13 piglets safe and sound this morning
Jen and I just returned from a wonderful, renewing seven nights on Maui yesterday, but our trip got off to a massively stressful start that left me feeling helpless, confused (and ultimately having it all work out).
To set the scene, our flight left last Sunday morning at 8:00 a.m. requiring us to leave the house by 5:30 a.m. That can be stressful enough. We were a little concerned that our three pregnant pigs would farrow while we were on vacation, which would probably be okay but not something we wanted to force our relatively inexperienced farm caretaker to deal with. We got off to a relieved start when the last pregnant sow was observed farrowing on Friday night (30 hours before we had to leave the house). She had delivered four live pigs (and two runts that quickly died) when we went to bed, figuring that there would be more in the morning. Her belly had was huge before she farrowed, and it was still big when we went to bed.
The next morning, I got up to go do the chores and survey the barn. The sow was laying on our her side suckling four pigs. She was grunting loudly like she was bearing down trying to push. I found the two dead runts and removed them. I wasn't sure what to make of the situation, but there was still quite a bit to do to prepare for the trip, so I left things as is.
When I checked on her later in the day, she was still laying on her side, and still grunting and sounding labored. My concern level started to increase, and I went to examine her more closely. Her abdomen was tight and still looking as large and swollen as it had looked pre-farrowing. I started to think that perhaps she hadn't passed the rest of the piglets. During the commotion, she went to stand and had a very hard time of it. She seemed to be lame on one of her front feet. My concern level shot through the roof. I brought her some food and water as it was clear she didn't want to go outside. She ate and drank quickly. At least she's still eating, I thought.
I went inside to talk with Jen about the situation and realized that things might go from bad to worse very quickly. If the sow had piglets still inside her, they were going cause sepsis and kill her, likely while we were on the first days of our trip to Maui. That was a situation I didn't want to leave for the farm caretaker. We made the decision for me to do a manual exam of her birth canal to see if there was anything abnormal. I had never done this before, and it was a bit intimidating to say the least. In a state of increasing anxiety, though, I was ready to do whatever it took. I got a glove and some lube and headed to the barn with Jen there for any help. I literally rolled up my sleeves, and pushed my way in, trying to be as gentle as possible. I had a hard time getting in past my knuckles, but before long I was up to my elbow. The pressure was intense, and my arm was throbbing. I felt nothing unusual. I was certain that she had unborn piglets, though, and Jen pushed on her abdomen while I pushed further, almost up to my armpit. I felt nothing, and the discomfort grew intense, as the pig pushed against my arm. Despondent, we left the pen, and I began to think that my only option was to shoot the pig and potentially lose the four piglets as well. I was in a borderline hysterical state. I considered calling off the vacation (and the considerable investment in plane tickets, etc). Jen calmed me down and suggested that we check on her later.
I went inside and took a shower and did my best to calm down. We hadn't been able to definitively feel any piglets from inside our outside the pig. Perhaps she had delivered her litter and it was just small. The other pigs had litters of five and four, so it wasn't outside the range of possibility that her litter would only be six. Jen did some googling and found some info that suggested that if she was retaining piglets, her temperature would have increased within 12 hours. It was already 24 hours since I'd noticed the four piglets the previous night. We decided to head out to the barn one more time with a thermometer in tow to take a rectal temperature. Jen graciously did the dirty work this time, and the temp came back as 102.5. Perfectly normal. I breathed my first small sigh of relief, but we still contacted a local vet to arrange for a potential field visit and made plans for potential large animal carcass disposal while we were gone. I felt terrible for leaving this mess for our caretaker and wanted to make it as easy for him as possible.
The next morning we were up at 4:00 a.m. and I headed out to the barn for a final inspection. I wasn't sure what I would find. Perhaps a dead sow. Instead, I breathed a big sigh of relief when I saw all four piglets happy and healthy and the sow standing and energetic. She was moving much better than the 6 hours before and even exited the barn. I wasn't convinced that all was well (my anxiety from the previous night was still too large) but I had hope. When I hadn't heard from our caretaker after the first 24 hours in Hawaii, I knew that all was likely to be well.
When I checked on the pigs for the first time in a week this morning, I was greeted with 13 healthy piglets. All had survived the week, and they had grown like gangbusters. There was no sign of lameness in the sow and her abdomen was back to it's normal size for lactation. My last lingering anxieties were finally extinguished.
