Last week we were thrilled to welcome a new pair of Large Black piglets to Sallygardens Smallholding. We've raised quite a few for the table and so we had an air of confidence about us this time that only comes from a certain level of practical experience. At my age I now know that this first flush of confidence in any given relatively new activity is normally swiftly followed by a realisation, usually initiated by some form of unforseen disaster, that there's still a lot to learn. However, the anxiety of taking responsibility for pigs welfare had well and truly disappeared and this time around there was only pure excitement and anticipation of their arrival to enjoy to the full. We shut them in for a day to let them settle and then introduced them to their dwelling which had been lovingly fenced with not three but four strands of electric fencing just to be sure, to be sure.
The family gathered around to watch their first pensive explorations around their new pen. Fresh water and a bountiful bowl full of feed awaited to entice them out of the confines of their 'safe' house. Sure enough two little black snouts appeared in the doorway a minute or two after it had been opened. One minute we were all going 'ah look, so cute', the next, pandamonium. One shot out of the door, out through the mains electric fencing and made straight for the garden gate. Luckily I'd shut it tight just as a precautionary measure, but we never thought for a second that the pigs would have any thought of escape on their little minds and that even if they did have an inkling the overkill four strand close gap fencing would keep a wild boar inside, never mind an eight week old weaner. I felt a moment of smugness as I calmly explained to Dan 'It's ok, I had the foresight to shut the gate'. Unluckily, at this point, the pig managed to squeeze out under the gate. He legged it up the lane and promptly disappeared through another gate into a field.
I got a fit of uncontrollable giggles, but Dan took stock and shut the second piglet back in it's house lest he felt the need to follow his companion. I managed to keep my eye on the escapee and could indicate to Dan just where it had gone. Hot pursuit followed across the field, up a hill, down a hill, across another field ... 20 minutes of chasing a pig at top speed was impressive but even Dan couldn't keep up the pace. It became obvious that an eight week old piglet is capable of running at precisely ten meters gap in front of a fit grown man, indefinitely, no matter how fast he quickened his pace.
I've heard an urban myth, that pigs can't swim. I know its an urban myth because after the 20 minute chase it then launched into a river, swam upstream for a bit, then swam along a ditch before scrambling up into a field across the valley. Dan returned for the van and sped off. A few minutes later I could just about make out his orange jumper ranging up and down the hedges on the far side of the valley. I went indoors and began to get on with the chores, certain we'd seen the last of this pig. I daydreamed about how we would be known as the people who let their pigs escape into the wild, oh the shame of it, and how the huge and dangerous boar would savage peoples gardens and vegetable patches in the years to come.
There was a knock on the door. A neighbour said casually 'Rebecca, there's a pig on the lane, I presume it's yours'! I could've kissed him. Sure enough there he was just standing there near our gate. Of course I could still see Dan at the other side of the valley, searching. The irony of it all. The piglet trotted off back into the field and I couldn't give chase, I had three small children to mind and taking them into a field with six bullocks to catch a piglet just didn't seem clever. I put out a few handfuls of feed, leading from the field gate to our garden.
An hour later Dan returned, he wasn't best pleased to hear piglet had been and gone again since his escapade across the valley. We decided it was time for a cup of tea. While drinking it we watched two neighbours across the valley give chase in vain for half an hour to a small oblong black spot streaking back and forth. After tea another couple of neighbours came to check the bullocks. Our story up to that point provided them great entertainment and as we continued regailing the saga we all spotted the piglet emerge and cheekily trot up the farmers field, bold as brass.
Through what can only be described as a perfect feat of pigmanship, herding and joint co-operation including hand signals that the SAS would have been proud of, we ended up with the piglet being safely returned to its shelter. Huge sighs of relief were breathed, and shortly after and very large fence was built using 2inch wire mesh, round poles and two strands of electric fence. They still tried to escape but the the tough fencing along with the odd bolt has finally managed to contain them. After a few days of sweet talk they no longer try to run. Instead stay to dig, forage and even enjoy, rather than tolerate, a good old fashioned back scratch.
