 While most of our society craves the cured flesh of some anonymous pig raised goodness knows where, Peggy Couey has a very different passion. She is consumed with a desire to offer pigs safe haven, 24/7. SAFE director Anthony Terry tracked her down to find out why. He convinces her to put down the pitch fork long enough to answer the phone to talk pigs.
She rattles their names down the phone line. Harley, Chester, M'Goo and Penelope .... I don't need convincing that they have all won her heart. Over the past 10 years these troublesome adolescent castaways have grown up to trust this one special lady. Peggy is their guardian, friend, security and the reason they live. They aren't the only lucky ones either. Over 340 other pigs, mainly pot bellies, share 35 acres of lush scrub and rich pasture tucked away near Nashville, Tennessee, in the United States.
Since it was founded in 1990, Shepherd's Green Sanctuary has been offering a safe haven to abused, neglected and unwanted pigs of all sizes, types, conditions and attitudes. It's a labour of love and seemingly a life sentence for Peggy, albeit a rewarding one. Peggy says she has long forgotten a life without snouts and trotters and holidays equate to getting someone else to shovel, lift or undertake anything involving muscle! "I have not been sick or had a day off since 1999," says Peggy. Even sickness is not optional for this enduring, protective foot soldier. While the sanctuary is managed by a board, Peggy has largely been battling with farm duties herself since the passing of her husband in 1996. Although she has two helpers who work one day a week, for the most part it's just Peggy and the pigs. From love to unloved
While we may love them, she dreads movies such as Babe. "They encourage people to want a cute piglet as soon as they see the film," she says. In America, pot bellies have been a never-ending fad. The sad reality is that the cute piglets soon become large, disgruntled unwanted pigs. The lucky ones find their way to Peggy through word of mouth (or is that snout!). One thing is certain, Peggy has a soft spot for pigs. All pigs. She personally screens potential new home-carers with well-reasoned caution and close scrutiny. The rules: a guaranteed lifelong commitment and safe haven, or no pig. Simple. The sanctuary rehomes around 100 pigs per year. Peggy is the first to admit she is "very picky." "You have to be," she insists. "Otherwise the pigs are often returned in a terrible state." Newcomers generally need a month or two of conditioning, rehab and social etiquette - piggy style! Some pigs arrive "mean and angry." Most arrive at the tender age of two and have often been starved, abused or kept tethered in solitary. The local vet is an all too familiar face for the pigs, often treating problems left by those who didn't care. Peggy spares no expense if it means it will help make a pig's life more complete.  Special needs
Then there are the "special needs" as Peggy describes them. Pigs like Harley. His only crime was he loved flowers too much and would find any and every way to destroy his guardians' green-fingered handiwork. Peggy explains that Harley was forced to remain in an undersized hut, albeit it a nice one, for over two years. His growth meant he suffered damage to his cervical spine that prevented him from walking normally, causing terrible pain. "The screams were unbearable," says Peggy. Between the vet, Peggy and Harley, he now lives a rather normal life.
Chester, on the other hand, was the "Prince amongst the pigs," rejoices Peggy. He was an ambassador for pigs to anyone who thought scathingly of them. Chester won the hearts of over 176,000 voters a few years back where he polled second place in the Animal of the Year awards offered by the Humane Society of the United States. Even Peggy admits Chester is her reminder as to why she stays true to pigs. "There was something about Chester that reminds me everyday why I am still here," she says. "The memory of this 800 pound gentle giant who 'knew' me the first time we met and who knew I would rescue him that day, is a haunting one. His death in 2006 was heartbreaking but his memory lives with me, and everyone who ever met him. Most people who met him stopped eating pork. A better epitaph could not be imagined."
Peggy power!
Peggy needs no convincing that pigs have intense personalities, charm and charisma. She has witnessed the painful side to pig suffering - having to treat trauma and neglect face on. Pigs like Belle, infested with maggots and left untreated to the point where her ears were chewed off. Or George, an eight-year-old boar with overgrown tusks deeply embedded in his face, making eating near impossible and agonising. Crippled, abused, fearful and shy . . . Peggy embraces them all. Peggy's philosophy remains beautifully simple and admirable. She extends to every animal compassion braced with an enormous amount of sheer personal willpower. Her determination and strength keep the sanctuary doors open and the fields full of wandering, contented pigs that never have to fear another day. A pig's life Shepherd's Green Sanctuary Meet Dudley & Molly
Arriving in 1994 at around five years of age they had been together since six weeks of age. Peggy says if you saw one, you saw two. They were inseparable. Molly died of cancer in 1998. The last few weeks of her life she remained in the same place under some trees. After she died Dudley lay in this place for two weeks, unwilling to eat or socialise. He eventually resumed a normal life but remains a loner.  Meet White Wilbur
Wilbur forged a bond with his human 'mum' unlike any other. When he had to be rehomed to the sanctuary he decided to give up and die. Peggy had to beg and force him to take an interest in a new life. After several months he improved, particularly after a visit from his 'mum'. (His 'mum' had terminal cancer, which prevented her visiting regularly.) Peggy said they were extremely happy to see each other. He ran in circles and she laughed even though she was frail and weak. White Wilbur lay in the driveway after she left, staring with despair in his eyes. He lay there all night. Peggy felt he sensed what she didn't - 'mum' would never be back.
Meet Arlo
Arlo lived in a backyard near Nashville and existed off measly scraps. He had no place to sleep so he burrowed under a metal building for protection. With no hay or bedding he remained cold. When rescued Arlo was tied up inside the yard with a natural predator - a wolf! He was badly malnourished. Unable to walk, Arlo had to be removed by stretcher. His legs were bent up under him like a rabbit's. His tusks had grown around and were cutting into his lips. Peggy says in spite of the horrible early years he has become a regular little gentleman. He adores his heated bed and hay. He eats his Mazuri and snacks with delight and doesn't complain too much when he needs his arthritis shots.  Meet Doc
Doc was one of over 100 inbred pigs rescued in 2001. Unable to compete for food or a bed because he's very small and totally blind, Doc lives with White Blossom, a crippled pig from the same rescue.
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