Ball Cutter
I mighta lost my shit today.
I wasn't prepared emotionally. Something in me almost snapped as I was performing my first pig castration. It didn't go as planned. Or at least not as I had planned. I'm not sure what I had imagined... that the little guy would lay still and thank me afterwards and I'd whip though all five little boys, lickety-split?
Our Veterinarian, who gave us instructions as we watched the castrations he performed on the last group of piglets, made it seem so easy, so quick, so matter-of-fact. I had made lots of mental notes and felt pretty confident... that is, before I was cutting into the flesh of a baby pig.
I'm not sure why I believed what everyone in farming tells you that “It's no big deal. They hardly notice.” In my mind it was going to be just like when we pierce their ears for ear tags. Just 1, 2, 3 and la-dee-da - the pig doesn't seem to mind. Yeah.... right.
It started out well. We gathered all the piglets up, sterilized the tools, blankets ready and reviewed our roles and the steps we would take. Dan decided he was best to hold the pig as he was confident he could keep them more still than I could. I felt like I was going to be a steady-hand and super careful, so obviously the surgeon. Obviously.
And all was fine until I had a little innocent animal in my hands, bleeding and screaming and fighting to escape with all his might. And it wasn't as obvious to me – scalpel in hand – as it was when our Vet did this same procedure last month, talking all the while as his wife held the piglets. Of course not! He is a trained professional who has done this procedure countless times and understands delicate anatomy. Nope. I felt more like a barbarian imitating art. And every bit of my soul told me only a blood-thirsty carnivore with a dark soul would put a little animal through this. Yet I had to finish what I started.
Thankfully, Dan, the King-of-calm, knew just the tone to take with me to get met through the process. He sternly told me I was doing great, to breath and it would be okay. And then he might have yelled a little to snap me out of my freak-out. And I did get through it. Although I was certain I had not only brutally assaulted a little animal, I had most likely maimed it so bad it would die. It would certainly bleed out and die. And all in the name of bacon.
We traded roles for the next 4 piglets, and Dan managed to get though the process without losing his mind quite so obviously. He knew his job and he did it quietly. I held the piggies and whispered apologies into their ears and carried them all back to their mother afterwards. They all cried when they saw her, ran up and stared nursing immediately. She snorted some sweet Mamma things at them, and within a minute, they were calm again, hence the “oh, it's no big deal” mantra of Vets and pig farmers.
Now that I've had a few hours to process this, I'm pretty sure everything went pretty much as it was suppose to, considering the novice curve. No piggies are going to die (at least not for a year), but, I'm not done with the castration process just yet. Or the notion of eating animals. I've got a lot of mental and emotional work to do to make sense of raising animals to eat.
This “honest living” crap is tough.
I wasn't prepared emotionally. Something in me almost snapped as I was performing my first pig castration. It didn't go as planned. Or at least not as I had planned. I'm not sure what I had imagined... that the little guy would lay still and thank me afterwards and I'd whip though all five little boys, lickety-split?
Our Veterinarian, who gave us instructions as we watched the castrations he performed on the last group of piglets, made it seem so easy, so quick, so matter-of-fact. I had made lots of mental notes and felt pretty confident... that is, before I was cutting into the flesh of a baby pig.
I'm not sure why I believed what everyone in farming tells you that “It's no big deal. They hardly notice.” In my mind it was going to be just like when we pierce their ears for ear tags. Just 1, 2, 3 and la-dee-da - the pig doesn't seem to mind. Yeah.... right.
It started out well. We gathered all the piglets up, sterilized the tools, blankets ready and reviewed our roles and the steps we would take. Dan decided he was best to hold the pig as he was confident he could keep them more still than I could. I felt like I was going to be a steady-hand and super careful, so obviously the surgeon. Obviously.
And all was fine until I had a little innocent animal in my hands, bleeding and screaming and fighting to escape with all his might. And it wasn't as obvious to me – scalpel in hand – as it was when our Vet did this same procedure last month, talking all the while as his wife held the piglets. Of course not! He is a trained professional who has done this procedure countless times and understands delicate anatomy. Nope. I felt more like a barbarian imitating art. And every bit of my soul told me only a blood-thirsty carnivore with a dark soul would put a little animal through this. Yet I had to finish what I started.
Thankfully, Dan, the King-of-calm, knew just the tone to take with me to get met through the process. He sternly told me I was doing great, to breath and it would be okay. And then he might have yelled a little to snap me out of my freak-out. And I did get through it. Although I was certain I had not only brutally assaulted a little animal, I had most likely maimed it so bad it would die. It would certainly bleed out and die. And all in the name of bacon.
We traded roles for the next 4 piglets, and Dan managed to get though the process without losing his mind quite so obviously. He knew his job and he did it quietly. I held the piggies and whispered apologies into their ears and carried them all back to their mother afterwards. They all cried when they saw her, ran up and stared nursing immediately. She snorted some sweet Mamma things at them, and within a minute, they were calm again, hence the “oh, it's no big deal” mantra of Vets and pig farmers.
Now that I've had a few hours to process this, I'm pretty sure everything went pretty much as it was suppose to, considering the novice curve. No piggies are going to die (at least not for a year), but, I'm not done with the castration process just yet. Or the notion of eating animals. I've got a lot of mental and emotional work to do to make sense of raising animals to eat.
This “honest living” crap is tough.
you should have seen your episiotomy
ReplyDeleteDamn, girl. I don't know how you do it ... Castrating, then calming down enough to write about it. I tip my hat to you.
ReplyDeleteGuess there are benefits to being a female piggy...
ReplyDeleteDan... oh, the man I love.
ReplyDeletePamela, I wasn't calm. Writing is cathartic and I was about ready to vomit so I needed to do something. The piglets all seem fine. They were jumping and playing the very next day and seem to be just fine.... just like the children in the Gaza Strip playing soccer... Let's just say I'll be doing things differently next time.