August 2011. Beware the cloven-hooved devils.

Amidst recent mayhem from a rising river, Vicksburg faced porcine invasion when, literally hog washed from their usual haunts, a troublesome foursome of “large black boars” arrived at a local riverside playground. But these not-so-little piggies didn’t come to swing as high as they could and cry, “Wee, wee, wee.” They came to invade, to conquer. Eventually a dirty dozen feral hogs were shot. An elusive thirteenth seen assaulting “a small deer” escaped. Feral hogs are adept at evading stalkers and hiding their ugly selves despite their size. Often labeled “brilliant,” they’re the smartest wild animal among many who repeatedly outsmart and humiliate man.

The North American swine experience began when Spanish explorers brought domesticated pigs from their European homeland, chitlins for conquistadors. Prior to De Soto’s arrival in Florida in 1539 and subsequent journey around the Gulf of Mexico and inward, we were porkless—no bacon, ham, pork chops. De Soto and fellow explorers scattered pigs through Gulf Coast states, and some escaped, becoming ancestors of feral populations; more arrived with settlers. Though that’s enough fine swine considering their fecundity, Russian wild boars were released for hunters’ delight in New Hampshire (1890), North Carolina near the Tennessee border (1912), California (1925) and Mississippi (1970s). The Wild Ones rambled, seducing naïve domestic pigs, and voila! Feral populations exploded and continue to explode. We can’t defuse them; in primo conditions, their numbers double within four months. In spite of their alarming numbers, releasing sporty wild boars continues today. Squeal! Stop it!

Varmits running hog wild scarcely resemble Porky Pig or Piglet. With longer legs and longer head than domestic pigs, he’s big, averaging four to five feet in length, thirty inches at the shoulder, and 250 pounds. Numbers vary due to climate.

He’s battle ready, girded in a thick hide, spiked coat and “shoulder cape,” his shield of several inches of cartilage and scar tissue from former battles. He’s born to kill. Lowering his head and using modified lower canine teeth, which grow into  3–5 inch  tusks a.k.a. “tushes” (not what ZZ Top means in the song “Tush”), he charges, viciously slashing upward. Upper canines called “whetters” grind lower teeth into lethal spears. He’s an aggressive thug called “dog killer,” a good name for a gangsta rapper. The sow’s a suitable paramour, smaller, shorter tusked, yet ugly. Vicious in maternal mode, Mama charges presumed piglet molesters with jaws agape to inflict wounds in the name of motherhood.

The lovely couple meets when a boar, bored with solitary life, spruces up the best he can when testosterone levels peak as light dips in autumn. Then hoggy goes a courting. Females travel in matriarchal groups with offspring, joining similar groups to form “sounders” of fifty or more. The boar follows his snout to a bevy of sows. Other lusty males simultaneously get similar urges, and all vie for the fairest cloven hoof in the land. Violent battles ensue, with the strongest, most brutal brute ripping competition to shreds to win a romp in the mud with the sow who most smites him. The deed done, he exits in boorish fashion. As soon as he turns his razorback, other males skulk in for a porky orgy. The population explodes once more with a bang. Though lust peaks in autumn, lesser fireworks pop year round. Woe to the ecology. Multitudes of hogs trot among feeding grounds, trampling and rooting up agricultural crops, pastures, lawns, golf courses and cemeteries with long, flexible snouts. They turn wet land near ponds, springs and streams into muck, digging and scratching to a depth of three feet to create wallows, their La-Z-Boy recliners. Scratching their nasty hides against trees, rocks, and fence posts, the hogs leave filthy, hairy, parasite infested mementos and damaged seedlings. Wildlife habitats crumble in the wake of the kings of the wastelands they create.

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