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Agence France Press does not know the basics of ballistic



Big sky; Day 3

You know you've made it back to Civilization when the people around look at you as if you needed a shave, a bath and a change of clothes, and you realize they're right.

Day one: freezing cold, big bright blue sky.

Saw three roe deer, two of them through the goggles far in the open plain, one doe crossing just a few meters away. One snipe (that was lucky) took off in front of me, and two monster boars over the goggles, running away like wild dogs. I know they're considered as mere pests (and rightly so) but what fantastic animals they truly are. Small wonder generations of hunters here have been as fascinated by these extremely clever and cunning black beasts as I am (insert your favorite Asterix the Gaul joke here).

Shot and killed one young boar. Reflected how still very happy with my Sig rifle / Aimpoint red dot combination I am.

Cursed myself multiple times for leaving the camera at camp.

Day two, officially small game: drop the rifle, grab the shotgun. The weather quickly turned into storm: strong and fast winds coupled with constant rain ranging from light to heavy.

Saw 11 pheasants, shot five, brought three down. Saw five partridges, shot and bagged one. Was taken totally by surprise by one huge hare who earned my respect and its right to make it out unhurt (insert your favorite Elmer Fudd joke here). Frantically removed the #6 pellets and loaded the shotgun with sabot slugs at the first cries of "À la houe!", when the dogs stumbled upon a company of wild boars in a small pine wood. Shot at one fast fleeing hog under a pissing rain, and missed. Laughed wholeheartedly as I heard the runner successively shot by the guys on my left, but still making it to safety in the impenetrable brambles of a thick wood down below; One miracle pig, if there ever was any.

Came back under the Deluge with a big grin, and mentally thanking Barbour of England for the wax jacket, and my Mom and Dad for the buffalo trousers birthday present(1).

Blessed myself multiple times for leaving the (non tropicalized) camera at camp.

Day three began gloomy and overcast but turned fair with generous bits of blue and profuse puffy clouds. Spotted a couple of deer in the distance, and that was it, save from a curiously investigative buzzard.

Dusk and a razing sun behind the hills provided the burning clouds on the way back to camp.

Didn't forget the camera, hence the three pictures published herein.

Made it back to the World of Men, Women and Lefties, and had the opportunity to lecture a silly anti-hunting, pseudo Nature-caring, Al Gore fantasy-motion-picture multiple viewing young woman and her husband who, despite holding a position as teachers in the Great National Education Monopoly (Keepers of Knowledge as they see themselves) in a small French town were puzzled to learn from this gun totin', snail snappin' redneck that, no, the (adult) European Roe Deer (Capreolus capreolus) is not the fawn of the European red deer (Cervus elaphus) and that they are, indeed, different species(2).

Wondered what else they might ignore or confuse the same. Pitied the kids supposed to learn from these people.
  1. Thus unknowingly reviving the David Crockett fantasies of my childhood.
  2. "Oh but they look a bit the same, only just smaller, so that's why I thought..." Sometimes, the Friends of Earth just make bashing too easy.


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Today January 17, 2017

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