What It’s Like to ‘Herd Pigs’ on the Loess Plateau

Every time I prepare the pork topping, I’m reminded of those lively black pigs roaming the Gansu highlands, and my visit this spring with the Beijing Organic Farmers’ Market to meet Wu Longlong, a young returnee who “herds pigs”.

I. Returning Home

Wu is of average build, dressed plainly in a dark overshirt, black trousers, and cloth shoes, looking sharp and capable. He had been waiting for a while. His face, flushed by the low evening sun against the distant loess earth, neatly matched the “stereotype” of a northwestern man.

His spectacles and neatly combed fringe hint at a formal academic background—an uncommon trait among the new wave of farmers returning to the countryside. Born in 1988, Wu Longlong is a native of Qingyang. He graduated from Beijing University of Agriculture with a degree in Animal Science in 2015 but never considered seeking employment in the city. Upon graduating, he made the firm decision to return to his hometown of Ning County.

Situated on the ancient site of the Yiqu state from the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, Ning County lies in eastern Gansu (Longdong). For decades, it faced development hurdles due to poor transport links and a lack of reliable information. Wu Longlong recalls that high-speed rail only arrived in Ning County in 2020. “Every train was packed to capacity back then; local seniors were just eager to catch a ride to Xi’an for a wander around.” Prior to that, travelling south to Xi’an or west to Lanzhou was exceedingly inconvenient.

Yet Qingyang, the prefecture encompassing Ning County, has long carried the title of the ‘Granary of Longdong’. Home to the world’s thickest loess deposits, the area is exceptionally suited to agriculture and stands as one of China’s principal regions for coarse grain production. Inside Ning County, the Malian and Jiulong rivers feed into the Jing River, part of the Yellow River basin. Their water levels remain comparatively robust to this day, permitting rice cultivation along the riverbanks.

During his first couple of years back in the village, Wu Longlong sought to harness the area’s exceptional agricultural endowment by practising circular farming that combined crop cultivation with livestock rearing. He mobilised local villagers to establish a cooperative, raising cattle and sheep while leasing several hundred mu of fallow land to plant broomcorn millet. When the harvest came, however, he struggled to find buyers. With no viable sales channels, he was forced to sell the grain cheaply as conventional produce, ultimately wiping out his initial capital.

Seeking direction, Wu Longlong began to venture further afield. He attended the Liang Shuming Rural Construction Centre’s ‘Leading Goose Programme’ and took part in training initiatives for new farmers across the northwest, connecting with numerous peers in the ecological farming community. It wasn’t long before he decided to pivot his business model, concentrating exclusively on ecological livestock rearing while honing his skills in precision pork butchery and direct market engagement.

With his perspective broadened, a commercial turning point arrived swiftly. In August 2019, Wu Longlong was invited to appear on the Hunan Television variety show ‘Day Day Up’. Then, in March 2020, CCTV-17’s ‘Path to Wealth’ featured a report on his entrepreneurial journey back to the countryside. Both features propelled him into the mainstream, introducing his farming philosophy and ecological produce to a substantially wider consumer base.

56.948 million tonnes—in 2023, China’s total pork consumption accounted for half of the global total, with per capita consumption reaching 25.39 kg per year. The days when pork was a treat reserved for festivals and holidays are long gone.

In the report *China’s Pork Miracle*, animal husbandry expert Xie Minyi notes that the ample supply of pork is attributable to government backing of large-scale, industrialised, and standardised production. By 2023, industrialised pig farms (those raising over 500 head) accounted for 68% of the domestic market. In other words, most of the pork we consume daily comes from these facilities. Breeds selected for higher meat yield, cramped confinement spaces, and accelerated finishing cycles are all compounding the erosion of pork’s flavour.

At the mere thought of pork carrying a faint, musky taint, my anticipation to see these black pigs grew palpable. All the more so when I considered that Wuluo Village, where Wu pastures his herd, sits right beside the Ziwuling National Nature Reserve in Gansu—his own hometown.

