Club Med For Pigs

Come back in time with me for a minute…it’s Friday afternoon, you have places to be, people to see, appointments to make. It’s been one of those days where nothing seems to go quite like it should and everything takes a good 30 minutes longer than anticipated--not to mention the traffic. OH Charlottesville, when did the gods of frustration vomit all of these cars on our beautiful city?! Your knuckles are white and your speedometer reads 85 as yours eyes dart around every tree that a policeman might be lurking behind. You turn into the town of Madison…could it be any cuter—the color comes back to your knuckles and you take a deep breath. The road to Sperryville stretches farther than you care to go on this Friday afternoon but the sun starts to warm your cheeks making your shoulders sink back and your lead foot get a little lighter. As the rolling pastures crawl up the spreading fingers of our soulful Blue Ridge Mountains your own fingers stretch, that country warmth crawls through your body and really, why are you rushing anyway?

Turn onto Popham’s Ford Rd. The Hughes River greets you and winds along besides you like an old friend leading the way…this is one of the most peaceful, beautiful places you’ve ever seen—your Friday night plans are left in the dust as you creep down the dirt road. You turn around a corner out of the woods and away from the river only to see a rolling green hill topped with the most idyllic red farm house and barns, the Blue Ridge Mountains serving as the perfect backdrop…yes I do believe we’ve entered some sort of paradise (not to mention my personal dream home…). Welcome to Meadow Green Farm.

The whole place is quiet--almost deserted--until a wagging tail and a quick snoot greet you, followed closely by the two seemingly shy eyes of a 7-yr old Pierce Kiser. John Kiser is out with the pigs, of course. As you approach the barn you come across some unexpected new friends, a bunny roaming free in the yard, peacocks showing off their colors and guinea hens picking and pecking to the soft cooing of doves. The pigs oink a little hello before a muffled 'hey' rumbles out from deep inside the freezer.

John Kiser is far from your typical pig farmer. He has a BA from UNC, an MA from Columbia and an MBA from U. Chicago. He was a private consultant to the US Department of State, a writer on the technological potential of the Communist bloc countries in the 70’s-80’s and the president of his own consulting and brokerage business in DC. He left all of that behind in 1995 to become a freelance writer, lecturer and pig farmer.
John’s piggies live on a gorgeous swath of property complete with creek, ample mud bath space and more land than they care to explore. When they don’t feel like roaming the grounds they relax in the comfort of an 18^th century barn…club med for pigs as John says. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such happy creatures, especially as John gets in with them, gives them a good pat on the back and dumps their grub into the trough. Their clover and fescue diets are supplemented with a little cow feed and the scraps from the Inn at Little Washington—high class, indeed. Their teeth and tails are never clipped their noses don’t have rings and they are only given humane, hormone free meds when they’re sick. What a life! At this very moment, I don’t think I’d mind swapping places with them...

On top of all that, they taste DELICIOUS! John came by our office a few weeks ago to grill up some chorizo, sausage, bacon and chops and OH BOY was it good. I can’t say that I’m a huge fan of pork and really don’t even eat much meat, but whoa, I’d eat that stuff every day if I could—much more flavorful and juicy than your typical pork, which is not something you necessarily expect from naturally raised meat.

Needless to say, I didn’t get back to Charlottesville until 8 pm but after experiencing the Hughes River, the late afternoon sun at the base of the mountains, happy pigs and the delightful company of John Kiser, son, dog, and peaceful doves, I didn’t mind in the slightest.