New Pigs

We had been pigless for a while.  While I enjoyed having kunekunes, I was over the time it took for them to grow to an edible size and I missed having crackling on a roast pork.

We kept talking about getting pigs again, but never quite seemed to get around to it.

A friend advertised her piglets for sale, they were eight weeks old and very reasonably priced, so we decided to get two of them.  Captain Cookers crossed with Large Whites.  They were both white pigs, one slightly bigger than the other.  Miss 12 named them Sour Cream and Onion after characters from Steven Universe.

The pig pen needed some work so while that was happening, they went into the calf pen in the milking shed.  Of course this created dramas for us.  It wouldn't be our place if there were no dramas.

Sour Cream and Onion in the calf pen.

The two fat little piglets made some odd noises and smelled funny.  Brownie didn't want to come into the shed for milking.  It took me over an hour of coaxing to get her into the shed and I had to spend the entire time with a hand on her hip talking gently to her to keep her in there while the milking machine was running.  As soon as I turned it off, she was out of there so fast she nearly trampled me.

Nope.  Smells funny.

This went on for a couple of weeks before she became used to them enough to be okay with milking.

The pig pen was sorted by this time.  We included the vege garden temporarily with the intention of having them clean it up from last year, dig it over and fertilise it while they were at it.

So, we tried to move them to the new pen.

Every other pig I have ever had would follow me into the fiery depths of Hell if I was waving a bucket of feed at them.  Not these two.  With three of us herding, guiding and chasing them, we couldn't get them to go anywhere near the pig pen.  After several hours, we gave up and with another half hour of swearing and threatening to turn them into bacon then and there, we got them back into the calf pen in the milking shed.  Once they were near the lane, they quite happily trotted into their pen.

They really were too big for the pen, they destroyed everything I put in there for water for them - that includes chewing large plastic storage bins into small pieces.  They stunk, they ran from me as soon as I stepped in their pen and ran in panicky circles so I didn't want to upset them more by going in to clean out their poop.

I accidentally let them out one morning while feeding them, at first I thought they'd be easy to get back in from the lane.  Just like last time.  HA!  They were exploring, they were having fun, they were slippery smart little buggers who found their way into Brownie's paddock and loved running around.  I rang Hubby after an hour, to let him know I'd probably be late for work and why.  He wasn't at his phone so I left a voicemail.

I tried blocking off their escape routes, I used pallets, trestle tables, corrugated iron, spare farm gates and anything else I could lay my hands on.  I am still impressed by how small a gap a determined pig can get through.

After another hour I rang Hubby again, he'd been laughing at my voicemail and impressed by my ability to swear so profusely and descriptively without repeating myself.   I was exhausted and every muscle in my body was hurting.  I needed a shower and work started half an hour ago an hour's drive away.  There was nothing I was needed for urgently at work so we made the decision I wasn't going in.

I wasn't willing to leave them to run. If they got out onto the road, there was no telling where they could get to or the damage they could cause to neighbouring farms.  That's assuming they didn't get run over or shot.

In the end it took me six very long and frustrating hours to get them back into their pen. 

We tried building small caged carts to move them.  That was an epic failure.  The second variation was so bad, that they ripped it apart and escaped again.  This time there were three of us (and an unimpressed housecow) there to try and round them up.  It worked no better with three of us than it did with just me on my own.  Hubby's language outstripped mine in a much shorter time frame.

After an hour, we limped inside and had dinner.  I left the lights on in the milking shed, the gate to their pen open and left some fresh feed in there.  After dinner, I went out to have a look.  They'd trotted in, had a feed and snuggled up for bed.  All by themselves.

We discussed our options. 

We had a second pig house, very near the milking shed.  We hurriedly fenced it and drove the pigs in there.  They went easily.  They had room to run and play, they had a water trough that they would be hard pressed to destroy, they had soil to dig and grass to eat.  

Sour Cream and Onion in the new pen.

There were still piglets available from the same litter.  We decided to get another two and put them in the original pig run to turn over the vege garden.

We picked up the next two.  One white and one grey.  They were considerably smaller than Sour Cream and Onion, so shifting them from the trailer to their pen was as simple as picking them up by their hind legs and lifting them over the fence.  These two were named Salt and Vinegar.

I was warned by a professional pig farmer to keep them separate.  Even though they were all from the same litter, they'd been apart for about 6 weeks and they were all boars.  They would fight and it would probably be to the death.

I was able to keep them apart for maybe two weeks at the most.  Sour Cream and Onion kept jumping out of their pen.  I built it up higher.  They climbed out of that too.  I swear the only reason that humans are in charge of pigs and not the other way around is because of opposable thumbs.  I saw these knee high pigs go over four foot high fences - fences that keep my cows in but aren't high enough to contain determined pigs.

I was starting to imagine seven foot high concrete walls.  I was picturing myself climbing a ladder to tip their feed over and still not being confident that it would be high enough.

Then they made it into the pen with Salt and Vinegar.  They seemed to be getting along just fine.  There was a little rough and tumble, but that had been happening between Sour Cream and Onion anyway.  The hierarchy needed sorting.  I watched them for a few days and gave up.  It seemed there was a way to get them into the vege garden after all.

All four pigs together.