The Free Little Pigs
OJAI — There are so few places a pig can feel safe.
Just when you think it’s OK to go back in the wallow, there is a Farmer John or a Jimmy Dean lurking nearby, waiting for you to put a little more meat on your bones.
And if it’s not a bacon peddler, it’s a code enforcement officer or even your owner who decides you’re not cute anymore--just too much trouble.
But not at Camp Oink in Upper Ojai. Like other piggy rescuers in Ventura County, Camp Oink provides a safe house for unwanted or abandoned swine, a hog heaven for dozens of pigs that might otherwise be tomorrow’s ham hocks or pork chops.
These days, potbellied pigs are paying the price of being trendy in the early 1990s, then cast aside like last year’s shoulder pads.
At Camp Oink, Linda Jackson is in no way insulted when you call her the “Pig Lady.”
Quite the contrary: It makes her beam.
“I rescue pigs, so I’ve been the Pig Lady around here for a couple of years now,” Jackson said over her shoulder as she hand-fed red grapes to Piggy Sue, a raven-haired mother of four who appeared to like grapes a whole bunch.
Jackson’s tidy, shaded pigpens house about three dozen hogs. One was picked up from the county’s animal shelter, minutes from buying the farm. Others were abandoned or merely in need of a sitter as their owners went away on vacation.
There were potbellies, a California wild pig and an African guinea hog at the six-acre farm owned by Jackson and her husband, Dane, who also owns a construction business.
If you throw in the occasional calf, miniature and Nubian goat, Barbie and Ken the rabbits, and an injured bird or two, it was like visiting the San Diego Tame Animal Park.
There was Arnold, named after the porker in the “Green Acres” sitcom. Trudy the Pig, who had been abandoned in an empty house in Camarillo. And Harley Hog, who came to Camp Oink 150 pounds overweight, with ingrown tusks.
Then there is the new pig on the block, Oscar Mayer, who arrived Monday afternoon.
On the 45th day of a 45-day eviction notice, the potbellied pig left Camarillo in the rear of a Chevy Blazer, snout held high and tail waving in the breeze.
Oscar has been a high-profile pig of late. He was, after all, run out of town by the city of Camarillo, after neighbors complained that he smelled and drew flies.
Oscar’s owner, Robert Hamilton, bought him as a 4-week-old piglet in a Camarillo pet shop four years ago. And after neighbors complained, Hamilton spent $3,000 in a legal battle to try to keep Oscar at home, arguing that he was a pet, not a barnyard animal.
It did no good. In mid-May, city leaders declared Oscar a farm animal, thus illegal in residential neighborhoods.
By early Monday afternoon, Oscar was sawing Z’s in his new digs at Camp Oink, apparently dealing with his change of address better than his owner.
“Oscar has never laid in a mud puddle before,” Hamilton said, gesturing at Oscar’s roomy pigpen, which includes a prefab pig wallow. “I’ll come up on my days off and bring him watermelon.”
Neither Linda nor Dane Jackson came by this lifestyle naturally. She grew up in Van Nuys; he in Reseda. The onetime Valley girl said she took in a mother pig and her babies two years ago at the request of a Solvang pig rescue service. Since then, her costs for running Camp Oink have grown to $500 a month.
Jackson hopes to allay some of the food and upkeep costs by piggy-sitting when people go on vacation. But most of all, she hopes to nurse injured or neglected animals back to health so they may be adopted.
When Oscar was dropped off Monday, Hamilton was clearly reluctant to leave his porcine pal. Jackson told him Oscar would be just fine, but gently let him know that the pig could stand to shed a few dozen pounds.
“That is one big pig!” said the Jacksons’ 5-year-old daughter, K’Lynn, when she got a glimpse of Oscar.
“One big pig,” echoed Kira, her 4-year-old sister.
Correspondent Dawn Hobbs contributed to this story.
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FYI
Anyone interested in adopting a pig or finding out more about Camp Oink’s animal rescue and sanctuary service can call 525-7387.
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