27 April, 2011
I was running a little behind with the pig feeding this morning as several wallows needed filling.
After feeding each group of pigs, I fetched several buckets of water from the nearest trough, tipped it into that group’s wallow and kicked any loose dirt into the water.
It was taking little more time than my usual routine of feeding all the groups of pigs in quick succession.
Doris, one of our Berkshire sows, soon decided enough was enough.
Before long, she’d was bellowing from her pen, which was the second last to be done.
“Oi!”
I kept doing feed, wallow, feed, wallow.
“Oi!”
I continued doing feed, wallow, feed, wallow.
As I topped up the porkers’ wallow I looked up and was just in time to see Doris trot purposefully to the gate that leads from her pen into the field.
She nudged and tugged the bolt until the angled section was pointed into the pen.
Doris carefully grasped the bolt with her teeth, then pulled backward. The bolt pulled free from the gate post.
She turned to her piglets and grunted loudly.
“C’mon you lot, we’ve got to see about breakfast!”
Doris pushed the gate open and, with her four piglets trailing behind, trotted across the field, onto the track and up to where I was now hopping over the electric fence around the porkers’ pen.
She let rip with a string of loud and vehement grunts.
“Oi! Two-Legs! Where’s our breakfast?”
I laughed, gave her a rub behind the ears and told her she’d have to wait.
I left Doris and the piglets to roam the track while I went to get their breakfast.
When I came back with the full bucket, Doris came over at a fast trot, peered into it, sniffed and turned to her piglets with a squeal.
“Right, you lot, back home!”
She trotted back across the field, occasionally looking back to check I was following, and led her piglets back into their pen.
I tipped their breakfast into their troughs, closed the gate, turned the bolt to face outward again—and tied the gate shut with a piece of baling twine just to be certain.
As I did, I could see Doris watching me. She left out a final ripple of snorts.
“If you don’t want me getting out, Two-Legs, deliver breakfast on time. All right?”
Excellent! I’ve heard of horses that could let themselves out, but this is the first time I’ve heard of a pig doing it. Clever girl!
She’s not the only one. Gus can operate the bolts on both the steel gates and the wooden ones. Well, he could operate the bolts on the wooden gates until I reversed them and put the bolts on the outside. And Delilah has let herself out a couple of times, too.
Well if this doesn’t show those naysayers who run the god-awful factory farms that these pigs can think, feel and are at least as smart as a dog, I don’t know what will – what a great story!
I just about want to go get me a Doris all of my own, though I suspect my neighbors wouldn’t like what she would do to my lawn….maybe reading about yours will have to suffice for now.