The Battle of Butcher Holler
5/30/07 - 4th Day - After Breakfast. It had been a gloomy day, and rain threatened once again as it had consistently for months now; although for the first time in weeks the ground had dried up enough that you could walk on it without getting muddy. In fact, the intermittent sunshine over the few previous days had baked the mud in the pigpen hard. For weeks, the mud had reigned, and everywhere the hogs had stepped was now a hard-baked hole, and the entire surface of the pen looked like a chocolate cake beaten with a hammer. It was hardly a safe walking surface, even if you were carefully slow and cautious. We (those of us who were invested in the hogs) had arranged to meet at the pigpen at 7:30 to load up the three meat boars for the trip to the butcher. We figured meeting at 7:30 would give us 30 minutes to load up the pigs, and another thirty to get back to our families who were meeting and eating over at the Ante's house.
Our pigpens had been planned when as yet we didn't have any pigs on the land. One was made almost entirely of materials harvested from the land, and the second was more "modern", made out of plywood and landscape timbers. Both pens were surrounded by T-posts and goat fencing, and both pens had been designed with several old and gnarly mesquite trees left in them for "shade" (we all know how bad mesquite shade is). So the pens were not only treacherous from the dried up and hoof-pocked mud, but each had several large mesquite trees in its center with very low hanging branches. Each was also littered with sticks, rocks and roots that had been rooted up by the pigs. This, then, is the field for that memorable and horrible battle. 4 men. 3 hogs. 1 trailer. Easy work, right?
The enemy was muscled and wary. 3 hogs, each over 250 lbs. and smart as a whip. Not one of us men weighed as much, though I get pretty close in the wintertime. 2 hogs were in 1 pen (we'll call it Shiloh), and 1 lonely hog was in the other pen (Antietam).
We had our plan. The trailer had been brought over previously, backed up to the Shiloh gate which was left open, and left. We were told this would calm the pigs, get them used to the trailer. Shoot, we thought, maybe the pigs would even climb into the trailer on their own. We joked over dinner that the job would be easy because when we got to the pens, the pigs would already be in the trailer. Hmmm.... not.
Our plan - two men (myself and Logan Ante) would slowly and deliberately drive the porcine enemy towards the waiting trailer. One man (Elder David Sifford) would wait in the trailer to drive them towards the back and close the middle door so we could move the trailer and pick up the last hog. One man (Kelly Sustaire) would stand behind the gate and close it once the pigs were in the trailer. Easy.
The opening salvo of the battle was somewhat confusing. The pigs would dash into any corner of the pen at all, except the one with the gate and waiting trailer. Each time we drew near the hogs, they would squeal and run under the mesquite branches, and then cut back to the place where they started. It was clear that it was going to take more than two men to drive the hogs. Elder David was called out of the trailer to help us drive the hogs. Surely with Elder David brought up from reserve, we would drive the enemy from the field. Easy.
The ground was treacherous, and again, each time we would try to drive the hogs, they would do anything to keep from that one special corner of the pen. After about 15 minutes of diving over and under mesquite branches, through small gaps between the hog house and the trees, over rocks, sticks, mud bricks and poop - we were hot, sweaty, tired and unsuccessful. But I had an idea. We would follow the instructions. The pig books said to build a chute and use boards to drive the pigs into the chute, then block the entrance with plywood and just walk them into the trailer. Easy.
We send Logan and Kelly to go fetch some and long boards. David and I continued the old plan of trying to just scream and frighten the pigs into the trailer. Just in time, it started to rain. Perfect. And the mosquitoes descended. Nice. The boys returned with the wood and we fashioned a rudimentary chute. Logan and Kelly would stand behind the 2 foot chute wall to hold it up and keep it from collapsing. David and I would drive the hogs. Here we go again - round two of the battle.
