Wild Pigs Cant Jump – Memories of a Wild Boar Hunt

Another icy morning in Burgundy. The ground is brittle under foot and once again there have been visitors in the night. The wild boar have come down from the hills to rummage for tasty tubers and rhizomes and drink from the stream. With a destructive power, my lawn now resembles a rugby pitch post match. So what to do?

Neighbours suggest that these powerful beasts are unstoppable while one friend has given me the floor sweepings from his latest hair cut. Wine makers her claim the whiff of human hair will send the boar packing. I have my doubts. The last resorts now list as a gun an electric fence or some magic potion.

By all accounts wild pigs cant jump, so a low slung high voltage wire will be added over the weekend. If that fails it might  be time to get a fix of magic potion and take on the Sanglier Asterix-style. Either way memories of a day wild boar hunting a few summers back have left me in vengeful mood. Be warned the images below may contain blood.