Piglets Are Go!

I can’t imagine what it’s like to be Rosie. She’s eight months old and all she’s ever known is the joy of snuffling round our bush block. Nobody’s ever explained the facts of life to her. Then suddenly she’s off to a strange farmyard, where she’s rudely mounted by a boar, without so much as a by-your-leave!

Three months, three weeks and three days later she finds herself overcome with an urge to build a nest. Not content with the fresh straw provided in her new eco-hut, she goes out at bedtime to forage around in the bush and bring great mouthfuls of bracken in, creating an immense pile. At this point, she must suspect it’s got something to do with the feeling she’s had of something wriggling around inside her.

And then suddenly she’s in labour!

Lying on her side, panting and heaving, with an eager audience looking on.

Bella was taking a sisterly interest in things too. Little wonder, as it’s her turn next.

One by one, the piglets slipped out, warm, firm and slimy. We found an early arrival in the corner where it was just lying quietly, taking things in and coming to its senses. Another found its way immediately to Rosie’s inviting boobs.

Number four was born onto the railing around the side of the sty which provides the piglets with a getaway channel when Mum lies down. It fell down the other side, a bit of a rude introduction to life. But it got up and ferretted its way round the walls to the heat lamp. It’s as if they’re pre-programmed for survival.

And Rosie appears pre-programmed for motherhood. Every so often she heaved herself up and looked over into the corner lit by the heat lamp. There her new offspring were having a party, licking, biting and slurping each other. As she watched, she made a noise like a Harley Davidson starting, a sort of primeval, deeply contented rumbling.

She called it a day at six, and turned over so that her teats were facing the piglets. Then she called them over for a feed. They squirmed over each other to find the teat just right for them; piglets choose one and stick with it.

Mother and young were a picture of contentment as they lay there, Rosie grunting and huffing encouragement, the piglets sucking and one of them falling asleep on the breast. My, it took me back.