![]() So I looked down to see a post-ejaculatory product, the consistency of a gelatinous glue, that cements the semen into the sow. ![]() Emerging victorious with the cheesecloth-lined Thermos, the Slovenian brought it to me, proud of his harvest, bursting at the seams to tell me all about it. None of the ejaculating took me by surprise, but what happened after the release was uncharted territory. I just stood aghast at a reasonable distance so that I could see all the action, but hopefully not end up with boar semen in my hair (which would probably be exactly like that time I got horse semen in my hair - which is to say, really, no big deal). ‘When boar young, semen sweet,’ the Slovenian said. Because I didn’t actually do any catching whatsoever. Or, I guess most accurately, a Peeping Tom catcher. I’ve been on the ‘pitching’ end of artificial insemination a few times before, but this was admittedly my first experience as a ‘catcher.’ Or pseudo-catcher. This didn’t start out as a particularly memorable occasion. Which should make this story a little more clear, albeit not any less strange. I was on a placement for a pig husbandry experience. A few months ago I spent one of those beautiful Scottish summer mornings watching a 450 kilogram pig ejaculate into a coffee Thermos that was being held at an appropriate ‘catch-all’ angle by a bearded Slovenian man.
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