As we set off, the view outside the window was overwhelmingly yellow, punctuated occasionally by flashes of dull green. The deeper we drove, the flatter the hills became and the denser the vegetation. “In summer, the mountains turn brilliantly green—it looks nothing like this! The ecology up here is superb; leopards, badgers, wild boar, hares, deer… you name it.” It was only later we learned that the largest and most densely populated known North China leopard population resides precisely within the boundaries of the Ziwuling Nature Reserve.

Living adjacent to the reserve, it’s inevitable that a few pigs fall prey to leopards each year. Yet Wu seemed far less concerned than one might expect. He explained that pigs are gregarious; when ambushed by wild predators, the entire herd bands together to fight back. “They’re formidable!”

Facing a barrage of questions from colleagues at the market, Wu proved gregarious, candid, and knowledgeable, handling the interrogation with the brisk pace of a rapid-fire quiz, all while keeping his eyes on the road. As dusk settled, the pickup veered off the main tarmac and plunged straight onto a mountain track. The path was narrow and steeply graded, and we instinctively gripped the handles.

“Good lord, you’re driving this pickup like a proper off-roader. This track is pretty treacherous… safety must come first,” remarked Wang Rui, who visits growers on behalf of the Beijing Organic Farmers’ Market, breaking his usual silence. Wu, however, traverses this route daily at dawn and dusk to tend his herd. Knowing it inside out, he simply replied, “You soon get used to it!”

After a bumpy ride, we finally reached a small patch of flat ground wedged between a row of cave dwellings and a deep ravine. It was less of a traditional pigsty and more a series of fences erected alongside abandoned caves, cobbled together with wire mesh and wooden posts. The pigs kept here roam freely into the hills by day to forage and play, returning to the caves at night to rest, drink, and eat a small ration of supplementary corn.

Unlike the backyard pig-keeping common in many rural areas, Wu Longlong’s black pigs spend eight months of the year roaming the hillsides, blending free-range with penned husbandry. This is how locals ‘herd’ their pigs. Allowing the animals to roam and forage freely across the valley floors cuts feed costs significantly, while minimising expenditure on housing and land.

Having never witnessed pig herding before, I was naturally curious: what do these black pigs actually eat up in the hills?

‘It might look bare in the woods now, but by May the hillsides are dotted with yellow rose hips – sweet and a favourite of the pigs,’ Wu Longlong tells us. Once the winter melt thaws the mountain streams, forage becomes plentiful. Rooting through the undergrowth for tender shoots, grazing on dandelions, hunting insects, and drinking from natural springs keeps the herd comfortably full for most of the day. Each pig requires just 250 grams of supplementary corn kernels daily. By autumn, when acorns drop, the corn loses all its appeal; the pigs simply feast on the fallen nuts.

Unlike intensive farming, which relies on commercially bought feed, Wu Longlong grows his own corn to supplement the pigs’ diet. Last year, they cultivated 180 mu (roughly 12 hectares) of organically grown corn. During the summer, alfalfa meal is mixed into their feed. Perilla oil is a staple for cooking locally, and the presscake left over from extracting it is put to good use as a nutritious, zero-waste supplement for the animals.

According to Wu Longlong, supplementary feeding serves a purpose beyond mere sustenance: it prevents the pigs from reverting to a wild state or mingling with wild boars, and keeps them accustomed to humans. After all, wild boars thrive in these mountains perfectly well without human provision. In reality, once farmed pigs learn to forage for food and water on the slopes, they no longer rely on anyone at all. It is simply that humans need them.

III. Free-Ranging

The following morning, we finally caught sight of the legendary free-range black pigs.

These animals are raised by partner farmers in a neighbouring county. Wu Longlong has also leased a hillside near the village where he runs three separate herds, each numbering around thirty. “Too many to count exactly—roughly this many,” he remarks.

