Spotted Pigs and Green Tomatoes Read Online Free PDF

is clearly defined. They have a mud wallow which allows them
     to cool off in the summer heat and keep their coats clean through regular mud dips, which, once dry, can be scratched off,
     leaving behind clean, hairy skin. They help each other out with the process, reaching a fellow pig's awkward body parts, like
     the inside of a back leg, with their snouts. Pigs maintain a definite pecking order: Babe is top pig and capable of horrendous
     bullying of the smaller pigs and cavalier behaviour when it comes to scrabbling for food. But I imagine that if the herd was
     threatened it would be Babe who'd be out front leading the defence. And they're social too, keeping in touch with each other
     through a medley of small, agreeable sounds which rise to squeals if one of the pack feels threatened or if there is the possibility
     of an unexpected snack.
    On the lawn that Sunday morning, the pigs are making small delighted squeals, their snouts working overtime, churning through
     the turf. The strong, flattened tip of a pig's nose is supported by a tough pad of cartilage which lets them shovel through
     hard ground. I read a story recently about two wild boar in the Bronx Zoo who took out their boredom on their outdoor concrete
     run. Beginning with one tiny crack and using only their snouts, they reduced concrete paving four inches deep to rubble in
     just three weeks. Apart from its strength, the snout is also the pig's main organ of external information. Their sense of
     smell is acute and the two small nostrils in the middle of the snout close up quickly to prevent dirt getting in. Inthe same way as a dog can learn from a lamppost just who was there before, how long before, their sex and, amazingly, their
     class, so a pig's snout can sort out details of his environment. That day their snouts are telling them that the best food
     is to be found a few inches below the lush green grass of the lawn.
    A couple of minutes after Charlie and I arrive, David appears, carrying a bucket of pig nuts. 'Pigs!' he shouts, rattling
     the bucket, so that the nuts make a satisfactory clanking noise against the sides. Seven heads look up in curiosity. Stuff
     the worms, they seem to say, as each one falls into line behind the bucket to trot off in the direction of their run.
    The fuss over, we walk back across the park to brew coffee and read the newspapers. They're full of stories about a parrot
     that has died in quarantine in Britain from avian flu. The bird had the lethal form of the virus and the prospect of having
     to lock up our chickens moves a little closer to reality. At least we have found a suitable place: David's father, Dennis,
     has a mechanical repair shed in a run-down set of farm buildings in the neighbouring hamlet of Atherston, and there will be
     room in his shed for the birds if the worst comes to the worst. But what will they then be? We can't describe them as free-range
     any more, so will we have to take a cut in the price of our eggs? And if that happens will DEFRA, as the old ministry of agriculture
     is now known, pick up the difference?
    What will happen to very small producers who can't afford to build a shed big enough to house their chickens or who can't
     find one? Since the debacle of the foot and mouth crisis, which so affected farmers, no one has any faith in the government
     to do the right thing at the right time. Looking back on foot and mouth, it is so clear that the simple act of curtailing
     all movement of animals around the country from the moment of the first diagnosed outbreak could well have stopped the disease
     in its tracks. Instead, countless animals were slaughtered, ruining farmers both financially and emotionally. Of course for
     the beef-buying public, ignorant of the human toll the crisis was creating, life went on as normal. The huge supermarket chains
     ensured that we never ran out of a single hamburger, steak, or packet of mince. They simply looked abroad for supplies.
    'Did you know that