A Unique Pig-By Wang Xiao Bo
When I was living in the countryside, I fed the pigs and cattle. Without interference, the two kinds of animals knew how to live. They would wander freely, eat food when hungry, drink when thirsty, and fall in love when spring came. Therefore, they lived a low-level life, which was completely boring. People arranged their lives: every cattle and pig had a main task. For most of them, life was miserable. The former worked hard, and the latter just got fatter. I don’t think it’s worthy of complaint because my life doesn’t seem as colorful as theirs. There were no entertainments except watching the eight-mode operas. There was another way of living for only a few cattle and pigs. For example, besides eating, the boar and sow had other things to do. In my view, they didn’t like the assignment. The boar’s duty was to engage in sexual intercourse. In one word, our policy allowed them to be playboys. However, the tired boars often acted as meat pigs (castrated pigs) and would rather not jump on the back of the sow. The duty of the sow was to give birth to little piglets, she would even eat her own offspring.
In general, the human-imposed structure brought pain to the pigs, but they endured it. After all, a pig is always a pig.
It seems that setting limits on life is a distinct characteristic of humans. It applies not only to animals but also to themselves. Take Ancient Greece, for example. In Sparta, life was orderly and boring. Men were raised to become warriors, fighting until their deaths, while women were expected to bear children without any choice. It was like a cockfight for men and being a sow for women. These roles may seem extraordinary, but I don’t think the animals enjoyed their lives.
Now, let me tell you a story about a unique pig. I started raising him when he was five years old. He was a meat pig, but unlike others, he was slim and dark, with a spark in his eyes. This pig was as swift as a goat, effortlessly leaping over the 1-meter-high pig sties. He never stayed in one place but wandered around like a cat, hardly spending any time in the pig sty.
Every young man who took care of the pig treated him as a pet because he was friendly only with those who fed him. He would get close to the feeder within a 3-meter range but ran away if strangers tried to approach. He was a male pig who had never been castrated. He had a keen sense of danger and could even sense a hidden knife on your back, roaring at you while staring into your eyes.
There were many sows in the pig sties, but he found them uninteresting due to their deformities from being overly pregnant, as well as their dirtiness and odor. The sows in the wild villages seemed more beautiful to him. I don’t know many stories about this unique pig, but I can tell you that every young caretaker loved him. They admired his extraordinary nature and described him as living a natural and unrestrained life. However, the farmers didn’t share the same sentiment. They considered him an unserious pig. The leader of the production team disliked him, but I respected him and called him “Pig Brother.” As I mentioned earlier, this special pig could imitate sounds. I believed he had learned to imitate human voices, but even if he hadn’t succeeded, we could still communicate freely. It wasn’t his fault that there were significant differences between pig sounds and human speech.
Later, Pig Brother learned to mimic the sounds of whistles. Although they weren’t exactly like the real thing, the farmers couldn’t tell the difference. This caused some trouble. The leader of the production team held a meeting and saw Pig Brother as an enemy, blaming him for disrupting the spring plowing. They decided to impose strict control and restrictions on him.
But let’s get to the heart of the matter. This is a fundamental problem. I couldn’t help but watch the situation unfold and admire Pig Brother’s courage and composure. He faced all the challenges with a calm demeanor, not letting the restrictions dampen his spirit.
Living in the countryside taught me a valuable lesson. Animals, just like humans, desire freedom and autonomy. They yearn for a life without constant interference and restrictions. Perhaps it’s time we rethink our approach and find a balance that respects their natural instincts and individuality.
In conclusion, my encounters with Pig Brother, the extraordinary pig, opened my eyes to the limitations we impose on animals and ourselves. They deserve a chance to live their lives authentically, just as we do. Let’s strive for a world where freedom and individuality are cherished, even in the animal kingdom.
Remember, next time you encounter a pig or any other creature, take a moment to appreciate their unique qualities and the richness they bring to our world.
So, the next time you find yourself in the countryside, surrounded by pigs and cattle, take a moment to observe their lives. Notice how they wander freely, eat when hungry, drink when thirsty, and even fall in love when spring arrives. They live by their own instincts, embracing a simplicity that seems almost enviable.
On the other hand, we humans have arranged their lives, assigning tasks and responsibilities to each animal. For most of them, life is a miserable cycle of hard work or endless consumption leading to obesity. It’s not a life that inspires excitement or fulfillment.
But let’s not be too quick to complain. Our own lives may not be as colorful as theirs, but we have our own forms of entertainment. For instance, we can enjoy watching eight-mode operas. Unfortunately, this is not the case for most animals. They are bound by their assigned roles and limited in their experiences.
