I Cacciatore

Well the hunters, just like Arnie, are back.

Yes, it’s the time of year when anything that moves and has a pulse, apart from humans, are in danger for their life from I cacciatore.

The Italian hunters will blast away at anything they are allowed to.

There are hunting calendars published which detail on which days a specific of minute songbirds can be blasted to kingdom come. They can pretty much shoot anything they like as long as it’s on the right days on the calendar. But I am not sure how well, if at all, the calendar is regulated.

With all this shooting going on and hunting being in the blood, so to speak, one would expect the hunters to be quite good shots. One would also expect that being able to carry loaded rifles for the cinghiale and shotguns for the birds, and wander all over the highways and woods that they would be very aware of what they are carrying and their responsibilities to other humans around them. Not so sure on that one. Although a lot of them do sport bright fluorescent orange vests when hunting in the woods. Probably a good idea.

Some of them stroll up and down the roads looking like vigilantes, guns hung from their side and belts of ammo draped over their shoulder like a Sam Browne. Cigarette dangling from the side of their mouths. They’ve just stepped down from their big four wheel drive pickups. Think Ennio Morricone at this point. I remember Jeremy Clarkson once saying that the only reason anyone would buy one of those vehicles if they didn’t need it for business, was because they wanted to look like an American or they were stupid. He wasn’t sure if there was a connection between the two!

We have heard from more than a few people that they often stay inside their house now when the hunters are out. Previously they have heard shotgun pellets pinging off their windows, guttering, woodwork, etc., as they have been outside tending their gardens or just going about some daily routines. Now given that a shotgun has a very limited killing range, probably about 60 metres, the hunters must know they are near houses and therefore one can assume, people. So why do they shoot at something so close and also in the direction of habitation? I suppose they should be grateful they weren’t after the cinghiale with their rifles!

I cacciotore are fearless, that’s why. There’s no other explanation apart from suffering from some mental retardation.

I remember being over here for Christmas and New Year a few years ago. We had got the house lovely and warm and had tremendous Christmas Day. We thought we might do a typical English thing and go for a good long walk first thing on Boxing Day. When we awoke however it was a real pea-souper outside so we thought we would wait to see if the mist lifted. At about 10:00 it sounded as though a gun fight had started in our garden. The bangs were so loud even some of the panes shook a little. La D and I looked at each other and said at virtually the same time, “What are they shooting at?” We just couldn’t believe that anyone in their right mind would be popping off guns in weather like that. So, we looked through our paltry library of DVDs and selected a couple and decided to spend the day inside. A good decision we thought.

It was almost as bad the other night. You won’t believe this. The last shot of the day was at, wait for it .. 22:15! Can you believe that? It starts going dark here at around 17:00 at the moment. What were they shooting at? Could they see? Did they know? Did they hit anything? So many questions and so few answers. Life.

Anything else?

Nothing much to report. Pruning time over the next couple of weeks. La D has decided we need another orto, so that is to prepare by the end of the year.

(Erratum. La D, who says she needs to proof-read the blog before it is posted - more like a Big Sister approach so she can amend anything she doesn’t agree with - has changed this to “the end of the week.” However, she didn’t say which week. Ha, Ha, Ha.)

Oh, bloody hell, not long before Christmas. We are fairly well advanced on that though, in terms of trinkets for the P&P,IA (Progeny and Partners, If Applicable).

All the animals are OK. Well, Bert did bring half his supper up all over the rug last night, just as we were about to go to bed. Thanks Bertie.

Ciao, mantenere la fede