Hare Hunting: The story of a difficult but intense day of hare hunting, full of emotions, during which the hound and its hunting intelligence were able to make a difference.
I really have to tell you this, because when you have such an exceptional dog in your hands the only thing you can do is admire its technique, ask yourself how the hell he always finds the hare, and let all your companions admire him, who let's face it, deep down they think you don't really deserve that hound. Yes, because there is no race that holds, and not even training: the sense of the wild either you have it, or you don't have it. It can be increased by the desire to satisfy the master, but with this gift we are born and Whistle was born there.
They gave it to me a few years ago, and I tell you honestly, I didn't want it at all. It is a cross between Italian hound and posavatz, and I, who until recently had the stench under my nose, did not believe that crossings could give so much to the hunter. I had to change my mind. Whistle immediately proved to be an exceptional beagle, whatever the day I put him on the field: heat, wind, humid, rain, he always teased me a hare.
I understood, however, that he is not only an excellent hound but an exceptional dog when during one of those dry, hot summer days, torrid and cursed whistles, unlike other dogs in the area, all with I don't know how many medals, the hare me l 'he found out for real. It was difficult, but he succeeded. That morning, I already mentioned to you, there was a heat to lose your head. With two friends we found ourselves in the usual place at dawn. We were hoping for a little cool and humid, but nothing, at six in the morning it was already hot. After hitting the area that we were sure was inhabited by some hare, Marco and Giovanni took their post and I freed Whistle. You will certainly not forget the Pisan landscape even if you have seen it even once: in that beautiful plain there was wheat, there were vines, alfalfa as if they were giving it away, and corners of green that that day were not for. nothing refreshing.
Untied Zip that immediately flew to the area of pasture of hares. His vocalizations, well timed and frequent, had given me hope. The bad news arrived immediately: the dog's confusion was obvious. More than once he had reached the height of the action, never realizing anything. He had reached the vicinity of the vineyard: the hare must have passed through there but who knows when. Whistle immediately understood that he would have to give his best that morning, at least if he wanted to bring home some results. He began to broaden his search by quickly freeing himself from the stalks that were perceptible only in the lower part of the cultivated field, the one where a bit of humidity had been preserved.
Looking at Whistle, the idea I got was that of a dog scanning the whole territory with a minutiae and a patience that I would not have had: after a good half hour a half scagno and a few fluttering of the tail jumped out. “Here we are”, I immediately thought, but there was still to wait. As we entered the vineyard, the vocalizations became more and more frequent and interesting. I had my eyes fixed on the field, convinced that in a few moments the hare would jump out: but the juxtaposition proved more difficult than you might think. Whistle kept drawing concentric circles wider and wider, sniffing the ground carefully: a genuinely meticulous dog. We were dealing with a rather shrewd mumpsuit: probably before the remittance she had taken care to go through what in the jargon are called doubles. These are pirouettes capable of confusing even the most experienced dog as the olfactory trail suddenly stops.
Whistle understood the situation: that dog always surprises me and even that day he was able to put aside his instincts and use his hunting intelligence and experience. On the other hand, he was not new to looking around vineyards; this is not something simple but row after row was getting closer to the prey. The long, shrill barking was immediately preceding the hare's leap, more like a sketch of a crazed little mump who had found shelter. I immediately thought that she would go in Marco's direction: it was the easiest way to take, but evidently that hare didn't like simple things. He enjoyed making whistle go crazy inside the vineyard, walking far and wide and finally heading towards Giovanni. You can imagine the end of the story. As soon as he spotted Giovanni he used his usual technique. She whistled loudly and for a long time, so much so that the hare stopped to understand where that sound was coming from, a choice that was fatal to her, honor to her and to that hound who changed my life!