The Unexpected Genius of Pigs

‘Pigs are motivated in my tests by the food reward,’ he says, ‘but the experience of the test itself is also rewarding. We don’t know for certain, but pigs seem to enjoy it. When we work with them in the maze test you get the impression they are keen to do the task and not necessarily just for the food. It’s difficult to disentangle,’ he continues, ‘but when we work with them for several days, they learn in what order they’re supposed to leave their pens and start to queue up accordingly. So, one will think, “Well, Bertie is first and then it’s me.” They learn that sequence and know when to come out.’ The Professor tells me that he has even seen cases where one pig will push another out of the way if they’re in the wrong order.

‘So, they’re switched on and also determined,’ I say.

‘It suggests they’re motivated by something to do that is reasonably interesting,’ the Professor replies, choosing his words with the precision his work demands.

At the same time, I think of Wendy and her agility pig in a show ring of straw bales, and wonder who had the most fun.

Egg heads

For a while, Butch and Roxi spent their days cohabiting happily with my chickens. The pigs proved to be a fantastic fox deterrent, which made this set-up seem ideal. With their sleeping quarters at one end of the enclosure, and the coop at the other, the two sides quietly learned to get along. The pigs had a size advantage, of course, and so if they moved into a spot to root around, the chickens would duly dance out of the way. Nevertheless, as rescues from a battery farm the chickens didn’t suffer fools. They could get cross very quickly, proving sharp with their beaks, and so a mutual respect evolved.

Until, that is, the pigs cottoned on to the fact that the hens laid treasure inside their coop.

I had considered that the eggs might be an issue. Then again, the nesting box was tucked at the back of the hen house. I didn’t think Butch and Roxi would be wise to the reason why the hens took themselves in there each morning. Through my eyes, the system was pig-proof.

In some ways, the chickens only had themselves to blame. Among the flock was a vocal leghorn who liked to announce that she had laid successfully by squawking for several minutes afterwards. Maybe there was something in the tone that eventually told Butch and Roxi that it was worth investigating, which they carried out much like a police raid on a drug den at dawn.

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