When I met the piglet a few weeks ago, he was stretched out in front of the wood stove enjoying a life of leisure and diminutive cups of goat milk. He’d been the runt of the litter and was sure to die if the children on the farm hadn’t intervened and nursed him back to …
In my last post I tried to tie the fate of my pigs to the need for a paradigm shift in human thinking about our place in the world. That is, I admit, a tall order, one which is barely within the realm of possible. Our collective fictions, those powerful stories we’ve told ourselves as …
To start, a quick pig update: It’s just above zero degrees fahrenheit at 7am, and the pigs are still curled up in the warmth of their shelter. But the sun’s coming around the bend, and soon they’ll be out snuffling around in the hay, their black bodies absorbing the sun’s warmth. I’m just about to …