Cinghiale: Bella vs. Morto

Saturday was hunting day.  Not for A.J.,  the dogs, and I, but for everyone (the men and one woman) else in San Martino.

Early in the afternoon a hunter came up, posted a notice on our fence and told me in Italian, what I believe was: “Hey I’m hunting with about 20 of my buddies and you and your dogs should stay out of the way so we don’t accidently shoot you while we are hunting for boar.”  What I know for sure was that he said he was a hunter=cacciatore and that he was hunting boar=cinghiale and that I should be advised=avviso.

So the rest of the day went something like this:

Tons of cars racing up and down the road hauling tiny little carts with about 8 dogs in each cart.  No joke, 8 dogs in a 6X6 box.  (Italians like little dogs for pets, big dogs are only for hunting, or so I gather.) 

About 10 full cars of hunters pulled up right outside our gate in varying shades of olive highlighted with fluorescent orange and carrying very large guns (note the one fancy guy in purple.)  The dogs were each outfitted with tiny bells around their necks…their safety as not to be shot.  Now this was not your ordinary run of the mill hunting operation.  Each hunter was fitted with an ear piece (a la secret service) or a walkie talkie.  And they were VERY coordinated, each person with a job.

The hunters then headed down the road next to our house and the rest of the day we heard shots echoing thru the valley and Rory barking and whining, perhaps his safety measure as not to be shot, as Sookie and he are Cinghiale size and color.

About 3ish we started to hear taking outside our house. By this time we were holed up in the house trying to calm the dogs (fruitless) and avoid the “war” going on outside our house.  So the ever curious Americans went out on the balcony, where I believe I was told: “NO problem, we are not hunting up there on private property, the dogs are chasing the boar down to us.”  I just smiled and waved, as I was not sure how to tell them I was just curious and wanted to see the boar.  Shortly after the dogs began arriving back to be loaded in their boxes and a truck headed down the road, and I was pretty sure I would see a boar soon.  My guess was right, shortly after we saw this… (yep that's a dead boar in the back of that truck)

Then they all loaded up and headed away. We treated ourselves and the dogs to a drive in the country to breathe some fresh air and collect some bread at the best bakery in the area (as we’ve been told by Marianne and Andrew).  Ah, country life, is the life for me!