The story continues with the feeding (see earlier blogs). Feeding Alie, Rinus, Anna and Bom was my task. For the afternoon snack I collected half a bucket of acorns along the street. They looked like vacuum cleaners, quickly hovering up the spread around acorns. For dinner they first ate some bananas, spread around again to make it possible for me to reach the feeding hod with cooked potatoes. The moment the potatoes hit the hod they stormed at it to be the first. The second round of soaked muesli in milk ended in my a narrow escape from being run over.

A proverb goes like ‘one pig won’t get fat’. Alone, they eat gently from your hand. It is the peer group which makes the pigs extremely competitive. How human. Among peers they aggressively have to assert themselves. It reminded me of someone’s story. Growing up in a family with ten kids in the early sixties, the fiancées of bigger sisters were put to the test at the dinner table. Leaving the precious meat for the last bite they always found an empty plate once their fork finally reached out for it.

Alie, is the leader of this small group and therefore the biggest. Anna is the smallest. She is always struggling to get enough. She only eats when she has assured herself that no one is coming after her. When I threw in some spread around bread pieces she just ate one, walking around with it searching a safe place while the others were grabbing the next pieces coming from me.

The mobile ‘farm’ is built as self contained solar artist-in-residence (see earlier blog) with an upstairs sea container as a living unit and a downstairs working shed, now in use as pig barn. Looking at Coevorden’s industry on the horizon, I spent a stormy night literally located on the border between the Netherlands and Germany. Border markers run through the middle of the field. The pigs freely walk to Germany and back, with no worries about different rules and regulations. 

Their snouts are not ringed – something which still is allowed in Germany. This means they can do what they most like; digging up the soil. Their border walkway looks like a freshly ploughed field with an occasional mud pool where they dug a particularly deep hole. They spend most of the day re-doing their previous digging, if not sleeping, taking a mud bath, eating grass and being fed. 

border marker

Pigs have bad vision but have extremely good ears. Bom keeps an ear on me when they all go for an afternoon nap. Piled on top of each other they lightly sleep. If one moves it takes a while with small talk oink’s before they sleep again. I try to be silent but a click of the camera is enough for Bom’s ear to raise. It stays alertly horizontal and a subsequent oink wakes up all for a new digging round.

I am living with Alie, Rinus, Anna and Bom today. I am assistant-farmer for 24 hours. This means I have the responsibility for the care and well-being of four ‘Bunte Bentheimer’ pigs. This breed is known to be very social but also a bit slower in growth and with a bit fattier meat. Such meat is not in fashion at the moment. The breed almost disappeared. 

Alie, Rinus, Anna and Bom are part of the art project “The year of the pig” of Elles Kiers and Sjef Meijman which connects visual and culinary art with animal husbandry (see also tomorrow’s Volkskrant). The industrial production of meat – and food in general – is more and more seen problematic. Pig production takes place behind closed doors and hygienic corridors. The confined and artificial circumstances alters their natural behaviour. Today’s livestock industry is a complex story with many different points of view. To make rearing pigs visible, such as is done here, is a guarantee for debate. 

Alie

 Nearby farmers came to visit. Afraid of contamination they were extremely careful. And angry. For the difference in what they have to comply with and take into account in contrast to the simple way in which the pigs are held here. Vegetarians have been angry too. For the fact that these pigs are reared to be eaten. Rinus – the gentle red-haired male – is most likely the first candidate being the larger of the two men.