Piggy personalities in the morning

Just like humans, pigs have unique personalities. There are very social ones, very courageous ones, very shy ones, loners, hoarders, sadsacks, bossy ones, and some that are very hard to get to know.

One of the best things about weekend mornings is the ability to spend a bit more time doing the morning chores and watching the pigs. RobRoy and Fizz, both outgoing little guys and smart as can be, don’t hesitate to rush up to the stall slats in the eating area and stand on the edge of a board to say good morning and eagerly accept their treat. Each is rewarded with a piece of apple, banana or carrot. The other piglets and Soda soon follow.



Snouties through the slats

Scotch, on the other hand, hangs out in the sleeping stall, buried in straw until I hold a piece of apple under his snout. He insists on being fed breakfast in bed, especially in the winter months. He is not a morning pig and would be just as happy if I would let them all sleep until noon.


Lazy boy Scotch

There are five all-black piglets who I have difficulty telling apart unless they are all together. Tom is the largest, roundest one, followed closely by Lizzie (who I can tell apart from the others if she wags her tail!). Swizzle, the next largest, has a slight pink mark on his snout, but it has faded over time and is hard to see now. Spritzer is a little shorter and rounder than Swizzle, and Fizz is the smallest of all but has the thickest black bristles.


Rickey and Fizz

One of the all-blacks - I think it is Spritzer - races back from the eating area to Scotch’s stall as soon as the fruit is gone, knowing that I will put Scotch’s pellets down first - the babe tries to grab a mouthful before racing back to the feeding stall. He does this every single morning without fail.

The babes and Soda all gobble down their pellets.



Toddy, with the little white tip on his tail, is the first one to fly out the barn door to check out whatever I’ve spread outside – usually some lettuce greens or hay or alfalfa with a few more chopped fruits and veggies thrown in. He races back and forth between the outdoor and indoor feeding areas, making sure he isn’t missing anything special and excitedly oinking to the others “c’mon, c’mon!” Whisper, RobRoy, Derby and Rickey, all with noticeable white markings on their foreheads and/or feet, are the next out the door. Eventually all the babies and Soda are outside munching the final course.


The final course

But not Scotch. He hates this cold weather and plods around the sleeping stall, sadly bemoaning another day when the ground outside is frozen and white. His middle name should be Eeyore. He looks up at me with his forlorn little-boy-lost look and silent pleads “Would you mind pulling a nice warm blanket over me again??? It’s just soooo much work to cover myself up.” And of course, I do. And he oofs gently, lifts his snout in a thankyou, and settles back down for his morning nap.



Scotch and his blanket

Meanwhile, the little piggies each have their own way of handling the cold and the outdoor food. One of the all-black ones (Swizzle?) always carries his trophy of a carrot or an apple back into a corner of the sleeping stall where he can savour it without being pushed and shoved by his siblings.



Swizzle savors his loot

Another runs back into the feed stall and roots around under the stall mat for any pellet crumbs that might have worked their way under there, unnoticed by the other piglets. He will spend a good twenty minutes working very hard at shoving his snout all along the edge of the heavy mat, as far underneath as he can manage.

Slowly the piggies drift back in and start to settle back down in their straw and blankets for the morning. Soda finds their wiggling and wandering tiresome and repeatedly tells them and me to buzz off. Whoever created Miss Piggy on the Muppets must have used Soda for a prototype – he captured her personality perfectly - grumpy, assertive, bossy, pushy, vocal, but perfectly capable of fluttering her eyelashes and cozying up to me if she thinks I have something she wants. That’s my Soda!

Several times during the day, I will look out to find one lone black piggy still munching the hay outside, all by his lonesome. I’m not sure which one it is, or if they all take turns, but there is nearly always a sole piggy out there.

I think I’m going to have to find someone to knit them little sweaters with their names. That way they will keep warm AND I will know who’s who -- though I wouldn’t put it past the more mischievous ones to trade sweaters when I’m not looking!