After Tragedy, an Ulster Park Woman Builds a Sanctuary for Rescued Pigs

Editor’ Note: When we first wrote about Tess Hogan in March 2025, Rise of the Pig felt like one of those Hudson Valley enterprises that runs on equal parts grit and idealism—a handful of pigs, a few acres, and a person determined to make it work. A year later, the scale has changed, and so has everything else. Hogan’s sanctuary is now a nonprofit caring for nearly 30 pigs, but the bigger story is the one that unfolded behind the scenes: personal loss, a deepening commitment to the work, and an unexpected new partner in both life and labor. This update returns to Ulster Park to see what happens when a passion project becomes a lifeline.

Tess Hogan is cradling a five-month-old piglet in the kitchen of her 1870s farmhouse in Ulster Park. “She loves being held, which is very unusual for pigs,” says Hogan, a wide smile crossing her face.

Her pig sanctuary and rescue, Rise of the Pig, became a nonprofit group in January 2026, although Hogan has been caring for pigs on her property since 2018. Twenty-eight pigs currently live on the property, including the piglet, Guadalupe Lucia (Lupe for short), whom Hogan is fostering until a forever home can be found.

“I really enjoy their quirks,” says Hogan, 40, who plans to taper off working as a freelance film and print advertising producer and dedicate her life full-time to pig rescue and care. “Pigs are wildly intelligent and emotional, and with that comes a whole range of personalities. We constantly have to find ways to outsmart the pigs!”

Hogan’s first potbellied pig, Buttercup, was a gift from her parents when she was 21 and living in New York City. “Buttercup was my soul animal,” Hogan says. “Our relationship was so intuitive and so natural from the second she walked into my Harlem apartment. It was like she’d always been there.”

In 2015, a year after Buttercup’s death during exploratory surgery for cancer, she and her partner, Raymond McLaren, a high-profile hairstylist, bought the farmhouse on six acres to enjoy a quieter lifestyle and care for pigs.

They built sheds and enclosures, and welcomed two potbellied pigs, Urban and Delilah, that were living at a nearby farm-animal rescue.

A hoarding case yielded Babs, a “goofy-looking” potbellied-kunekune cross who turned out to be pregnant and gave birth to eight piglets, which the couple delivered in their dining room with help from their veterinarian via FaceTime.

“I had every intention of adopting out all of the babies,” Hogan says. “But Babs struggled to produce milk, so we had to pan-feed the babies with milk. It’s very hard to pan-feed piglets and get them to survive. We really put in the work, and then we just couldn’t part with them.”

A Porcine Nonprofit Is Formed

Last spring, tragedy struck. McLaren, her partner of 20 years and the father of Hogan’s two adult stepchildren, died by suicide at age 58 after decades of struggling with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. The two had decided to split romantically a year earlier, but they were still living together and caring for the pigs together.

“It was devastating,” Hogan says. “We had two kids and an entire slew of animals together, and he was a huge part of that whole life.“Being around the pigs and loving the pigs helped Raymond tremendously and extended his life by many years,” Hogan adds. “The pigs brought him peace. In order to honor him, I had to keep moving forward.”

And move forward she did. In addition to completing the paperwork for nonprofit status, she cared for the sanctuary’s residents solo and took in six adult pigs from a nearby hoarding case and three sick foster piglets one after the other to be nursed back to health and socialized for adoption. The outdoor structures are now filled to capacity, so the piglets live indoors.

First came piglet Juan Pablo, then Jose Emiliano, and finally, Lupe—“named after cartel members because piglets are like little mob bosses,” Hogan explains. “They just take over your whole house.”

They’re also “a delight and a joy to have around,” Hogan says. “They do zoomies just like dogs. We spend a lot of time and energy getting the piglets healthy, and then I get to watch them go off to amazing homes.”

Hogan has enrolled Jose Emiliano in a therapy-animal program for autistic children with reading disabilities, who will read aloud to him to boost their confidence. “Jose wants to be around people all the time,” Hogan says. “He just loves people instantly. That’s why he’s so primed to be a therapy animal.”

Lupe, who was recovering from prolapsed-rectum surgery and had a bad case of mange, is now thriving under Hogan’s care and learning manners, with the help of Hogan’s “piglet nanny,” a house pig named Jolene. Lupe also has learned to co-exist with Hogan’s three rescue dogs, an important skill as many prospective adopters have dogs.

“Any pig that comes onto my property immediately starts a program to be socialized and trained as a companion animal,” Hogan says. “I start teaching them how to be indoor-outdoor pigs. They get taught to be potty-trained and how not to be naughty.” Which can be an uphill battle: Lupe had to learn not to pull tiles off the bathroom floor or jump up and lick the kitchen cabinets.

Two years ago, Hogan joined forces with Eastern Snouts Adoption and Rehoming, a nonprofit national pig-rescue network based in Toms River, New Jersey. Altogether, Hogan says, she has helped find homes for around 200 pigs.

“Tess is exceptionally over the top with everything in the best way possible, whether it’s regular mealtimes, bedtime check-ins, or giving everyone the extra attention they need,” said Anna Kulczycki, a cofounder of Eastern Snouts. “She’s willing to do everything possible to make a foster pig’s life or her own sanctuary pigs’ lives easier. If it’s an expensive surgery, Tess doesn’t ask, ‘Can I?’ She says, ‘When can we make this happen?’ ”

The most challenging part of the rescue operation is dealing with health crises because “pigs are still considered part of the food chain,” Hogan says. “There’s a lot we don’t know about them from a medical perspective.” Getting answers when a pig falls ill can be challenging and costly, and often the only option in the region is admission to Cornell University’s farm-animal hospital in Ithaca for diagnosis and treatment.

An Unexpected Romantic Turn

Last December, Hogan’s personal life took another unexpected turn after her cousin, Alyssia Nielson, egged her on to join the dating site Hinge when Hogan was visiting her in Tucson, Arizona, where Hogan grew up. Within a week, she met Chris Navarro, 42, an easygoing metal fabricator from Tucson.

After a few visits, during which he met McLaren and got his blessing, Navarro moved last August to live with Hogan and help her run the sanctuary. He even became a vegan, like Hogan, and says he doesn’t miss meat because she cooks delicious vegan meals.

“She’s a very thoughtful, caring, and selfless person,” Navarro says. “She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met and how she operates with people and how she deals with animals is very attractive.”

As for Hogan, “Chris is definitely the love of my life,” she says. “It’s pretty great because all this happened very organically. He was getting divorced and wanted to leave Tucson, and we were both in a place where it made sense. Life can be very tough, and you can have these very hard experiences, but Chris is becoming a huge part of what’s going on at Rise of the Pig.”

The couple is collaborating on building a pig lift to facilitate hoof trimming and have produced Rise of the Pig shirts, hoodies, and stickers to sell through their new website, which is expected to go live by April 1. They also have launched an Instagram account and a TikTok channel to post content on keeping pigs as pets.

On a typical day, the couple gets up at sunrise to feed the pigs, change their water, and clean their enclosures and sheds, with just one part-time helper three days a week. The pigs’ dinnertime is at sunset, and then Hogan arranges blankets in the largest pig shed for Babs and her now-grown babies and tucks each pig into bed.

Pigs are creatures of habit, and if she were to skip the tuck-in routine, Hogan says, “The pigs won’t go to bed. They’ll be out in the yard partying till 9:30 at night.”

Between the blankets and wee-wee pads for the indoor pigs, “laundry is going 24/7,” she says. “It’s exhausting, but I wouldn’t change it. It’s so rewarding for me because I know I’m giving these animals a great life.”