A Distressing Discovery

For a week now we have heard the sounds of chain saws from the forest above us. At last they have begun the thinning process that was started some time ago elsewhere. We are delighted , for in winter , when the sun is low, these trees keep the sun from us. Already we can see gaps between the trees through where the winter sun will shine.

Yesterday was Sunday, and the hard working foresters had a day off, and so we wandered up there to have a look.

Hundreds of trees have already been felled and are stacked in piles by the side of the road. Each tree is numbered. I paced them out. These felled giants were over 22 metres tall.

We walked on until we reckoned that we were directly above our property, and then descended through the forest. This was not an easy passage, for the land was littered with 'brash"; the unwanted limbs and branches, not to mention a tangle of briar and low shrubs. We picked our way slowly down, hoping to see the boundary appear.

I spotted some delicate wood anemones nestling on the littered forest floor.

At last we spotted our house between the trees and made our way towards it...

...and very soon afterwards we hit the boundary markers.

At this point we have stretched a tape to warn hunters to keep away. A little further below, where the terrain is gentler B. has installed a low electric fence to keep the sanglier(wild pigs) out. And it was here that we made a distressing discovery. For the very first time since this fence was installed nearly twenty years ago, a beautiful stag had caught its leg and antlers in the wire, and perished. It was the most heart-breaking sight.

Saddened, we returned to the house. It was late afternoon, and B. had a dilemma. We did not want to leave this fine creature to rot . It had clearly died earlier that day, and was so far unbothered by flies, or maggots. Perhaps , if the hunters had still been around, they might have gladly taken it off our hands. After some thought B. decided to bring the deer down to the house and process it himself. As it grew dark he had strung it up in our garage , and begun to skin it. A tragic sight, and yet this seemed a better thing to do than abandon it. Perhaps the vultures who fly above our cliffs would have spotted it eventually , or in the olden days wolves would have gladly devoured it. A neighbouring hillock is named Pioch Louvia, to mark the fact that wolves once lived here, and it is said that if they were reintroduced, they would better control the natural ecology. But as that is not the case, B. chose to cut it up for meat the next morning. He butchered pigs and sheep on our smallholding in Wales many years ago, so he was able to use these skills in our French home. We now have a supply of venison in our freezer. I would rather it had not been so, but in the event, I agree that this was the best way. Life can be so cruel, but at least the deer did not entirely die in vain.