In the skin of a pig

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Every morning, Marie Dupin slips into the skin of a personality, an event, a place at the heart of the news.

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This morning, on the occasion of the national summit of the breeding which is held in Brittany, I am a real pig’s head. And contrary to what you might think, we pigs and sows are particularly sociable and affectionate.

Besides, we live snuggled up against each other… You will tell me we don’t really have a choice since in France, we are raised to 95% in the most “intensive“. In a few years, we have gone from 821 on average to more than 2000 sharing the same confined space: a concrete or plastic fence on the ground, no straw, no access to the outside, less than a meter square each… And we are sent to the slaughterhouse at the age of six months, well before the adult age of 3 or 4. So, I did not come to make people cry in the stables, but as the wrote comic book writer Gotlib in 1970, “if Goret knew, goret did not come“.

And yet the French love us: with 33 kilos per year and per Frenchman, I am still the most consumed meat, far ahead of poultry, in three quarters of cases in the form of charcuterie. But if we take a step back for 20 years, my consumption has fallen sharply (-15%)…


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