Guns Blaze In France

One of the more outstanding manifestations of French Frenchness explodes at this time of year

One of the more outstanding manifestations of French Frenchness explodes at this time of year. Guns boom all across the country, in every Department on varying opening dates to the hunting - i.e. shooting - season. The shooting press brings out what looks like a Christmas number, at any rate in bulk. A map shows in various colours the opening days of each particular part of fhe country. Most of them start week by week in September, but Alsace-Lorraine gets preference with August 23rd.

Then the magazine (Le Chasseur Francais) takes 22 regions and, under neat little colour pictures of every animal or bird affected, gives the situation as the shooting man sees it. Thus boar, or roe deer or moufflon (an odd-looking sort of wild sheep with big, curling hors) and down to hares, rabbit, mallard, partridge and what-have-you, get their ranking. It runs from very good, good, middling, mediocre, passable to rare. The boar comes out of it very well. And anyone who travels via Calais might like to know that not too far from that port there were 1,326 wild boar killed last year.

Deer cause a lot of worry to farmers and foresters and, of course, the wild boar, whose image dominates many of these pages. And now restaurants will be putting up special game menus. From memory, what would the offerings be? Say, to start with, hare soup; then a bird in some form. For the main course venison, perhaps, or a hunk or a couple of slices of wild boar. As a savoury at the end, no doubt some of the innards of the victims on toast. Or is that an Anglo-Saxon touch?

As with any other sport, there are niceties of etiquette. Two pages are devoted to the anxious question: "Would you lend your gundog to a friend?" And, something we don't have to deal with in Ireland: "How can I protect my dog against vipers?" They are often around at the beginning of the season, it appears. Answers about remedies are given, but best of all is to take your dog, not allowing him or her to walk, to the nearest vet. Very much more; perhaps some for another day.