The mountain tracks here are steeper and more treacherous, accessible only to three-wheeled farm vehicles. The moment the pigs spot familiar faces and the vehicles, they enthusiastically trot over, wagging their tails and nudging us, convinced it’s feeding time.

Wu Longlong rather sheepishly admits that the pigs look their least attractive at this time of year. Indeed, the young stock are noticeably gaunt; with the mountain grasses only just beginning to sprout, forage is scarce and the animals have yet to put on weight. Yet they still appear remarkably sprightly, hardly surprising given they have the entire hillside to themselves.

As we walked, we kept an eye out for traces of the pigs’ movements. Wu Longlong pointed to a hollow in the earth that had been trampled soft. “This is where they make their own beds,” he explained. “They sleep here at night.” It did look remarkably comfortable.

As a rule, indoor-reared Gansu black pigs take nearly ten months to reach the market weight of over 100 kg. By contrast, free-range black pigs forage more widely and get far more exercise, which can sometimes extend their growing period to well over a year. Yet the meat from pigs kept through the winter (traditionally raised for the Lunar New Year) develops a richer profile of flavour compounds. The lean-to-fat ratio is also slightly higher than that of indoor-reared stock, yielding a cut that is perfectly balanced.

Half of Wu Longlong’s piglets are bred on-site; the remainder are sourced from other local farmers. He favours piglets that are allowed to run freely around the yard over those reared in heated brooders. “Piglets from a brooder simply lack the resilience; they wouldn’t stand a chance on the hillside.”

Young piglets are fragile, susceptible to illness, and highly vulnerable to predators. Newly acquired piglets are therefore kept in an enclosure for a period, and their diet is adjusted accordingly compared to the adults. They must be fed cooked maize, wheat and beans. The feed should not be milled too finely, as an overly fine consistency tends to trigger diarrhoea. By the time they reach four months of age, the young pigs are robust enough to be released onto the hillside.

Compared with their indoor-reared counterparts, the hillside pigs in the woodland are noticeably hardier and more robust. Should an animal fall ill, Wu’s first recourse is traditional Chinese veterinary herbal remedies. For instance, if a pig develops signs of internal heat from overindulging in apricots, it will be given a decoction of Chinese herbs.

Where herbal treatments prove insufficient, he will resort to antibiotics. Naturally, any treated animal is clearly marked with an ear tag for separate handling. Medication is administered strictly in accordance with veterinary guidelines, and mandatory withdrawal periods are observed before the pigs are processed. These animals are subsequently sold as standard commercial pork to local residents.

On the way back, our conversation shifted from farming to his family life.

Wu Longlong openly admitted that his father had once been a heavy gambler, accumulating substantial gambling debts in the village. After Wu Longlong graduated and returned home, some villagers came to him to collect those debts. He made it clear: “I will make every effort to repay other debts, but as for gambling debts, not a penny!” This led to numerous clashes with his father over his gambling habit, which eventually culminated in Wu Longlong successfully helping him quit.

His second uncle, meanwhile, suffered from physical and intellectual disabilities caused by a childhood injection, remains unmarried, and lives with Wu Longlong’s parents. After returning home to start his business, Wu Longlong gave his uncle a job herding sheep. Gradually, other relatives who had scattered across the country to work in cities began to reunite, drawn together by the ecological farm.

While navigating life with the extended family, Wu Longlong also established his own household. During the pandemic, he fell in love with Qiqi, a girl from Guangdong who had come to the farm as a volunteer. They married and welcomed their adorable daughter, Xigua. On the evening of our visit to the farm, we enjoyed a Cantonese-style meal in a Loess Plateau courtyard, evoking a dreamlike sense of dislocation that made us marvel at the quirks of fate.

After ten years of going against the grain, Wu Longlong has finally settled down and built a career in the hometown he loves dearly, achieving some solid milestones. His story is now beginning to inspire a new generation of young people in Gansu to return to their rural roots. What will Mu Tongxin Ecological Farm look like another decade from now?

Author

Z X

Foodthink Project Team and Dishwashing Division colleague