Obviously, a new hunting season has just commenced. How do I know? Because I have to deal with a dog trying to climb furniture, break into a wall or at least perch on my pillow, or even better, head.
There is not much I truly despise, but people who consciously hurt or damage other living beings solely for their pleasure is high on the list.
I have never known any hunter if I don’t count a despicable man who was a policeman but used his job to smuggle hunting ammunition into the country, and terrorised his family and dogs. I never lived in the country before either. But now I’m here and there are shots outside my window.
I understand that the shots I get to hear are nothing in comparison. They are not meant for me, after all, neither for my bestia even though he doesn’t buy my attempts at explaining it to him as he is desperately trying to climb my night stand, knocking down glasses, books, stones and nail polish.
I understand that nowadays people all over the world are increasingly awoken to other kinds of shots, even in the countries with no war, such as Georgia. (And I don’t mean Gruzija.)
And yet they are out there, using the first day allowed to do what? Down a boar? A bunny? A bambi? Probably they waited all summer for this first legal day. I’ve seen them around, prancing about in their hunter gear all day long, with their dogs, in their dirty jeeps. They are hunters just like their fathers were, and grandfathers before them, and boar is the enemy.
If you dare into the woods around here, all you find in the undergrowth is what their rifles leave behind. The only time I saw a boar, it (she?) was chased by an exciting overweight hunter who was running with his dogs behind it towards the beach. So much for romantic sunset beach strolls.
And this is how a boar celebrates the end of hunting season on the island of Elba, not so far from here.
End of January, five months to go then. (Not my video.)
I’ve always hated September 1st, but for another reason. In Slovenia this day is when school starts. (In the USA it starts so early in comparison, whereas in Italy it’s September 15th!)
Now I have another reason to hate it.
It’s hunting wabbits either way.
Photo: a © signature mmm production