10. one and two makes eight

You might think from this title that I got nought for maths at school, but in this case ‘One’ and ‘Two’ (or their vernacular names, Moja and Mbele in Swahili) are our seventh and eighth bushpig orphans at Milimani. They were rescued from a veld fire in Eshowe by the Steenberg family, nurtured and cared for until they were seven weeks old.

They are boisterous young males, and willingly accepted by the three dogs, now used to having bushpigs as companions. Eisbein, the Vietnamese Potbelly, has been the best hot-water bottle since grandma fell off the bus.

Kidogo, no. 6 orphan, is also a male and has been recruited to show them what being a bushpig is all about. Our back garden is a disaster area with all the digging and running around by these animals. Ken regularly grunts and shakes his head, complaining that his rose garden will never grow. I have never seen Ken near a rose garden and suspect that he is simply trying to make a point.

Left - Caroline Hurry with Callie and Wig as a baby

We now have five orphaned bushpigs around the house. Picollo and Wig (numbers 4 and 5) were gradually introduced to the three original orphans when disaster struck. They teamed up with two wild pigs and one injured Wig severely. A week later Picollo was hurt.


Wig’s back leg was badly gashed with a lot of muscle damage. I took her down to Durban to be x-rayed by the vet at C.R.O.W. That was quite a mission. Wig was immobilised but not anaesthetised and she began squealing the place down. She eventually cooperated and once the damage to leg was assessed, we decided to let the healing process take its own course. She spent that night at C.R.O.W.

The next day mum and I went to collect her, the idea being I would shoot through to Milimani in Pongola. Wig is normally a good traveller but obviously all the fuss had disorientated her, plus it was as hot as hell. We put her into the travelling box, believing all would be well. Ha! The next thing she managed to push open the door and squeeze her way out. She promptly sat on mum’s lap in the front of the Landrover. The whole Houdini manoeuvre had opened up the wound and she bled like a – dare I say – stuck pig all over mum’s nice white cotton outfit. There she sat all the way along the highway to Umhlanga Rocks, watching the traffic whizz by. Bushpigs are solid creatures and even at seven months old they’re heavy. Mum arrived home covered in blood and bruises!

Wig was not happy about travelling that day, so we spent the night with Helena who is used to unusual houseguests!

Picollo and Wig are free, but still use the house as a base. They frequently visit the workshop and show Ken what to do, which doesn’t go down to well. Kidogo, Mojo and Mbele will have to wait until they are big enough to leave the bottom of the food chain when, hopefully, the call of the wild will draw them back into the bush.

I am not sure mum has forgiven me for this yet. Being burdened with unusual ‘grand-children’ isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be!

Published in Country Life, October 2002

Other blogs by Lois Kuhle:

SMOKE RINGS IN CUBA. A TWO WEEK JOURNEY FILLED WITH SALSA, SUNSHINE AND SILLY PEOPLE:
http://smokeringsincuba.blogspot.com/2013/10/smoke-rings-in-cuba-journey-filled-with.html

COOL THOUGHTS. MUSINGS AND OTHER MAD MOMENTS:

http://loiskuhlethoughts.blogspot.com/2014/01/the-impatient-gardener.html