We noticed Freddy wasn’t right on a Tuesday. He’s the smallest piglet in the litter, and he was hanging back from the feeder, not drinking, listless. When we took his temperature he was hypothermic, which in a piglet is a serious flag. So we brought him up to the house, set him under a heat lamp and started him on warm electrolyte solution.
He perked up and started moving around. But he still wasn’t eating well, and a piglet that won’t eat is in trouble.
Finding veterinary care for a pig is nearly impossible. Most vets see dogs and cats. Large-animal vets handle horses and cattle. Pigs fall through the cracks. We drove an hour and a half to the only vet in the area who would see him.
They ruled out the scary stuff: no obstruction in his esophagus, no abscesses in his throat or mouth. We’re giving him a squash-based digestive support paste with scrambled eggs and cottage cheese, taking him outside on a leash for fresh air and movement, and watching. That’s where we are. Touch and go.
But he’s won us over. He wants to climb into your lap. He wants to be held. He nudges into you and settles in like a dog who’s found his person. Sarah has been his primary nurse, and the two of them are inseparable.
We’ll keep you posted. For now, he’s fighting.
What happened next is in Freddy. Pork from our pasture-raised pigs is in the farm store. More from the farm is in Field Notes.
