Picture: from ''Livre de La Chasse'' by Gaston Phoebus, a Medieval manuscript
On the way back from the market today, we passed a group of vehicles parked on a side road that looked like a camionette convention. Camionettes are those ubiquitous small white vans that every farmer, worker, and delivery person drives in France (we own one ourselves, actually). And we knew exactly what that little gathering meant: the hunting season est arrivé.
Frenchmen in the countryside are enthusiastic hunters. They are well-known for shooting at anything that moves, and for hunting under the influence. Some say escaping the home front for a drink or three with the guys is the real purpose of the sport here. It may seem like good fun, but they killed a young woman who was passing by in a town near us not long ago, though I imagine that more often their mistaken targets are each other.
As a consequence, walks in the countryside on hunting days are to be avoided at all costs. Our instructions from French friends were: Don’t do it, but if you must go out, wear red and whistle loudly. We were walking in the woods once a few years ago and came across a couple of hunters, sprawled out and sleeping near the path, several empty wine bottles scattered about. Oops! Wrong day for a walk. We whooped it up and sang loudly all the way home, nervously listening to shots in the near distance.
Today I think about the pretty pheasant we braked for on that same road earlier that morning, the one who then ran alongside our car for a while. Not much challenge to shooting this friendly fellow; as Ron says, he looks like he would have jumped in if we opened the car door. He seems much too colorful and incautious to survive the day.
But mainly I’m concerned about the Poubelle Cats. This is a group of eight-ish stray cats who were abandoned at the poubelles, the community trash and recyling bins a few years ago, where the hunters have gathered today. When we couldn’t find homes for the cats, a group of us, feline lovers all, had them neutered and then moved them down the road a bit and built them a tiny cabin. We have a team who take turns feeding them, daily. Now they come when we call and swirl about our feet when we arrive. They live in these woods and could be mistaken for a rabbit or other small animal. And unfortunately, there are a few hunters who will shoot feral cats for sport. Photo: Meet Kittiepoo and Thom, two of the Poubelle Cats.
So now we pull our little white truck up alongside the others. I swallow hard, then get out, an étranger facing a group of armed men. Mustering a polite smile, I explain that stray cats roam these woods, but they are beloved cats, known and adored by our entire village. I describe their colors, and ask them to watch out for them (I don't suppose I dare plead for the life of a pleasant pheasant?).
The hunters are polite, and shake their heads. “We don’t shoot cats, Madame,” they say. “And we know about those cats”. Indeed, we’ve had this conversation before. I‘ve stopped in years past, when I’ve see them unloading their guns, and put in a hopeful word.
One of them holds a wine bottle, and another holds up his hand, in which there are a stack of small glasses. “We really just come for this,” he says, laughing.
Ron jokes that he may join them, if that’s all that’s involved. “A day drinking with the guys,” he says, “ammunition optional!” Will they drink enough so their aim is lousy, or will they drink so much that they can’t tell a cat from a squirrel? We haven’t lost a cat yet, and I can only hope that this year we’ll be lucky again.
Photo: Pauline waits for her Meals On Wheels.
Favorite Reads: From the Red Bicycle blog, about an expat living in Lyon, comes a great book review on Paris: Made by Hand: 50 Shops Where Decorators and Stylists Source the Chic & Unique
In the Comments this week: Hey Suzanne, the gratin will not be over the top. That's what Thanksgving is all about! Joyce evens add bacon, oh la la. Beth has a wamped-up gratin recipe for us that you absolutely must try, it looks amazing. Linda is musing about French cookbooks (yes, I was in the 'Literary Guild' too, and I have those books!), and Jane, who lives in the area, has some good wine/winery recommendations. Julie, come on, give up the name of that great bistro! Merci, as always, for your enlightening comments.
Our Reader's Blogs: Serious antiquers take note–you will find a wealth of information on Barbara's blog, The Wise Collector. As you might suspect, I'm a big fan of In a Southern Kitchen, Lucy's blog (she's talking chocolate chip cookies this week). ReaderJoyce lived in England but now blogs From This Side of the Pond.
16 thoughts on “The Guys with the Guns”
Salut Lynn,
It is good that the cats have some caring “guardians”.
Out here in Arizona, the feral cats learn early in their lives to outsmart the coyotes. The domestic town cats don’t have that sixth sense and are easy prey when the coyotes come to town.
À bientôt
Oolala – did they really kill a young woman? I think hunting season should be moved to just after le vendange – pity the grape pickers!
Hope those cats survive! I’m in the wilds of Northern NJ now (seriously!) and hunting abounds. We were hiking recently and noted a sign saying hunters use the woods and we should be dressed in fluorescent vests. Yikes! Last year there was a bear hunt in our county (it was controversial but a neccessity) and we kept our big black dog indoors. I wasn’t taking any chances!
Thanks for the mention : )
I love that you and your neighbors are watching over the cats. Wonderful and heart-warming.
Wonderful writing, a joy to read, love the pics of the plump kitties, which pull on my heart strings. I’m an American living in Provence, and can empathize with much of what you say! A huge cat lover myself, I donate food and lots of love to the abandoned, beautiful cats in my residence. They know me and my husband well, and it’s rare that we can go down the walkway without being ambushed by at least one who’s purring, cooing and rubbing. Like you, we have a bunch of dedicated retirees who feed these precious cats. It’s nice to know that you and your friends do the same. Bon courage!
Pheasant season here in Iowa started today, so those who walk for fitness must be wary. The pheasant population is smaller this year and no-one is willing to blame fence-to-fence corn and soybeans, big ag being sacrosanct.
I love your images of the beautiful cats! Having spent time in winter in Provence, I am all too familiar with the sounds of gun blasting in the distance…
Thanks so much for the mention of The Wise Collector, which I appreciate so much. Your life is the one I have wanted to have for most of my adult life – maybe someday I’ll be able to visit.
I enjoyed this so much- a pleasant pheasant!
How wonderful that you and your friends are taking care of the cats. I hope they make it through hunting season. We have the same hunting issues in south Georgia–be careful if going for a walk during hunting season! Thanks so much for the mention, glad you are enjoying my blog as I do yours.
I had no idea that hunting was still so big in France. Thank you for rescuing those darling cats. Let’s hope they survive another hunting season.
How sweet that you and friends care for the cats…and put in a good word with the hunters regularly on their behalf! In CO we have fox and bear and mountain lions in town often…luckily it is forbidden to shoot at them however, one has to carefully monitor one’s pets.
Bonne chance! Happy early Halloween.
Poubelle cats! 🙂 Those are such sweet pictures of them :). I do hope they stay safe.
Wow, the drinking hunters sound really frightening. Since moving to the countryside I have been warned by numerous people to not go hiking during hunting season. Unfortunately, I love to hike, but have wisely put it off due to the “sport”. I have heard gunshots every morning from my living room for the past few weeks and seen hunters sitting around waiting for their game to appear while driving on my way to work. I will be glad when the season is over. Thanks for your post, it is a warning to all to be safe.
I’m saddened to know of the young lady who was killed by the hunters and happy that the cats have such good friends to look over them. Bless you.
Guns and booze, a truly worrying combination. We used to live in New England where hunting was very big – and so was drunken hunting. In Vermont the farmers even worry about their cows. There’s a story (apocryphal?) about a farmer who painted C-O-W on the side of his best milker. Here in Italy everything seems much more orderly (I know – kinda odd) and though there’s lots of hunting (wild boar, mostly), I think it is carefully done. There are big signs up at the beginnings of trails on the days when hunters are out in the area. Complimenti on the kitty care – those two look like happy house cats, not well-loved ferals. What a lovely thing you do for them.