Don't schedule farrowing for the weekend you leave on vacation! Lesson learned.
To set the scene, our flight left last Sunday morning at 8:00 a.m. requiring us to leave the house by 5:30 a.m. That can be stressful enough. We were a little concerned that our three pregnant pigs would farrow while we were on vacation, which would probably be okay but not something we wanted to force our relatively inexperienced farm caretaker to deal with. We got off to a relieved start when the last pregnant sow was observed farrowing on Friday night (30 hours before we had to leave the house). She had delivered four live pigs (and two runts that quickly died) when we went to bed, figuring that there would be more in the morning. Her belly had was huge before she farrowed, and it was still big when we went to bed.
The next morning, I got up to go do the chores and survey the barn. The sow was laying on our her side suckling four pigs. She was grunting loudly like she was bearing down trying to push. I found the two dead runts and removed them. I wasn't sure what to make of the situation, but there was still quite a bit to do to prepare for the trip, so I left things as is.
When I checked on her later in the day, she was still laying on her side, and still grunting and sounding labored. My concern level started to increase, and I went to examine her more closely. Her abdomen was tight and still looking as large and swollen as it had looked pre-farrowing. I started to think that perhaps she hadn't passed the rest of the piglets. During the commotion, she went to stand and had a very hard time of it. She seemed to be lame on one of her front feet. My concern level shot through the roof. I brought her some food and water as it was clear she didn't want to go outside. She ate and drank quickly. At least she's still eating, I thought.
I went inside to talk with Jen about the situation and realized that things might go from bad to worse very quickly. If the sow had piglets still inside her, they were going cause sepsis and kill her, likely while we were on the first days of our trip to Maui. That was a situation I didn't want to leave for the farm caretaker. We made the decision for me to do a manual exam of her birth canal to see if there was anything abnormal. I had never done this before, and it was a bit intimidating to say the least. In a state of increasing anxiety, though, I was ready to do whatever it took. I got a glove and some lube and headed to the barn with Jen there for any help. I literally rolled up my sleeves, and pushed my way in, trying to be as gentle as possible. I had a hard time getting in past my knuckles, but before long I was up to my elbow. The pressure was intense, and my arm was throbbing. I felt nothing unusual. I was certain that she had unborn piglets, though, and Jen pushed on her abdomen while I pushed further, almost up to my armpit. I felt nothing, and the discomfort grew intense, as the pig pushed against my arm. Despondent, we left the pen, and I began to think that my only option was to shoot the pig and potentially lose the four piglets as well. I was in a borderline hysterical state. I considered calling off the vacation (and the considerable investment in plane tickets, etc). Jen calmed me down and suggested that we check on her later.
I went inside and took a shower and did my best to calm down. We hadn't been able to definitively feel any piglets from inside our outside the pig. Perhaps she had delivered her litter and it was just small. The other pigs had litters of five and four, so it wasn't outside the range of possibility that her litter would only be six. Jen did some googling and found some info that suggested that if she was retaining piglets, her temperature would have increased within 12 hours. It was already 24 hours since I'd noticed the four piglets the previous night. We decided to head out to the barn one more time with a thermometer in tow to take a rectal temperature. Jen graciously did the dirty work this time, and the temp came back as 102.5. Perfectly normal. I breathed my first small sigh of relief, but we still contacted a local vet to arrange for a potential field visit and made plans for potential large animal carcass disposal while we were gone. I felt terrible for leaving this mess for our caretaker and wanted to make it as easy for him as possible.
The next morning we were up at 4:00 a.m. and I headed out to the barn for a final inspection. I wasn't sure what I would find. Perhaps a dead sow. Instead, I breathed a big sigh of relief when I saw all four piglets happy and healthy and the sow standing and energetic. She was moving much better than the 6 hours before and even exited the barn. I wasn't convinced that all was well (my anxiety from the previous night was still too large) but I had hope. When I hadn't heard from our caretaker after the first 24 hours in Hawaii, I knew that all was likely to be well.
When I checked on the pigs for the first time in a week this morning, I was greeted with 13 healthy piglets. All had survived the week, and they had grown like gangbusters. There was no sign of lameness in the sow and her abdomen was back to it's normal size for lactation. My last lingering anxieties were finally extinguished.
Don't schedule farrowing for the weekend you leave on vacation! Lesson learned.
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