On the very first time, we were successful... almost. Big-Boy, the largest of the hogs headed right down the chute. David and I blocked his retreat and beat him from behind (gently?) with sticks. Kelly looked on quizzically, then began swinging his stick too. I was concerned that he wasn't really aiming at anything, but I didn't say anything this time. The hog tried several times to retreat, then turned as if to bolt into the trailer. Logan leaned in to make sure the chute wall didn't collapse under the strain, and just at the last second... the 250 lb. hog jumped the 2 foot wall like a deer running from Elmer Fudd. Failure. Now Big-Boy fled to the opposite corner with the other hog (Little-Boy), they consulted and determined that they were absolutely NOT going into that trailer come hell or high water. The hogs came up with another plan...
DO NOT GO IN THE CHUTE - AT ALL.
For another 30 minutes or so we tried our best to get the hogs in the chute, to no avail. But at least it was still raining, and the ground was growing slick. I was getting battered and bruised, and we were all breathing heavily from the fight, when we had another idea. We needed a BIGGER chute. Our new chute would be bigger and longer and unavoidable, inescapable. It would be the TITANIC of pig chutes. David and Kelly retired to the rear to gather more plywood and several T-posts. The enemy laid down in the water trough, breathing heavily and slurping water. When the men got back, we added another 16 feet or so to the chute, raising the walls to 4 feet ("even Bambi/Big-Boy cannot jump over a 4 foot wall!", we chortled), and we included two of the most obtrusive mesquite trees in the bulwark. All we had to do now is to drive the hogs into the newer, better chute - and they would have to go right into the trailer. Easy.
The battle was now rejoined, and two of us chased the hogs with heavy sticks while one man stayed by the entry to the chute to keep them from missing it at the last second. A fourth man stayed up near the front to drive them into the trailer if they got that far, except - they were not going into the newer, better chute either. No way. They had their plan (don't go to the butcher) and they were sticking to it. It was clear that no matter how long we made the chute, they were not going to get into it. They made it clear that they would MUCH rather be beaten by sticks by three grown men, then walk peacefully and quietly down a chute into a nice comfortable trailer. We would start them running (yes, it is still raining and now growing dark), and they would get near the entrance to the chute, and then they would either turn around (risking a beating from whomever was chasing them with a stick), or they would dart to the left or the right under the mesquite branches and back to their home-base corner. I looked at my men, and I determined that no matter what happened, we were going to get those hogs to the butcher tomorrow. We needed them to have about 12 hours or so to calm down or the meat would be so full of adrenaline (not to mention bruises), that it would be uneatable. I told Logan, "You be the chaser. When you begin the charge, YELL THE FURIES! REBEL YELL BROTHER!". I encouraged David and Kelly to hold their ground, and to not let any hog get past them. Now - I must digress here. It is true that many of our men were city boys, unaccustomed to large, dangerous omnivores with sharp teeth who can run you clean over with no problem. I, however, played high school football in Odessa, Texas - and I was pretty sure that these pigs were not on steroids - and nor would they be likely to eye-gouge, or kidney punch. I also had been a bar bouncer for many years in my younger, crazier days. Being hit by a wild-eyed 250 pounder was not new to me, and held no mystery. Brother Kelly, however, was horrified. He and Elder David are musicians, and not battle wearied soldiers. They were game though, and neither planned on retreating... but I could read terror in Brother Kelly's eyes. I walked up to Kelly and said, "You mind this gap", indicating to a small gap between the end of the chute and a mesquite tree. "Put your body here and do not let any hog pass by". He nodded at me nervously. "Ok, brothers... we have a plan, and it will work. Everyone hold your ground and advance. No retreat, no defeat." Everyone grunted.
Well, the battle was rejoined. For 15 minutes or so, we tried again. Advance after advance was thwarted when the dogged enemy would turn back, or dart to the side, risking stick blows to avoid the chute. Then, a breakthrough. Big-boy headed down the chute and I followed closely with a piece of plywood to block his retreat. Kelly was behind me as we rushed in, and David and Logan moved in from beside the chute wall, and somehow David ended up perfectly down the chute but out of the way, to close the trailer door in case the hog went in. Just as it seemed that we had triumphed, the hog spun around and tried a retreat. I was game. I blocked his retreat with the plywood, and was reaching over and beating him with my stick. Kelly apparently picked up on my tactic and gamely began swinging violently with his stick too. Unhappily, though, he was beating me. After about three smacks from the stick (two which nicely drew blood) I turned to Kelly and said, "Kelly, you are hitting me with your stick". "Sorry", he replied and promptly stopped.
