with one hand, and started to squirt the milk in with the other. He was so busily
squeaking for help that every time the milk was squirted into his mouth, the next squeal would spit it all out again. At last I was fortunate enough to get a few drops to trickle down his throat,
and waited for him to get the taste of it, which he soon made apparent by stopping to yell and struggle, and by starting to smack his lips and grunt. I dribbled a little more milk into his mouth
and he sucked it down greedily, and within a short while he was pulling away at the bottle as though he would never stop; while his tummy grew bigger and bigger. At length, when the last drop had
disappeared from the bottle, he heaved a long sigh of satisfaction and fell into a deep sleep on my lap, snoring like a hive full of bees.
After that he was no more trouble, and after a few days had lost all his fear of humans, and would run, grunting and squeaking delightedly, to the bars of his pen when he saw me coming, and flop
over on his back to have his tummy scratched. At feeding time, when he saw the bottle coming, he would push his nose through the bars and scream shrilly with excitement, and, to hear him, you would
think he had never had a square meal in his life.
After Puff had been with me for about two weeks, Blow arrived on the scene. She had also been caught in the forest by a native hunter and had objected to it most strongly. Long before she, or
her captor, had appeared in sight, I could hear her loud squealing protest, and she never stopped once until I had bought her and put her into the cage next to Puff’s. I did not house them
together straight away, for she was a bit bigger than Puff, and I thought she might hurt him.
As soon as he saw there was another pig like himself in the next cage he hurled himself at the bars between, grunting and squeaking with delight, and when Blow saw him, she stopped screaming and
went over to investigate. They were as pleased to see each other as though they had been brother and sister. They rubbed noses through the bars between them, and since they seemed so friendly I
decided to put them together straight away. In doing this I seemed justified, for they both ran forward and sniffed round each other excitedly: Puff gave a loud grunt and prodded Blow in the ribs
with his nose; Blow grunted in return and skipped off across the cage. Then the fun started, round and round the cage Puff chased Blow; they ran, dodging and doubling, twisting and turning until
both of them were quite exhausted and fell asleep on their bed of dry anana leaves, snoring and snoring until the whole cage vibrated.
Blow soon learnt to drink from the bottle like Puff, but, as she was a few weeks older, her diet included some solid food as well. So every day, after they had both had their bottles, I would
put a flat pan full of soft fruit and vegetables into the cage and Blow would spend the morning with her nose stuck in this, squelching and snuffling about, dreamily, in true piggy fashion.
Puff did not like this at all. He was too young to eat solid food himself but did not see why Blow should do so if he could not. He felt that he was being done out of something and would stand
and watch her, as she ate, with an angry expression on his face, grunting to himself peevishly.
Sometimes he would try to drive her away from the food by pushing her with his head, and then Blow would wake up out of her dream among the mashed bananas and chase him angrily across the cage,
squealing furiously. The longer Blow spent at her food dish, the more depressed Puff became.
The idea must have come to him one day that he too could get an extra meal by the simple method of sucking Blow’s tail. I suppose her tail looked to him not unlike the end of the bottle
from which he got his meal; anyway, he became convinced that if he sucked it long enough he would get an extra supply of delicious milk from it.
So there Blow would stand, grunting to
squeaking for help that every time the milk was squirted into his mouth, the next squeal would spit it all out again. At last I was fortunate enough to get a few drops to trickle down his throat,
and waited for him to get the taste of it, which he soon made apparent by stopping to yell and struggle, and by starting to smack his lips and grunt. I dribbled a little more milk into his mouth
and he sucked it down greedily, and within a short while he was pulling away at the bottle as though he would never stop; while his tummy grew bigger and bigger. At length, when the last drop had
disappeared from the bottle, he heaved a long sigh of satisfaction and fell into a deep sleep on my lap, snoring like a hive full of bees.
After that he was no more trouble, and after a few days had lost all his fear of humans, and would run, grunting and squeaking delightedly, to the bars of his pen when he saw me coming, and flop
over on his back to have his tummy scratched. At feeding time, when he saw the bottle coming, he would push his nose through the bars and scream shrilly with excitement, and, to hear him, you would
think he had never had a square meal in his life.
After Puff had been with me for about two weeks, Blow arrived on the scene. She had also been caught in the forest by a native hunter and had objected to it most strongly. Long before she, or
her captor, had appeared in sight, I could hear her loud squealing protest, and she never stopped once until I had bought her and put her into the cage next to Puff’s. I did not house them
together straight away, for she was a bit bigger than Puff, and I thought she might hurt him.
As soon as he saw there was another pig like himself in the next cage he hurled himself at the bars between, grunting and squeaking with delight, and when Blow saw him, she stopped screaming and
went over to investigate. They were as pleased to see each other as though they had been brother and sister. They rubbed noses through the bars between them, and since they seemed so friendly I
decided to put them together straight away. In doing this I seemed justified, for they both ran forward and sniffed round each other excitedly: Puff gave a loud grunt and prodded Blow in the ribs
with his nose; Blow grunted in return and skipped off across the cage. Then the fun started, round and round the cage Puff chased Blow; they ran, dodging and doubling, twisting and turning until
both of them were quite exhausted and fell asleep on their bed of dry anana leaves, snoring and snoring until the whole cage vibrated.
Blow soon learnt to drink from the bottle like Puff, but, as she was a few weeks older, her diet included some solid food as well. So every day, after they had both had their bottles, I would
put a flat pan full of soft fruit and vegetables into the cage and Blow would spend the morning with her nose stuck in this, squelching and snuffling about, dreamily, in true piggy fashion.
Puff did not like this at all. He was too young to eat solid food himself but did not see why Blow should do so if he could not. He felt that he was being done out of something and would stand
and watch her, as she ate, with an angry expression on his face, grunting to himself peevishly.
Sometimes he would try to drive her away from the food by pushing her with his head, and then Blow would wake up out of her dream among the mashed bananas and chase him angrily across the cage,
squealing furiously. The longer Blow spent at her food dish, the more depressed Puff became.
The idea must have come to him one day that he too could get an extra meal by the simple method of sucking Blow’s tail. I suppose her tail looked to him not unlike the end of the bottle
from which he got his meal; anyway, he became convinced that if he sucked it long enough he would get an extra supply of delicious milk from it.
So there Blow would stand, grunting to
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