Back in the mid to late 1970s, my brother-in-law, Desmond, though I don’t think he had yet married my sister, Elizabeth, when this happened, was managing a farm. Desmond rescued a baby bushpig from his farm laborers, who had managed to capture it.
A female bushpig – females have no tusks.
{The image above is borrowed, under their creative commons license, from this post on Wikipedia. Take a few minutes and read a little more about these fascinating creatures. *Note 1.}
Using a piece of twisted wire, the laborers had hung the piglet up by it’s snout and one of it’s front legs. They intended to eat it for dinner later in the day. Desmond bought the baby pig, paying substantially more per pound than the cost of the meager amount of pork on the piglet’s frame. Desmond cleaned up the open wound on it’s right-front leg left by the wire, then brought it to our house. We named the tiny little pig “Gonzo”, which is Shona for “Rat”. Why? Because Gonzo was about the size of a cane-rat, and the same coloring too.
Gonzo attached himself to my youngest brother, Nick, and would follow him everywhere. It was quite a sight to see Gonzo hobbling after Nick, trying to hold his bandaged front leg up off the ground where it would remain unspoiled. Contrary to common belief, pigs are quite fastidious in their grooming habits.
Along with all of us, Nick took great delight in waiting until Gonzo was distracted, then hiding from him. When Gonzo realized his adopted “mother” had vanished he would squeal and dash all over the place until he found Nick. Gonzo’s behavior was completely uncharacteristic, since most baby wild animals instinctively freeze at any danger. I know for a fact baby bushpigs do. How? Because we once captured another who “froze” right in the middle on the road on the way down to the Zambezi River on a fishing trip. We stopped, walked up to the little pig, picked it up, moved it over to the side of the road to which its mother had run, and put it down. {We were pretty stupid back then… wild animals generally don’t take to people interfering with their young so don’t do it!}
Looking back, I realize how cruel our behavior toward Gonzo was. The poor little animal must have thought he was about to be captured, forcibly removed from his mother, strung up, and wired to a pole all over again. Since Gonzo’s fear overcame his instincts, he would literally run wild until he found his adopted mom.
Back to the story…
Though he was quite clean {I’m talking about Gonzo, not my brother Nick} he had a problem many babies have. In order to feel secure, he needed to sleep with someone. Unfortunately, also like many little babies, Gonzo had another, more serious problem…
Each evening as bedtime for the pig approached Nick would get up, walk into the bedroom he shared with my brother Chris, sit on Chris’s bed, pat it, and whisper, “Here Gonzo, here boy!” Like a well trained dog, Gonzo would leap onto the bed and burrow in. About ten minutes later Chris would get up, casually stroll into the bedroom, sit on Nick’s bed, and repeat the process.
Gonzo loved playing this game.
Unfortunately for Chris, he would usually lose the Battle of the Pig. How do I know this? Because pretty much like clockwork when Chris went to bed a loud cry would echo through the house as Chris yelled, “That bloody pig has peed in my bed!! Again!”
You see, the other serious problem Gonzo had, is that he would wet the bed. {At least this is what Nick claimed…}
Of all the wild animals we rescued and temporarily kept as pets, and we had many, from bushpigs to Nag Apies, I think Gonzo might well have been the one with the most character. I may post other memories of him on this blog, so stay tuned.
{Note 1. The image above could almost be of Gonzo. The only difference is that Gonzo was a male, and male bushpigs grow substantial tusks – which is how I know the image is of a female bushpig.}
