Theodore Roosevelt, 26th President of the United States, historian, naturalist, explorer, hunter, author, soldier, and all around tough guy, was also a taxidermist and lover of swine. TR was known for his heartfelt letters to his children, such as this one from Keystone Ranch, Jan. 29, 1901:
Darling Little Ethel,
You would be much amused with the animals round the ranch. The most thoroughly independent and self-possessed of them is a large white pig which we have christened Maude. She goes everywhere at her own will; she picks up scraps from the dogs, who bay dismally at her, but know they have no right to kill her; and then she eats the green alfalfa hay from the two milch cows who live in the big corral with the horses. One of the dogs has just had a litter of puppies; you would love them, with their little wrinkled noses and squeaky voices.
Delightful! And another, later from the White House to his son, October 17, 1908:
Dearest Kermit,
Quentin performed a characteristic feat yesterday. He heard that Schmidt, the animal man, wanted a small pig, and decided that he would turn an honest penny by supplying the want. So out in the neighborhood of his school he called on an elderly [man] who, he had seen, possessed little pigs; bought one; popped it into a bag; astutely dodged the school—having a well-founded distrust of how the boys would feel toward his passage with the pig—and took the car for home. By that time the pig had freed itself from the bag, and, as he explained, he journeyed in with a "small squealish pig" under his arm; but as the conductor was a friend of his he was not put off. He bought it for a dollar and sold it to Schmidt for a dollar and a quarter, and feels as if he had found a permanent line of business. Schmidt then festooned it in red ribbons and sent it to parade the streets. I gather that Quentin led it around for part of the parade, but he was somewhat vague on this point, evidently being a little uncertain as to our approval of the move.
After his term in office ended, TR and his son Kermit took off for east and central Africa, and it is quite difficult to imagine the man who wrote so fondly of Maude was the very same stalking and felling elephants and hippos. But here is evidence, from this letter from On the 'Nzor River, Nov. 13, 1909:
Darling Ethel,
Here we are, by a real tropical river, with game all around, and no human being within several days' journey. At night the hyenas come round the camp, uttering their queer howls; and once or twice we have heard lions; but unfortunately have never seen them. Kermit killed a leopard yesterday. He has really done so very well! It is rare for a boy with his refined tastes and his genuine appreciation of literature—and of so much else—to be also an exceptionally bold and hardy sportsman. He is still altogether too reckless; but by my hen-with-one-chicken attitude, I think I shall get him out of Africa uninjured; and his keenness, cool nerve, horsemanship, hardihood, endurance, and good eyesight make him a really good wilderness hunter. We have become genuinely attached to Cunninghame and Tarleton, and all three naturalists, especially Heller; and also to our funny attendants. The porters always amuse us and lug around our giant collection of books we felt we might want to read at some point or another on our trek around this great continent, while resting under a tree at noon, perhaps beside the carcass of a beast I have killed, or else while waiting for camp to be pitched. In total, the collection weighs about four tons but they say that it does not bother them in the least to carry it all. Did I tell you that the library is protected in the skin of dear little Maude and her pups and grandpups? I giggle to myself thinking of the great works of Tennyson and Shelley and Milton wrapped up in our piggies’ skins. When there is no clean water for washing our hands Kermit and I generally read Browning…
It was in these days that it became clear to everyone close to TR that his mental health was waning and his relationship to pigs was getting all too strange (and that Kermit was a dandy). TR's swiney emotional state began to affect all parts of his life. The famed 1911 rift with Taft — said to be based on Taft’s unwillingness to attack big business — ended with TR shouting, “Taft, you are such a pussywillow of a man. I do think you might wear hair on your lip! And I am as tough as a Pork Moose!” And from that day on, our nation’s great Rough Rider was known to wear giant pork chops hanging above his mouth.
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