Fall 2001

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SOME PIG! A report from CFNR

by Marietta Pritchard '73G

MAKING SURE BREAKFAST isn't what's on his mind: Melissa Haskell '01 with Fred the boar at Hadley Farm in May. Photo by Ben Barnhart. MELISSA HASKELL '01 HAS AN excellent working relationship with Fred, the 600-pound boar. She helps him do his job and he reciprocates by making her work easy. Haskell’s job is to collect boar semen for researcher Rafael Fissore. Fred’s is to mount an artificial sow in the barn at the Hadley Farm twice a week and produce about a pint of this essential fluid. It is 7:30 on a bright spring morning. In the barn at the Hadley Farm, English house sparrows, starlings, and barn swallows are flying about. In the goat stalls, the young kids are bleating for their bottles, which Haskell sets up for them before starting in with Fred. Haskell, a senior in veterinary and animal science, is matter-of-fact and briskly affectionate as she prepares to bring the large animal out of his pen. First she tosses in a handful of grain and gives him time to eat it so that breakfast won’t be on his mind, then she opens the door of his pen and accompanies him as he trots down the center aisle. He is graceful in that surprising way that pigs have – think Jackie Gleason impersonating a ballerina. A sociable creature, Fred stops to talk briefly with several of the sows en route, snuffling and grunting greetings as he passes their pens. But he doesn’t dally long; the door to the collection pen is open and he heads right in. Haskell has trained him to recognize the bench in that pen as an artificial sow, and after warming himself up by sniffing and rubbing against it, he mounts the bench and goes to work. Haskell is quietly encouraging – "Good boar, c’mon fella," she says – as, staying in close to his hindquarters while managing somehow to stay out of the way of his hooves, she uses one gloved hand to hold the unsheathed penis, the other to collect the semen in a gauze-covered thermos. COLLECTED AND STRAINED OF ITS "gel fraction" by the gauze covering, the semen will go to the research laboratory of Rafael Fissore of the veterinary and animal sciences department. Fissore is working on isolating the protein that the sperm sends to the egg at the time of fusion, triggering a "calcium oscillation" that is essential for the normal development of the embryo. The protein released during fusion is only a tiny amount, says Fissore, so boar semen is especially useful because boars produce billions of sperm. The results of this research is expected to assist in the efficiency of animal cloning. It may also lead to new ways of treating reproductive problems in both animals and humans. "In the beginning I didn’t like pigs," Haskell says. "They’re intimidating and loud. But they’re so smart, they grow on you." Haskell, who was definitely a horse person in her earlier life, grew up in Reheboth, but spent time on grandfather’s farm in Attleboro. Pigs can be trained, she says. They know who you are; they can figure things out, and they have definite personalities. Compared with sheep, for instance – sheep are all alike and incredibly stupid. "You could put a nipple with milk in a sheep’s pen and they’d never figure out what to do with it," says Haskell. "They’d die of dehydration first." Of course, she acknowledges, when it comes to animals, it’s all a question of personal preference. Still, pigs, in her view, are not only more interesting, they have the advantage of being endlessly useful: You can eat them and use them for research and they are quite prolific. A few weeks before graduation, Haskell made a small mistake in handling Fred that resulted in a gashed thigh requiring 10 stitches. "Mostly, boars are not aggressive," says Haskell, "but you have to respect their strength." What happened, she says, is that she was walking Fred to the collection pen. On that walk she carries a red plastic panel about the size of a large dinner tray, which she holds between herself and the animal; the physical and visual barrier protects her and also helps Fred forget she’s there. Fred stopped for a minute to chat with one of the sows, who was in heat. Haskell said "Let’s go," but also allowed the panel to turn so that it wasn’t protecting her. "He flipped his head up, not maliciously. It was more ‘Leave me alone. I’m having a conversation here.’" One of his tusks caught Haskell’s leg and slit her jeans. "You could see the muscle at the bottom of the cut," she says. "Now I’m a lot more careful. If you’re in a hurry for collecting, the boar gets agitated and picks up your mood." COLLECTING BOAR SEMEN HAS BEEN only one element of Haskell’s experience as an animal sciences major. She worked at the Parsons Farm in Hadley, one of the few working livestock farms in the area. She completed an honor’s thesis under the direction of equine specialist Douglas Freeman. As a teaching assistant in an introductory course taught by livestock manager Jeffrey Erickson, "she was Erickson’s mainstay, an outstanding young lady," says Professor Sidney Lyford, for whom she also TA’d. She’s also been involved in breeding both pigs and sheep. The sows in the university’s barn are not inseminated directly by local boars such as Fred, but artificially, with semen purchased from a large outfit in Iowa known as International Boar Semen, a division of Universal Pig Genes. The catalog for this company features pictures of specific breeds and categories of pigs, with their characteristics listed enthusiastically next to their individual pictures. Example: "Vertigo is a big hog with extra dimension and substance. He is a correctly structured boar that is free and easy in his movement. His width through the chest and fore rib is very good and he carries back to a heavy muscled loin, rump and ham that is free of fat." Students in an advanced animal management class where Haskell also TA’d used the catalog to help decide what traits they wanted to breed for. "We wanted to improve the feet and legs of the Durocs," says Haskell, referring to a breed of red pigs originally developed in the U.S. and Canada and now popular in Europe. The class’s efforts turned out unusually well. One of the three pigs they helped conceive, deliver, raise, and train for show won the grand championship at the Big E exposition last fall. Their other two pigs came in fourth and seventh. In competition, pigs are judged "on the hoof," while walking around a show ring, and then immediately afterwards "on the rail," after being slaughtered. "We donated the meat – 450 pounds altogether – to a food kitchen in Connecticut," says Haskell. (Originally they had hoped to sell it on campus, but lacked a storage facility.) This fall, Haskell is heading for the veterinary school at North Carolina State – a "good swine school," she says. Her goal is to complete a Ph.D., and then? Well, she’s torn among the choices of teaching, which she has greatly enjoyed as a TA; practicing large-animal medicine; and doing research. As for Fred, his future looks bright, as long as he can stay interested in working for a living.

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