12 jan

Hairy things, boars are. I know now. I saw eight of them today. All dead. Shot by the members of the regional hunters guild, the same guild of which one of the members offered us a hare in the past week.
I was walking my fourth leaf of a four leave clover (first Southwest, then Southeast, then Northwest, now Northeast) which, if would have to give it a theme, should be called the Fauna-walk. Julie accompanied me for the first half hour and there we saw two deer, jumping away with their lovely white bums (Julie calls them tails) into far away fields. Then I saw some kind of eagle (or buzzard, or large bird)
, a pheasant, slowly walking a hundred meters ahead of me, pretending not to see me.
I guess the geese I saw at one of the houses don’t count, because they were domesticized, although one of the larger geese tried to attack me, but backed away when it saw I had a thick walking stick.

And then there were hundreds of some kind of tits. I love them, tits, but am never sure which variety it was. In dutch we would say Pimpelmees, I guess, but I prefer tits.
Having admired the little church at St-Felix-de-Bourdeilles – a wonderful little guy saying thanks for a donation I didn’t provide – I walked out to see a bunch of hunters together. Funny how they all have Julie’s car, was the first thing I thought. Then I realized they were skinning and butchering some kind of animal, that hung on something that during the week was probably used as a swing for small kids.

I went to have a closer look. It seemed small for a deer, and large for a rabbit. Boar I thought, which thought was enforced by the hairy heads that were piled up next to this very efficient. I started to make a picture. Payer, one of the guys started shouting, which made the other ones laugh. One of them pulled me over and explained and showed me some more of the boars they caught today.
And then the guy who had given us the hare recognized me and came over. He is from Chassenat, he explained to the other guy. I shook his boar-blooded-hands and thanked him for the hare, explained that we enjoyed it and were, in fact, still eating from it. He seemed pleased.
It told them I saw two deer today. They said they hadn’t shot any deer, which seemed just as well, because there are not that many around.
I asked if this was a common day for the, eight boars. They had focused on boars today, the first guy explained. Every week they go for different things. I asked them if they shouldn’t kill the boars earlier in the season. Boars go after truffles, I explained to them, and, since I knew from my truffle market experience on friday that the truffle season was coming to an end, it would have been better to kill them some weeks ago.
Which country are you from, the guy asked. Holland, I said. He made a sound to make clear that explained everything. We are not from the truffles, he said. We don’t hunt for mushrooms. We hunt for animals, real things. And then he walked away.
Chances are I won’t get a complementary leg of boar, tomorrow. Which is a pity. I would love to make a pate out of it, or a terrine. Guess it will be the old and tested pork terrine again, tomorrow.