dive into mud and manure to catch a runaway piglet, and our awe/admiration just grew from there. Our two blacks, roughly three months and probably 90 pounds each, are surprisingly mellow compared to the skittish pink Yorkshires we had last year. We also picked up another couple of younger piggies for our neighbor, and these guys are about a month old, and iddy biddy. Gretchen plucked them out from their pen, and with the help of her two young boys, put the piglets on their backs, sloshed some betadine over their bottoms, then made quick work with her 11 blade surgical knife and sliced their balls off. The two little squealers were castrated before I even fully comprehended what was happening. Apparently, she does that to help them grow faster and taste better. And probably so no one breeds her hogs without the additional "breeding fee." 

Two little newly-castrated Large Blacks, in our trailer and ready for the road!

Gritty Gretchen with a Red Wattle hog, another heritage breed.

A Mama Black and her litter.

Home at Blue Cloud. Check out the difference two months makes (one month vs. three months old). Eat up piggies!

So, after Rocky Mountain oysters, piglet style, we said our goodbyes to Cranky Carl's and headed home. A six hour drive through the rain was no fun for anybody, especially the little blacks, who started shivering on the way. But they toughed it through. They're now sharing a roof with our chickens, and the seem pretty content in their new home. For now, they are limited to the existing fenced-in pig pen with access to the chicken coop for cover; but we should have the electric fence up and running soon, and they'll have plenty of space and liberty to graze. Pigs that eat grass...and hay. It will sure be nice not to have to buy so much grain and corn this year. 

Lawn Furniture

Check out Bill's latest furniture: Adirondack chairs! Perfect for sitting in.

Sheep Love

Over the winter our neighbor asked us to feed and water her sheep while she was away. We kind of grew fond of the big sheep dog (a Great Pyronese) named Akiva. Until this winter I was always terrified of her, believing that she would tear off one of my arms if I got that close. She's actually a big, soft-hearted puppy who likes her belly rubbed. But with that menacing bark and towering stature of hers, she could fool you.

Akiva, the guard dog. Don't let that smile fool you. She's 100 pounds
and measures up to my chest when she's on all fours. 

Within the past couple of weeks, lambing season brought Akiva a whole new flock. Nothing says spring like little, bleating lambs bounding around a green pasture. There are also a couple of baby goats. 

In exchange for our farm-sitting, our neighbor plans to pay us in the form of goat cheese and lamb chops. Not a bad trade. 

Baaaaa.

Spring Update

Breakin' Wind

We put (nearly) the finishing touches on the windbreak today. The latest additions include a row of Rocky Mountain Juniper (which weren't available last year when we put our order into the seedling nursery), and a handful of replacement Ponderosa Pines and Doug Firs that didn't make it through the winter. For the most part, though, it looks like well over 90% of our shrubs and trees are budding out and looking great! There are a few more unfilled holes waiting for trees, but we got the bulk of the work done and are super happy about it. We now have 400-ish trees/shrubs in the ground. Tonight: Aleve and early to bed.

Rocky Mountain Juniper

Big Blacks

Soon to come to the Blue Cloud farm are two "little" pigs. We're switching over from pink Hampshire hogs to a heritage breed called Large Blacks.  The hogs are appealing as they are meant to graze. Apparently, they are very docile, in part to their large floppy ears that block their vision. We'll train them to a hot wire, so that we can easily rotate their pasture, and see how they do. We will be getting our two black piglets from a breeding farm (Cranky Carl's) up north in Eureka, MT, within the next few weeks. This year is a test run. Hopefully, if it all goes smoothly, and if the bacon is up to par, we'll look into breeders next year.

In with the Black....

...out with the Pink.

Shrimp "Scampi" Anyone?

Well, Cass and I made a bit of an impulse purchase this week.  I have been scouring Craigslist posts for a utility trailer that we can use for hauling around a variety of items such as pigs, firewood, mulch, gravel and soil --  we have too much land and therefore too much stuff which needs to be moved around.  The problem with searching Craigslist is that you are bound to find something you did not even know you were looking for.  Case in point...our new fifth wheel camp trailer!

Scamp is small company in Minnesota that has been making lightweight travel trailers since the early 70's.  The trailers are fiberglass so they last a really long time, are easy to repair, and even easier to tow.  The trailers have a cult following, rarely come up for sale, and hold their value.  People that are looking for a used model generally drive across a state line to get it and pay a premium.  When a listing for a 19' Scamp (the largest version available) came up on Craigslist, I forwarded the post to Cass with a subject along the lines of "Isn't this a perfect little camper?"  Well apparently she agreed, because we ended up buying the trailer a couple of days later.   

