I know this is a topic I talk about pretty much constantly. But I have yet to blog about it! And in light of recent events, I feel this is relevant and a great excuse to share my personal experiences. Besides, it's throwback Thursday!! What better way to acknowledge that than with a little good old-fashioned story time?
"...for I know the joys and discomforts of agricultural life and hold an inborn fondness for those associations which, even in hours of discouragement, I cannot deny." - E.M. Tiffany
As many of my faithful readers (assuming these exist...) will note, this is an excerpt from the FFA Creed. This statement has come to mean a lot to me over the course of my involvement in the FFA. It's about loving what you do even when it isn't easy - even when it breaks your heart. Even when you've been wearing the same high heels for 12 hours, you can't feel your toes, and if you have to tuck the tallywhacker on your jacket back in ONE MORE TIME, you're gonna rip it off. But you don't have to ask yourself why you signed up for this. You never have to ask yourself why you're here. The answer is obvious; we love what we do.
With that established, the discomforts of our lives, not only as members of the FFA, but as members of the human race, can be challenging. I can personally attest to this. This will be my third year showing pigs (not quite the tenure of some of my peers, I know, but rest assured that I have enough heart and dedication to make up for all the years I missed out). It has always been my dream to breed my own show pigs. The first year I showed pigs, I was ecstatic to work with the animals and with my dad's experience, I was confident that I would have a great year. What I didn't know was how hard it is to control an animal - every bit as stubborn as I am - with a stick. But with minimal usage of invectives and a lot of persistence, I became the alpha pig. I exercised my pigs thirty minutes a day, sometimes twice a day. Rain, shine, tornado - it didn't matter, I was out there. My pigs and I had a bond that transcended the usual "I'll name you bacon because I hate you and I know you'll end up in the freezer" attitude that kids sometimes adopt toward their projects. We were best buds.
After our chapter show, my breeder came out to evaluate my animals' progress. I'll never forget the way I felt when he told me that my pigs had a virus called PPLO that caused fluid build-up in their hocks. They were essentially crippled. I could feel the tears coming on. I tried a brave smile, but it was useless. I was heartbroken. I had aspirations of breeding my gilt. My barrow was on schedule to go to a major show. All my hard work seemed for naught - I probably wouldn't even be able to show at my county youth show. Most of all, I felt utterly helpless because the virus is notorious for being next to impossible to treat.
But instead of accepting fate, giving up on my endeavor, and pretending it never happened, I buckled down. I kept exercising my pigs to ensure they stayed limber. I switched them to a feed without a high protein content that would be easier on their joints, and attempted treatment. Failure was not an option. I remained hopeful, and told myself that I wasn't giving up on my dream, I was merely reacting to the hand I had been dealt. I would have another chance to breed. In the end, I was able to take my gilt to the county show and placed. I have never been happier to see an eighth place ribbon in my entire life. It wasn't about winning. I loved spending time with my animals, and I learned more about myself and my ability to work with them than I have in probably most of my life.
My second year of showing was a repeat performance. I had the same rotten luck, met with the same dogged determination, but it wasn't enough. I wasn't sure I would have the heart to try showing again. But I finally accomplished my dream, though not in the way I expected. As of Monday morning, there are eight piglets and one proud sow in my backyard. The sow was my sister's show pig, and our first successful breeding endeavor. This one shining moment in my experiences raising swine has more than made up for my perceived "failures". Whether is was foolishness or faith that kept me going down a path that seemed to lead to nowhere, I'm glad I was able to remember my love for the animals, my dream, and my inimitable capacity to try for the sake of trying prevailed.
Even in my hours of discouragement, I could not have been happier to work hard at work worth doing.
- Shelbs
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