With the end of summer comes the hunting season, which starts off with the wood pidgeon shoot. The locals build hides high in the trees in the depths of the woods which they reach with the aid of immense hand built wood ladders and well supplied with wine,bagettes and sausage crouch there all day. It seems that mankind having origionally decended from the trees is returning to it's origins !
The other old farts tell stories of octobers in which the skies went dark as the birds passed over on their annual migration and bemoan the fact that so few arrive this year. In fact the son, who lives in Toulouse,of one loacal old fart comes down and spends his 2 week annual holiday crouched in a hide with his dad; this year he hasn't seen a single wood pidgeon. When I put it to him that it was because they'd killed them all in previous years he vehemently denied the allegation, putting the blame firmly and squarely on "Les Espagnols" who massacre them for pleasure rather than the pot.
They go to great lenghts to compensate for the scaresity of prey, their cars are hidden
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