via http://ift.tt/2dYCXqd:
a small note about the baby piggies:
the pig house is at the base of the hill. the yurt is just a little farther from the base of the hill.
They are my NEIGHBORS.
If it was light out I would be over there squeaking at them right now. but i think they need to be left a little alone.
also: Cookies’s sort-of-sister Red is in the pen with her and the babies, and has kept her distance since the event started happening, because she is a sweet and kind lady hog and knows Cookies needs her space. She’s due within a week or so, though, and then there will be even MORE babies.
(They did this in January, too, and they wound up co-mothering like oh man, like sixteen babies between the two of them.)
The babies’ dad, PB (Peanut Butter), is on the other side of a fence. Cookies was grunting to her babies, as is normal, and he was grunting back, which was super cute. He will not be allowed in with them, though. Hogs are not particularly nurturing fathers. He can be nearby, though; he’s a 500-pound tusked deterrent to anything up that hill that might smell the blood from Cookies’ placenta.

a small note about the baby piggies:
the pig house is at the base of the hill. the yurt is just a little farther from the base of the hill.
They are my NEIGHBORS.
If it was light out I would be over there squeaking at them right now. but i think they need to be left a little alone.
also: Cookies’s sort-of-sister Red is in the pen with her and the babies, and has kept her distance since the event started happening, because she is a sweet and kind lady hog and knows Cookies needs her space. She’s due within a week or so, though, and then there will be even MORE babies.
(They did this in January, too, and they wound up co-mothering like oh man, like sixteen babies between the two of them.)
The babies’ dad, PB (Peanut Butter), is on the other side of a fence. Cookies was grunting to her babies, as is normal, and he was grunting back, which was super cute. He will not be allowed in with them, though. Hogs are not particularly nurturing fathers. He can be nearby, though; he’s a 500-pound tusked deterrent to anything up that hill that might smell the blood from Cookies’ placenta.
