Hunting in Chianti: those who have never visited the high mountains of Chianti will have to trust me, while those who go there every time that in time they will already be running, with their minds, to that surprising hunting day and to that historic shot that he told a hundred and once in the bar.
I have only recently known the area, a friend of mine dragged me there and told marvels about it. I thought he was exaggerating and above all I was sure that Alessandro saw the great charm of the area on the table, over a good glass of wine, but there were surprises. "A wild boar hunting right at the source of the Greve ”, Ale proposed me, and in the end I let myself be convinced. The farm - hunting company as I imagined it seemed to me immediately super: beautiful rooms, excellent food, courtesy and a shred of tradition that is never enough. But the best was yet to come.
In the morning of hunting, as usual, we had a very early start. The cold was bitter and the ascent was tiring, nothing to do with the soft hills and fragrant vineyards that I imagined; there were many of us, a long single line admiring the tall chestnut groves and the wild vegetation, keeping up the pace so as not to lose the hunting leader who, you could see from afar, knew the place well.
There were several teams that day: the reason is simple. The forest today is a real dark forest, abandoned for years, it had all the time and tranquility to thicken, becoming a five-star hiding place for wild boars. Only an interesting number of teams that hunt in symbiosis have a real chance to end the hunt with a flourish. The fog was light, but the day promised a lot of good: in addition there was that light breeze that normally sweeps away all uncertainty and grafted a certain, vague, good mood in the hearts of hunters. Alessandro and I decide, with the approval of the hunting chief, to stay close even during the post and following the path that twists into rather steep bends, Ale continues to tell me about his previous experiences in that fantastic place. 
I couldn't wait to be up, to see with my own eyes. Meanwhile the path continued to narrow and my breath to become more tired. "But do we really arrive or are we taking a health walk?" I ask him all of a sudden, in a tone that is half worried, half joking. It gets serious when the path disappears and we are forced to follow the tracks of the animals: we start playing. The hunting chief, a one-piece gentleman, with white hair and shiny goggles, begins to position us carefully. After a few minutes we all find ourselves at the edge of a rather suggestive rocky gully: it's a pity that I don't like heights and the situation starts to bother me a little. Ale senses and we change places: I feel more sheltered and I resume enjoying it. In front I notice the fabulous chestnut wood: abandoned by man and perhaps for this reason so clean and beautiful. The shots to come, if they come, can be clean and safe. Ale and I are about fifty meters apart. All around is silence. That place begins to enter my heart. I wear the orange vest, look for a temporary seat and start checking the area.
In those moments I always have the feeling that my perceptions are improving: suddenly I feel the smell of the earth and the scent of mushrooms. This only means one thing; either the wild boars have recently ransacked the land or some member of the group is looking for a new way to pass the wait. More likely it is wild boars fleeing at night: all the passages are moved, the earth turned black and the wait becomes murderous. At one point the radio confirms the start of the expulsion. I am calm: it is not always like this when you start, but this time my position is optimal and I am also protected from any stray shots that every good hunter must always take into consideration and try to foresee. 
In the distance I hear rifle shots and comments and as often happens, to me and a little to everyone, the pans of others cheer me up a little. I wait, wait and wait: I devour a sandwich just to pass the time when a canaio warns us “Dogs at a standstill. Beware ". The heart begins to go stronger. Of course, I don't believe it, but hope never leaves you: there are so many of us, why should the wild boar come to me? Furthermore, the forest in front of me is too clean, it offers no shelter. But no! I am seated but I jump to my feet. It is far away, it is black, but it is fast approaching. The beast is about a hundred meters from me, its pace is fast and sways here and there. Amazing how capable it is to keep dogs away. I make up my mind: this shot is at least to be groped. I sit down again, aim, shoot and nothing. Eye contact is really briefly interrupted. The wild boar jumps out after a few seconds between trochi and low vegetation. I shoot again. Alessandro a little above me is probably in excitement. Nothing. The dogs arrive boldly but instead of going further, following the past, stopping behind the chestnut trees and barking. No I do not believe it. I got it! 
At that point, what happens to many happens to me: my legs start shaking with emotion. Everyone on the radio asks what happened. The canaio asks me to chase away the dogs to make them go on. I leave for the dogs not before I have warned the neighbors that I am moving. I'm dying of curiosity. I find it practically immediately. It's big, it's majestic. With a branch I try to chase the dogs, they growl at me but after a while they go away. I look at where the animal was hit and am surprised at myself and my luck. But the hunt continues. I point out to my companions the place where the boar is and return to my place. Those who seem minute to me go by, and I feel that even the high stakes are busy. I smile when the signal of the end of the hunt arrives. Together with the others we go to collect the prize: with me, as usual, I have a rope. We tie the wild boar and not without effort we take it away. In the evening, guests of the delightful farmhouse, in front of many glasses of wine I tell an infinity of exceptionally lucky times of the day. Everyone was sure that the shots were from Alessandro, better positioned, but no, the glory is all mine. Once in a lifetime you must have the lucky shot. It happened to me a few months ago, in the high mountains of Chianti.
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