Close encounters in the wild…

On a serious note… because it’s a serious thing coming face to face with a wild boar!

I saw wild boar the other night, a mother and her brood, it reminded me again of this day. A day that still brings me out in a cold sweat, goosebumps and trembling when I think of what might have happened…

All the images included in this publication were taken on the day…

It was the end of the school week, a glorious November evening and as sometimes can be the case in this part of ‘not quite the south of France’ still warm enough to walk in shorts and a t-shirt. I remember rushing home and saying hi to hubby, changing from my work clothes, rushing straight out of the door again saying, I won’t be long… and in reality I wasn’t.

I had my camera over my shoulder and I knew exactly where I wanted to go to film the setting of the autumn sun. With Wolfie accompanying me I walked up the lane towards the chateau but at the first sharp bend decided to take a shortcut and turned off, crawled, very ungracefully, under a barbed wire fence onto a small patch of land that bypasses the winding lane. It was unkempt, no mans land, a wilderness of thorns and scrubby oaks, in many places impenetrable unless one knew the tracks formed by deer.

I wandered along one of these narrow tracks leading down the steep hill into the field below, skirting another small patch of woodland as I descended. Through the branches of autumnal trees I could just see our next closest neighbour on his tractor in the farmyard beyond, ¹La Badogue and the first line of trees in the chestnut grove.  I let Wolfie from his lead, he bounded off into the trees, happy to be free chasing invisible scents. I stopped to breathe in the fresh clean air of November wildness, taking huge lungfuls. It felt good, the weekend was ahead of me and I had no plans. I felt the way I always do when I escape from the ties of family chores and classwork, as if someone had given me a ticket to freedom — even if it did have a ‘times up’ sticker. My perception of all that moves above and below was heightened, my head cleared, the stresses of the week fell away.

I recall seeing a fox on the hill facing me. I often see them out of the corner of my eye, lurking, nose to the ground, their movement so stealthy and unmistakable, two Roe deer were grazing on the far side of a field but they saw me, or heard me and ran off startled. I could hear a woodpecker tapping at the hollow trunk of a tree just below me in the woodland and because it was so unseasonably warm, there were swarms of gnats hovering at the edge of the branches, their translucent wings catching the light of the low sun so often they looked like glitter had been thrown in the air for the wind to play with at its will; a kaleidoscope of myriad colour dancing as I watched.  It was a beautiful sight and so calming, the perfect antidote at the end of a busy week. I even made a short video of them to post on Instagram later that evening. I walked a little further down the hill to where a barbed wire fence was visible. Foolishly I didn’t question why this particular part was no longer hidden by blackthorn when the rest was buried by thorny branches covered in bitter, matt-blue berries and wild rose briars rambling over the top.  I just climbed over it anyway, picking my way through the brambles and faded heather to a small patch of forgotten land. 

I had never ventured further than the bare barbed wire before, I’m not sure what prompted me that day, perhaps it was the freedom ticket, or the glorious evening, or maybe it was just the whisper in the breeze dancing with those glitzy gnats, who knows?

The sun was turning a fiery red and low in the sky, I remember feeling the chill of autumn as I scrambled in as far as the brambles and briars would allow. When I finally found a fallen tree in the dry and withered flowers I knew I had only a few minutes to spare before night would begin to swallow up the last moments of the day. There was an incredible array of wild flowers, dead and dried after the hottest and longest summer on record but still recognisable; yarrow and scabious, wild oats and prairie grass all entwined, their seed heads silhouetted in the fading light. I could hear Wolfie in the field below, excited by something he was chasing, disadvantaged by his short legs and unable to catch it but always happy to be running.  I whistled, very half heartedly, knowing well he wouldn’t return until he was sure he had lost his prey anyway. His barks disappeared into the distant somewhere below me.

I scanned the scrubland, I wanted to catch the light of the setting sun just as it disappeared below the horizon, when it would be more vermillion than orange.  I needed to be higher and moved quickly to a spot above at the edge of the dense blackthorn bushes with the sun to my right.  I literally had minutes before it would have been gone, I remember my camera being focused on the dead yarrow, the shot didn’t look as I imagined. I was fiddling around with the settings on my camera, obsessing with the light and angles of the suns rays through their many seeded heads, determined to get at least one decent shot…

I didn’t…

A noise distracted my concentration, heavy footsteps were getting closer, something much larger than a dog, so not Wolfie, they were moving slowly but noisily in the thickets behind me.

Without the slightest fear I turned to look.

