Hog killings have been a part of farm life since the colonies were first settled here in the New World. My particular bit of that long history begins in 1949 when I was born. In the early fifties, as a child too small to work, I went to hog killings and played all day with the other neighborhood children. One of our favorite pastimes was to stomp on the occasionally full pig bladders that were cast aside as the hogs were being gutted. This just to watch the "water" fly. If this seems to be cruel child's play, fear not, the pigs often had their revenge. If you weren't careful how you stomped, the "water" could easily squirt in your face. And occasionally one of us kids would fall in the "gut hole", the ramifications of which will become abundantly clear later on.

As we kids grew, we were gradually taken into adult supervision where we learned how to do these strange and wonderful things ourselves. By the time I was 8 or 9, I was toting guts to the gut table in a foot tub. And from there we graduated on up the scale. Though we were children, there was a tremendous amount of pride in ourselves (it's called self-esteem nowadays) to be taken into the world of adult work. And in such a manner the skills of the parents were passed to the children.

Revised 2/14/2006, 10/13/2011.