The tinkering of bells, the soft baying of dogs in the distance, the crack of a shotgun breaking the morning calm; yes, it is hunting season. Hunting is a needed activity in the area. Without hunting, wild boar and deer would decimate the vineyards and fruit orchards. I’ve got nothing against the sport, but the problem I see that it is not treated as a sport. Hunting season runs from mid-September to mid-January and any short walk in the summer months will reveal corn scattered on the side of the road or in particular fields. The local hunters bait the boar and deer so they can be easily found later. Sounds like shooting fish in a barrel, doesn’t it?
Here, hunters hunt in battalions so they can flush out a boar and often use the only road to the village as a parking lot and general meeting place. Therefore, the gridlock of trucks must be moved before anyone can drive by and, what’s worse is when the hunters take their post on the road. Then, when the traffic jam is finally cleared, they turn and watch us as we drive by, unaware their cocked and loaded rifle is pointing directly at us. Did I mention the sign they hang to warn us of their presence? It reads:
We hunt; we have guns; YOU be careful.
No, I’m not kidding. I love autumn, but this is one element of it I can do without.
The hunters also a very bad tendency of leaving a dog behind if it doesn’t return from the hunt when it’s time to leave. Overall, if you’re not a boar, hunting dogs are very gentle, and after a long day of running after a beast as its master stands on the side of the road, it’s generally very tired and hungry too. On several occasions, we have found one or more waging tails outside our door which suspiciously coincided with dinner time. We’ve taken them in, but promised “never again” after too many times calling the hunter who promised to come get the dog in a day or two. Yes, a day or two and rarely with a thank you.
The second half of January has just gotten a whole lot more appealing.
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