Speaking Pigalese

How Empathy for Animals Generates Respect for Us All

Poetry of Everyday Life Blogpost #31
Created in cooperation New York Folklore and Voices

Once, when I accompanied my daughter, Eliza, on a walk through the woods, she quoted me as saying, “Nature gives me the creeps.” I often quote Woody Allen, who once quipped, “I’m at two with nature.” But watching my daughter Eliza in action at her Humble Pig Animal Sanctuary, with her passionate care for and communication with her animals, I think perhaps we’re not that far apart. While I explore and celebrate the cultures of neighborhoods and cities, she supports and revels in the cultures of animal communities. Both of us are fascinated with the way creatures, ourselves included, express emotions and communicate. As our friend and writer Annie Lanzillotto put it, “Humans are the problem, not the animals. Instead of being a humanist, Eliza is an animalist. I’m for the animals.”

In addition, Eliza and I both share an outrage at the state of our country, strangled by out-of-control hyper-capitalism and an autocratic administration. That affects both our worlds. Eliza takes some comfort in the Sanctuary, while I find solace in the creativity of everyday people. In many ways, Eliza’s Sanctuary operates as an antidote to the ills of our human society. This is how Eliza compares the setup of the Sanctuary to varied forms of government:

Humble Pig is a socialist collective. There are creatures of every kind here—all different in size, age, and ability. Every creature is provided with just the quantity it needs to thrive. That’s socialism. Capitalism, as we’re experiencing it today, would be one big pile of food for all the animals: Dogs, cats, pigs, and turtles are told to have at it. The biggest pigs get all the food, and the small, slow, old, and disabled go hungry. If they complain, well, they should have worked harder. Communism is: Every creature gets an equally tiny amount, regardless of need. If I, as the leader, were to personally profit from the animals, that would be unethical and a conflict of interest. Humble Pig Sanctuary is not governed by a dictator—only by a humble civil servant.

Our humble civil servant often hears people argue, “There are so many human beings who are suffering and need empathy, so how can I possibly focus or worry about the plight of animals?” Eliza responds that it’s all connected: It’s our dehumanization of animals—sent to slaughterhouses, abandoned on the highway, summarily killed in shelters––that makes it easy for us to dehumanize other people. “It’s just the next step. If you dehumanize one group, the next logical step is to dehumanize somebody else.”

In this guest blog, Eliza shares some of the secrets of her communication with the the 10 pigs at Humble Pig Animal Sanctuary.  In her words:

Some years ago, when I was working on the movie Wendy in the Caribbean with my brother, Benh, I needed to find a place to house my first pig, Hushpuppy. Hushpuppy appeared in our previous film, Beasts of the Southern Wild. I raised Hushpuppy from four months old, and I was happy to find a pig sanctuary to board him.

I was away for four years. When I finally came back to pick up Hushpuppy, the people at the sanctuary said to me, “Why don’t you speak to him?” And I didn’t quite know what to say, because I don’t speak to him in English—only in Pigalese. As soon as I uttered those special grunts, he sat up and knew exactly who I was.

This happened again when I rescued a pregnant pig named Aldonza. Abandoned on a road near where I live, she was abused, starving, and terrified. As I approached her, she was clearly extremely frightened. But when I started speaking in her language of finely pitched grunts, I could see her ears perk up, and she came toward me with relief, like a tourist lost in a foreign country: “Somebody speaks my language! Oh, thank God, somebody can help me.”

 Pigalese starts out as a guttural grunt, and every tone has a different kind of  meaning. Following the grunt, you also let air out through your nose. When you do that, it’s a calming thing. It’s telling them that they’re safe, that they’re okay, that I’m here to help them. When you blow out through your nose, you’re creating the sound they make when they’re relaxing together.

