Why There Are 300 Pigs Running Loose in This Forest

"Luna! Luna! Pig, pig, pig!"

I'm in the middle of New Forest in the south east of England with smallholders Rowena Wedge and Patrick Cook. We're hunting for their sow Luna, named after the Harry Potter character you're most likely to bump into at a gong bath. She's been put out here to roam and gorge on acorns with her 11 piglets as part of the annual pannage season.

The idea is that the pigs eat the rich, nutty acorns, hoovering them away from the Forest's ponies and cattle, who can fall ill from the toxic tannin they contain. Allowing the pigs to roam and forage in this way also produces a superior pork that could be described as the UK's answer to Ibérico ham.

We switch from Jeep to foot to delve deeper into the forest but there's still no sign of Luna. I made the trip down the M27 with only an M&S millionaire's shortbread for company—I can't go home without seeing this pig.

Off in the distance, we make out some little ones fathered by Wedge and Cook's boar Burt, a stud muffin of a Gloucester Old Spot who is often loaned out for his siring services.

"He's been [all the way] to Somerset before, bless his little cotton socks," says Wedge. But still no sign of Luna.

Pannage season started on 14 September and runs for roughly 60 days. Each year, the start date is decided via a process that sounds like something from an episode of Buffy. The Agisters, who deal with the forest's ponies, cattle, and sheep advise the Verderers—officials charged with overseeing areas of the New Forest that belong to The Crown—who in turn advise the Deputy Surveyor of the Forestry Commission to decide when it all kicks off.

The ancient Right of Common of Mast, which allows farmers to let their pigs into the New Forest has been around for hundreds of years. Back in the day, as many as 6000 pigs were released each season but this year's figure is about 300. Owners pay £4 per pig for them to enjoy this months-long banquet.

Though the pigs usually find their way home each night, for the last few days, Luna and her gang have been bunking down at a neighbour's, too full of acorns to head home.

One of ten New Forest keepers, Cook can track pigs by examining trotter prints in the mud and a little further on, we finally spot Luna. Wedge calls her but she's too distracted to respond, head down in an acorn-induced reverie.

But of a sudden, her head is up, her ears are pricked, and—despite terrible eyesight—she's bounding, faster than you'd expect, towards Wedge. She then oinks for her litter to come over and they career up to us like a rush hour crowd ramming the Tube.

Along with 280 or so fellow acorn-foragers loose in the Forest this year, the pigs will spend the next few weeks roaming the area.

"It's why their pork becomes so tasty," says Wedge.

With little time for the modern aversion to naturally fatty foods, Cook stresses the need for pigs not to be too lean.

"A friend once put out some long-legged pigs," he remembers. "They were sprinting around. Hyper—wrong breed."

When pannage season finishes, the pigs are called home and fed with their usual diet until the tannin is out of their systems.

"I'm afraid, generally after that, we have pork," says Wedge. "How I cook it depends on the cut. The belly I cook twice because I slow cook it and then I hit it hard. We also roast it, I keep it plain because then you get the flavour of the pork. Or if I add anything, I add cider or apples."

Demand for the pork of these New Forest explorers far outstrips supply so why don't more of the UK's pig farmers let their animals run free in this way?

For one thing, not many people hold the right to pannage. It's a right that is tied to land and with many of the properties surrounding the New Forest owned by people without livestock (the words "Londoners" and "holiday homes" crop up more than once when I ask locals about this), the number of roaming pigs is lower than it could be.

There are moves to counter this by obtaining protected EU status for pannage pork, similar to that held by Stilton or Champagne. Organisations like the New Forest Marque also work with local farmers to seek accreditation that would give their meat "provenance and consumer confidence."

Local restaurants are championing the area's distinctive meat too. In nearby Brockenhurst, chef James Golding at The Pig Hotel includes the pannage pork in his dishes for its "depth of flavour" and "earthiness."

"Even its colour is different," he says. Next to the lighter, pinkish colour of air-dried meats, the pork is "really deep, almost dark, rich brown."

Golding also works with a local, third generation butcher to make salamis, chorizos, coppas, lomos, and air-dried hams.

"We take the leg, pack it down with salt and sugar for a month, then wash it off and air dry if for 12 to 18 months," Golding explains. "To serve, we add cider dressing, roasted beetroots, rosemary, goat's cheese, and then this mixed salad that we grow here—red mizuna, mustard mizuna, and New Zealand spinach."

Pannage pork has also made its way to London. The Butchery Limited claims to be the "only supplier in London" and owner Nathan Mills is hoping for a delivery of between 30 and 40 pigs this year.

"It's got that little nutty overtone which is quite nice," he says. "It's just a completely natural process, which shines through."

It may be delicious but it's strange to think of Luna's inquisitive piglets on a butcher's hook.

"That's why we had to stop keeping turkeys," says Wedge. "Too clever."