However, there are exceptions. Take, for instance, the boar and sow. Besides eating, they engage in other activities. The boar’s main duty is to engage in intercourse, essentially living the life of a playboy. Yet, even the boars, tired from their duties, sometimes prefer not to jump on the backs of the sows. As for the sow, her duty is to give birth to piglets. But, sometimes, she deviates from her role and even ends up eating her own offspring.
In general, the arrangements we humans make bring pain to the animals, but they endure it because, well, they are just pigs after all. It seems that setting limits and assigning roles is a distinct human characteristic. We do it not only to animals but also to ourselves.
Let’s take a trip back to Ancient Greece, where a place called Sparta existed. Life there was orderly but incredibly dull. Men were groomed to become warriors, eventually meeting their demise on the battlefield. Women, on the other hand, had no choice but to become breeding machines. It was like a never-ending cycle of cockfighting and sow-like existence. They were exceptional beings, but deep down, they must have despised their monotonous lives.
Changing the fate of both humans and animals is a daunting task. But let me share a story with you about a special pig. I started raising him when he was just five years old.
This pig was unlike any other. He was a meat pig, but slim and dark, with a spark in his eyes. He moved with the agility of a goat, effortlessly leaping over one-meter-high pigsties. He had a restless nature, constantly wandering like a cat, never content to stay confined in the pigsty.
Every person who cared for this pig saw him as a pet. He showed affection only to those who fed him, allowing them to come within three meters of him. If a stranger tried to approach, he would run away. He was a male pig who had never been castrated. He possessed an uncanny ability to sense danger, even detecting a hidden knife and responding with a fierce roar and piercing gaze.
The pigsty was filled with sows, but they were deformed from excessive pregnancies. Dirty and foul-smelling, they held no interest for him. The sows in the wild villages seemed more appealing. There were numerous stories about this unique pig, but I only knew a few and couldn’t recount them all.
In short, every caretaker cherished him. They admired his extraordinary nature and described him as a pig who lived a natural and unrestrained life. However, the farmers had a different opinion. They deemed him unserious, and the leader of the production team particularly despised him. But for me, I respected him and referred to him as “Pig Brother.” Despite his inability to communicate in human language, I felt a deep connection with him. Though he couldn’t speak our words, I believed he understood them in his own way. Even if our attempts at communication failed, it didn’t diminish our bond. After all, the sounds a pig makes are quite different from those of a human.
As time went on, Pig Brother surprised me even more. He learned to imitate the sound of a steam whistle, causing some trouble in the process. There was a nearby candy workshop where workers would shift their duties at noon upon hearing the steam whistle. Our production team would return from the farmland upon hearing the same whistle. Pig Brother, being the mischievous pig that he was, started blowing the whistle at 10 o’clock every morning from the rooftop. This caused confusion among the team, as they would return earlier than expected. While his piggy whistle wasn’t an exact match, the farmers couldn’t tell the difference. The leader of the production team was infuriated, seeing Pig Brother as an enemy disrupting their spring plowing plans. They tried various methods to capture him.
I was torn between loyalty to Pig Brother and the pressure of standing against the leader. Should I pick up two knives and fight alongside him, showing my solidarity and friendship? But then again, he was just a pig, and I couldn’t challenge the leader’s authority. It was a dilemma I struggled with. In the end, I chose to watch from the sidelines, witnessing Pig Brother’s bravery and composure. He skillfully avoided the line of fire between the pistols and rifles, all while dodging barking dogs and shouting humans. He never crossed that line, ensuring that the people with pistols couldn’t shoot the ones armed with rifles, and vice versa. The chaotic scene unfolded, shots were fired, but Pig Brother remained unscathed.
Eventually, he managed to escape, running circles around his pursuers until he found a gap to slip away. I later found him in a sugar cane field. He recognized me, his teeth slightly bared, but he couldn’t come too close. It broke my heart, but I understood the need to keep a safe distance from those with malicious intentions.
I continued to care for Pig Brother, feeding him with refined rice congee until he was full. The leftover congee mixed with weeds would then be given to the other pigs, who would cry with jealousy and disappointment. But we paid them no mind. Pig Brother would often bask in the sun on the rooftop or mimic various sounds he had learned, such as car whistles and tractor noises. Sometimes, he would disappear for a while, probably off on a secret rendezvous with some sows.
As I grew older, I realized that finding someone who doesn’t conform to the limits imposed by society is a rare treasure. Most people try to dictate the lives of others, imposing their expectations and conforming to assigned roles. But not Pig Brother. He remained true to his nature, unyielding to the pressures of conformity.
And so, I always find myself reminiscing about that unique pig, longing for the freedom and authenticity he embodied. His presence served as a reminder that there’s beauty in embracing one’s true self, even in a world that tries to limit and define us.
As the years go by, the memory of Pig Brother remains etched in my heart. He taught me the value of individuality and the importance of living life on our own terms. And for that, I will forever cherish the time I spent with that extraordinary pig.
