Mama, I need to talk to you!

Remember when we were kids and confounded our parents by talking Pig Latin?? Ooday ooyay ememberray atthay?

Little did I know that one day I would be learning to understand Pig – not Pig Latin, but the language of piggies. Piggies have an amazing range of vocal sounds and a complexity of verbal and nonverbal means of communicating. They are the fourth most intelligent species on earth, outranked only by humans, other primates, and cetaceans (dolphins and whales).

One sound I love to hear is a soft, low “oof oof oof”. It is a sign of complete contentment – piggy feels safe and secure and at peace with the world. More often, around here, I hear “squeeeeeal, squeeeeeal, squeeeeal” which is the little piggies' way of saying “We’re STARVING!!!!”. It is often accompanied by a sound I can best describe as “aroooo, arooo” which I think means “Hurry up!”.

Soda is the queen of the nasty noises: “arf, arf, arf” means “I’m pissed off,” and a very loud, very deep, very rude sound that is reminiscent of what happens when some people eat too many beans. It clearly means “I’m really, really mad at you, now BACK OFF YOU *&%%%”. This is accompanied by a facing off and a hard shove on the leg with the snout.

When piggies are nervous or anxious, one hears the “click click click” of jaws or “grind grind grind” of teeth . They will also squeal when scared, but it is different from the squeal that says “I’m hungry” – it is more high pitched, more frantic, less drawn out. And when piggies are restless and bored, they sound like a little kid smacking her lips “Smuck, smuck smuck”.

They are very vocal virtually all their waking hours. It is music to my ears to hear the cacophony of sounds as they putter around the yard, digging here, munching there, enticing their siblings to play, or just saying hi to me. The classic “oink oink oink, erf, erf, erf, oof oof ” is a constant hum, rather like Winnie the Pooh doing his “tum diddly dum” as he walks through the woods.

When Soda was nursing the babes, she constantly made a low rhythmic, almost guttural grunting sound – erf, erf, erf, - rather like we may make when using all our strength to move a heavy object.

And the most wonderful piggy communication of all? Laughter!! Piggies have a wicked sense of humor, I’m convinced, which is accompanied by a soft “ha ha ha”. Sometimes they will make this noise in greeting a familiar friend, but mostly I have heard it when they are – I’m sure - playing a little joke on me.

The first time I heard a piggy laugh was while I was volunteering at a multi-species animal sanctuary. I had come to know Petunia, an extremely obese potbelly pig who lived in the barn, quite well. I often sat in her stall and sang to her or gave her belly rubs or even made up stories for her. She accompanied me around the barn, chattering to me all the while, as I mucked out the stalls of the horses, donkeys, sheep and llama.

One day just as I finished up the last stall, I turned to Tunie and asked her if she thought we were nearly done. She waddled over to a corner of the stall, left a large deposit of fresh piggy poop, and with a lift of her snoutie and a grin on her face, she looked right at me and chortled. "HA HA HA HA HA!" That pig had one great sense of humour!

I have heard Scotch and Soda laugh a few times, nearly always when they are trying to get away with something they know I don’t want them to do – dragging a blanket out into the mud, dumping their water dish just after I’ve filled it, pushing at the stall gate. “Ha ha ha ha ha……hey mom, I know you’re not really gonna get mad…I’m just playin a joke on you…ha ha ha ha.”

It isn’t just their verbal communication that amazes me but also the nonverbal communication of their emotions. Scotch arches his back downward, stretches out full length, raises his snoutie, and kneads the ground in pleasure every time he is let out into the big yard. Soda, I swear, tosses her head in the classic Ms Piggy move and with an exaggerated swivel of the hips, saunters past me with the message “I am QUEEN. Out of my way, peon!”.
The piglets kick up their heels in pure joy when happy and free, and lift their noses and smile when they are happy to see me.

But the most moving nonverbal communication of all is the tears.
Piggies cry real tears. On the night that I separated Scotch and Soda for what was likely the first time in their lives – the separation being necessitated by Soda’s imminent piggybirth – I sat in the stall with Scotch and watched big wet tears silently slide down his cheeks. I sang him his favourite song and slowly the tears stopped and he lay there not understanding why his bunkmate wasn’t at his side. He was lonely and very sad.

The next day I bought him a Soda-sized teddy bear and tucked it along side him, and he slept that way for several nights. One morning, I came in to find Teddy lying with his face in the water dish on the other side of the stall, nose and mouth immersed in water. To this day, I’m not sure if Scotch thought Teddy might be thirsty, or if he had been trying to drown him.

Fortunately it wasn’t long before I was able to integrate Soda and the babies back into the main stall. They are one happy, closely bonded family that sleeps in one big pile, each touching three or four or more others.

As I stand in the darkening barn, listening to their soft snores and oofs and squeaks and sighs, I can’t help but think that it is the sweetest sound on earth. Family togetherness, contentment, security, pleasure ..... all communicated through the gentle sounds and snuggling bodies of twelve little piggies.