The night before I watched him prepare everything needed for the next day. He was methodical, thorough and orderly. Her clothes were always clean and well ironed by my mother. I always asked him: "But why so much care, if you always come back dirty?". He replied: “It doesn't matter. In life, the important thing is to always present yourself well to appointments ”. I wanted to go with him, but I couldn't. Every time I asked to be able to accompany him, he told me that the time had not yet come and that I had to be patient. Then I said: "I am unarmed, I don't want to shoot, I just want to look at you". He replied: “It would be like taking a shower in a raincoat”. My name is Edoardo and I am 52 years old. This is a reminder of my father.
When he was eighteen he gave me two things that would have allowed me to go hunting with him. The first was enrollment in the driving school, to replace him during long journeys. The second a rifle. When I saw the package, he immediately understood what it was, but the emotion was still great. I unwrapped the present. Inside was a 12-gauge shotgun. He had decided to have my initials engraved. I was finally ready, I thought. I asked: "Now can I come with you?". And he: "Sure!". I hugged him tightly, holding him like I had never done before.
It was late January and we decided to go wild boar hunting.
With us were our Italian hounds, Balbo and Ingrid. It was evident to their delight as we loaded them into the car. They understood that we were leaving for a hunting trip, they were ready.
We arrived near the deciduous and coniferous forest, the ideal habitat of the wild boar. We got out of the car and started checking all our equipment. The dogs shuddered and began their work. The tracks left by the wild boar in the undergrowth followed. They always remained beside us. My father looked at me, he wanted to see how I moved. After a while he stopped watching me and I was happy, because I understood that he didn't need anything else to understand that I was ready to hunt. We continued our walk, almost in silence, hoping that the dogs would be able to find a track.
They finally found it and started following it. After an indefinite time we found the boar. It was a magnificent specimen of over 80 kg and 1 meter in height. My father motioned for me to aim and shoot, while he continued to keep an eye on the boar in case he decided to charge. The heart was beating fast, almost breaking the rib cage. I held my breath, aimed for the heart and fired. One shot and the boar went down.
During the return my father was very happy, perhaps more than me. My first hunting trip and I managed to catch a wild boar, of that size then. At that moment he realized that waiting for so many years had paid off. My father patted me on the shoulder and said, “In a while you will know everything there is to know about hunting, the rest you will learn in the field, every time you go out. See how others move and learn from those who have more experience than you ”. We arrived home, where our mother welcomed us, happy too for the conquered prey. During dinner, we would retrace the whole day, step by step. There were others after that, but not enough to satisfy my desire to spend days with my father. Today I am 52 years old and my father has been gone for some time. When I think of him, my thoughts often go to that day. Then I look at my son.
It's early morning, we're ready to go hunting.
source:
DM