By this time, the hog realized he had us all outweighed, and he began to push between me and the fence, mangling it horribly as he finally and successfully passed by. Failure.
"Ok", I said regrouping. "That was close. We almost had him. We have to try harder, and we have to make sure we block his retreat". However, these were only words - in the very next advance Big-Boy again chose to shred my nice goat fence rather than go into the trailer.
"Ok boys, lets re-order things a bit. Logan you and David chase. Kelly block your gap, and I'll man the chute." We all sense that we are in a momentous battle. History is judging us. This battle will be remembered here on the land for years to come. We all glance at one another, resolute. We will prevail. Logan screams the furies and advances, swinging his sword (stick) in the air. Here they come. Time slows down, and dramatic music begins to play. Big-Boy breaks for the chute. He is not looking to the left or to the right this time, he is headed straight for the entrance to the chute. He is doing exactly as we planned! His head is down and he seems to have decided once and for all to go into the trailer. Just as he is about to gain entrance to the pig promised land, out of nowhere Kelly reaches over the first board and cracks Big-Boy across the face with a mesquite branch. Big-Boy stops. Spins. retreats. We all stop in shock, the meaning of this escaping us. "Hmmm... Kelly. We are...mmmmm... trying to get them INTO the chute. He was headed for the chute, and you hit him with a stick. I don't get it." Kelly shrugs... "Oh, sorry." He really is sorry. Let me say here that Kelly is not a Jesuit infiltrator. He was not pulling a Longstreet on us. He is no traitor. He was just confused as to the plan, and I can understand that. It was his first battle, and he was a bit shook up. Only minutes before he had beaten his preacher with a stick, and he was still shaken from that blunder. This mistake was totally understandable. We scratched our heads and regrouped again. Except now the hogs were doubly determined NOT to go in that chute. Big-Boy passes by Little-Boy and whispers... "If you make it to the chute, that man with the long red beard will crack you across the face."
The rain was starting to subside. We were all tired. I was beaten and bloody. "Let's try again", I said cheerfully.
I began the next charge. I screamed "Run pig! Run for it!" and advanced on the hogs. They broke towards the chute, and David and I were on their tails. I decided to go under a low hanging mesquite branch, while simultaneously David decided to go over it. David did not decide to "hurdle" it, but instead decided to "steeplechase" it, where you step on it as you go over it. This move successfully dropped the branch about 4 inches, just as I was ducking to run under it. Yes. Nice bang across the top of my newly shorn head.
Battered, we determine to never give up. The day has thus far gone against us. The light is fading, and the mosquitoes descend in even greater numbers. We hear the crickets and the frogs begin their long night's song. A breeze touches our brow as we take a deep breath and dig in for one more advance. I scream at the top of my lungs, "RUN PIG! RUN!." David joins in. Big-Boy heads towards the chute. He turns to retreat, but I block his retreat with my knees. He lunges for the gap, but Kelly blocks that escape route. David gets him to turn towards the trailer, and Logan lurches forward to man the chute wall. Big-Boy heads up the west fence-line (the one he has shredded), and seems to give up. He slows to a walk and exhales deeply. It is over. We close in behind him with the plywood to block any retreat... but Big-Boy is done. He doesn't have any fight left in him. He walks slowly into the trailer and we lock him in the front stall. Returning, we begin to work on Little-Boy, but he seems to have gotten the message from his captain. He too walks into the trailer. We move them both into the front stall and lock them in.
