Nice day. Doug home, girls and I took him to Kingston at night. David drove mail. Sent a pig and calf to have butchered. I made pickles and relish.
Comment: Hmmm, times are changing, we used to do it ourselves: Take a look..
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Kill It, Cook It, Eat It...Pistols And Pigs
We did not see many pistols on Hubbard Hill because they were really not very useful for hunting. Pistols were a luxury only “city people” could afford. “City people” included various family members and friends that did not live or work on the farms in the area.
My dad had a .38 revolver that he had got when he became a deputy sheriff and that was about the only one we came across. Once, when I saw him preparing to go on a call, I wondered why he did not act like the sheriffs I’d heard on the Lone Ranger and Tom Mix radio shows. I wondered because he did not carry the .38 on his belt in a holster but placed it in the glove compartment of the car when he was called. I went with him on the call and I also remember that he did not take it with him when we got to house of Pansy Reed who had called about Albert being drunk I guess. I stayed in the car when he went to talk to Pansy. I do not remember Albert being around. Dad came back shortly and we went home.
The only other time I saw the .38 used was when we were butchering pigs. Dad tried to shoot a hog between the eyes but the slug bounced off the pig’s skull. He finally shot that pig and the remaining two pigs right into their ear to put them down. We shot only the larger pigs that we could not hold down to slit their throats.
We’d roll the smaller ones over on their back and sit on their belly while Dad used a “sticking knife”; a knife with both edges of the knife blade sharpened. He would stick the knife in the middle of the pig’s throat and moved the knife left and right to sever the two main arteries running up both sides of the pig’s neck. The pig would shriek with piercing squeals as this happened. We would then let the pig up and it would stagger around as it bled out and finally, drop over dead ready for scalding, scraping and gutting.
When we butchered a cow or calf too big to hold down, I remember shooting them between the eyes with a .22 rifle from about six inches. We tried to shoot them very close to where the rigging was that we used to pull them up by the hind legs for gutting and skinning because they would drop straight down without a sound and they were too heavy to drag very far.
After the animals were gutted, we let them hang till the carcass could stiffen up and then, for the smaller animals, we’d take them inside to the dining room table, (covered in a newspaper) and cut them up. The larger cattle had to skinned outside then cut up into portions outside that could be handled to bring inside and cut up into smaller steaks etc.
The knives were always very sharp, the scalding water for the pigs was very hot and the weather was usually pretty cold. We’d sometimes cut ourselves with the knives, wet ourselves with the water, and our hands would get very cold and stiff as we were working but, we usually got through it without major trauma. I do remember that we had to be very careful with the two-edged sticking knife and I remember my Dad cutting himself with that.
If you would like to see a sanitized view of the butchering we did on the farm, the BBC has a new show called “Kill it, Cook It, Eat It. Kill It, Cook It, Eat It.
My dad had a .38 revolver that he had got when he became a deputy sheriff and that was about the only one we came across. Once, when I saw him preparing to go on a call, I wondered why he did not act like the sheriffs I’d heard on the Lone Ranger and Tom Mix radio shows. I wondered because he did not carry the .38 on his belt in a holster but placed it in the glove compartment of the car when he was called. I went with him on the call and I also remember that he did not take it with him when we got to house of Pansy Reed who had called about Albert being drunk I guess. I stayed in the car when he went to talk to Pansy. I do not remember Albert being around. Dad came back shortly and we went home.
The only other time I saw the .38 used was when we were butchering pigs. Dad tried to shoot a hog between the eyes but the slug bounced off the pig’s skull. He finally shot that pig and the remaining two pigs right into their ear to put them down. We shot only the larger pigs that we could not hold down to slit their throats.
We’d roll the smaller ones over on their back and sit on their belly while Dad used a “sticking knife”; a knife with both edges of the knife blade sharpened. He would stick the knife in the middle of the pig’s throat and moved the knife left and right to sever the two main arteries running up both sides of the pig’s neck. The pig would shriek with piercing squeals as this happened. We would then let the pig up and it would stagger around as it bled out and finally, drop over dead ready for scalding, scraping and gutting.
When we butchered a cow or calf too big to hold down, I remember shooting them between the eyes with a .22 rifle from about six inches. We tried to shoot them very close to where the rigging was that we used to pull them up by the hind legs for gutting and skinning because they would drop straight down without a sound and they were too heavy to drag very far.
After the animals were gutted, we let them hang till the carcass could stiffen up and then, for the smaller animals, we’d take them inside to the dining room table, (covered in a newspaper) and cut them up. The larger cattle had to skinned outside then cut up into portions outside that could be handled to bring inside and cut up into smaller steaks etc.
The knives were always very sharp, the scalding water for the pigs was very hot and the weather was usually pretty cold. We’d sometimes cut ourselves with the knives, wet ourselves with the water, and our hands would get very cold and stiff as we were working but, we usually got through it without major trauma. I do remember that we had to be very careful with the two-edged sticking knife and I remember my Dad cutting himself with that.
If you would like to see a sanitized view of the butchering we did on the farm, the BBC has a new show called “Kill it, Cook It, Eat It. Kill It, Cook It, Eat It.
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