and it does bring back not-so-fond memories of the days when we were raising pigs. we've had litters of up to a dozen, and at the very least , the sow had to be monitored while farrowing to make sure the they didn't get tangled up.
ah, the joys of animal husbandry - you will wind up putting your hands almost anywhere.
My grandfather is/was a vet out in West Texas. In the 1970's, he was the only one in maybe a 50, 60 mile radius, so he took care of every kind of creature imaginable - including pigs.
Every spring, when the pigs would farrow, he'd take my uncle (age roughly 10) with him out to the pigpens. Since Charlie had long, skinny arms, it was easier for him to check the sows for hung piglets than it was for my grandfather. Uncle Charles would get paid a quarter for every piglet he pulled.
At one point, he got hold of a runt, who in Charlotte's Web fashion was given up for dead, and then raised by Charlie to be a 4-H project pig. Little Red later became a quasi-celebrity of the area because she'd escape her pen, walk a couple of miles down the highway to the Texaco station, plop her 300lb porcine ass on the concrete and refuse to move until someone bought her a coke and removed the cap. She'd then drink the soda out of the bottle.
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Did I understand the woman was checking to see if there were any dead fetuses in the pig's womb? Did the pig just give birth?
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No, I can't do it.
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How may piglets did she have?
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lucky vet.
:)
well, at least it was what I expected
ah, the joys of animal husbandry - you will wind up putting your hands almost anywhere.
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Every spring, when the pigs would farrow, he'd take my uncle (age roughly 10) with him out to the pigpens. Since Charlie had long, skinny arms, it was easier for him to check the sows for hung piglets than it was for my grandfather. Uncle Charles would get paid a quarter for every piglet he pulled.
At one point, he got hold of a runt, who in Charlotte's Web fashion was given up for dead, and then raised by Charlie to be a 4-H project pig. Little Red later became a quasi-celebrity of the area because she'd escape her pen, walk a couple of miles down the highway to the Texaco station, plop her 300lb porcine ass on the concrete and refuse to move until someone bought her a coke and removed the cap. She'd then drink the soda out of the bottle.
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Tease.
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If *I* had just pushed out 4 babies, the doctor could do whatever s/he deemed necessary and I WOULDN'T CARE.
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