To market, to market to sell a fat pig: A brief history of hog-driving
May 4, 2015 4:05 PM Subscribe
"Think of it: Pig drives, like cattle drives, only stranger. Who knew a pig could walk that far or would travel in the desired direction?" From Atlas Obscura: The Great Appalachian Hog Drives.
Why is this news? Congress has been doing it for years.
posted by I love you more when I eat paint chips at 5:30 PM on May 4, 2015
posted by I love you more when I eat paint chips at 5:30 PM on May 4, 2015
I don't know about turkey herding, but gooseherding is an ancient and honorable occupation.
posted by Joe in Australia at 5:46 PM on May 4, 2015 [3 favorites]
posted by Joe in Australia at 5:46 PM on May 4, 2015 [3 favorites]
I am 42 years old. I just realized in the last year that "this little piggy goes to market" wasn't going grocery shopping. Innocence lost (and I spent a lot of time on farms growing up no less).
posted by jeribus at 5:54 PM on May 4, 2015 [11 favorites]
posted by jeribus at 5:54 PM on May 4, 2015 [11 favorites]
Who knew a pig could walk that far or would travel in the desired direction?
Concentrate enough pigs together and, presumably, they become governed by the laws of fluid dynamics, and thus may be channeled in whichever direction is desired.
posted by acb at 6:04 PM on May 4, 2015 [5 favorites]
Concentrate enough pigs together and, presumably, they become governed by the laws of fluid dynamics, and thus may be channeled in whichever direction is desired.
posted by acb at 6:04 PM on May 4, 2015 [5 favorites]
Lonesome Dove:
“Who asked them dern pigs?” he said. “I guess they tracked us,” Augustus said. “They’re enterprising pigs.”
posted by CincyBlues at 6:08 PM on May 4, 2015 [2 favorites]
“Who asked them dern pigs?” he said. “I guess they tracked us,” Augustus said. “They’re enterprising pigs.”
posted by CincyBlues at 6:08 PM on May 4, 2015 [2 favorites]
"this little piggy goes to market" wasn't going grocery shopping.
La la la la I can't hear you
posted by moonmilk at 6:41 PM on May 4, 2015 [4 favorites]
La la la la I can't hear you
posted by moonmilk at 6:41 PM on May 4, 2015 [4 favorites]
"this little piggy goes to market" wasn't going grocery shopping.
THEN HOW LITTLE PIGGY HAV ROST BEEF!!?
posted by Joe in Australia at 7:27 PM on May 4, 2015 [6 favorites]
THEN HOW LITTLE PIGGY HAV ROST BEEF!!?
posted by Joe in Australia at 7:27 PM on May 4, 2015 [6 favorites]
*bacon joke followed by self-immolation, as per the new laws*
*quiet round of applause from appreciative audience*
posted by turbid dahlia at 8:17 PM on May 4, 2015
*quiet round of applause from appreciative audience*
posted by turbid dahlia at 8:17 PM on May 4, 2015
The article refers to the Poland China as a breed that had been specifically selected to walk long distances. I find it darkly ironic that in these days of confinement hog farming, Wikipedia reports that "Poland Chinas rank highest in U.S. pork production in pounds of hog per sow per year."
posted by katya.lysander at 8:41 PM on May 4, 2015 [2 favorites]
posted by katya.lysander at 8:41 PM on May 4, 2015 [2 favorites]
Trying to get my mind round the idea that sewing up their eyelids made them easier to manage.
posted by Segundus at 11:17 PM on May 4, 2015
posted by Segundus at 11:17 PM on May 4, 2015
"Think of it: Pig drives, like cattle drives, only stranger. Who knew a pig could walk that far or would travel in the desired direction? Apparently, not many people. In 2006 a prominent archaeologist, a specialist in livestock, baldly insisted that pigs “cannot be driven.” The historical record suggests otherwise."
Archaeologist BURN!
It's always fascinating to see what has been forgotten thanks to changes in technology and markets. But seriously, sewing eyes shut? DO PIGS NOT FEEL IN THEIR EYES?!
posted by Atreides at 6:54 AM on May 5, 2015 [1 favorite]
Archaeologist BURN!
It's always fascinating to see what has been forgotten thanks to changes in technology and markets. But seriously, sewing eyes shut? DO PIGS NOT FEEL IN THEIR EYES?!
posted by Atreides at 6:54 AM on May 5, 2015 [1 favorite]
I don't care how, when, where, or who drives the pork, as long as they drive it onto my dinner plate. Nom nom.
posted by rankfreudlite at 9:21 AM on May 5, 2015 [1 favorite]
posted by rankfreudlite at 9:21 AM on May 5, 2015 [1 favorite]
My great-uncle Pete was an official Colorful Character™ from rural Pennsylvania. When he died, there was a headline in the county newspaper that read, “The Last of the Mountain Men.” He was a gravedigger; stone fence builder; odd jobber; small farmer; truck driver; hog butcher (relevant to this story); guitarist, fiddler, banjo player, and square dance caller; dirty old man (probably a dirty young man at some point); and general wheeler-dealer.
At some point he was pulling up stakes and moving the family to another farm across town. A bunch of neighbor men came over to help with the promise of a few dollars, and by afternoon they had everything loaded up but the big old hog. This hog had survived many a butchering season by being too mean to be worth the trouble of holding down, and had earned a sort of respect, if not affection, from its owner. Consequently, it had grown to be easily bigger than Uncle Pete or any of the neighbor men. And it wasn’t so much mean anymore as just… intractable.
They couldn’t get it up the ramp to the truck. They couldn’t lift it into the truck. They couldn’t drive it down the road. They couldn’t lure it down the road. When it sat down, they couldn’t make it stand up. That hog was not going anywhere it didn't have a mind to go. When the sun started to go down, Uncle Pete sent for kerosene lanterns and his butchering tools. The neighbor men were paid with hog meat instead of cash. He knew that hog, and I knew him, and I’m not convinced he ever had any cash to begin with.
posted by The Underpants Monster at 7:16 PM on May 5, 2015 [12 favorites]
At some point he was pulling up stakes and moving the family to another farm across town. A bunch of neighbor men came over to help with the promise of a few dollars, and by afternoon they had everything loaded up but the big old hog. This hog had survived many a butchering season by being too mean to be worth the trouble of holding down, and had earned a sort of respect, if not affection, from its owner. Consequently, it had grown to be easily bigger than Uncle Pete or any of the neighbor men. And it wasn’t so much mean anymore as just… intractable.
They couldn’t get it up the ramp to the truck. They couldn’t lift it into the truck. They couldn’t drive it down the road. They couldn’t lure it down the road. When it sat down, they couldn’t make it stand up. That hog was not going anywhere it didn't have a mind to go. When the sun started to go down, Uncle Pete sent for kerosene lanterns and his butchering tools. The neighbor men were paid with hog meat instead of cash. He knew that hog, and I knew him, and I’m not convinced he ever had any cash to begin with.
posted by The Underpants Monster at 7:16 PM on May 5, 2015 [12 favorites]
a gravedigger; stone fence builder; odd jobber; small farmer; truck driver; hog butcher . . . ; guitarist, fiddler, banjo player, and square dance caller; dirty old man . . .n; and general wheeler-dealer.
I've been getting tired of people asking me what I want to do when I grow up. I think I've found my calling (except not any of those things listed).
posted by rankfreudlite at 8:24 PM on May 5, 2015 [2 favorites]
I've been getting tired of people asking me what I want to do when I grow up. I think I've found my calling (except not any of those things listed).
posted by rankfreudlite at 8:24 PM on May 5, 2015 [2 favorites]
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