On a recent flight from Charlotte to Greenville, I counted six of these, described memorably in this Rolling Stone article.
When I lived in Florida, I was fond of reading a magazine called Woods and Water or something like that, targeted at the hunting and fishing communities. One of the ads in the back described how you could pay some folks to take you out in the North Florida wilderness, corner a feral hog with the aid of fearless dogs, and attempt to slay the beast with only a Rambonic knife (presumably, with the guides watching with rifles in case of imminent disembowlment). Though I love the taste of most all pig products, the aforementioned article is very close to making me only eat it in the hand-killed form I just described. (I’m sure the Whole Foods in Raleigh sells it, perhaps only meat slain by elvish arrows.) Some guy in Texas, I read, is making quite a living selling it as well. The feral hogs are profligate and may be animated with the spirit of revenge for this mass-sacrifice to Baal we call agriculture.