I did not grow up on a farm. I literally knew nothing about farming and had no plans on ever living on a farm. And because I wasn’t raised on a farm, it didn’t matter to me if it rained, if it was too windy, or if it was too hot or too cold. I was only concerned about the weather when school was canceled because of a blizzard. In fact, I loved those days . . .
But . . . my high school best friend did live on a farm and her family raised pigs. And because she lived on a farm, it was expected that she help with pig chores on the farm. Her job? Help clean the hog barn EVERY Saturday morning. It didn’t matter if she had a friend stay overnight or not. Pigs still poop, therefore, the barn needed to be cleaned. Simply put . . . use a well-worn pitchfork and scoop out the manure-laden bedding and throw it out the door into a manure spreader. No technology. No automatic cleaners. Nada. None. Just old-fashioned manual labor. After the spreader was full, the manure was spread on cropland fields behind their house and used as soil nutrients.Continue Reading