The Pig Club

I could hardly wait until I was old enough, ten, to join the Pig Club. Actually, it was the William Penn 4-H Club, but since most of the kids had pig-raising projects, it was usually known simply as “Pig Club.” Years earlier Dad had given it the William Penn name, since we lived in Penn Township. The club had about twenty kids—mostly boys—as members, with a Dad as club Leader. We met once a month but we kids didn’t take the “business” part of the meeting very seriously. A couple of boys would give a short “how to” talk and the leader would remind us to keep good records. Then came the good part, playing games and eating home-made ice cream.

The pigs for your project had to be born no earlier than March first of the current year. It was a big advantage to have an early March litter, because everyone wanted to have the largest pigs at the 4-H fair in August. I kept my 4-H litter in a separate pen and fed and took care of them night and morning. They had corn, oats and wheat in a self-feeder (pigs will do a good job of balancing their own diet if you give them appropriate choices.) I also fed them a “slop” of ground feed and commercial supplements plus skim milk. My pigs always grew well, but never quite as well as the ones Mary Grace raised—she made pets of them and they would even follow her around.

There was always a lot of excitement when the time for the fair rolled around. Dad would help us pick the best pigs in the litter and trim them up for us. It was fun showing the pigs since we had very good breeding stock and always placed well in the judging, often winning blue ribbons. One year, however, I missed out completely. Although I was shy around girls as a kid, I somehow met a girl whose parents were connected with the little carnival set up in connection with the county fair. She had free passes for all the rides and we went on all of them, one after the other. That was great fun—but afterwards I got so sick at my stomach I couldn’t show my pigs! Paul really teased me about that one.

One year I had a Guernsey calf as a project, in addition to pigs. I remember her name, Lady Jane, but the thing that I remember most about her is that the following year she had twin calves, a male and a female. This is a rather rare occurrence in cattle; such twins are called “freemartins” and the female is always sterile. Both calves were sold for veal at an early age.

Paul and I entered the 4-H “Demonstration” contest two or three years. Dad wrote the scripts—he was really very good at this—and did most of the work at making the models used in the demonstration. We memorized the texts and Dad coached us on how to speak effectively, making gentle suggestions for improvement. He had great patience and never tired of listening to the same talk over and over. One demonstration was on how to make various hog handling equipment and another was on how to make a straw-shed. Paul and I won each time at the county fair and placed well at the state fair, but did not win there.

We really enjoyed the 4-H years. It was fun. There is one thing that never bothered me at all at the time, but I have sort of wondered about fifty some years later. Dad kept all our 4-H prize money! We were all aware that money was really, really tight in the 1930s and that every little bit helps, so it never entered my mind to question Dad about this. It is only from the perspective of a parent and grandparent searching for ways to motivate kids with rewards for very good performance that I marvel at Dad’s effective methods. He kept the prize money (it was $11.00 for the only year I still have a record book) which he needed, but he gave us such love and attention and praise that we all felt special and highly motivated. These days we seem to try to use money rewards and it doesn’t seem to work nearly as well.