The hunting calendar in deer hunting provides for the taking of sex and age classes for certain periods. Sometimes each hunter is assigned a specific class, and this is experienced by someone as a restriction that severely limits the success in completing the harvesting plan. Even with the assignment of an adult male of roe deer, in the area where I hunt, the hope of picking up a beautiful male carrying an imposing trophy is quite strange. And in any case it is not "an" adult male that I am looking for, but "that": the unmistakable, the elusive, which I baptized "Monostanga".
I had met him in the period of the bald hunt, at first March. The stage already clean, apparently formed by a single pole (the left) equipped with an eyepiece almost parallel to the top and a vigorous rapier. Or at least this is the idea that I had been observing him with binoculars in the cold twilight of early spring. I had also tried to photograph him through the magnification of the optics. Its peculiarity had struck me and, every time I went to that hunting area, I secretly cultivated the desire to see it again.
Provocative and pedantic, as a good dominant male, he had reappeared during the censuses, without giving me the time to observe him calmly as he was already busy in precocious rides behind some female. In spring photo sessions, equipped with a long and reflex camera, he had never deigned to appear, except once when, as soon as he emerged in the pasture, as a good "elf" he was magically sucked out of the woods leaving me with a dry mouth. Now that the hunt for the male has begun, my only intent is to catch him, and no one else. In the first summer outings my Monostanga never showed up again. Several females, a couple of young males and a "regular" adult male had populated the meadows, but not even the shadow of him. That morning I was a little late (in June, the night is really too short!) And from the moment I arrived at the parking lot I was pervaded by the fear of finding the animals already outside, with a few steps on the dry stubble that affected all good intentions of the my morning out.
Fortunately my footsteps do not alarm anyone and I reach with bated breath a comfortable bale of hay chosen by me as an observation point and (I hope) to shoot. The hay bale ideally divides the area into two parts, a field in front of me and a slightly narrower one behind me. The grecale that usually expires at this time blows in my face, so I abandon any fantasy of sighting some animal in the field behind me. Nevertheless, every now and then I dedicate a few shots of binoculars there too, more out of luck than anything else. I focus on the field in front of me, the light is slowly giving color and definition to the enchanted world around me. In the distance I see a herd of wild boars, made up of three sows and a dozen pigs, which, going up along the edge of the wood, come back from the night raids. The pack leader dictates the rhythm with which the animals advance, takes a few steps, probes the air with the griffin, then with his head bowed he starts again, all follow her without going beyond it. It is fortunate to observe the strategies of wild animals from this privileged pulpit. Meanwhile, no roe deer on the horizon. Without even putting on the binoculars, I turn around to cast a distracted glance over my shoulder and… Here! A male. I estimate fifty meters between me and him, who eats grass among the stubble. I slowly bring the binoculars to my eyes and a blow to the heart with emotion confirms that it is really him: Monostanga!
The distance between him and me is absurdly small, the problem is that I am on the wrong side of the hay bale, and the rifle is aiming for the opposite field. I absolutely have to try to circumnavigate the balloon. When Monostanga raises his head between one bite and the next, I feel the thrill of his gaze on my skin. "He saw me!I swear in my mind, expecting from one moment to the next a bark and a roe deer on the run. Instead he lowers his head, as if pretending to eat, and immediately raises it. He repeats the trick three or four times, then he really starts browsing and this reassures me, confirming that he hasn't actually identified me. Maybe the wind brought my scent to him, but my stillness didn't confirm the alarm.
The perimeter of a bale is not infinite, it is a matter of a few meters that can be covered in a second. My move to the other side took a very long and tiring time. A centimeter, sbinocolo, Monostanga grazes, I move a little more. Raise your head, I freeze. One more bite, another little step earned for me. And so on, for an interminable ballet, with the heart in the throat and almost in apnea. After an interminable time, when the lactic acid has soaked my every muscle fiber, I am finally on the right side of the hay bale, completely covered by the suspicious look of the roe deer. Calmly I turn the rifle towards him and rangefinder the shortest distance ever measured by a game: 43 meters. Many argue that with similar distances it is advisable to aim for the base of the animal's neck, but my personal school of thought always guides me to aim for the blatt. I bring the magnification of the optics to 6x, the illuminated dot is stationary on the front shoulder of the roe deer. I allow myself a couple of inhalations to regulate my breathing and relieve some of the tension accumulated during the grueling ride around the bale. The trigger decides almost without warning that the time has come for my beautiful roe.
I kneel next to Monostanga and conclude that the name I attributed to him was not actually justified as the anomaly of his stage is of a completely different nature. The poles are two, but both are incomplete, but they give the idea of being a single pole with the three points complete. I have chased this animal for months and had it in my heart. Now, admiring it under the first rays of the sun, I feel satisfaction for having finally taken it but I begin to feel, silent and burning, a little of it.
As a veterinarian I have never allowed myself to write anything about medicine ... ... as a doctor I do not allow myself to write about veterinary things ... .. food and other things about animals are the main characteristics of the veterinarian, not of the doctor who knows nothing about veterinary medicine.