Who knows, if the economy enters a depression... we may all be raising hogs in our backyards. You can save this little memoir and refer to it at slaughtering time. Or, become a vegetarian. Mr. Deshais had begun by entering the pigsty and choosing one of the four pigs we’d been raising for the last six months. He chose one of the smaller pigs – saving the better specimens for breeding. Fixing a rope around the pig’s leg, he let it out into the farmyard and tied the rope to a doorpost. Mr. Deshais looked unhappy. “I don’t like killing my animals,” he said. “You don’t seem to mind killing the chickens,” Patrice teased him. “Besides, it’s worse for the pig.” “That’s different. Chickens don’t have any feelings,” Mr. Deshais replied. Then, he petted the hog gently, with his right hand. His left hand held a sledgehammer. The pig seemed to know something was up. She would not be calmed. Instead, she squealed and fought against the rope. My young son Edward had come to help. He had been full of boyish eagerness when we set off for the farmyard. He entered the pigsty and wanted to help Mr. Deshais with the rope and got in the way. But now, he dropped back... almost hiding behind the tractor. Pigs die sooner than they hope, that is all. But maybe we all do.
PIGS HAVE LITTLE BRAINS. BUT THEN, WHAT GOODWOULD A BIGGER ONE DO? We watched as Mr. Deshais sawed through the pig’s skull. The brain cavity opened like the halves of a walnut, revealing an organ not much larger than a potato. “When I was a boy,” he recalled, handing me the slimy glop, “the kids always got to eat the brain. Tell Madame Bonner to cook it with a little olive oil and onions. It is delicious, probably the best part.” By then it was late in the day. We had worked all afternoon, butchering one of the pigs – a large white female. The grim work was done. Now, my gardener, Mr. Deshais, and Patrice, a farmer from the village, reminisced as my son turned the crank on the meat grinder. “A few years ago, all the farmers raised pigs. This time of year, you’d see hogs burning all over the place,” recalled Patrice. He was talking about the traditional way the hair is burned off. But maybe I should back up and explain the entire process to you...
By Bill Bonner
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American Consequences 65
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