Tuckered out…
Well, the anxiety continues here at our sad, cold little farm. Tonight the temperature is to plunge below freezing in the valley, dealing yet another blow to our makeshift efforts to protect the new piglets from becoming dangerously chilled. As a last ditch and somewhat dangerous attempt to get them through, we’ve hung two heat lamps in the shelter and draped a tarp over half of the entrance. I am, frankly, exhausted with the worry and disappointment and late nights and early mornings midwifing this litter has entailed. I feel sick second-guessing our timing with the breeding. And today when I stopped for a moment to notice how pretty every building and paddock looked in the late afternoon sun, I dissolved into tears. If only the weather had been more gentle!
Napster, our tiny little house-pig, isn’t doing very well. Though still nursing strongly from the bottle, she seems weaker and weaker and more uncoordinated. We’ve got her in a hamper with a heat lamp, so her temperature is stable at about 98 degrees. Piglets have no ability to regulate their own temperature until about 2 weeks of age, and that will give her the best shot at survival. She’s got gummy eyes, and so has developed some sort of infection.That’s no surprise since she was born so small and cold, she didn’t suckle much of her mother’s immunity-laden colostrum before we rushed her inside.
Piggy Lou, after birthing the six live pigs on Friday morning, went on in the next few hours to deliver three more that didn’t make it. Then this morning, she actually delivered another dead piglet, which really shocked me and led me to believe she might herself have an infection from retained material in her uterus. A wonderful local vet (calling me back at dinnertime on a Saturday!) educated me that pigs can actually deliver still-borns days after the initial farrowing, and said that unless she ran a fever or showed signs of being sick I shouldn’t worry.
She definitely looks healthy, and is attentive to the piglets, pushing them around with her nose to keep them all far inside the house while she stretches out and blocks the entrance. In preparation for tonight’s chill, my husband Shannon and I added another heat lamp to the short rafters of the shelter. Unfortunately, both lamps are easily within reach of Piggy Lou’s invincible snout. Should she decide to investigate them, it would be nothing for her to knock them down, though we tried to make them secure. We’ve heard multiple stories of farmers who’ve lost pigs and barns to knocked-down heat lamps, but, like them, we see no alternative tonight. We also loaded the house with fluffy hay to keep the piglets insulated, but we tried to keep that well away from where the lamps could fall.
Piggy Lou, though generally rather tame, is no longer to be trifled with when guarding the babies.
Tucked inside their warm, wind-blocked house, the family looks well and I’m thankful for the five strong boys we’ve ended up with. I’m thankful for Piggy Lou’s solicitous mothering, though it means that to attempt to take the babies away from her and into our house for the night would mean putting ourselves in great danger. I’m thankful for the peace on the rest of the farm tonight. And I’m thankful for my warm bed…
