I remember they would never let me go outside alone because they told me the “hogs would eat me”.
I guess they were not kidding.
Back in 1957-58-59 or whatever, we had an old man who lived in home about two miles from ours. We hadn’t seen him for days, so my Dad called the authorities, figuring he had died inside. Here comes the State police and VFD. No body inside, no signs of struggle and the back door was unlocked. A cursory inspection of the barn was made(Sam! You in here? Sam!. Figuring he went for a walk everybody began searching the fields and woods around the place. My Dad didn’t want me along because of what they might find. The chickens were making a heck of a fuss so he told me to feed the chickens, throw the two old dairy cows some hay and he’d be back. As I was doing this I walked by the pig (hog) sty and looked in because the 20 or 30 hogs were outside at the back of the barn. I ran into the woods and told Dad and BFD Chief that I found Sam’s hat and his bibs. They asked ‘Where?” I said “in the hog pen”. Search ended.
Maybe that is why when I went to boot camp in 1962 some of the boys from Texas would say things like, “That’s the most fun I’ve had since the hogs ate my sister.”