Out across the fields we can hear the guns and dogs of the Sunday afternoon hunt. There are no foxes being shot here: the preferred game is boar and deer. Cars with dog cages park in clusters along country roads and signs are erected, warning of "Chasse au Grand Gibier" (big game hunting!). Men in bright orange jackets carrying rifles line the edges of the woods, waiting for something to emerge. Last winter a passer-by brought a lost dog to our house. It had been gashed in the side by a boar. We gave it a blanket and a bowl of water while he tracked down the owner.
As ever, administration rules, and only those capable of hacking through a thicket of formalities are allowed to hunt.
No comments:
Post a Comment