It was the year 1948 when I met a carter who brought potatoes, cereals and vegetables from Fucino to Arpino.
In those days, transport was not carried out by road, but only on large carts pulled by horses and mules, two or even more per cart, to be able to overcome road sections damaged by war.
Along this road that leads from Sora to Avezzano there were inns and taverns where the carters found refreshment for themselves and for the horses.
I got to know the characteristics of these inns, on the first floor kitchen and restaurant, on the ground floor a large stable with manger and warehouse, well closed, where the carters parked horses and carts and the precious load of goods to be able to rest peacefully. .
This carter named Antonio informed me that in a small Abruzzo village there was a lot of game including many partridges and I, after having gathered all the necessary information, decided to go there with my brother.
In those days we could have considered ourselves privileged because we had a motorcycle all to ourselves and so the next morning very early, two dogs loaded on the bike, one on the tank the other between me and my brother, two rifles, two backpacks with the necessary, with so much enthusiasm we left for the Abruzzo village.
We arrived much earlier than expected and stopped in a corner of a small square almost completely dark. There was not a soul to be able to have some minimal information and to be able to leave the bike unattended, none of this, so relying on good luck we set off taking the only road that led out of the country.
After walking for a long time and in the direction of a farmhouse, our only point of reference, we decided to stop with the hope of hearing the call of the partridges that among other things we did not even know as new hunters.
My brother decided to continue and so we separated.
I put the rifle and backpack on the ground holding only the dog's leash by the hand and sat down on a pile of stones. It was still night and not even a light in the surroundings, a house that showed any sign of life. None of this. Suddenly, unexpectedly, a sweet tune came to me, I couldn't believe it, I rubbed my eyes thinking I was dreaming, but the music continued.
Finally the blackbirds, the first to celebrate as the new day approached, began the festive chirping by hopping on the ground and on small brambles and this when it was still night to stop at the very first lights.
Dawn dawned and I immediately began to check the area and soon I noticed about three hundred meters from me two people waiting for daybreak too. I then explained where the music was coming from.
We were in mid-September of 1948 and I, who bought the first radio only in 1954, the year I got married, did not think there were portable radios, but when I realized that one of the two hunters was a great gentleman it all became clear to me. .
I stood waiting and watching their every move and what path they took. As soon as they moved I noticed that one of them was carrying a large backpack, a rifle and two dogs on a leash, while the other was carrying nothing, I realized that it was a gentleman with his aide-de-camp.
My brother, not seeing me coming, came to me and, after having informed him of the situation, we agreed to stop and follow the movements of the two hunters, thinking that they knew more than us both for the knowledge of the area and for their ability to to hunt.
We watched them for some time to understand in which direction they were moving.
The aide released only one dog and giving the gun to the other they began to hunt.
We are always careful to observe.
Suddenly I saw a flock of partridges whirling. The hunter fired three shots, but did not take any as they flew at a distance and without being stopped by the dog they headed in our direction, but we, as correct people, did not intervene because as a good rule the game is up to whoever finds it first.
We completely changed the area and found other partridges and, while I was looking for three very clever ones, the dog slipped into a field of gorse, those plants that in late May and early June are filled with those golden yellow flowers to remind us all that the biggest feast of the year is approaching, the "Corpus Domini".
As the dog searched, I suddenly saw the head of a large snake appearing above the gorse studying the dog's movements.
I immediately took aim to kill him, but being on the same trajectory as the dog I was unable to intervene and so he disappeared among the gorse.
I was very upset but confident that he would reappear and he did. After a while he reappeared but not even this time it was always possible for me to intervene because of the dog.
I immediately decided to move and found it hard to get into the thick broom. I waited again and finally in a comfortable area, away from the dog, with an angry and perfect shot I shattered his head. He was left struggling on the ground making a great crash.
I began to search, I found an old oak branch and found the now lifeless snake I took it out of the bush. To the eye it measured about two meters and was very bodily, too bad that he no longer had his head, certainly he wore a hint of a basket to demonstrate his long age.
