September for many is the month of intelligent holidays, of the coming autumn, of the office work that resumes, but from what I remember for me it has always been the month of the opening of the hunt.
It is a feeling, that hunting anxiety, that comes over me every year, that only a hunter can understand. I fear that it was my father who passed it on to me, and I, even unwittingly, will pass it on to my son.
Of course, a few years ago, when I was younger and with less ailments, I lived this period a thousand times more intensely. I remember that with Lorenzo, my cousin, we used to keep an eye on the countryside surrounding our house already several days before the opening of the actual hunt.
There was very little concrete then, and vegetation invaded everything. The two of us spent the days scouring the area, studying the turtle doves' moves, modifying our merry-go-round or overhauling the molds. I still remember her discussions with what was then my fiancée and who then had the courage to marry a hunter.
The weeks before were all devoted to preparation, on the other hand we could not let ourselves be taken aback and compromise the first day of hunting for some underestimated nonsense. So, wandering around waiting, we enjoyed the escape of wonderful hares, unforgettable broods of pheasants or flocks of flocks in flight followed by beautiful flocks of turtle doves. In short, you plunged headlong into nature and I assure you, nothing is quite as perfect.
Three days before the hunt opened, the patrols were usually more targeted and Lorenzo and I identified the best place for our stalking. There turtledove on the other hand it has always been one of the most coveted birds, perhaps precisely because it is particularly fleeting, stubborn and particularly tenacious and if you want to hunt it you have to dedicate body and soul to the preparation phase. When we found the ideal place, not yet colonized by other hunters, it was a real party.
One of the best was a land not far from home, which for many years no other hunter has discovered, where turtle doves were present in large quantities. They reached it starting from a small grove to the east and after a short straight flight began to plunder that rich field of sunflowers. The first year placing the shed was truly an unforgettable experience. We had to take into account the distances, the wind, the sun, but above all the laws that bound us. We reached the place the evening before the hunt opened. We didn't want to miss a minute of that adventure. What nights you spend with my cousin talking about hunting and hunting seasons.
That night we slept a few hours and already at three in the morning we were standing ready to build our shed, built up to a work of art. We also used some molds, loaned to me by my father who now very rarely hunted. At dawn we were ready, we entered the shed and neither of us spoke anymore. I believe that Lorenzo too, like me, was savoring the moment, the scents, the noises of the awakening countryside.
We knew perfectly the habits of those wild turtledoves, and shot in the distance they warned us that the hunt was beginning. I confess my legs were shaking with euphoria, but after the first shot, concentration took over. And luckily! I don't remember ever seeing so many turtledoves all together in my life. It was one of those hunting openings that really cannot be forgotten. They were ten minutes full of emotions, a spectacle of nature and still today I thank my cold blood.
Just as it had begun, everything stopped and as long as we were there all morning, there was not such a rich second passage. Around noon they flew away from us, and Lorenzo and I could only thank them for that wonderful gift and for those moments that have inhabited so many of our stories.