Il calendar of the province of Arezzo usually allows an early opening of the boar hunt, anticipating the fateful opening of Ognissanti by several weeks. For this reason, in the month of October there is no shortage of opportunities for some hunt in the magnificent Arezzo area. This time we are in the valley that follows the course of the Ambra torrent and that joins the Valdarno to the Sienese territory. We are guests of the team "Il Brancaccio" of Pietraviva. The components turn out to be outspoken, hospitable and great hunters. A dinner in the hunting lodge the evening before the hunt allows us to get to know most of the team members. A backbone of the team is our friend Paolo Minucci (Pecio for friends), a bearded giant with fiery eyes that I would see very well in a Pieraccioni film. "October, as you know, is a rather special month: among mushroomers, migrant workers and other visitors to the wood, there is no shortage of disturbing elements for wild boars, but I won't say anything about tomorrow's joke", winks Pecio talking about the next day.
A gloomy Sunday morning gives us a good day. A crackling fire burns in front of the hunting lodge and its warmth radiates through affectionate greetings with pats on the back and vigorous handshakes. While the various components continue to arrive in dribs and drabs, the traccini depart for their mission, which cannot be renounced in the light of Pecio's observations. I accompany Enzo, a canaio of the team who comes from Siena and owns a splendid pack of Griffon Nivernais, during the marking phase. The rumatas of the previous night and days bode well. The thinning fog and the confident air of the returning tracks feed the good mood in the draw of the post offices.
The task of laying out the stakes is divided between Massimo (the huntsman) and Viero (the deputy huntsman) known as Cippe, following which we proceed in single file along a ditch. On the other side of the joke you can hear the roar of the impatient packs: today in action together with Enzo's griffons there will be numerous Maremmans.
Fabrizio, me and Pina. This is the order in which we are arranged. My mail is very open and, if on the one hand this is an advantage for visibility, on the other hand it is not a great prerequisite for the possibility of meetings. Without delaying too much at my post, in the not short time before the start of the joke, I go to the post office on my left to find my friend Fabrizio. I find him intent on fixing his video camera and I fully agree with his decision: from such a post thrilling scenes will not be desired! As expected a few minutes after the meltdown, a first canizza heads inexorably towards us, and Fabrizio's fire stops the first boar of the day. We send the dogs back and in no time we hear them coming back to us in a row. “Crack… .crack” a cracking of branches attracts my attention and I point the rifle in the direction of the sound. Silence. I am sure it is there. Perhaps he will have fooled us. But the canizza presses the immobility of the boar, the only doubt is which of the trots it will take, mine or Fabrizio's. Fabrizio will always be kissed by fate.
The roar of the rifles from the other line of the post confirms that the conclusions of the markers were more than founded. On the radio you can hear the voice of a canaio approaching a Maremma barking at a standstill. As the seconds pass, the human voice is increasingly dominated by the barking of its auxiliary, which is joined by the voices of numerous dogs that run and fill the earphones with overwhelming music. The animal is reluctant to abandon the lestra although it is dominated by the barks at a standstill, which last for long and intense minutes, in spite of the berci and the gunshots of the canai. “Attentiii !! He's gone ", they shout over the radio" E grossooo! And it has all the 'hani behind it… stop it, otherwise it takes them all away ”. The canizza described by radio from the canai materializes to our ears. Such music would be capable of shaking even the post offices with the most cold blood! The canizza, pressing, advances in our direction, bends to my right along the ditch and "BAAAM!" a single blow puts an end to the concert which is followed by the deserved revenge of the auxiliaries on the animal. The grandeur and the size of the beautiful stopped boar immediately clarify his behavior towards the auxiliaries who had pressed him for a long time. It will turn out to be the most beautiful culled animal of the day and, perhaps, of the season.
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