Whenever I take the kiddles to our regional park’s “Little Farm,” I feel thorougly vindicated by my vegetarianism. I can look pigs proudly in the eye. If only they’d lift their umpteen pound heads to look back. Of course some of them have good reason not to lift their umpteen pound heads. Some of them have just spawned enough piglets to populate a soccer team.
Behold, especially if you don’t have a BLT in your hands, a wee photo essay celebrating the miracle of new life (and the phenomenal good fortune that none of us reading this have had to squeeze out eleven iterations of it in one go).
Fig. 1. “‘PEACH’ Our new large white sow will have piglets soon. â€“Stanley, The Farmer”
Color commentary/correction: That should read, “Our new hellaciously large white sow.” JesÃºs, MarÃa, y JosÃ© that pig was big. And panting, when we saw her the afternoon before she gave birth, like she just trotted up to a fifth floor walk-up on the Lower East Side. Carrying two bags of groceries. On a muggy August afternoon. After an eight-hour waitressing shift. Poor gal. The sight of her in that condition took the beloved right back to those heady weeks before she unloaded the sweet boy.
Fig. 2. “Peach gave birth to 11 piglets on August 3, between 8-11 pm. This is her first litter and it is an average number of piglets. â€“Stanley, The Farmer”
Color commentary/correction: “This is both her first and her last litter, since while she may have delivered an average number of piglets, Peach was rightfully outraged at the excess of the whole situation, and swore that she would bite the business end of the baby daddy if he ever darkened her doorstep again.”
Fig. 3. In which the lil’ monkey thinks to herself: “Dang. I hope when the time comes, Mama and Baba won’t be shy about discussing contraception with me.”
Fig. 4. In which you, gentle reader, think to yourself: “It could be worse. I could have been reincarnated as a pregnant sow.” And you nursing mums catch your breath, clutch your mammaries, and thank your favorite diety you don’t have to service the crowd that Peach does.
[In the mood for more pastoral musings? Here’s another Little Farm dittie from about a year ago.]
9 thoughts on “Makin’ bacon”
That last pic…that’s EXACTLY how I remember nursing!
Also? PEACH demonstrates the side-lay nursing position and appears very tolerant of wiggling, dancing, pulling, and climbing piglets at the same time. I would show this beautiful picture to Noah, but I’m afraid he’d get ideas.
God forbid he should invite his soccer team buddies over for a post-game snack!
Okay, fine, so I never nursed but it still seems to me that I would happily trade off a few months of prone teat suckling, even if it’s all eleven of my teats being suckled, to know that when my brood turned two, they would already be considered mature. Have you ever seen a pig mother having to deal with a piglet tantrum? I thought not.
“I want to have my slop, and I want it NOW! No, not that slop! I HATE that kind! The other slop! From yesterday! That had that one piece of lettuce floating on the top of it!” etc., etc., ad infinitum.
Eleven two year olds at one time is the stuff that nightmares are made of! I won’t sleep tonight! I love my two year old dearly but if I had 10 more just like her I would run away from home.
anybody else getting hungry looking at that last picture?
No? Just me?
Well, alrighty then.
As I was admiring the 11 squigglin’ piglets I was thinking to myself, ‘someone in the blogging world should be recording this’, only to arrive online to your post… you must have been typin’ while I was admirin’.
They’re quite a sight to behold. I too was appreciating having only nursed one at a time and as my almost two year old squealed (wah-wah-wah) all the way home I was all the more appreciative not to have 11 more chiming in.
Thanks for posting your pics… I’ll show them to my kids after nap, who while there, took more interest in the warming lamps. Maybe after seeing your pics they can go back with a better appreciation.
Vikki, I feel ya. I’d high-tail it to the same getaway spot. Or fanagle a prescription to Valium. Not sure yet for whom; just a hunch we’d need some.
Trista: hungry for what? Dairy products, or… BLT? Spaghetti alla Carbonara? Pork chops, and applesauce?
Zaneymama: Yippee! What could make a gal happier than the thought that she’s actually meeting a pressing need for her content! content! content! Next time you have that thought (i.e., ‘someone in the blogging world should be recording this’) you just drop me a line. LesbianDad will be there.
As either of the five mythic figures above, whichever’s going to bring the story home.
[Graphic poached, with thanks in advance/after the fact/’til she shuts it down, from Betsy Divine.]