Race With A Pig

The Tamworth pigs at whole Circle Farm are a relatively rare breed in Canada. They're known to be very curious. On our farm they’re always escaping - it's not unusual to hear a hurried call over the farm radio, "the pigs are out, they’re running through the vegetable patch...” They seem to need the challenge and excitement of breaking free. If the fence was escape-proof I’m sure the pigs would less contented.

Now that spring is here and there’s plenty of green pasture the pigs get most of their food by eating grass and turning up the soil in search of worms and grubs. They still get a small amount of dried grain, which we feed them in the morning and early evening.

Two sows and their 18-odd piglets live in the barn, plus a couple of other mature pigs. Walking into their pen at feeding time always feels like a game of man vs. intelligent beast. As I walk toward their troughs with a feed bucket in each hand they swarm around, trying to get their snouts into the buckets.  It's about 2,000 pounds of crazy hungry pig energy swirling around my rubber boots like a raging surf. If I fall over I might get caught in a pig undertow. The truth is, they are pushy, but not aggressive, so I'm never afraid. But it's more convenient if they're not in their pen when I fill their troughs, and the other day I narrowly had the opportunity to get in and out of their pen before they charged in.

I came down the barn stairs earlier than usual that day and noticed the pigs in another part of the barn. One of the sows spotted me through the metal grate and engaged me in a human-to-pig staring contest. We each seemed to have a rough idea what the other was thinking.

She was thinking, "that dumb-ass has got my pig-slop, I can see the bucket he's trying to hide from        me - as soon as I win this staring contest I'm heading straight to the troughs."

Meanwhile, I was thinking, "That pig knows I've got food for her. It's a more direct line from where I am to the pig troughs. I think I can get to her trough ahead of her and her pig buddies."

I turned away. The sow turned away. We each made a beeline for the troughs.

The other pigs sensed her urgency, and followed. I entered the pen and had time to fill two troughs before I saw the pigs coming round from the other side of the barn, with the sow leading the charge. I got the third trough filled as they barreled into the pen. I got out - it felt like stepping away from a crashing wave of water - and I latched the wooden door behind me. Through the door I heard the furious slurp slurping of pigs eating their food.

"That was a fun game," thought the pig, and me.