Wood Pigeon Hunting: The experience of a summer hunting trip in Ireland: recently cut barley fields, the scent of the sea and beautiful wood pigeons on the horizon.
Each hunting trip has a different story: the company changes, hunting experiences change, places and seasons change. This may be why some enter your heart and excite you more than others. Take for example my last trip to Ireland, in the company of Federico and Sebastiano: it was one of those that really cannot be forgotten. Yet Ireland is behind the house, and to think of it not too different from my home, foggy, humid but waiting to be discovered.
We left at the end of June, and arrived in a few hours, thanks to a direct flight, landing in Cork. There were those waiting for us ready to take us to a beautiful historic inn. It is located near a small cove plunged into the Atlantic, humid and brackish, silent and mysterious. In short, just as one would expect an Irish inn to be. In addition, the facade of the building is covered entirely with green ivy which makes it even more magical. I fell in love with it right away, and obviously my two friends thought of teasing me because of my aesthetic sensitivity: they call me the romantic or the poet, but I'm happy to be able to see the magic of places and things. On the other hand, those who do not succeed deprive themselves of much of the beauty of hunting and Ireland and its countryside of magic and charm have it to sell. I understood it immediately, from the first morning when we decided that before picking up the rifle it was better to visit the hunting places. These were beautiful fields planted with recently cut barley. We observed the huts, the most promising free positions and during the afternoon we returned with the rifle on our shoulders.
There was a good movement of wood pigeons and soon the first shooting at the opening of the dances started. Federico not far from me remained for a long time watching. He was sure he had chosen a brilliant location but unfortunately for him the wind changed made it very unprofitable. After half an hour and a few glances of agreement, he decided to continue along a row and join me. The hunt lasted until 18,00.
The sun was still high but we decided to rest; on the other hand in Ireland, during the summer the sun sets really late. It would be very unsportsmanlike to continue for too long. Our game bag was fine and we chose to retire and rest for the second day. I remember dinner really tasty, chatting made difficult by the language but no less interesting. The owners of the inn were kind and generous: after a few glasses of beer he showed us an infinity of hunting trophies and photos yellowed by time. If today we consider that corner of the world a paradise, thirty years ago it must have been a real spectacle.
After dinner we said goodbye, we rested and as often happens, either for that too many beer, or for the pillow that has nothing to do with mine, the morning came too early. I poked my nose out of the window and immediately noticed the absence of fog and some warm sunshine. Beautiful, I thought. I washed, dressed and fed, and in no time we found ourselves in the same places as the previous afternoon. The day was actually more beautiful, but the absence of wind, unlike what we expected, did not help us. The wood pigeons were not inclined to trudge, and seemed lazier than myself, so the decision was unanimous: change.
At that point, fate chose to reward us: a few kilometers to the east, things improved. The wood pigeons were more active there and our game bag started to fill up. Shortly before 18,00 we put away the rifle to double the beautiful evening of the previous day.
The third day the awakening was sad: I knew that in a few hours we would have to leave. On the other hand, the last day is always the most melancholy. Does it happen to you too? Okay we could still dedicate a morning of hunting but soon we will leave for Italy. We enjoyed the hunting morning in a great way, we greeted Ireland, its fields, the inn and its owners with a certain melancholy, promising to return soon perhaps in the company of our dogs.