My daughter, Sara, and her husband, Doni, have created a wonderful life on a farm in Plainfield, Vermont. They raise beautiful and healthy pigs, primarily, and have the meat humanely processed. They sell their delicious products in Vermont, also delivering to Manhattan and Brooklyn once a month.
This may seem shamelessly self- and family-promoting (I guess it really is), but suffice to say I am immensely proud of them and their pure intention to be honest and trustworthy business people.
When Sara was little, she wanted to someday live in the country. She has certainly fulfilled that dream, and then some!
The name “quill pig” is a folkloric name for porcupine, no doubt because it looks to be very much part of the swine family, but with quills. Doni found a dead one on the property a few years back, looked into the origin of the name, and together with Sara, decided that was the absolute perfect name for their farm.
Last summer I stopped the car on a back road, and my granddaughter, Audrey, and I watched in awe this prehistoric-looking creature lumber down the road, stopping from time to time to raise its quills upward. As quickly as it could, it scrambled into the woods. I learned later that porcupines don’t propel their quills when threatened, but simply release them into those unlucky enough to be in contact with them. Indigenous people would throw a blanket over them, and the quills would release into the blanket. They would then be used for decoration. Brilliant!
If you want to learn more about the farm, please go to quillpigfarm.com.