Andy and I were talking this morning about how I haven’t written anything all winter, beyond our newsletters (some call these “E-blasts,” which I find repulsive, like a flavor of Mountain Dew designed for those in IT) or social media posts. The truth is that it’s been a hard winter for the sanctuary, and I’ve been hesitant to write another post about the many deaths of residents we’ve grieved, or my musings on the cyclical nature of life.
But despite the difficulty, there is daily joy, and that’s where my focus will be for the moment.
In November, we took in Pierre, a piglet who was “rescued” by a family who sent their five year old daughter to catch him in a pig scramble, with no further plan beyond telling the daughter that she must catch him in order to save his life. No pressure, kid.
Pierre arrived in a wire crate tied to the back of an open trailer, shivering, terrified, with a family of seven pouring out of their station wagon to send him on his way. He’d been vastly overfed and was basically five connected circles. Every year we’re asked to take in a few scramble piglets— Arthur, Harriet, Violet, Lilac (RIP), and possibly Hector were all scramble babies— but that rush is usually over by the end of summer, and we’re able to help people place them with other sanctuaries when we don’t have room. We really didn’t have room for Pierre, but he was out of luck and time, so he moved into the center aisle of our barn, a little guy destined to become a very big guy, ready for a new life.
Before I go further, I have to tell you about Miss Honey. Miss Honey came to us from a backyard in southern Maine where she was being raised as a family meat project until her family fell in love with her and became vegetarians. Very sadly, Miss Honey had had a sister with her, and that sister died in the same small, muddy, shelter-less pen I found Miss Honey in one day in November 2020. Miss Honey was so out of shape when she arrived that she couldn’t walk more than ten steps at a time without stopping to catch her breath. And she had major heat cycles, during which she would try to “befriend” anyone and anything, especially the tractor, that came her way. One time she bent the bars of one of our gates trying to get to the tractor as Andy drove it past.
Miss Honey, possibly due to the trauma of losing her sister, never accepted affection from our other pigs. Pigs make best friends and will always, always, sleep next to someone. Miss Honey never did. Bea has tried for years to sneak up on her and casually lie down just baaaaarely touching her, but Miss Honey never allows it.
Because of this, when cold weather comes we divide off a stall for Miss Honey to sleep in at night. If we didn’t reserve a private stall for her, she would literally choose to sleep out in the below-zero temps rather than risk sharing a stall with anyone.
So. Pierre was in the aisle, and Miss Honey was in her private suite. And then Benny, who is tiny, but decided once the Comets got big enough to form a gang, that he would rather be eaten by one 700-pound big kid than be harassed by nine 50-pound little kids, moved in with Pierre, whom he immediately tolerated. A big deal for our fastidious and anxious Benny, who now snuggles with Pierre every night. I suspect he’s playing a long game: he knows how big Pierre will be one day, and he wants to be at the right hand of power.
And then we started opening the aisle door for Miss Honey so she could use the bathroom in the aisle, because she likes a tidy stall. But we supervised closely, because I was sure that she was going to find Pierre a nuisance at best and a potential soccer ball at worst. When tiny baby Gilbert met Miss Honey for the first time in June 2021, she screamed and ran away.
But the most unexpected thing happened: Miss Honey loved Pierre. Even at his most intrusive, noisy, and mischievous, she loved him. He would stick his snout right into hers and I’d prepare to separate them, but she’s just sniff him right back and stand over him protectively. I’ve never seen her show a minute of aggression, annoyance, or impatience to him. She even lets him search for dropped grain with her, which is a huge concession in pig culture.
I really never expected Miss Honey to befriend anyone, especially a baby. But the patience she’s shown with both Pierre and Benny, and the affection that’s grown between them, has been an honor to witness.
We even caught Miss Honey letting Benny snooze next to her the other day, while Pierre rummaged around in the straw by her face. She denied it afterwards, of course. She’s not gone entirely soft. Gosh, we love her so much.