Social Life of Guinea Pigs

I was recently reading a story about the trials of introducing a new member to a guinea pig family. Musing on the group dynamics at play, the writer referred to piggies as "herd animals" struggling for dominance and the survival of their little herd.

The cheery little critters are certainly sociable, but the image of vast herds of wild guinea pigs roaming the grasslands had me chuckling. Still, it may not be so farfetched. In another story I found at the Cavy Chronicles, Piggie owner Jill Oviatt described how her herd of 13 kept her front yard neatly mowed in the summer. Taking the piggies out in their cages, "They nibbled the greenery down to the quick, . . . [then] we would move the cages to the next square. We 'mowed' our entire yard this way . . . ."

Of course, things don't always work out so well in the herd. I have vivid memories of breaking up a vicious fight between two of my male piggies - father and son - when the son took a wrong turn in his efforts to scale the wall of his cage to rendezvous with the females and landed, instead, in his dad's cage.

I inserted my hand into a whirling blur of orange fur, then quickly pulled it back with Sean (the love-crazed son) firmly attached by the teeth.

Fortunately, social competition and rivalry isn't always so ferocious. Alex Tamm tells the tale of how Tricky, an aptly named piggie, finagled some tasty lettuce away from his dominant companion, Lump. First attempting to distract Lump from the object of his desire by gnawing on the leg of the piano, Tricky lured Lump to the piano but failed to get his owner to put Lump back in the cage as punishment for chewing the furniture. Lump was back to the lettuce before Tricky could take a bite. Next Tricky challenged Lump's dominance by rumbling at him, leaving Lump with no choice but to attack. Though no wounds were inflicted, Tricky squealed as loud as he could, bringing his humans running to the rescue.

"Tricky was put back in the cage with the food, water and lettuce while Lump had to run around on the floor screaming his head off looking for Tricky. The victorious and stuffed Tricky crawled into Lump's cave and fell asleep."

In the case of multi-species relationships, guinea pigs can be surprisingly adaptable. My last piggie, Buffy, never accepted her new rabbit companion, Esther - in fact, she refused to even acknowledge Esther's existence, simply turning a very cold shoulder to her whenever she approached. But The Guinea Pig Compendium posts a funny story of a highly unorthodox match between a green macaw who refused to talk and a lively band of piggies. When Braak, the macaw, was temporarily moved into the breakfast nook where a group of female piggies and their babies lived, he became fascinated with the little critters. When a baby dashed by Braak suddenly turned his head sideways, to get a better look, and greeted the youngster with a "Hello!"

Soon he was greeting every piggie who passed his cage, and the piggies - used to associating human "Hello's" with the arrival of food and attention - began responding with excited "wheet, wheets!"

In no time "the whole place was in total chaos: 'Hello!' 'Wheet! Wheet!' 'Hello!' "Wheet! Wheet!'

"And then suddenly the BIRD was saying 'Wheet! Wheet!"

This relationship seems to have worked out well for all concerned: the macaw was happier and more relaxed, the piggies enjoyed the opportunity to chat, and the humans discovered that their morose bird could talk. Now everyone is greeted with a cheerful "Hello! Wheet! Wheet! Braak!"