I came across an account written by a guy who was butchering a pig for the first time. I can’t relate for his love of pigs because I never cared for them myself. But I still feel his pain. From Homesteading Hickory Hills….

With the water getting hot, it was finally time to do the dreaded killing. I stepped into the pen with a .22 revolver and a bucket of corn. I poured the corn on the ground and, with heart pumping hard, took a step back and waited for the opportunity to take my shot… hoping that I could actually muster the courage to take it when the moment came. Pearl and Babe swarmed around the feed, jostling each other. Mel managed to distract Babe with some pears. I took aim at the animal I had raised, aimed as carefully as I could, apologized inside, and squeezed the trigger. Everything I had read said to use a .22 bullet, and one guy swore by hollow point ones. The thing I most feared about the whole process of butchering came to pass: the bullet, although exactly where I was told to place it, was not enough. *&%$#@

Mel ran to grab the shotgun while I stared in horror at my beautiful hog. She was certainly stunned, and just stood there. There was no way I was going to attempt to wrestle her down though. Mel handed me the shotgun, and I loaded a slug into it. The only thing worse than killing a hog is half-killing a hog. Damned luck. Poor pig. I aimed again.

That was from Part 1. Part 2 is here and Part 3 is here.

I admire his honesty in writing about the experience. There are some things that have happened to me while raising animals that I don’t know that I will ever want to write about. Then again, I have heard about and seen a lot worse things than what he writes about.