English is a 2ND language for my wife. Although her English is quite good, there are times when she may not chose the correct word for the idea she's trying to put across. This happened early Tuesday morning while we were having breakfast.There was quite a commotion outside behind the house. The pig were squealing loudly and even the dog and roosters were in some sort of stress. My wife told me that Papa was circumcising the piglets. My first thought was that,perhaps,if what she said were true, then it might be possible to make pork Kosher.
After I had explained the difference between the definitions of circumcision and castration she admitted that her choice of words had not been the right one.
Out of basic curiosity, I had to go outside to witness the job for myself. My brother-in-law, Eugene was seated, holding the poor piglet upside down and gripping tightly it's four feet. Papa was seated directly across from Eugene with a third chair next to him. His "surgical" equipment-scissors, needle and thread, a hypodermic needle and bottles of something or other-lay on the chair.
I asked Cathy how many of the eight piglets were male. Just three, she said. It wouldn't been long, I thought, until there would be three fewer males in the group.
Having spent my years living in the city or the suburbs, I haven't had a good deal of experience with farm animals. I once worked for an egg farm so I've killed a few chickens; but, nothing larger than that. Thursday morning, Papa and Eugene will slaughter the middle pig for my birthday party. I'm planning on watching. I figure if I'm willing to eat the animal I should, at least, know more about the process of putting it on the table.
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