LIVING WITH PIGS
When two baby pigs moved into the family home, Matt Whyman soon realised he had wildly underestimated the brains – and breadth – of these oft-mocked animals
Bringing two baby minipigs into the family home gave Matt Whyman much more than he’d bargained for.
When my wife first suggested pigs as pets, I believe that I responded reasonably. Emma and I were already running at full tilt with four children. That made us a family, I reminded her, not a farm.
“But these aren’t normal pigs,” she countered. “They’re minipigs.”
This was 10 years ago, when pictures of tiny porkers peeping out of flowerpots took over the internet. Emma had already shown the kids, thereby amassing a significant pressure group in favour of bringing a pair into our lives. Nobody was listening when I wondered if there might be more to these creatures than met the eye.
To be fair to Emma, she did her homework. It’s just that amounted to little hard facts about what set minipigs apart from your everyday swine. All she could do was take the word of the much-in-demand breeder she contacted. As Emma relayed to me, minipigs would grow no bigger than Yorkshire terriers. They were smart, child-friendly and easily trained. In terms of their welfare, so she was assured, they could even live under the same roof as us.
Butch and Roxi – names we hadn’t been brave enough to give to any of our children – arrived in a cat basket. Four years later, when they left in a horsebox for a new life clearing undergrowth on a sheep farm, I considered myself to have become expert in a subject by learning purely from mistakes. Above all, I was wise to the fact that there’s no such thing as a minipig. What we had were two mongrels with small-breed genes in the mix, but then size is relative here. A pot-bellied variety or a
kunekune might be considered petite for a pig, but an adult of either kind can stand waist-height to a human and weigh over 200kg.
I can’t say if we were victims of deception or whether the public imagination had been seized by some mass delusion. All I know is that the minipig must be classified alongside the unicorn. We want to believe, but sadly science gets in the way.
It was shortly after Butch and Roxi’s arrival that the gap between fantasy and reality cracked open. They only stayed mini for about a month, during which time the breeder went out of business and I effectively ceased working for a living. Of course, everyone knows a young pet presents challenges. While dogs need to learn you’re in charge, pigs are a lot like toddlers. They can be sweet, inquisitive souls and then kick off when things don’t go their way. Unlike small children, however, they don’t grow out of tantrums. They just become more forceful and out of place in a domestic environment. You only have to witness a minipig in meltdown because you won’t share a biscuit to recognise life might be easier for everyone if they moved into the garden.
Butch and Roxi didn’t live inside for long. Hygiene was another deciding factor, although pigs are strikingly fastidious. They’ll create a toilet as far from their sleeping quarters as they can. In our house, however, that meant trotting to the front room and slipping behind the television. From the ruined carpet to the radiator I found half prised from the wall, it became clear a house was no environment for a pig of any description. They’re purpose-built to dig about in the soil, seeking out roots and minerals, not flop about in the front room watching EastEnders.
When Butch and Roxi switched to life in our back garden, I fenced off a roomy enclosure for the pair and adapted the shed into sleeping quarters. Even so, my efforts fell short. Keeping pigs requires enough land so they can be
“They’re purposebuilt to dig in the soil, not flop about watching EastEnders”
moved from one plot to another. This allows the ground to recover from the excavations, urine and dung, and stop it from becoming ‘pig sick’. The only way we could service this, as I resolved one sad day, was to sacrifice the entire lawn.
During our life as pig keepers, Butch and Roxi mounted an escape bid into the village and exhumed the remains of a much-loved family cat. They bellowed for breakfast before dawn, knowing I would sprint out to feed them before the neighbours rightfully complained, and learned to steal the eggs from our chickens. Despite the never-ending challenges, Emma and I united in putting their welfare first. Eventually, however, something had to give. We didn’t run out of love. We just ran out of room.
In many ways, Butch and Roxi remained with us long after their departure. As the memories softened and the grass regrew, I found myself left with an interest in what makes pigs tick. Having been outwitted by two at every turn but now free from the responsibilities of pig keeping, I was determined to examine them in a new light. So, I set out on a journey of discovery; one that resulted in a book, The Unexpected
Genius of Pigs, and led me to a new-found respect for a creature that had come close to owning me in every way.
LOYAL, LOVING AND INVENTIVE
Having reached the summit of my steep learning curve, I visited a leading expert in pig cognition. Professor Michael Mendl at Bristol Veterinary School is an academic whose carefully controlled enquiries also sound like fun. In his field of study, ultimately seeking to improve welfare standards in farming, Professor Mendl and his colleagues are celebrated for demonstrating that pigs can be deceptive. This involved releasing a pig into a maze with a food source in a hidden location. Once the pig had learned to find the food, a dominant pig was introduced alongside it. This one duly followed the informed pig to the prize, and then shoved it out of the way to feast. While this might indicate that pigs are indeed selfish, the next time the pair went into the maze, the little one purposely led the big one astray before scuttling back for first pickings. It’s a delightful demonstration of pig smarts, I think, and one of many Michael shared with me.
Pigs aren’t just sneaky but talkative, inventive and with a concept of family very different to ours. One boar oversees a harem of sows and their offspring, but the system dictates that the girls are secretly in charge. The boar only has to become too greedy or old and they’ll be drawn to a younger model. Pigs also build nests, sing to their young and display emotions that range from loyalty to love and heartbreak, much of which I discovered on spending time with a farmer on the Welsh border.
Wendy Scudamore is passionate about pigs. Her sows wander freely in the paradise she’s created for them. Over the years, her porcine family have given rise to stories of humour, high drama, loyalty and love. Where my wife and I went wrong, falling for porkies without due diligence, Wendy does everything right. She has acres of space plus the ability to level with a pig.
I might have started this adventure reluctantly, but I finished as a fan of an animal firmly on our wavelength. As Wendy put it to me, a pig just wants to feel safe and have a companion to curl up with at the end of each day. Isn’t that what all of us want?