So, we had bought that pig at auction. As with the house goat (that was not actually kept at our house), I felt wholly unprepared, stressed a whole lot about the housing situation, and gave Hubs a horrendously hard time about how he was going to kill the beast and butcher it.
Gyro was housed well, eventually even being given free reign of the backyard along with the 2 little dogs (littler than the pig, at least) that really owned the backyard. Because Gyro was a young wild boar and not an older mature fella (though the size of his balls would seem to attest otherwise), he was quite friendly and would try to go in the house with the dogs and come right up to you for attention.
We kept the pig for a mere 3-ish weeks, but he went from a gaunt bony thing that had obviously been trapped to sell at auction to a pudgy smushy dude full of pig fat and watermelon bits.
Tools of the trade
A pig-sized cauldron. Going at it old school with a wood fire and a giant pot of scalding water.
Hubs and our friend de-bristling Gyro. Our friend was taught to butcher by Native Americans so he followed practice and said a prayer and sprinkled tobacco before Gyro was sent to the pig sty in the sky.
Ham, before the remaining bristle was torched off.
My husband, the butcher, baker, and many-thinged maker.
Ever had liverwurst that was walking around you snorting earlier that same day?
A little on the strange side. But mostly on the delicious side.
We wondered how the operation pig went, but it was the best pork I’ve ever tasted, and our friends already had recipes and idea for what to do with “the next pig,” so I guess we’ve added pig farming to the Gnarly Farms regular agenda.