After careful research and many visits to farms and zoos housing heritage breed pigs, I decided American Guinea Hogs were the choice breed. American Guinea Hogs are excellent foragers, have a friendly disposition and are great mothers. They are cute, black and small, the perfect homesteading pig.
I purchased a registered breeding pair. The thought of two full grown pigs in my Hyundai Santa Fe made the sellers shutter, so they graciously offered to transport them to me in a horse trailer. Although in the pig world, Guinea Hogs are small, a full grown boar still weighs around 200lbs. Not easy to lift in a dog crate.
The pigs arrived on a rainy Saturday morning in late March. The male sauntered out of the trailer and into the pen where he promptly laid down to take a nap. The female had other ideas.
She charged through the hog panel set up to divide them in the trailer, pushed aside two grown men and took off. At this point I was told the gilt was not used to any human handling as she had been raised by her mom in the field and that catching her might prove tricky.
What an understatement. No amount of food bribes seemed to hold her interest long enough to get her into the pen. The farmer, frustrated his “drop off” delivery was turning into a morning long endeavor, tried everything he could think of to get her into the pen. But, the harder we tried, the more stubborn she became. She would race around the yard, across the cornfield, across the road into the neighbor’s field, then back across the road. She would circle the pen, and then take off back across the road.
Soon the neighbors showed up to help and we had six people all trying to get this pig into the pen. We built temporary panels to try to funnel her into the pen, we had lassoes to try to rope her legs, we tried every delicious pig treat we could think. Nothing worked. She was determined to elude capture even if it meant hunger, thirst and exhaustion.
One by one the helpers gave up. Hours of chasing a crazed pig through muddy fields was both tiresome and frustrating. Around 3:00pm, the gentleman who delivered the pigs informed me he was very sorry but there was nothing he could do and he needed to leave. The last helper, my daughter stayed true for a bit and then even she gave up and went into house.
I found myself left alone with a loose pig. By now the sun had come out and warmed the early spring air. I followed her into the neighbor’s pasture where in complete exhaustion she laid down, her head resting on the ground, her eyes wide open looking at me.
I sat down a few feet from her. I slowly crept up to her and petted her on the head. She smiled, rolled over and fell sound asleep. I sat there petting her thinking, now what? In this Thomas Hardy moment, I decided to enjoy the time in the pasture with my new pig. So there we were napping in the sun snuggled up on the cold March ground wondering what would happen next.
I woke up about an hour later with her still sleeping by my side. I looked at her- so peaceful in the twilight and decided to name her Tess, thinking of the stubborn, willful, yet idyllically beautiful peasant girl in Tess of the d'Urbervilles.
Cold and hungry, I decided to give up. She would have to spend her first night alone outside. If she got hit by a car or ran away never to return, I had to accept that fate. I pet her one last time, said good night and started walking back across the field toward the house.
Much to my surprise, Tess followed. As I neared the pen, the male started making grunting sounds, to which Tess seemed to respond. I thought to myself, there is no way it can be this easy, but I decided to give it one last try. I led the male into the shelter, blocked the door and opened up the pen gate. I then stepped aside as Tess sauntered into the pen, waited for me to open up the door to the shelter, went inside and laid down next to her new mate. I closed the gate and said “Goodnight,” exhausted, but relieved the ordeal was over and she would be safe for the night.
After a whole day of chasing, hours of stress and anxiety for all parties involved, Tess had accepted her new home and I accepted that raising American Guinea Hogs was going to offer much more then fresh pork for the table.
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