HOG-KILLING DAY ON THE FARM..

MY BROTHER, FRED, HAS A MEMORY OF GROWING UP ON THE FARM AS AN ALLEN FAMILY MEMBER.

HOG-KILLING DAY ON THE FARM

by Fred M. Allen

I never cease to be amazed at the ingenuity of farming families in the days before electricity was available in their areas. They planned for weeks and made detailed preparations for special activities which were so vital to their survival and well-being without the conveniences we now take for granted.

One of those activities was the day they set aside to kill hogs and to preserve the meat for the winter months. Neighbors were invited to bring their fattened hogs to be slaughtered along with the rest and to help with the huge project. Our whole family participated in the various jobs to be done.

A platform of rough lumber was assembled near the pond because much water would be needed. A strong, tall frame was erected on which to hang the carcass for dressing. Firewood was fetched and piled nearby. A 55-gallon steel barrel was placed on the firewood and locked in just the right position with the open end facing the platform. Various containers were in place; utensils of all sorts were made available as needed. 

When the fattened hog was killed and placed on the platform, everyone had a job to do. The water in the barrel had to be at just the right temperature to soften the hair of the hog so it could be scraped off with sharp knives. I’ll never forget helping with that part of the job as a young boy. After the hog was clean, it was hung on the frame and dressed. When it was taken down they would cut up the carcass very carefully to assure that all the cuts were done properly. That required real expertise. Then the meat was taken to the house where the ladies would be ready to do their part in preparing the meat either to hang in the smokehouse or to be ground up for sausage. Eventually, the neighbors took their own meats home as we all looked forward to enjoying the fruits of our labors.

Before the meat was hung up in the smokehouse, it had to be preserved with a special mixture of salt and other ingredients which were rubbed in meticulously to make sure it would not spoil over a period of time. After the boneless cuts were ground up in the hand-operated grinder and seasoned, it was placed into long, store-bought bags to be hung in the smokehouse. Each section of the carcass was handled differently depending on its intended use. The larger pieces such as hams were hung individually. Miraculously, the meats did not spoil as they hung in the smokehouse until they were all used before the spring. Mama always kept some special pieces of fresh pork for us to enjoy which she kept in our ice-box until they were eaten. I still remember how delicious the tenderloins were. 

Apparently the experience my parents gained by killing and preserving hogs every year paid dividends for them because in later years, they were both employed by a small but successful company in their own community, Taylortown, which made and marketed Gordon’s Sausage for several years which was a high-quality product. The company was staffed totally by the local farmers and ladies who took pride in their popular product and enjoyed serving the community together. (I hope they didn’t gossip as they worked on those meats together!)

I suppose hog-killing days are gone forever, at least in our part of the world. When we lived and worked in Zambia, we observed how the villagers still kill animals and market them in the public markets today; but not all are as well-organized as were those on the farm in Taylortown. In fact, one day my wife and I ordered a meal featuring pork, and, as it was served, we saw that hair was still on the meat!