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Here s one with a name. About ten years ago, my son’s buddy got a new bow for Christmas and was looking for something to shoot. I had a sow and three young pigs on a corn feeder and told him where to go. He killed the sow and the three young pigs just kept coming back to the feeder. Two little black boars and a red female. My wife named them Larry, Moe, and Roberta. About six months later, Larry became a casualty of another arrow. About a year later, Roberta just disappeared. But old Moe kept coming back. He got where he would let me pet him and scratch his head while he fed at the feeder. He was truly a judas pig - he would bring other hogs with him, and when I would walk up to him and he didnt run, the other hogs didn't know what to do. I shot dozens of other hogs with my bow while I was standing right beside Moe, feeding under the feeder. He hung around for about 2 1/2 years. We would paint him with orange spray paint during hunting season. Finally, one day my wife and I rode down to the feeder on the ranger to fill it with corn. Moe was there like usual. I started petting him and scratching his head. My wife hit something in the ranger that made a metal clanking noise. It spooked Moe and he jumped to the side, knocking me down. He probably weighed about 200 lbs now and was sporting some decent cutters. He ended up standing astraddle me. I could already feel those teeth ripping my guts out. He carefully stepped over me, without even brushing me. I stood up, petted him a few times, got in the ranger and told my wife that was it. Wasnt filling the feeder - it was time for Moe to make it on his own. He hung around for about three months before he left or the orange paint wore off and we could not identify him again