Hunting in France is not a rich man's pleasure, and is seen as a right, not a privilege.
Part 1: A brief excursion into country pursuits; hunting large game - deer and wild boar.
07:00 An October morning, the mist hangs in the valley. The clocks have not yet been turned back and the sun has still to make its first appearance above the hills. The bar is full; noisy and smoky - this is one of the few days each year that we hunt for deer. There are 30 or so hunters gathered, some drinking coffee, some with a small glass of "blanc", all ready for the day's action. Getting started takes time, as everyone must be greeted by each new arrival before we can get down to the important business of the day. Formalities must be completed; once everybody has signed in, the President of the club reminds all present of the need for safety precautions. (The bullets from shotguns and rifles can travel up to 5km, so safety is not taken lightly.) Each hunter is allocated a post where he will wait for the game to arrive. This done, at last it is time to go.
08:00 Diesel engines roar, the air fills with blue and black smoke, dogs bark, and we disappear off to the hills and woods. The 4x4's climb up narrow tracks and park in a clearing. Coats are fastened and fluorescent vests and hats are put on - a legal requirement to prevent your neighbour from mistaking you for a large animal! We walk to our posts, and after a few minutes the horn sounds to signal the start of the "battue". Guns are checked and loaded; the dogs are released and run off barking into the woods. The morning passes, at times slowly, at times rather faster when the dogs come close and there is the possibility of a kill. Today is not my day as there is nothing to be seen, although a large buck passes close; I hear him below me not 20m away. Around me the guns fire intermittently, sometimes just one shot, sometimes two or three. After a couple of hours the drizzle starts to fall slowly, and the day takes on a different feel. (It must be remembered that I was not born into this way of life, as were most of my fellow hunters - their passion is something that runs deep.)
11:00 The hunt is over for the morning, the horn sounds once again and we return to the vehicles in small groups - not before time, as the drizzle is turning to rain. A quick glass of wine, a blow by blow account of every shot that missed (never, of course, the hunter's fault - the deer was too far away, swerved suddenly, hid behind a tree…..) and that one superb shot that reached the target under the most difficult of conditions requiring the utmost skill….. Advantage is also taken of the chance to do some gentle leg pulling of those that had no luck. We have shot 4 deer - of the dozen or so we are allowed each year. Time now for the descent to our makeshift butchery. At this point I shall spare you the details.
12:00 The morning's kill has been cleaned and put into the cold store, a well-earned glass of wine consumed accompanied by a snack of freshly made tart (cheese or onion), some cured sausage and further discussion of the morning's activity. Thirst and hunger slaked, we depart for lunch. Some go home, but today a group of us are off to the restaurant, for a "quick" lunch. Pastis to clear the way for the food, a salad, steak and chips, cheese and a small dessert, some local red wine, and coffee; we are ready to face the rigours of the afternoon.
13:45 We are hunting wild boar this afternoon; the deer can enjoy their freedom for the time being. Early this morning, one or more hunters with dogs have been out to track the boar ("faire les pieds"), looking for traces of passing - footprints, droppings etc. Local knowledge enables them to predict where the best chances of hunting will be that day. There is apparently a largish boar not too far away. Wild boar are hunted in similar fashion to the deer, but more frequently; they are more numerous and cause more damage. An adult boar will frequently cover up to 70km in a night, moving constantly through the terrain, often in a circular path.
Less fragile than the deer, the boar population will double each year if left unchecked. A typical adult boar will weigh between 75 and 120 kg; the largest killed locally weighed 180kg. They move surprisingly fast and have very sharp tusk-like teeth that can do a lot of damage to man or dog, so we have to be alert. Much damage is done to crops by these large pigs; about 20 million euros (£13 million) is paid by hunters each year to compensate French farmers for crop damage - the quid pro quo being permission to hunt on the farmer's land (no permission, no compensation!).
16:00 Hunt over, and today it is victory for the boar. Despite our best efforts we have failed to track him down. Tired, cold and wet we return to the village. However, the pleasure of the hunt is less in the killing, but more in seeing the animals - and in being lucky enough to get off a shot! With the camaraderie and the banter, we have enjoyed our day out, and look forward to the next time - and none of the kill is wasted; all will be divided amongst the hunters and end up in the pot.