Wild boar hunting - The assignment of the stalks for the selecontrollers of the Pollino National Park follows a democratic and fair criterion: rotation. A monthly schedule decides who will go where, impartially distributing good and bad luck among the hunters. Certainly one of the advantages is the variety of glimpses and panoramas that follow one another, without the tedium that sometimes comes when frequenting the same area or the same roof terrace. On the other hand, the rotation does not allow to deepen the observation of an area, its animals and their movements. During my week of summer holidays in Calabria I accompanied Ennio and other friends almost every day: the Pollino mountains, hunting, nature, fine air and, last but not least, the company of my friends, were the background. of mine holidays. Throughout the hunting week, the so-called “Del Trifoglio” area was visited between Ennio and Carlo four times.
The first evening I accompany Ennio. The stakeout is not particularly spectacular. We leave the car a few hundred meters away, there is no need to walk up steep climbs as usual. We arrive in front of a deep field, devoid of significant slopes, partially cultivated with cereals, with some sprinkles of alfalfa. The hours pass slowly, in the absence of wild animals that come to shake us from the torpor. Only a fox, with the sun still high, crosses the field, and with its appearing and disappearing it makes us realize how much the ground is in reality anything but flat and regular. When the darkness deepens, the cell phone vibrates and before grabbing it in your pocket to read the text message that (later we will find out Carlo sent it) the black shadow of a boar appears on our right, at the bottom.
The animal walks briskly, does not stop to eat, never lowers the griffin but neither raises it in the air. He does not hear us, also because we are in good wind. Ennio decides that there is no time to waste, he beckons me and in an instant he grabs his backpack, stool and rifle and walks the few meters that will give us a better view of the boar's journey. Like the afternoon fox, however, its pace is intermittent. The hollows of the ground guide him up and down on the wave of chance, while Ennio swears mute at the instability of the stool on which he has put his backpack and carbine. The darkness advances, the tension also, the boar disappears definitively from our eyes and a bitterness takes possession of us. A wasted opportunity. But who knows, then, what could we have done to get a different epilogue ?!
After two days we are here again, at the “Trifoglio”. In our eyes the trajectory of the boar from two days before is printed and by thinking about it it almost seems to see it! As the light fades and we approach the time of the last meeting, the adrenaline rises in me and Ennio. It is by no means certain that a solengo retraces the same path, a thousand and a thousand other ways are at his disposal to feed and look for females close to the heat. But until the first stars we do not go away, disheartened by not having seen either the boar or any other bristle. We would have gladly satisfied! Still the "Clover" in the program of the week. This time it's up to Carlo. I follow Ennio for consistency but the thought of that field does not give up: sooner or later something will move. Let's hope it's the right evening!
From Ennio's stalking we clearly see, thanks to our optics, the field of the Trefoil. It is as if we were hunting on two fronts: the real one, where the rifle and the gaze are focused, and the "moral" one where pride wounded by a crafty boar is waiting for revenge. With the sun still high I see two animals in the field in front of Carlo. I don't have time to tell Ennio that the thud of Carlo's rifle, like a distant explosion, confirms that luckily I wasn't the only one who noticed them! At the sound of the shot a herd made up of animals of various sizes leaves the field, revealing themselves to our eyes well equipped but still very far away. A verrotto lies about 100 meters from Carlo. This pack has rekindled hopes!
Sunday, the last day in Calabria for me, I propose to Ennio an outing in the morning, not very welcome at the equatorial times of Southern life, but not difficult to obtain given Ennio's disposition. We arrive in the dark and in the first light of day, I see a dark shadow under the wild apple tree in the corner. I hope with all my heart that it is a wild boar, maybe "that", but from the movements with which it gains the open field and from the profile of the body that is gradually delineated in contrast with the sky, we understand that it is a roe, a male with an impressive stage. The wind blowing in our direction pushes it 40 meters from us. Only after he has behind us and receives our scent, does he run away in alarm, barking.
The light is still low, the right atmosphere for the hoped-for meeting. And in fact at the top of the field I notice many shadows that move slowly. They tug at Ennio's jacket. He prepares for the shot. It is not possible to distinguish subjects with the naked eye, but through the bright lenses of the binoculars several animals can be identified. Ennio points to a smaller one, in a secluded position with respect to the pack. A few seconds to regularize the breathing and the shot hits the mark in the best way. The animal falls on itself without hesitation. When we reach him we identify a male of about sixty kilos. We rejoice at the outcome, but in unison we exclaim "It is certainly not the boar of the first evening !!". That awaits us for another adventure in which, once again, the cunning of the boar and the pride of the hunter will be at stake.
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