Our kunekune1 pigs are just amazing. Several times in the last year, on hearing that I’m a new pig owner, I’ve had farmers instruct me in swine safety protocols:
“Be sure to keep your kids away from them. They’ll knock a kid down, and once something’s on the ground, it’s food.”
“Don’t ever go in the pen if you’ve got a wound. They’ll smell the blood and go for you.”
“Don’t let your chickens near them. A pig will tear a chicken apart.”
I can’t speak to the appropriateness of those warnings in relation to more traditional hogs, but I can state definitively that they certainly don’t apply to my kunekunes! The only danger our herd might present to a visitor in their pasture would be “excessive snuggling.”
Honestly, our kunekunes’ temperaments made our old rabbit colony look like it was a local chapter of the Hell’s Angels.
Whenever any of us hop the fence into their pasture and sit down in the grass, we are greeted by a chorus of cheerful baritone chatter (even from the ladies). Once they have sniffed us over for food,2 one of them will invariably flop next to us (sometimes ON us) hoping for a belly rub. If we DO rub their belly, then they promptly fall asleep.
Terrifying, I know.
The only other physical “aggression” that we have experienced so far is that they sometimes enjoy using us as scratching posts, like a bear might use a tree. Though it can be inconvenient to have a fuzzy little Sherman tank leaning its weight against your leg as you’re trying to fill its water dish, I don’t personally view “bum-scratching” as one of the more threatening social behaviors. But maybe I’m just desensitized to pig violence.
Actually, the only real problem we’ve had with them so far has been their cuteness. They’re just so darn friendly that it makes it hard not to over-feed them! Naturally, kunekunes are grazing pigs (a pretty unique trait for a pig), so, besides munching on grass, they only require a little bit of added protein in their diet for them to thrive. We offer this protein in the form of leftover bread from the food pantry we run.
This arrangement has worked well.3 A little TOO well, probably. The pigs LOVE bread and donuts. And since I love seeing them happy,4 I’ve been a bit more generous with their rations than I should. It was just so hard to look into their expectant, pleading eyes and say no!
…Until I could no longer SEE those pleading eyes, that is.
The name kunekune is derived from a Maori word, as the breed originated in New Zealand. The term means “short and round,” so it’s not like they’re supposed to be the runway models of the swine world or anything, but even so, the fact that the combined expanse of their eyebrows and jowls can no longer accommodate sight is kind of a nutritional red flag.
Similar to my own anatomical wake-up call, this realization has necessitated action, and I have recently been forced to put our pigs on a diet. Hopefully, cutting off the donut supply won’t be the flash point that activates all this hog-wild violence I keep hearing about!
Not Crazy About Exercise
I’m pretty sure if I had a spirit-animal, it would probably be something akin to a manatee: pale, slow, heavy-set, whiskers…it’s a pretty solid match.
A Manly Talk Concerning Breasts
I’m not generally a vain person, and I wouldn’t say that I have any great aspirations of physical prowess, but even so, discovering that “bosomy” could now be used in a description of me was a bit of a reality check.
Is this the real life?
I’m a spiritual creature, but I’m MOSTLY physical. That’s how I often think about things. But that’s NOT how the Bible often speaks on the subject.
