Any idea's how big this hog could be

Bob Owens and I hunted a 2500 acre, high fence ranch about 5 or 6 years ago. It didn't always produce a lot of hogs but it was well roaded and a fun place to hunt . . and the caretaker would let us know when and where he was seeing the most hog sign. One particular time we came upon the trail of a hog so big that the tracks alone would have weighed 40 pounds apiece. So we put down the best dogs we had and . . . nothing. Apparently the tracks were old and the sorry dogs couldn't smell em. So we moved to another section and spotted the same tracks, only more recent! But again the dogs shied away. We kept trying and kept trying to put dogs down but each time they'd play dumb or just sull up and refuse working these giant hoofprints. It was disappointing to say the least. We were already coming up with nicknames for the record holder who belonged to these mud craters . . like Porkenstein, or maybe PIGoliath. I was about to start beating my dogs as I was becoming convinced they were just too chicken to run any animal who left a hole in the earth this large. Eventually we turned loose one last time but the dogs left out trailing our behemoth of bacon only to come up bayed on a much smaller specimen of 150 pounds or so. So we disgustedly packed it in and headed for the house.

When exiting the ranch's main gate Bob stopped to talk to the ranch manager. He told him of our small hog but apologetically offered that we were unable to catch the beast who could tip over windmills with his backscratching.

And then the guy explains . . . "Oh, no. That's a bull elk from a neighboring property. He keeps jumping the fence and coming over here to graze."

Maybe those looks of fear on the faces of our dogs were because they thought we were trying to entrap them in yet another e-collar round of trash breaking. Smart dogs. Dumb hunters.