Do Pigs get Moody - Feed them Seaweed

The terrible three with their tails

Lady Lavinia is pregnant again. Not by choice, by accident, thanks to Irish weather. Last May bank holiday it pissed rain all weekend. I woke on the Monday to find the electric fencing lying in a puddle. Lady Lavinia, Laertes and the terrible three all sauntering from the far field to the field behind the house looking for their breakfast. Laertes had a very satisfied, smug expression. He had got his bit. Later we saw him relieving himself. Pigs share so many characteristics with humans....

Well anyway back to the title. Do pigs get moody? I can categorically tell you they do. Lady Lavinia is in one hell of a mood ever since. She's narking at her rapidly growing piglets. She's narking at Laertes. She is even moaning to me. Maybe I should give her seaweed?

I have been following Ireland's Farmers Twitter account since it first started. In fact I was one of the first tweeting farmers. Don't laugh. I told them I wasn't a farmer, more a very, very small smallholder but they weren't deterred. So I did my stint. After that it was taken over by different organisers and each week a different farmer did their week, explaining to the great unwashed what they do. Then one "farmer" who is a very, very big butcher did his week and used it to promote his business (not his farm). Just this week another "farmer" took over to tell us how he raises thousands of pigs.

When any of the great unwashed expressed concern at any of the intensive production methods, the reply was "well we feed seaweed!" Gosh, if only all of life's problems could be solved by eating seaweed.

You dock piglet's tails. Well we feed seaweed.
You keep sows in farrowing crates. Well we feed seaweed (and apple juice.)
The pigs can't root. Well we feed seaweed and they play with a dangling football.
The pigs are always inside. Well we feed seaweed and they have skylights.
The sows are moody. Well we feed seaweed.

Incidentally (what I did learn this week) if you keep more than 80 sows together they won't fight as they don't recognise each other and they don't remember which one pissed them off. Have to say if I was stuffed into a maternity ward with 80 other women I probably wouldn't remember either.

While I have to admit that if pigs have to be raised intensively (inhumanly as far as I am concerned) this system is not the worst. In fact it is probably outstanding in a bad lot. The pigs are raised in purpose built housing with natural light on rubber matting and with Radio Kerry to keep them entertained. That would be torture for me but hey, maybe pigs don't mind bland. The fact that normal pigs and piglets spend probably 80% of their day rooting and nosing about is totally irrelevant here.

Well they are fed seaweed and they have a dangly ball to play with and they can listen to Radio Kerry and they don't get sunburn. The boar was barred off from the sows but he could see them and he had a ball game to amuse him and he could listen to Radio Kerry. Wish that could have done it for Laertes who did his very best to murder me as I kept him from his woman with a strand of electric fencing.

The fact remains that they never get to stick their nose in soil, they never get to eat fresh grass, they never get to wallow, they never get to lie in the sun or get sunburned, they never get to leg it into their house when the heavens open, they never get to watch ESB workers climb poles or delivery lorries trundle down a laneway.

They never get to be pigs.

So you get to buy a €1 chop.........

Pay €4 for a chop that will knock the socks off you with taste, juiciness, flavour, moistness and you know the poor bastard that died to give you this experience had a life.

It's your choice.


Signed:  A Bitter Woman.

The Terrible Three

Look daddy, same as you!

So my first effort at pig breeding is going swimmingly. The piglets are now 12 weeks old and enjoying a lovely outdoor free range existance being fed naturally with barley, organic pig nuts and lots of fruit and vegetables. As well as having access to a large area to run and root and graze.

I am down to the terrible three and believe me they really are terrible. We have Brutus who is a bully and a brute. Literally heaves his brothers out of his way at the trough. He is also a supreme escape artist. He darts between two strands of electric fencing to escape. He has in turn taught Jockser (neck like a jockey's - well you know,) seen here in the picture mounting Redser. If you are not careful at feeding time they will trip you up dashing in front of you and between your legs. Plus they love to slobber you with muck particularly if you run down to feed them before leaving for work. They seem to have the ability to detect clean clothes.

They are still sneaking in to have a quick feed with mum and she, the silly ass allows them. The three of them are almost the same size as she is. She is totally fed up of them.

Redser, Jockser and Brutus

Brutus, Lady Lavinia and Jockser

They loved the warm weather we had recently and spent most of it stretched out. So far they have not taken to wallowing but it won't be long.

I was taken aback at how quickly their daddy Laertes and his brother grew (well gone at this stage) so I decided it was time to cut down to feeding once a day. I want them to reach weight slowly and not pile on the fat. They are understandably not a bit pleased about this and complain loudly every time they see me. Recently though I have been getting sacks of fruit and vegetables and the other day they made short work of figs, avocados, grapes as well as all the other more common stuff. Lots of very satisfied slurping.

Love Redser's "eye makeup"

I am waiting for them to grow a little bit before letting them into a new field as the fencing is slightly higher in it. Not keen on them ducking under it and out onto a busy road. But hopefully in a couple of weeks they will be on a full acre of lush green grass.

Can you imagine how good they will taste?

Operation Weaning

So the final five. Five about to become three. Actually if a friend hadn't bought them this would have happened long ago. But I being a softie and not a hard nosed business woman I agreed to keep them until she organised herself.

Operation Weaning had to commence. Mamma was still full of milk but starting to get narky with the babies. A Croatian who rented a property belong to my ex. had left a very solid, well-built dog house behind. I had mentally ear marked it. My pig house builder agreed that it could be converted for the purpose. He had done so months ago so it was just a question of getting it moved by a tractor with forks.

It was moved on Saturday last and the fencing was extended. The piglets were tempted in with food and were secured. Or so I thought. So far it's been a pantomime. One or two keep risking getting zapped and with blood curdling squeals make the mad dash under the fence. The first morning after the move, they had all made the dash of death and I found them back in with mamma. Last night before I went to bed I could hear lots of commotion but just ignored it. Then when I went down this morning, found one poor soul who hadn't been brave enough and was alone all night in the dog box.

There is a pig behind that snout in the straw

This photo was taken earlier after they had breakfast and went back to bed (in the dog box) for a snooze. I thought to myself, success at last. But only five minutes later three of them skipped back into mamma upon waking.

Now I have mamma in their run but she's too big for the dog box. But at least they are separated from her for most of the day.

However, I wonder should I just give up and let nature take it's course. Especially as just now when I was dropping the fence to tempt the babies back in with food, momma skipped over to freedom and I had a hell of a job to tempt her back even with a bucket. The grass really is greener on the other side of the fence.

I used think horses were a lot of work. They are a walk in the park in comparison to free range pigs who while they hate the electric fence are always willing to take a chance.