A deafening noise of cicadas greets us when we arrive at the post. It is 18.00 pm but the heat and the sun are still almost at the zenith. Too early to find the young roe I need to collect. In summer, the days are very long, time seems to expand and rather than lazing in the pool we decide with Pina to extend the duration of our evening stakeout. As we pass through the still tall wheat, the turtledoves take off and then rest on the sunny fields further down. A fox cuts us off from a distance, advancing with a soft step and sticking out the tongue: the heat has exhausted her too. But from now on it will only refresh. We reach the chosen location and with joy we find that the fields in front of us have already been mowed: you could easily shoot from the backpack resting on the ground but ... a bale of hay, a few meters from us, invites me to try a support that immediately convinces me. The rifle placed on top, the body "smeared" on the hay bale, the elbow firmly established: the position is passed with flying colors! I load the rifle with the bullets loaded by my friend Leo and sit on the ground next to Pina to nibble. With the sun so high in the sky, the chances of spotting any animals are slim. After almost an hour, a female appears in the distance. As soon as we intercept it we remain motionless with the eyepieces of binoculars nailed to our eyes. She seems not to have noticed us, and moves calmly with a rhythmic step in our direction. She is a subtle female: as well as her appearance, she is betrayed by the naive and curious attitude with which she approaches. When it is only 37 meters I can stealthily take out my smartphone and film it. Something does not convince her: she freezes and remains still for a while, undecided whether to escape or better investigate the object of her adolescent curiosity. The seed of wisdom makes her run back a few meters. Then a few more steps forward pushes her to look at us. Prudence prevails and with a few leaps it disappears into the wood from which it came.
With the naked eye, my attention is captured by the black silhouettes of two wild boars emerging from the woods on the hill above. Immediately above, a few meters from them, I glimpse a roe deer, which at first glance seemed to be a male, but does not give me time to deepen my knowledge. A third is added to the two wild boars, followed by several young. I would be tempted to try to approach the roe deer up there but the presence of wild boars nearby and the imperceptible but unfavorable wind make me give up. I will wait, hoping that the roe comes closer. I continue to whine at 360 degrees but my gaze is always attracted to the point where I saw the roe deer. The light begins to fade, it's 21.10pm. "There he is!”Pina saw the young male, who in the meantime has gained the field I preside over. I check it well from the point of view: it is the garment I was looking for!
Lying on the hay bale I put the cross on the roe deer: it's amazing how it seemed to me to stop just before when I was trying to aim the wild boars at 470 meters and how unstable it is now that I have the roe in range. Unaware of my emotion, the young male begins to graze. One step after another is getting closer and closer. 130 meters. I rig the Blaser. 120 meters. My legs are shaking and ... the lattice. I try to regulate my breathing and take a couple of deep exhalations. It is already better. The support is perfect yet, I am not ashamed to admit that the cross of the lattice continues to shake. The words of my friend Franco come to mind "If that weren't the case, I'd stop hunting!”He tells me, when he tells me how the reticle trembles when his head is in range. There are people who pride themselves on their coolness and their ability to control tension when they are about to shoot an animal. Well, I would like to say to them: but then who makes you go hunting, if you dominate the emotions, and not the other way around ?!
The object of my trepidation is still there, but it is now peak. Appearance. I fear that the adverse wind will warn him of our presence and I feel in me the urgency to conclude the hunting action. But the wait is having its effect: in the few seconds that pass and that seem like hours to me, I feel the support becoming more and more stable. Now the roe has turned around and offers me his shoulder, but I'm still waiting: I want it like a postcard. The gusts of wind that blow behind me alarm me, but my rationality prevails over instinct and is rewarded: now the roe deer is perfectly like a postcard. The index finger approaches the sensitive trigger and decides for me to start the 7 × 64 ball. A roar shakes me from my thoughts. The roe collapses on its legs and the adrenaline begins its slow decline. We wait a bit before reaching it. With the afternoon song of cicadas still in my ears, here I am caressing the young elf, thanking Nature for this umpteenth gift.
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