Circle M Farm

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Piggy Lou is the 500-pound, delicately pink, sometimes overly-friendly sow who lives in our back garden. She was especially over-friendly last week because she was in heat, as evidenced by non-stop drooling, hysterical vocalizations, anxious pacing and relentless nuzzling against our legs when we entered the pen to feed her.

By Friday, she was in the “standing heat” stage of a sow’s three-week estrus cycle, which means when you put a hand on her back, she stood still. And, according to my pig book, she’d keep still pretty much long enough for you to do whatever you might want to do to her.

I think our Pink Monstress is so desperate to be bred because she loves being a mom! Doesn’t she look like she’s having a ton of fun?

So she needed to be bred Saturday. Shannon being out of town on business, I was on my own and it’s no secret that I’m more than a little bit afraid to be alone in the pen with Piggy Lou. Backscratches through the fence are a daily ritual with she and I, but hanging out with her in a snowy, slippery, fenced-in space is downright terrifying, especially when she’s snuggly. So I enlisted the help of a neighbor friend who had artificially inseminated his own 700-pound sow five times.

Our friend arrived, dressed in the requisite mucky coveralls that are the uniform of choice in my neighborhood, and sat on a bench in my mud-room to read the instruction manual that came in the box of AI equipment. This alarmed me somewhat, as I’d assumed he’d feel quite proficient with five inseminations under his belt. The mixed-gender situation combined with the inevitable awkward jokes did little to put me more at ease. But armed with one of the fluid-filled tubes, some agricultural K-Y jelly and a two-foot-long plastic straw tipped with a rather unimpressive yellow foam shape, we headed out to knock up the pig.

I also carried two cans of Hamm’s – “America’s Classic Premium Beer – Born in The Land of Sky Blue Waters,” which turns out to be, oddly enough, Milwaukee. Our friend had recommended feeding Piggy Lou some beer to keep her occupied and docile during the AI procedure, and not wanting to share my New Glarus micro brew, I’d bought the Hamm’s especially for her the night before at the local gas station. But Piggy Lou was not interested in the beer, or the raw eggs I threw in her trough or the feed I’d withheld since the morning before. She wanted me. And when I opened the gate to her pen she came tearing toward me, grunting maniacally and foaming at the mouth.

I’m not sure what my neighbor felt, being the owner of an even larger pig, and one he avows is practically an alcoholic after five inseminations, but I was scared. To compensate, I leaped through the gate and started frantically cooing to Piggy Lou while scratching her ears and pressing on her back. Miraculously, she stood stock still. My helper sprang into action at her back end, gently easing the foam-tipped straw into her vulva until just five inches protruded. I was the guardian of the semen tube, and had to get it out of my pocket, opened and back to him before the magic moment ended. So with one hand still pressed to her back, I grabbed the tube out of my pocket with the other, then stared at the top, which was of one piece with the rest of the plastic, like a super-glue container. I had to somehow twist it off, but I was afraid that if I took both hands off Piggy Lou, she’d get moving again and toss one of us with her snout. After just a second’s hesitation, I stuck the top between my teeth and bit it off. I quickly handed the tube to our friend, who stuck the top onto the straw then gently squeezed until it was empty. The deed done, he slowly removed the straw and we dashed out of the pen.

With lavish words of thanks I saw my neighbor off and ducked inside to have a beer of my own. The next afternoon, as close to 24 hours later as possible, I was to repeat the AI procedure. Slowly sipping a New Glarus Staghorn, a nice foamy Octoberfest, I mentally reviewed the experience. Planning what I might do differently, I decided to attempt the whole thing myself rather than inconvenience my neighbor again.

I took two more Hamm’s with me, just in case, and the various other items of AI paraphernalia. Once again, Piggy Lou came barreling toward me the moment I came through the gate. But I think this time she knew what was coming, and so did I. I got right to scratching her back, and she immediately stood still and got quiet. With my two elbows pressed into her back, I first opened the plastic wrapper on the straw and used one hand to direct it in. Then, keeping my elbows pressed firmly down on her spine, I held the pink tube with one hand and twisted the top off with another. No teeth necessary. Draping my torso heavily over Piggy Lou’s back, and gently kneeing her in the flank, I fixed the tube to the straw and squeezed. The whole maneuver was over in ten minutes.

I gave Piggy Lou a thorough behind-the-ears scratching by way of thanks, congratulated her on a job very well done, and left her to enjoy her Hamm’s.