When Pigs Fly

Pigs are not the sedentary creatures portrayed in pastoral memoirs, childhood nursery stories and my beloved Wodehouse novels. Although pigs may not fly, they can leap fences, tunnel under or push through, spending much of their time galloping to and fro. If pigs could ride motorcycles they would have been the perfect companions for Steve McQueen in The Great Escape.

When we bought our Berkshire breeding stock, the youngest sow, Snowflake, needed to be kept separate. She was tiny compared to the rest of the pigs. She needed to have all the food she could eat without competing with larger stock. We put her in a specially constructed pigsty with 3-foot walls. She was about the size of a small dog, maybe 15 pounds. Within minutes she had leapt the wall and fled.

In the next few days we would invariably find her running back and forth in front of the fence for the other pigs. Grunting and squealing, she was demanding vocally to the neighborhood that she wanted company. After a few attempts at returning her to the sty, we gave in and put her with the other pigs.

They are contrary animals: after putting her up with the other pigs she spent the next 3 weeks leaving that enclosure at will. We would find her out in the chicken coop, among the tractors, in a neighboring paddock, etc. She would catch sight of us and flee back to the “secure” paddock with the other pigs, squealing the whole long way.

As time went on she finally grew big enough that she couldn’t squeeze through the gaps in fencing. But, she was still vocal with always something to say…we just didn’t know the translation.

An omnivore’s revenge

Pigs may be smart. They may be escape artists. But, be careful not to anthropomorphize their lives. They live to eat. They Live To Eat!

Cindy went into the pen with Clarence and Connie a day after a heavy rain. One of her Wellingtons got stuck in the mud. She found herself falling forward, one foot in the mud behind, one hand on the water trough and one hand on the feed bucket. Both hogs were taking turns knocking into the bucket of feed and nipping at her. She finally flung the feed behind her and escaped, leaving the boot behind.

As an experiment stand stock still in a pigpen. Within a minute they begin to pull on your clothes with their teeth: Just testing the waters. God forbid you have a heart attack. “Hey! Look guys, Brian is in distress…boy, am I hungry”.

The best revenge on their untrustworthy nature is ours. We can sum it up with one word: bacon.