Wild boar hunting: For our team, wild boar hunting has always been the highlight of our long hunting experience. We have always loved hunting, for passion, but also for the love of risk and to enjoy the tasty meat of the Maremma wild boar, perhaps the only prey to respect the true origins of this wild pig breed.
The night before departure I had already dreamed of tasting the roast meat of a beautiful black boar, perhaps of a large sow. After our jokes, always magnificently successful, we experienced the thrill of tasting the fruit of our labors: roast wild boar meat seasoned with stewed salmoriglia, a real delight ...
That November morning we hoped to repeat the successes of last year, but we were not sure, also because the rules for hunting change constantly and the foreman took charge of checking the new hunting regulations of the territory chosen for our hunts.
If once again we had managed to kill one or more wild boars, we could have tasted them well cooked together with a nice glass of wine, our beloved DOC Morellino wine, obtained from the delightful vineyards of Scansano. Our joke should have concentrated right there: between the hills of Albegna and Fiora, where the woods of the Mediterranean scrub offer nourishment and protection to local wild boars. They, our coveted prey, almost always live in packs, they are not as numerous as half a century ago, when our grandparents hunted them during interminable horseback rides. They are always abundant, but now you suddenly find them in front of you, gathered in groups of five, maximum seven specimens, including almost always a sow and her young.
The Maremma wild boar hunt is never like the others, because these prey are proud and proud and are not afraid of colliding with dogs.
Last year one of my hounds died after being bitten on the side. Hunting the Maremma wild boar is therefore also dangerous and only a long experience like ours can avoid the worst. That morning there were twenty of us, the regulation provided for at least 18 qualified hunters, but we, thanks to our immemorial friendship, were able to remain united for the love of hunting and for a deep respect for each other.
The foreman had given us a good morning at 4 in the morning. The previous evening we had all met together in a farmhouse with a splendid view of the Maremma hills. Those laughing hills awaited us with all their inexhaustible beauty and with the enchanted atmosphere typical of their shrubs. Outside the farmhouse there were no horses, but jeeps, off-road vehicles and a truck to load our dogs. We brought twenty: "one for one and one for all" as the three musketeers said. We felt like them that morning: daring musketeers ready for anything! Our beloved dogs had been chosen precisely to "find" the wild boars camouflaged in the dense bush of the area.
Their barking was sharp, precise, and very shrill. They too wagged their tails and were eager to hunt ... It could not be otherwise, since we had chosen the dogs suitable for capturing wild boars, that is the Italian and Maremma hounds: lovers of other breeds do not want them, we are not nationalists, it is just that the hounds faithfully accompany us during the joke, they are obedient and it is a sight to see them barking at the wild boar or move with agility within the wooded areas.
After starting the engines we found ourselves right where we wanted to be, a few kilometers from the vineyards of Scansano, immersed in a dense scrub of oaks, chestnuts and cork trees. The markers have marked the areas where you can find the wild boars, looking for the marks left by the animals during the nocturnal pasture. It was not difficult to identify the rooting of wild boars and this greatly simplified the assignment of the posts. I, like my colleagues, have been stationed in the assigned batting area, all in orange uniforms to make us visible to others, but not to wild boars, who cannot distinguish colors.
The morning was humid, but not particularly cold and allowed us to wait for the wild boars without any particular inconvenience. Nobody had to move from his post, so the rule of wild boar hunting dictates and so we did, because moving away from the hiding place can be very risky, opening a passage where angry wild boars could hide. The wait lengthened and only the barking of the dogs broke an almost unreal silence. After an hour, a black muzzle emerged from the clearing, then another and another, all black boars, very hairy and ready to attack our dogs in a race of bites to the death. I was the first to shoot, with a two-barreled express rifle; then, not far away, another shot, with a shotgun loaded with single bullet ammunition; and then a third, with a rifled rifle, and finally the howl of the fatally wounded wild boars and the escape of the other specimens pursued and surrounded by dogs. The posts were all busy and formed a perfect trap for our prey. The wild boars had no escape: they fell to the ground with all the pain and fury that only violent death can cause. The huntsman blew the horn declaring the joke closed, while for us, after the death of the animals, a new challenge was already beginning: the next and unforgettable wild boar hunt in the charming Tuscan hills.