The battle against the last, un-named hog is anti-climactic. Seeing the other two fight so valiantly and for so long, he resigns himself to his fate. After a short struggle, he too joins his comrades. The Battle of Butcher Holler is over. We pull the trailer up to the drive and get them water for the night. The next day, they will go to the butcher. We all glance back at them with looks of respect, and then we head home. Night has fallen, and the battlefield is silent. A soft breeze blows.
Your servant in Christ Jesus,
Michael Bunker
Our pigpens had been planned when as yet we didn't have any pigs on the land. One was made almost entirely of materials harvested from the land, and the second was more "modern", made out of plywood and landscape timbers. Both pens were surrounded by T-posts and goat fencing, and both pens had been designed with several old and gnarly mesquite trees left in them for "shade" (we all know how bad mesquite shade is). So the pens were not only treacherous from the dried up and hoof-pocked mud, but each had several large mesquite trees in its center with very low hanging branches. Each was also littered with sticks, rocks and roots that had been rooted up by the pigs. This, then, is the field for that memorable and horrible battle. 4 men. 3 hogs. 1 trailer. Easy work, right?
The enemy was muscled and wary. 3 hogs, each over 250 lbs. and smart as a whip. Not one of us men weighed as much, though I get pretty close in the wintertime. 2 hogs were in 1 pen (we'll call it Shiloh), and 1 lonely hog was in the other pen (Antietam).
We had our plan. The trailer had been brought over previously, backed up to the Shiloh gate which was left open, and left. We were told this would calm the pigs, get them used to the trailer. Shoot, we thought, maybe the pigs would even climb into the trailer on their own. We joked over dinner that the job would be easy because when we got to the pens, the pigs would already be in the trailer. Hmmm.... not.
Our plan - two men (myself and Logan Ante) would slowly and deliberately drive the porcine enemy towards the waiting trailer. One man (Elder David Sifford) would wait in the trailer to drive them towards the back and close the middle door so we could move the trailer and pick up the last hog. One man (Kelly Sustaire) would stand behind the gate and close it once the pigs were in the trailer. Easy.
The opening salvo of the battle was somewhat confusing. The pigs would dash into any corner of the pen at all, except the one with the gate and waiting trailer. Each time we drew near the hogs, they would squeal and run under the mesquite branches, and then cut back to the place where they started. It was clear that it was going to take more than two men to drive the hogs. Elder David was called out of the trailer to help us drive the hogs. Surely with Elder David brought up from reserve, we would drive the enemy from the field. Easy.
The ground was treacherous, and again, each time we would try to drive the hogs, they would do anything to keep from that one special corner of the pen. After about 15 minutes of diving over and under mesquite branches, through small gaps between the hog house and the trees, over rocks, sticks, mud bricks and poop - we were hot, sweaty, tired and unsuccessful. But I had an idea. We would follow the instructions. The pig books said to build a chute and use boards to drive the pigs into the chute, then block the entrance with plywood and just walk them into the trailer. Easy.
We send Logan and Kelly to go fetch some and long boards. David and I continued the old plan of trying to just scream and frighten the pigs into the trailer. Just in time, it started to rain. Perfect. And the mosquitoes descended. Nice. The boys returned with the wood and we fashioned a rudimentary chute. Logan and Kelly would stand behind the 2 foot chute wall to hold it up and keep it from collapsing. David and I would drive the hogs. Here we go again - round two of the battle.
On the very first time, we were successful... almost. Big-Boy, the largest of the hogs headed right down the chute. David and I blocked his retreat and beat him from behind (gently?) with sticks. Kelly looked on quizzically, then began swinging his stick too. I was concerned that he wasn't really aiming at anything, but I didn't say anything this time. The hog tried several times to retreat, then turned as if to bolt into the trailer. Logan leaned in to make sure the chute wall didn't collapse under the strain, and just at the last second... the 250 lb. hog jumped the 2 foot wall like a deer running from Elmer Fudd. Failure. Now Big-Boy fled to the opposite corner with the other hog (Little-Boy), they consulted and determined that they were absolutely NOT going into that trailer come hell or high water. The hogs came up with another plan...
