Journal 2-2-17

The emus are very tame. They are also incredibly dumb and think they are being sneaky. They found Kevin very interesting.
The pigs in question are Ossabaw Island Hogs, which are a very rare farm breed. My friends are breeding them as part of the ongoing effort to preserve them on farms. They are incredibly funky and weird and awesome pigs.
Domestic boars have what’s called “shield fat” which is a hefty layer of fat over the shoulders that becomes rock hard. It’s literally armor against the tusks of other males. Fox’s boar is named Giles (her two sows are Buffy & Willow–apparently they had a Spike, but the ladies picked Giles) and this was one of his offspring who was just getting old enough to become troublesome. He was starting to develop the shield fat layer, and you could feel the difference. It is very weird to encounter something that looks like it should be squooshy fat and have it be like tough leather. In an adult boar, that layer would be inches thick!
Also, I now know more about how pig rectums fit into a pig than I knew previously. I shall cherish this knowledge.
I shall, at another time, post the tale of the star-crossed lovers, Napoleon the silky rooster and the Turkey Girl. It is an epic and stupid love for the ages.
I have about a thousand photos of chickens to sort through, and I regret nothing.
Still uploading my travel journals. According to the museum, some superstitions involved churning butter with the severed hand of a murderer. HOW AWESOME AND UNHYGIENIC IS THAT?!
I filtered the Rose Abbey photo just to keep my brain from breaking. The colors are positively demented.
Also, that oilcloth jacket is worth its weight in gold and I am dreadfully pleased with it.
Somebody was lurking on my tomatillos…somebody about the size of my pinky nail…
Irish. I am told it is called Irish, not Gaelic, even if the linguists call it Irish Gaelic, because it’s Irish, goddammit.
Noted.
The song my grandmother used to sing was a terribly mangled version of Did Your Mother Come From Ireland? Grandma liked Bing Crosby. The fact that I have now both kissed the Blarney and visited Killarney would impress her to no end.