In the silence of the siesta time of the Tuscan countryside we walk at low gears and windows down to get some air in the face that will make us recover from the missed rest. It is a hot weekend in July and we have been looking for an adult male roe deer for weeks. We saw it the day before and you can't change the area, today you go back up there. Towards the sea the sky is clear but gray and black mounds pile up in the direction of our hunting area.
Dark and disruptive thunder pierces the silence and threatens a storm. "Time can be seen on the spot”We always talk to Vincenzo, and without consulting each other we agree on the exit. We will take water but for that handsome male it is worth it. We go up the hillock and throw ourselves into the tall grass from where, unseen, we have intercepted the palcuto in an unhappy position for not enough time to shoot. We wait an hour (we arrived early due to impending rain).
At around 20 pm, in the full sun of July, an adult male appears on the edge of the wood about a hundred meters away. "Is not he!”We immediately comment in unison. The rifle is already in position but even this roe deer does not stop for a moment, it appears and disappears into the grass which is sometimes high even down there. The woods suck it up. That anger! I would not have dared a shot, Vincenzo agrees with my strategy, also because our target is the male identified in the previous outings.
Behind us the clouds drop to touch our heads, they are swollen and heavy with electric water, and echoes of ever more threatening thunder come from their collision in the atmosphere. But it is not yet time to leave. Half an hour after the disappearance of the roe deer, when the light begins to fall obliquely on the slope of the knoll, I intercept a roe deer in the barley, almost 500 meters below us. Let's play dice with the hypotheses: will it be him or is it someone else? My sixth sense and the anger for the two missed opportunities make me lean towards the challenge that peeps in the barley. "We play it all in the approach!”Says Vincenzo. The distance and the bumps make it easier for us as we earn a bale of hay. I support the backpack and the rifle, I frame the roe deer. And he! "It's 315 meters, don't we want to get any closer?”Vincenzo offers me.
I look around: we don't have any better supports and covers, the rifle is firm, my body is smeared on the hay bale and I feel perfectly safe. "No, I shoot from here". Vincenzo does not reply, he is the perfect companion, he suggests, argues, participates in the hunting action without ever jeopardizing my decisions. And then I feel that he trusts me. Meanwhile, the roe deer gave us time to reflect, sat down to ruminate.
When he rises his destiny is already written and sealed by the thunder that thickens and approaches. The thunder of the 7x64 adds to the bass drum that plays in the sky and sweeps the roe out of my sight. The reaction to the shot seems to give us hope, now we have to find it before it is completely dark. While aiming at the anschuss Vincenzo walks towards the ditch that delimits the barley field. "It's here!". His voice, feeble because distant and concentrated, makes me jump and gives me the greatest satisfaction that one could wish for in an evening like this.