It's hard enough just to read about them. Last weekend I read The Pig Who Sang to the Moon: The Emotional World of Farm Animals, which had all these great stories about how loyal, intelligent and affectionate pigs are, then the heartbreakingly cruel way that they're treated at factory farms. Matthew Scully has an article on his site about pig farming:
Don't tolerate the cruelty on hog farms
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Entering, you are greeted by a bedlam of squealing, chain rattling, and horrible roaring from the sows. Even "confinement" doesn't describe their situation. Row after row, hundreds of the creatures are encased, pinned down, inside their iron crates. "Science tells us," declares Paul Sundberg of the National Pork Producers Council, "that she (a sow) doesn't even seem to know that she can't turn." For some darn-fool reason, though, the sows keep trying to turn anyway, endlessly, and they all have festering sores and fractured or broken legs to show for the effort.
A noted defender of intensive-confinement farming, agricultural scientist Dennis T. Avery, assures us that "the hogs are becoming healthier and happier as more of them move indoors." I didn't see evidence of this, either, but only bruised and broken creatures going mad from their constant confinement. Forced to lie and live in their own urine and excrement, the sows chew frenziedly on bars and chains, as foraging animals will do when denied even straw to eat or sleep on, or else engage in stereotypical nest-building with the straw that isn't there. Everywhere you see tumors, ulcers, cysts, lesions, torn ears -- these afflictions never examined by a vet, never even noticed anymore by the largely immigrant labor charged with their care.
When the sows leave their iron crates after four months of pregnancy, it is only to be driven and dragged into other crates just as small to give birth. Then it's back to the gestation crate for another four months, and so on, for about eight or nine pregnancies, until they expire from the sheer punishment of it, or are culled as too sick and weak to go on.
Factory farming operates on an economy of scale, presupposing a steady attrition rate, and each day, in every gestation barn on every confinement farm in America, you will find cull pens littered with dead or dying creatures discarded like trash. All of them -- every one of the 4.5-million sows condemned to this life on our factory farms -- will go to their deaths having never even been outdoors, never once known the feel of soil or the warmth of the sun.
http://www.matthewscully.com/hog_farms.htmGestation crates have been outlawed in Europe, but not here. In Dominion, Matthew Scully wrote:
"How does a man rest at night knowing that in this strawless dungeon of pens are all of these living creatures under his care, never leaving except to die, hardly able to turn or lie down, horror-stricken by every opening of the door, biting and fighting and going mad? A child playing with a toy barnyard set, putting all the little horsies and piggies outside the barn to graze, displays a firmer gasp of nature and reality than do the agricultural experts..."
In The Pig Who Sang to the Moon there was a wonderful story about a 200-pound Vietnamese potbellied pig named Lulu:
"Joanne Altsmann was in her kitchen one afternoon, feeling unwell, when Lulu charged out the doggie door made for a 20-pound dog, scraping her sides raw to the point of drawing blood. Running into the street, Lulu proceeded to draw attention by lying down in the middle of the road until a car stopped. Then she led the driver to her owner's house, where Altsmann had suffered a heart attack. Altsmann was rushed to the hospital, and the ASPCA awarded Lulu a gold medal for her heroism. Altsmann knows in her bones that Lulu's sixth sense saved her life."