In order not to leave it on the ground and because it could not scare it again I hung it in sight from a branch of a young oak and thus completed the operation and satisfied for having removed that danger among the brooms I resumed the journey towards my brother who from time to time so much did the whistle of a call reach me.
As I walked I saw two boys in the distance grazing sheep and goats. I went towards them and arrived a short distance away I made a sign to come and meet me and so they did.
I offered them some candy to reassure them and then told the story of the snake and pointed out where it was. They immediately had a great party and one said "Let's take him to the village!"
They knew him well and for fear of finding him around they no longer frequented that area.
Arrived at my brother, and already prepared to receive the reprimand for being late, I asked him to take a break to rest a bit because, although it was mid-September, it was very hot.
After a nap I put forward the idea of going back to the area in the morning where the two gentlemen had found that beautiful flight of partridge. With my experience today I can say without a shadow of a doubt that those two hunting lords did not understand each other at all.
The partridges, like the partridges, do not like to be disturbed in the early hours of the day to dedicate themselves quietly to the pasture in fact the partridges in question blended at a distance and headed towards us to take refuge in the nearby wood and get safe.
My brother shared my plan and we headed back to that area.
Arrived in the vicinity of the forest we stopped to check, everything was quiet and so we began to hunt.
After some time I noticed my dog searching quickly.
I followed him until I saw him stand spectacularly at a small ditch.
I waited for him all the time until he whipped a partridge which I caught with a single blow. It fell among the thorns, the dog found it immediately and carried out a perfect retrieval, continued the search and always in the vicinity of the wood stopped a second partridge that ended up like the first. The dog brought it back perfectly. Shortly thereafter, a third partridge was shot down by my brother. My dog struggled, but found her and brought her back to me.
We stopped to take stock of the situation and I noticed that in the shade of a large oak the two gentlemen of the morning were resting and perhaps listening to music. They were within walking distance so they had certainly enjoyed the show.
At this point we decided to leave and thus remove the disturbance and by other way we returned to the country. Next to our motorbike we found a luxurious car with a trolley to transport dogs, we didn't care too much and tired but satisfied we went home.
After a week, a gentleman I did not know came to our house, looking for Aldo Palma.
"It's me!" I answered a bit perplexed and began to speak making me a kind of interrogation. First, he abruptly asked me if I had been hunting in that little town in Abruzzo and I said yes, but worried as if I had committed some fault. He then asked me to see the dog and after having seen and observed him well he added
"My master saw him working on partridges and was impressed by his skill and wants to buy it."
All the time I had been silent listening and at that point I recovered and it came back to me when ten years earlier another "master" took away my little girl, a mare I loved so much and suffered so much for that loss.
Then with courage I replied "Please tell your owner that my dog is not for sale!" The man with a confident tone continued, “Are you kidding? You will never get such an advantageous offer again! " I held on and didn't even want to talk about the price. At this point he lost his patience and told me "You are too young and you don't understand anything about life!" And regretting not being able to please his master, he left.
His words troubled me a lot and I often thought about it, but I became more and more convinced that for no price I could sell my dog, the first one I owned. I had raised him with a lot of love and a lot of patience, he was now a complete, good and affectionate dog. When I took him hunting he would curl up on the tank of the bike and no matter how uncomfortable he was he never complained and so I convinced myself that I had made the right choice and I didn't think about it anymore.
My Tom stayed with me for many years becoming better and better and contributed a lot in making me a fair hunter always respectful of nature, especially of rock partridges, and a lover of the mountains.
A good hunter makes a good dog and a good dog makes a good hunter. This is the result of my long hunting experience.
I described my first day of hunting, lived sixty years ago, with the same enthusiasm of my twenty years, without neglecting the slightest detail and it was a great joy for me and I don't want to add how that great man wrote ... " there is more pain than remembering the happy time ... "
In recalling these facts and these episodes that really happened, I find the strength, the courage, the enthusiasm to go forward and patiently bear the weight of the years.
I intend to describe one of the many hunts made with rock partridges trying to best describe this wonderful bird, one of the many masterpieces of nature, and its favorite habitat in the vastness and great peace of the mountain.
The mountain is like the sea to love it you have to know it.
story of AP