A day at the Pig Races
Everyone loves a Pig Race!
In this shot, you can see the Racing Pigs thundering around the track with fans screaming in the background:
Yesterday the Three-County fair came to Northampton, as it’s done every labor day weekend for the past 82 years. As always, for me and countless other race fans, the running of the pigs is the highlight of the event. They used to race horses, too, but now, the pigs are all we have left.
I made it to the track in time for the 5:30 triple, and with some pushing and shoving, I obtained a seat right by the rail, down low in front.
This was supposed to be a family event, with moms and children all around me. However, not everyone watching the races was as innocent as the squalling ten year old next to me. To the rear, I got glimpses of grizzled farm hands from Hatfield and Whatley. They were unshaven, with scruffy overalls, and pints of cheap whiskey peeking from their pockets. Their rough, dirty hands clutched fistfuls of cash. Like lasers, their beady eyes focused on each pig, one at a time, as they emerged from the pen. Money changed hands as the starting cage shut with a clank.
The pigs were in and the bets were down. It was time to go. At the count of Five! Four! Three! Two! One! And they’re off! The pigs thundered around the track. It wasn’t as exciting as the horse races used to be, but it was close. One toddler stuck his finger through the rail, and a passing pig nipped the end off, clean as a whistle, with hardly a break in his stride.
I made it to the track in time for the 5:30 triple, and with some pushing and shoving, I obtained a seat right by the rail, down low in front.
This was supposed to be a family event, with moms and children all around me. However, not everyone watching the races was as innocent as the squalling ten year old next to me. To the rear, I got glimpses of grizzled farm hands from Hatfield and Whatley. They were unshaven, with scruffy overalls, and pints of cheap whiskey peeking from their pockets. Their rough, dirty hands clutched fistfuls of cash. Like lasers, their beady eyes focused on each pig, one at a time, as they emerged from the pen. Money changed hands as the starting cage shut with a clank.
The pigs were in and the bets were down. It was time to go. At the count of Five! Four! Three! Two! One! And they’re off! The pigs thundered around the track. It wasn’t as exciting as the horse races used to be, but it was close. One toddler stuck his finger through the rail, and a passing pig nipped the end off, clean as a whistle, with hardly a break in his stride.
People - especially kids - forget that pigs are omnivores, and being smart, they grab any opportunity to swap places with us on the food chain. Don't ever go to sleep in a pigpen.
In this shot, the defending champion - who was favored by two in the point spread - thunders into the turn in hot pursuit of the Snickers Bar.
While the toddler yelled, the pigs lined up for the next run and the farm boys laid their bets on the porkers. The bar dropped, and those piglets ran for the money, right beneath the eyes of the local law. After the races, the ones who still had money slunk off to bet the upcoming demolition derby, the losers fought each other, sullen and drunk, and the moms and kids dispersed to the midway, where sharp carnies waited to fleece the unwary with rigged games of chance. I wanted to follow them, but I was distracted by the tractors, and when I turned back, they had blended into the crowd.
Here's one of the old Farmalls, waiting for the Tractor Pull to start:
In this shot, you can see the Racing Pigs thundering around the track with fans screaming in the background:
Comments
Cheers
We had lots of pigs down in Georgia when I was a kid.
Horse racing . . . pig racing . . turtle racing . . the only things we never raced were cats, cows and snakes.
But all I can think of right now is that poor toddler's finger.
We have dachshund races in Davis on Picnic Day. Autism Diva hasn't been to one, but she hears they are pretty heart stopping.
the hamster ball race seems really.... tame... compared to the pig race.
I have photographed animals in the circus, in the wild, in pastures, and in zoos.
It is my honest opinion that the pigs I photograph are having fun. When you're around animals a lot you get a sense of that and I've been around pigs most all my life.
That's not to say animals aren't exploited but the ones in my photos are - as best I can tell - generally having fun.
Beats the hell out of my slick San Francisco Labor Day - cappuccino in hand, mincing about a wine fair.
Gimme the pigs any day.
by the way, i heard that baby pigs don't have any teeth. in fact, that only the males have teeth. was someone pulling my leg? er, teeth?
John what, no log rolling, frog jumpin', or cow pie tossing? You guys around there just don't know how to live.
Amy
I understand that pigs are very intelligent; more so than horses. Unfortunately, they aren't clever enough to avoid being exploited.
Please don't send me hate mail, people.
I was also secretly waiting to see the pigs with actual numbers painted on them...
Look Me In The Blog! I've written a review of your book.
Much love,
Your deviant animal naming friend,
Kanani
I haven't eaten pork or red meat since I was 14. (A long, long time ago...) I, too, am an animal lover. My grandparents were farmers. I don't believe in exploiting or frightening animals either. (The event that you attended, Tena, sounds horrific.) Believe me though, these animals were well fed, playful, and having a blast. Good Redneck Fun!
But in general pig racing is inhumane because the pigs are treated as circus acts, transported in cramped cages, and trained with cattle prods. Some trainers scream at their pigs to accustom them to boisterous crowds.
When you say pig races are fun, you mean they're fun for you. The pig, given his choice, wouldn't run around a track with a number painted on his side, chasing a candy bar. I know, because they've never been seen doing any such thing on a farm.