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By pigwhisperer, September 20, 2009

Blogs are supposed to be updated at regular, frequent intervals, and I’ve been delinquent. I’m going to be better about this.

Our favorite pig, Mona, gave birth to 8 healthy piglets this past week. She was in labor for about 4 hours. We knew she was going to have her piglets because, even though her belly was enormous and it was hard for her to walk, Mona became restless and began walking around her pen. A few hours before the birth she started giving milk.

The piglets slipped out with their hooves straight in front of them, like they were rushing down a water slide arms-first. Newborn piglets are covered in a yellow-hued membrane, like a sack that encases them. For the most part, no human intervention is necessary when a pig gives birth. But it’s good to pull the membrane from the piglet’s body and especially their face, as it could suffocate them. We scoop up the newborn piglet, wipe their faces, and give a quick, strong puff of air onto their little noses to make sure they breathe. Then we wipe them down, cut their umbilical cords and tie the ends with a cotton string dipped in iodine. We also put a squirt of iodine into their freshly cut bellybuttons to prevent infection, and also to stop flies from laying eggs in there. Nature is lovely, but it can also be extremely opportunistic—flies need to lay their eggs somewhere, and an open wound is a nice, warm place with lots of food. Gross, yes. But if you think about it, aren’t those mother flies just like our mother pigs, trying to continue their line and give their young a strong start? Flies are nature’s clean-up crew. Without them, wouldn’t we be neck-deep in a lot of nastiness? I’m a fan of flies, as long as they stay clear of my little pigs’ belly buttons, hence the iodine.

After the belly button treatment, we place the piglets in a small pen filled with sawdust, which keeps them nice and warm. Then, one by one, we let them nurse. The baby pigs must nurse immediately because during the first 12-24 hours of their lives, their mother’s milk is filled with colostrum. What’s this? It’s a mammal mother’s first milk, which contains natural antibodies that help babies survive. Even humans have it.

Mona is doing fine, as are the piggies.
Our next post: The Life of a Coffee Bean, Part 2. You’re excited about this one. I can tell.

Thanks for reading, everyone.

xoxo
Frances

Comments (2)

By pigwhisperer, July 12, 2009

One of our mother pigs, Iracema, gave birth to 6 healthy piglets. Iracema got so big during her pregnancy we though 20 piglets would be born, but sometimes less is more; these 6 pigs will not have to compete with a dozen other siblings for their mother’s milk. We have 5 mother pigs on the farm: Mona II, Julieta II, Serena (aka Crazy Eyes), Iracema, and Clara. Our stud is named Barto. He’s a big guy who likes getting his ears scratched. We have brushes outside of each of our pig pens, so we can rub the pigs’ backs and bellies. Most of the pigs like this brushing business; some just squirm and squeal. Our pigs are a mix of Lean variety and Landrasse (or Landrace). The Landrace breed was developed in Denmark by crossing the native pig with the Large White. Danes refused to export live pigs until World War II, when the best specimens of the breed were exported to Sweden. The progeny from these pigs eventually reached England and Ireland. According to the online Encyclopedia Britannica, Landrace pigs have “white skin” and are a “lop-eared pig with a long middle, light forequarters, and excellent ham development.”

Outside of our 5 mother pigs and Barto, we have 19 pigs for “engorda” or fattening. These pigs are fed a combination of grains, fruits, greens, sugar cane, and banana tree trunks multiple times a day. We will harvest the engorda pigs for hams, and eventually prosciutto and sausages. I got the term “harvest” from Barbara Kingsolver’s book, “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.” I like the term “harvest” as opposed to other terms like “kill” or “butcher.” Not because “harvest” sounds prettier — these pigs will be killed and we will eat their meat, and there is no way to deny or obfuscate this fact. To me, the term “harvest” implies that care was taken in raising these animals. That their deaths are part of a longer process, and that they lived well during each stage of their development.