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!
A Simile of Sorts
[EDITOR’S NOTE: None of what you are about to read is intended as “fat shaming.” It is simply the retelling of a story that was communicated to me via a reliable source. Each reader is responsible for their own emotional response to the content. For my part, I’m just...
Beat(en) Cop
EDITOR’S NOTE: This post has nothing to do with our work overseas. It DOES have a lot to do with our website though, as my desire for a platform to share this story on was the impetus behind starting our own website. Thanks, Dad! My Dad was a State Trooper for 28...
On Wings Like Eagles…
I don’t know what we’d do without our helicopter. And I mean that literally. We have no roads to our jungle location. We have no roads to anywhere even CLOSE to our jungle location. Without our helicopter, and the people who maintain it and fly it, I’m not sure we’d...