A little more than five meters away from where I was standing, an immense head appeared. A wild boar, disheveled looking from the briars and blackthorn branches, grunting while it snuffled the ground, a huge male, his tusks protruding in their strange slightly outward angle.

I froze to the spot I was standing on with terror…

Everything I had read and have read since about what to do when you find yourself face to face with a boar, no matter the size or gender because they’re all dangerous, downloaded at once, imagine the scene from the Matrix when all the digits are scrolling down the screen!

Do not make any sudden movement - done, I was incapable!

Do not run - done, I was incapable!

Let go of your dog if you have one - done, Wolfie was still chasing invisible prey.

Find a tree and climb it - there were no tree's close enough!

If there are no tree’s close enough and the animal attacks, let it, they will usually only do so for thirty’s seconds, just until they realise you are not a danger to them.

Do not look the animal in the eyes…

I looked!

DO NOT LOOK AT THE ANIMAL!

I look away, he hadn’t seen me, I knew he would but if I wasn’t looking at him and I remained completely immobile, I knew I had a chance of still being a living breathing human being at the end of the day, albeit a scared one!  I made no sound, I was a statue praying; that Wolfie stayed below in the fields, that the boar wasn’t hungry, that he couldn’t sense my fear.  In the few seconds I had to look at him I estimated him to be well… BIG, at least a metre and half in length. We were in such close proximity, wild creature and human being, I could hear his breathing, see the double layers of browny grey hair characteristic of these immense wild beasts. I remember seeing an old wound just below his shoulder, a bald patch, where no hair grew at all, probably from another male, proof of his strength and patriarchy and that he wasn’t to be messed with.

I wasn’t about to…

I tried to slow my breathing, my hammering heart. I was terrified and I knew he would sense this, he would smell my fear. I had no form of protection, no weapon, not even a stick, only my camera and a dog lead made of plaited twine because I’d lost his metal chained one and had to compromise, neither would have saved me if he charged. 

I forgot the sunset and the yarrow heads, fleetingly I wondered if I just might be fortunate enough to take a shot of this handsome, if terrifying creature in front of me. The photograph of what could have been is still lodged in my head today; his head appearing through the yarrow and wild grasses, tusks glinting in the low sunlight, It would have been perfect. The thought though was suffocated by my terror almost as fast as it had formed because at that moment he had seen me. I remained motionless, frozen to the earth beneath me, my breath held as I looked into his coal black eyes.

DON’T LOOK AT HIM… those words were ringing in my head, whether through fear or the curiosity of watching him I didn’t know but I was powerless to look away. We stared at each other, neither of us moving. He, the wild beast with his small beady eyes glinting in the low sun and me with, what I imagine to be, black saucer eyes filled with terror.

I began to chant a silent message, ‘I will not harm you.... I will not harm you’ repeating it over and over in my head.  He grunted, I like to believe as if in acknowledgement but he took two steps towards me and grunted again. I could feel the cold sweat of fear running down my neck. I thought of my family, of the uncooked supper awaiting my return, I thought of my sisters who I hadn’t seen for years, I thought it would be the last sunset I’d ever see…

Suddenly, with more grunting, he turned away back into the briars and thorns.

I could breathe again but only just, my heart was hammering so hard and fast in my chest I thought I would die there on the spot anyway! I began to tremble, my legs were like jelly and refused to support me, I collapsed onto the yarrow heads just as Wolfie appeared panting and excited, he dropped down on the ground at my feet with obvious exhaustion, evidently he’d had a wonderful chase. I attached his lead to his collar with shaky hands and gathered my pack and camera up, normal breathing returning, despite the constant trembling.

Just as I was able to stand again I heard a noise, Wolfie’s ears pricked up. Before either of us had a chance to move, with much crashing of undergrowth the beast returned, charging out of the bushes just meters from where he went in.

This time he was even closer and although I will never know why, he stopped, looked at me again, grunted and left.

I replayed those last five minutes over and over in my head when once again I could move without trembling. Then, I walked home, cooked the supper and called my sisters, gave my family a hug and thanked the gods that luck had been on my side.

I was not foolish enough to think that had I run from the boar he wouldn’t have charged me, or indeed that he had heard my silent plea but I hoped that if our paths crossed again that he would recognise me, that he would know I was not ahunter and he was not the hunted.

I hoped a silent understanding passed between us.

1. La Badogue is the name of the chateau with the mean dogs and miserable owner, I mentioned them in Indigo hour attached below if you missed it.