Pigs Get the Runaround--New Mother Does, Too

At one end of the Orange County Fairgrounds, eight piglets run around a track. At the opposite end, eight newborn pigs are just getting the feel of their legs.

On Saturday, Princess, a 400-pound Hampshire pig, went into labor at 11:30 p.m. and pushed out the last of 11 piglets at 6:30 a.m. Sunday.

Three did not survive, but as of Monday, five females and three males were stumbling over each other for the best spot under the heat lamp and for the juiciest of Mama’s nipples.

The firstborn, but also the runt of the litter, took charge of her siblings. The little one, who has a pink string tied to her umbilical cord, roamed the edges of the family’s quarters, bouncing off her larger siblings like a fuzzy little tennis ball.

“She’s the sassiest,” said Jena Hirschbein, a veterinary student at Ohio State University who acted as the pig’s midwife. “As soon as she was born she was following her mama around the pen.”

On the other side of the fairgrounds, horns blared at Los Pignitas racetrack to mark the start of the first heat of All-Alaskan Pig Races.

Every day, eight piglets scamper around a hay-lined track for first crack at the winner’s cookie.

The brainchild of Bart and Deanne Noll of Susanville, Calif., the Alaskan Pig Races have become a popular attraction at the Orange County Fair.

Bart Noll, who is from Alaska, began the business 12 years ago. He saw a piglet race once and was immediately hooked. At first he shipped his pigs in from Alaska, but the Nolls now maintains a pig farm in Susanville with domestic mixed breeds.

Four times a day, hundreds pack the track’s bleachers to watch Porquiel O’Neil, Swinefeld and others sprint around the 160-foot racecourse.

“Wherever we go we get great turnout for the races,” said Deanne Noll, who has run the attraction for 12 years. “They are cute, but they are also agile creatures. They look like gazelles when they run.”

As soon as the starting gate opens, four little piggies churn their 2-month-old legs over hurdles, past the checkered flag and into the trough at the end of the course for a chocolate chip cookie.

The pigs have become, well, pigs about their fame and fortune. Settled nicely in their trailer, the pigs have fresh water pumped in for drinking and a cool shower; the lining of their floor is changed twice a day; and they are adored by their fans and handlers. Visitors are allowed to look into the trailer, but no one besides manager Gay Thrush and coach Renee Mort are allowed to touch the pigs.

“They are very pampered athletes,” Mort said. “If it gets dirty at one end of their room, they huddle around the opposite end until the area is cleaned.”

Mario, who goes by the stage name of Sophie Smith, has become especially snooty about his living conditions. Wearing an orange jersey adorned with No. 1, Mario will sometimes refuse to change lanes or will demand that certain others not be allowed into his living quarters.

“Sometimes he can be real stubborn,” Mort said. “If he is in a gate he likes, he’ll just sit there and not let us move him.”

Deanne Noll said the animals have become real hams when it comes to their performance.

“They will not run in training the way they do in front of the crowd,” she said. “They know the sound system, and when it’s time to run, they are raring to go.”