A GOOD, OLD-FASHIONED HUMBLING.

When we came back to the house from doing chores yesterday morning, the pigs were out. All of them. Again. Feel like you've read this post before? Same here.Honestly, it's becoming a joke––a really mean one. But it's also entirely our fault. They're getting out because we recently let the solar-electrified fence wires get cold––low voltage––and the pigs learned to slip underneath. We've tried to retrain them to the fence but obviously that hasn't taken. (That being said: Trousers probably wouldn't care if the fence swung at him with hammers. He'd still get out and come to the house to see what we were up to. It would be endearing if he weren't an unpredictable, two hundred pound digging machine.).And every time it happens, although I know it's the worst state to be in to deal with animals, I can feel my frustration rise, I can't help it. Between the pigs getting out, the goats killing our blueberries this Spring and the turkeys eating our garden, I'm just kind of over animals this year, and tell Hannah often––"Only chickens next year."But truthfully (and begrudgingly), we need them. We love them. And we love what they do to the property, how our farm is slowly transforming because of these derelicts. It's really our management, with our inadequate equipment, that has failed. Farm animals have no sense of obedience. They just have needs and those needs have to be met. So that's what I try to think of when I'm chasing Trousers and the others through the woods, or dealing with the turkeys getting out and eating the pig food––they're not failing us, we're failing them. Needless to say, it's been a humbling year, but the farm is really coming along and we've learned a lot about husbandry. We need these weirdos, we just need to manage them better. So next year, when we get more pigs and keep rotating the goats, we'll be raising them on a farm thriving from a year's worth of humility. But we'll be doing a much better job of it, by God.- Jesse.