In the heart of South Georgia farm country, a legend was born from a single photo. The image showed a hog so massive it looked more like a movie prop than a real animal with its body dangling from a backhoe, dwarfing the man who killed it.
They called it Hogzilla.
The name stuck. But so did the questions.
A Beast of a Boar
Chris Griffin, a hunting guide at River Oak Plantation, says he shot the enormous hog in June 2004. His boss, landowner Ken Holyoak, backed the story. The two claimed the hog measured 12 feet long and tipped the scales at over 1,000 pounds.
That’s as big as a small car like a Honda Fit.
“It was just too big to let someone else take a shot,” Ken Holyoak said in a 2004 interview with The Spokesman-Review. “We killed it because we didn’t want to risk it getting away.”
Instead of butchering the animal, which they said was too tough to eat, they buried it. The only proof of the kill was a single photo and a few eyewitness accounts.
The story spread fast. Some called it a Southern hoax. Others swore it was the biggest hog ever taken in the wild. Hunters and skeptics alike flooded feed stores and forums with one question:
Was it real?
Locals in nearby Tifton displayed the photo. People traveled in just to stare at the picture of the hog that, by all accounts, was bigger than any Georgia hog before it.
Even Holyoak’s prior record, a 695-pound boar, seemed small by comparison.
Nearly a year later, in early 2005, National Geographic stepped in. A crew exhumed Hogzilla’s remains, donning full biohazard gear to deal with what had turned into a rotting, underground mass.
Their findings were aired in a documentary which shined the light on how big Hogzilla truly was.
According to the scientists, Hogzilla measured between 7.5 and 8.6 feet long, and weighed about 800 pounds. Still enormous by hog standards. Just not quite the monster the photo, and legend, made it out to be.
The team confirmed the animal was a hybrid between a domestic Hampshire pig and a wild boar. Its tusks, at nearly 28 inches and 19 inches, set a new Safari Club International free-range record.
The Shrinkage Debate
Landowner Ken Holyoak didn’t buy the revised numbers.
He claimed the hog had shrunk while buried, comparing the process to watching a grape turn into a raisin. He stood by his original claim: 12 feet, 1,000 pounds, measured fresh off the kill and weighed on farm equipment.
National Geographic’s team acknowledged some shrinkage might have occurred but stood by their estimates.
The Town That Adopted a Hog
In Alapaha, truth hardly mattered. Hogzilla had become a local celebrity. That fall, the town threw a festival in his honor. There were floats, kids in pig costumes, and even a Hogzilla Princess.
Darlene Turner, a local resident, hosted a watch party for the National Geographic special.
“At first, I was afraid it might be an embarrassment,” she told NBC News. “But now I wish everybody could see the documentary. It would take the doubt out of people’s minds.”
So, Was It 1,000 Pounds?
That depends on who you ask.
The scientists say no.
The man who killed it says yes.
One thing’s for sure: Hogzilla was real. And even at 800 pounds, it was no ordinary hog. Whether it was truly a thousand pounds of bacon on hooves or just Southern storytelling turned up a notch, the legend lives on.
And down in South Georgia, that’s plenty good enough.