DO NOT GO IN THE CHUTE - AT ALL.
For another 30 minutes or so we tried our best to get the hogs in the chute, to no avail. But at least it was still raining, and the ground was growing slick. I was getting battered and bruised, and we were all breathing heavily from the fight, when we had another idea. We needed a BIGGER chute. Our new chute would be bigger and longer and unavoidable, inescapable. It would be the TITANIC of pig chutes. David and Kelly retired to the rear to gather more plywood and several T-posts. The enemy laid down in the water trough, breathing heavily and slurping water. When the men got back, we added another 16 feet or so to the chute, raising the walls to 4 feet ("even Bambi/Big-Boy cannot jump over a 4 foot wall!", we chortled), and we included two of the most obtrusive mesquite trees in the bulwark. All we had to do now is to drive the hogs into the newer, better chute - and they would have to go right into the trailer. Easy.
The battle was now rejoined, and two of us chased the hogs with heavy sticks while one man stayed by the entry to the chute to keep them from missing it at the last second. A fourth man stayed up near the front to drive them into the trailer if they got that far, except - they were not going into the newer, better chute either. No way. They had their plan (don't go to the butcher) and they were sticking to it. It was clear that no matter how long we made the chute, they were not going to get into it. They made it clear that they would MUCH rather be beaten by sticks by three grown men, then walk peacefully and quietly down a chute into a nice comfortable trailer. We would start them running (yes, it is still raining and now growing dark), and they would get near the entrance to the chute, and then they would either turn around (risking a beating from whomever was chasing them with a stick), or they would dart to the left or the right under the mesquite branches and back to their home-base corner. I looked at my men, and I determined that no matter what happened, we were going to get those hogs to the butcher tomorrow. We needed them to have about 12 hours or so to calm down or the meat would be so full of adrenaline (not to mention bruises), that it would be uneatable. I told Logan, "You be the chaser. When you begin the charge, YELL THE FURIES! REBEL YELL BROTHER!". I encouraged David and Kelly to hold their ground, and to not let any hog get past them. Now - I must digress here. It is true that many of our men were city boys, unaccustomed to large, dangerous omnivores with sharp teeth who can run you clean over with no problem. I, however, played high school football in Odessa, Texas - and I was pretty sure that these pigs were not on steroids - and nor would they be likely to eye-gouge, or kidney punch. I also had been a bar bouncer for many years in my younger, crazier days. Being hit by a wild-eyed 250 pounder was not new to me, and held no mystery. Brother Kelly, however, was horrified. He and Elder David are musicians, and not battle wearied soldiers. They were game though, and neither planned on retreating... but I could read terror in Brother Kelly's eyes. I walked up to Kelly and said, "You mind this gap", indicating to a small gap between the end of the chute and a mesquite tree. "Put your body here and do not let any hog pass by". He nodded at me nervously. "Ok, brothers... we have a plan, and it will work. Everyone hold your ground and advance. No retreat, no defeat." Everyone grunted.
Well, the battle was rejoined. For 15 minutes or so, we tried again. Advance after advance was thwarted when the dogged enemy would turn back, or dart to the side, risking stick blows to avoid the chute. Then, a breakthrough. Big-boy headed down the chute and I followed closely with a piece of plywood to block his retreat. Kelly was behind me as we rushed in, and David and Logan moved in from beside the chute wall, and somehow David ended up perfectly down the chute but out of the way, to close the trailer door in case the hog went in. Just as it seemed that we had triumphed, the hog spun around and tried a retreat. I was game. I blocked his retreat with the plywood, and was reaching over and beating him with my stick. Kelly apparently picked up on my tactic and gamely began swinging violently with his stick too. Unhappily, though, he was beating me. After about three smacks from the stick (two which nicely drew blood) I turned to Kelly and said, "Kelly, you are hitting me with your stick". "Sorry", he replied and promptly stopped.
By this time, the hog realized he had us all outweighed, and he began to push between me and the fence, mangling it horribly as he finally and successfully passed by. Failure.