The camper we bought, affectionately named Shrimp Scampi by the previous owners (a great name that we will graciously accept) , is a 1989.  We bought it from a young couple that found it Bozeman last year. In the meantime, they had a baby and realized they just weren't going to get to use it as much as they anticipated.  Although the trailer is 25 years old, it appears to be in pretty good shape. It's in need of some updates, but doesn't need anything right away . I am sure there will be a number of other Scamp posts in the future.  I already have an number of upgrades planned for it.  Just what I needed...another project.  Stay tuned!

Joyeux Noël

For the holidays this year, Bill and I packed up our skis and headed East to spend some time with mère et père' Daigle in Fort Kent, Maine.

We were spoiled by the miles of groomed cross country trails at the Biathalon Center, just up the road. Bill even found the "Moat" that was named after him when he was a ski racer in high school.

I got to work on my French Canadian, and came away with some pretty good insults. Bill's French Acadian uncle was my tutor and pumped up my ego. Ja'i le front tout le tour de la tête. Right, mon oncle?

This is a new mural, painted on a building near downtown Fort Kent, that pays homage to the potato farmers in Northern Maine. Bill and I both worked in the spud fields growing up, even though we lived on opposite sides of the country. We each had two weeks of "vacation" during potato harvest during each school year. And still, after 8 years together, we have not yet had a taste-off of the Idaho vs. the Maine potato. Regardless, I'm pretty sure my high school mascot (The Mighty Russet) is tougher than his. Attache ta tuque!

For New Year's we drove up to Quebec City, one of the oldest European cities in North America. Established in the 1600s, this cool, very French, cobbled city was built as a fort on the Saint Lawrence River. As we walked along the foot-ball-field-sized boardwalk overlooking the river, we were shocked when a canoe full of paddlers launched out into the ice ridden water. They managed to break through the ice chunks with their paddles and feet, to maneuver to the other side, over half a mile away. I mean, seriously, who in their right mind would do that? You have to check out this video, courtesy of the land of You Tube, to fully appreciate what it means to paddle across a moving river of ice chunks. We land lubbers were plenty cold as it was, without a dip in the Saint Lawrence.

The Quebec humidity made it feel 20 degrees
colder, and while I tried to stave off frost-bite, this
tiny Québécois handled the cold like it was child's play.

 

Bill's dad, Ron, had the right idea for a head warmer, which doubled as a fashion statement. He bought his bonnet from a little shop where the hats were handmade.

Of course, once we made it back to Maine, we left a little time to indulge in some great "Downeast" seafood. We highly recommend the Lobster Diavolo at Portland's Street and Company. Delicious!

Stemple To Flesher...Maybe Next Time

There's nothing like a good ski with friends to put you back into the blogging spirit. Today we hit the trails, and the backcountry, with a couple of buddies and two good dogs.

The Continental Divide Trail (CDT) holds a lot of draw for Bill and I, but we've only been a small section of it on a quick backpacking trip years ago. Today we went to Stemple Pass, elevation 6349, with the idea that we were going to ski along the CDT to Flesher Pass, elevation 6131. We were looking at roughly 12 miles of skiing, and went into it perhaps a bit too cocky and ill-prepared. Bill topo'd the trail and mapped the elevation changes, and, as always, I mentally downplayed the ups-and-downs existing between the beginning and the end.

Matt, Sho, Pelé, and Stewie

 Ultimately , gaining 700 feet to our highest destination, the snow was at times knee and waist deep (especially for some of us little people), and just iced over hard enough to let you fall through after a few moments of exhilarating surface-skimming, only to crash through in the next heartbeat and get your skis buried in the heavy snow below. The dogs, god bless 'em, plowed through, mostly up to their chests.

After about 5 hours of the good fight, we'd only made it 4.5 miles in. Thanks to Bill, ever the voice of reason, for helping us realize we'd never make our original destination before nightfall. Plus, good dogs were getting pretty tired. A bit of disappointment to turn around, but overall it was a great time and a fun ski. And a good reminder to heed the boy and girl scout motto: be prepared (ie: always pack more granola bars than you think you'll need, don't assume snow conditions, and never forget to pack a headlight...or dog treats.)

Stemple Pass:

This place is one of our favorites. It's about 30 miles northwest of Helena, with loops of cross country trails that are generally skiable from December to March. Good place to bring the pooches. (Baxter had to sit this one out, but Stew-dog had a good time with Pele`.)


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Worst scrabble hand ever!