Wild Boar

We had a visit from our friend Brigitte the other day.

She informed us she had some wild boar for sale, did we want any?

I told her I couldn't take a whole animal but perhaps a shoulder and a leg.

We collected the freshly killed and butchered boar that afternoon and proceeded to cut the shoulder into cubes for a stew.

The rest we put in the freezer.

We had some friends around for lunch. The ragoût de sanglier  was delicious.

The other day, as I walked to the barn, I looked westwards and noticed a large dog running across the ploughed field.

But it was not a dog. It was a wild boar.

It cantered ponderously across the large clay clods, with forequarters that seemed bigger than the rest of its body.

Its big, black-maned head bobbed up and down.

It made its way down the slope and into the forest.

google pic

I looked for pursuing dogs or hunters but saw none. The boar was wisely putting distance between it and danger.

Near dinner time, I asked Cliona about the big broccoli and swedes I had growing in the field.

"Shouldn't we be harvesting them now?"

"No need," she said, "they'll be there next year."

"But what if the wild boar come up out of the woods and dig them up?" I asked plaintively.

"Then we'll eat the boar, so no loss."

I hadn't thought of that.

Her logic was impeccable.