"Ok", I said regrouping. "That was close. We almost had him. We have to try harder, and we have to make sure we block his retreat". However, these were only words - in the very next advance Big-Boy again chose to shred my nice goat fence rather than go into the trailer.
"Ok boys, lets re-order things a bit. Logan you and David chase. Kelly block your gap, and I'll man the chute." We all sense that we are in a momentous battle. History is judging us. This battle will be remembered here on the land for years to come. We all glance at one another, resolute. We will prevail. Logan screams the furies and advances, swinging his sword (stick) in the air. Here they come. Time slows down, and dramatic music begins to play. Big-Boy breaks for the chute. He is not looking to the left or to the right this time, he is headed straight for the entrance to the chute. He is doing exactly as we planned! His head is down and he seems to have decided once and for all to go into the trailer. Just as he is about to gain entrance to the pig promised land, out of nowhere Kelly reaches over the first board and cracks Big-Boy across the face with a mesquite branch. Big-Boy stops. Spins. retreats. We all stop in shock, the meaning of this escaping us. "Hmmm... Kelly. We are...mmmmm... trying to get them INTO the chute. He was headed for the chute, and you hit him with a stick. I don't get it." Kelly shrugs... "Oh, sorry." He really is sorry. Let me say here that Kelly is not a Jesuit infiltrator. He was not pulling a Longstreet on us. He is no traitor. He was just confused as to the plan, and I can understand that. It was his first battle, and he was a bit shook up. Only minutes before he had beaten his preacher with a stick, and he was still shaken from that blunder. This mistake was totally understandable. We scratched our heads and regrouped again. Except now the hogs were doubly determined NOT to go in that chute. Big-Boy passes by Little-Boy and whispers... "If you make it to the chute, that man with the long red beard will crack you across the face."
The rain was starting to subside. We were all tired. I was beaten and bloody. "Let's try again", I said cheerfully.
I began the next charge. I screamed "Run pig! Run for it!" and advanced on the hogs. They broke towards the chute, and David and I were on their tails. I decided to go under a low hanging mesquite branch, while simultaneously David decided to go over it. David did not decide to "hurdle" it, but instead decided to "steeplechase" it, where you step on it as you go over it. This move successfully dropped the branch about 4 inches, just as I was ducking to run under it. Yes. Nice bang across the top of my newly shorn head.
Battered, we determine to never give up. The day has thus far gone against us. The light is fading, and the mosquitoes descend in even greater numbers. We hear the crickets and the frogs begin their long night's song. A breeze touches our brow as we take a deep breath and dig in for one more advance. I scream at the top of my lungs, "RUN PIG! RUN!." David joins in. Big-Boy heads towards the chute. He turns to retreat, but I block his retreat with my knees. He lunges for the gap, but Kelly blocks that escape route. David gets him to turn towards the trailer, and Logan lurches forward to man the chute wall. Big-Boy heads up the west fence-line (the one he has shredded), and seems to give up. He slows to a walk and exhales deeply. It is over. We close in behind him with the plywood to block any retreat... but Big-Boy is done. He doesn't have any fight left in him. He walks slowly into the trailer and we lock him in the front stall. Returning, we begin to work on Little-Boy, but he seems to have gotten the message from his captain. He too walks into the trailer. We move them both into the front stall and lock them in.
The battle against the last, un-named hog is anti-climactic. Seeing the other two fight so valiantly and for so long, he resigns himself to his fate. After a short struggle, he too joins his comrades. The Battle of Butcher Holler is over. We pull the trailer up to the drive and get them water for the night. The next day, they will go to the butcher. We all glance back at them with looks of respect, and then we head home. Night has fallen, and the battlefield is silent. A soft breeze blows.
Your servant in Christ Jesus,
Michael Bunker
posted by Michael Bunker at 5/30/2007 04:05:00 AM
1 Comments:
Reminds me of the time we tried to free the 450 pound sow from her pen and gently coax her just a little bit closer to the butchering tree before we shot her. . . (giggling)
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