 Unlike pigs, who are vocal, most animals communicate primarily through body language. Deer, for example, are almost totally silent, but they have all these physical gestures with their ears and their necks. Dogs bark, but mostly they communicate with their bodies when they’re joyful or sad. Pigs’ bodies are limited in what they can do—they’re basically just fat tubes, although they can wag their tails with happiness the way dogs do.  They can prance around a bit, but they don’t have that much body language. So I think pigs developed this verbal expression as a result. They have very specific sounds they make that are the equivalent of words. They have words for “water,” and for indignance, love, gratitude.

“I love you” is a very specific sound, and it’s hard to do it perfectly. When I first got Matilda, who was a very abused pig, she didn’t want to have anything to do with me for a really long time. She didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want to come near me. And so I kept trying to say, “I love you.” And I kept getting it wrong. Matilda seemed to be saying, “Nope.” It’s tricky; there’s a higher note, and then a lower note, and then you draw out breath through your nose. It has a certain kind of pitch. And I kept trying to say it to her, and I was not getting it quite right, like someone trying to speak a different language. And then I said it just right, and I knew I’d nailed it. In that moment, she dropped over onto her side for her first belly rub. That’s when I became convinced that my learning Pigalese was not simply in my imagination.

 One thing I love about Pigalese is that pigs have so many sounds for different kinds of gratitude. Say you’re rubbing their belly. Many of them will keep you constantly informed about how good of a job you’re doing. They also have a distinct word for “Fuck off”—and it’s used frequently. Mother pigs actually sing to their babies in melodious grunts while they’re nursing.

 The sound most people associate with pigs is a high-pitched squealing, which is really the sound of stress and terror. That is the sound they usually make around humans because most pigs are being raised for food, and they’re definitely intelligent enough to know that––even if they don’t see it happening at the moment. They observe that their babies are being taken away from them. So pigs on almost any farm, even if it’s a farm where they live a good life, are in a constant state of stress and terror when they see a human. It’s part of their collective unconscious. They’re always afraid they’re going to be whacked. Dogs are very different from pigs. They are born trusting humans and will still love a human who is abusing them. Pigs are the opposite. They are born with an innate mistrust of their oppressors, and who can blame them?

Rapunzel, Raphael and Eliza. A human without animals is like a home without people.

Contrary to stereotype, pigs are extremely clean. People talk about a pigpen as disgusting, but that’s because humans keep them in a small area where they are forced to poop on themselves, and so of course it’s revolting. But even newborn pigs will leave the nest and go downhill from their nest to pee and poop. They roll in mud to protect themselves from the sun. They also cut green leaves and vines to decorate their homes!

 Some scientists and animal lovers have ranked pigs as among the most intelligent animals on earth—along with dolphins, humpback whales, and chimpanzees. Some rank them on the same level as a four year-old human child. Their sense of smell is more than two thousand times stronger than ours, and they can smell things that are twenty-five feet underground. They have more than twice as many taste buds. It seems to me that intelligence is the ability to accurately interpret and respond to your environment––which puts them high on the list.

 Pigs, like all the animals at Humble Pig, respond to and express themselves freely in the sanctuary environment. I was interviewed for a podcast about gay animals by my friend Nathan, who is a media producer. I have many gay animals in the sanctuary. I spoke about how I think an animal sanctuary is a place where you see a lot more gay behavior than in other animal environments, because it’s one of the only places where farm animals are not being exploited in any way. They’re just free to live their lives. They’re not stressed, so they’re free to cultivate their own identities. They are also all going to be spayed and neutered, because that’s part of sanctuary life. So they’re not governed by hormones and the reproductive urge. Seeing a lot of gay behavior among animals is a sign of peace and prosperity: They feel safe, respected, and free.

 Pigs are not products. They’re emotional, curious, playful creatures with percolating minds. I encourage animalism along with humanism. Speaking to an animal is just like learning a different language. When you begin to empathize with pigs and other creatures, the next step is to see your fellow humans—who may look, feel, or think differently from you—with compassion and respect.

 ELIZA’S DICTIONARY OF PIGALESE

Follow Eliza on instagram: @humble_pig_animal_sanctuary