2LaneCruzer
Super Star Member
We raised hogs, but always started at the piglet stage and ended at the sausage stage.
Back in the late 40's, we rented an old farm house in S.W. Missouri. One Winter, the farmer who owned the place brought us two newborn piglets; one was a Duroc and one was a Chester White. The Duroc had its tail frozen off, and the white one was pretty puny. He said they were runts, and probably wouldn't survive, so he gave them to my brother and me. We kept them in a cardboard box under Mom's kerosene kitchen stove and bottle fed them. We of course took them outside, but they slept in the box.
One night we came home from town and the not-so-little-anymore-piglets had gotten out of their box and turned over the trash. In the trash was a pork & beans can with a few beans left in the bottom...now they managed to get the beans out of the can somehow, and they had rooted them all over the kitchen. The linoleum floor had snout marks from one end to the other. Needless to say, Mom hit the ceiling and the pigs were relegated to the fenced in yard and the screened in back porch. We raised them as pets and even tried to ride them when they got older, but they were worse than a bucking bronco. We couldn't stay on them. The farmer eventually traded us a butchered pig for those two; fair enough, seeing as how they ate his feed with his hogs.