My father was not from here and we passed each year by selling and buying tools skins, wool and cheese. His passion, however, was hunting: hunting for food, hunting for skins, hunting on commission by farmers to protect from foxes and martens chicken coops, hunting for the sake of killing, as with hawks and buzzards. Climb up the rocks in search of eagles in the midst of large clearings invaded by brambles in search of wild boar, down to the bed of the streams in search of the bear, the most coveted prey.
One afternoon, almost dusk, following the footsteps of a deer on a dry ditch in the woods, he found himself in front of a big wolf. The wolf, as opposed to always do what the wolves did not run. He was in the middle of the ditch, just above my father.
My father told me stories of hunting, and every time I told her there was something different: the deer was further away, le anatre nel carniere dieci volte tante; ma la storia del suo incontro con la lupa me l'ha detta sempre con le stesse parole; le stesse pause, persino.
La bestia si trovava appena sopra di lui, e ringhiava furiosamente. Lui imbracciò il fucile e prese la mira, ma la lupa ancora non scappò, né attaccò. Iniziò invece a guaire, a fare un guaito assai simile -diceva mio padre- al pianto di un neonato in lontananza. Per un attimo esitò: sparare subito o aspettare e vedere cosa sarebbe successo dopo?
In quell'attimo, la lupa s'acquattò sulle zampe posteriori e balzò, passandogli sopra di una buona spanna. Quando si girò, era già sparita nel bosco.
Fu in quel momento che mio padre sentì yelped another, weaker, coming from the slope of the stream. Pushed aside some bushes and saw in a hole dug there, an entire litter of young wolves. "Why did not run away: his mother feared for her puppies." He thought a moment about what to do, then pulled up the puppies, who were five, put them in the flesh as if it were a cradle and carried them away, thinking that one could train him for hunting, others sell them to the pastors to make the guarding the flock.
Along the way back, he felt from time to time the sound of leaves calpstate now behind him, now front, right or left. "Follow me as well, mom, your pets now have lost them forever." Arrived at
inn at that time was owned by the father of Orpheus, said to put the puppies in the house and close it very well because that night the wolf would have gone to take them back, and it was so. Until dawn he heard howling and whining, of mother and children, and a big scratch at the door of the house.
The next morning, however, the puppies will be found there, where they had left, and wolf tracks were only on the ground: a large scrawl of circles, quickly withdrawn in a straight line to the forest of legs very first episodes of a jump against the door.
"You better do the other puppies, mom, because they do not ever see her again, and if you met, when they are trained hunting or guard, you agree to keep away from them. "
This story, I must say, m'aveva fascinated. I asked the lady Orpheus another jug \u200b\u200bof wine, filled the glass and the man with the coat I asked her to continue.
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