tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-301791108611372665.post2923933167436085789..comments2024-01-29T03:04:24.219+11:00Comments on Flinders Family Freer: The pig is dead, long live the next pigAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12315551718688781746noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-301791108611372665.post-65426817044698374902012-12-21T08:55:31.361+11:002012-12-21T08:55:31.361+11:00Aaaaah, pore, pore piggy. However, I bet he'll...Aaaaah, pore, pore piggy. However, I bet he'll taste heaps better than our supermarket-bought offering. Enjoy! :-)Melissahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16544028811884783487noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-301791108611372665.post-2081655748845046472012-12-21T02:09:28.004+11:002012-12-21T02:09:28.004+11:00when my Dad was still in high school, he and his b...when my Dad was still in high school, he and his brothers were dispatching several pigs for the winter larder and the last one realized that although the .22 to the forehead was quick, he'd rather not give it a go. He wedged himself into a corner of the pen, head down, forehead against the fence post, and wasn't coming out, thankyouverymuch.<br />Grandpa told them to leave him for a bit, he'd come out once hungry, and he did. He eventually walked over to the trough a day later, but when ever anyone walked out of the house with a rifle back to his post he went. So one of my uncles had a .22 revolver and they hid it from him so they could walk up on him eating to deliver a surprise coup de gras.JPhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07904120914423802777noreply@blogger.com