The light has been so gorgeous this late fall. Yesterday I took the dogs down to la papertrie at 4pm or so. It is in a valley with hills and rock cliffs that have been dug out by the river loup over hundreds or more years. The road is windy, wet and dangerous...it takes about 15 minutes to get there. It runs all along the river and for the most part, is without houses .
Dusk was upon us in the valley. The sun had been baking everything all day and with the cold evening came a beautiful misty fog all along the river.
This is something that is almost impossible to photograph ...and there is really no way to pull off this road when you want to.
We parked at La papertrie and I put on my hiking boots. A small white truck pulled up. Many men here have these small trucks ( vans) to use for all their various activities....hunting, hauling stuff..for instance. These little trucks are always white...why, I don't know. You would never take these trucks on a trip, they are just for local use.
We had to walk by the truck to get into the park and we passed an older man, perhaps in his 70's. Coming out of the park were two dobermans that I often see there. I try to avoid them as the big dogs don't tend to like each other. I know their owners are English.
I hid behind the white truck, but I could not avoid the smaller Doberman. This dog is afraid of it's own shadow and very afraid of other dogs. She is also super hyper, almost as if she is a bit crazy.
Being in proximity made me strike up a conversation with the old guy with the white truck. I could hear he was not french...and I suspected he was Italian ...so I asked him. He told me that he was from Calabria way way down on the boot of Italy near Sicily . He now lives in Bar Sur Loup, a very isolated place above the park where we were. He had his hunting dog in the back, I believe it was a Brittany Spaniel ( white with blonde spots, docked tail and crazed by smells) . I thought the dog was vicious the way his father commanded him away from all the other dogs, but the dog was very sweet and so clean and soft.
I watched the man break off a long thin branch( 6ft or so) strip it of little off shoots and employ it as a kind of whip. He did this like he has been doing this his whole life. He used this long switch to keep the dogs apart and to keep them moving. He didn't hit them, just whipped it around them.
Kate was not happy about this at all and clung close to me.
When you looked up at the ancient village of Bar Sur Loup from the park, the lights were just starting to come on. In fact, you could see Gourdon, which is way way up perched on a cliff...it was so beautiful in the dusk with it's early evening lights flickering. The very top of the cliffs all around were painted pink from the departing sun. The steam was coming off of the grass and off of the river. It was a beautiful moment between dusk and night.
The hunter and I decided to promenade together through the park continuing our conversation. I told him that I had always wanted to follow a hunter into the woods to experience hunting and of course, to take photos. He invited me to come on a Saturday at 8 am. I am going to go next weekend. He goes up into the woods above Pre Du Lac...a place I have not been.
( I deplore hunting , but I understand it as a traditional activity all over the world? My 2nd cousin is a big hunter who lives near San Francisco . He travels to hunt deer and elk and shoots duck in SF bay. I just need to do it once....so I will see how it goes. And you will too as it will be on the blog.)
We walked and talked. He showed me how they flush out the boar.
All of a sudden, a husky like dog appeared out of the gloom. He looked like a mix between a huskie and a wolf, with tall white lined ears and grey and white poil ( fur). It turned out that he was abandoned. Two men were coming in our direction and they confirmed that the dog was not theirs. One nice french man with a yellow lab and a chuck it, asked the hunter to hold his dog and he went over to look at the poor thing.
The dog let him near...he had on no collar...the thing that really got me was his energy. He was deadly calm, slow walking, a bit oblivious. He looked sick to me, or perhaps slowly dying. He was a beautiful dog...what twisted kind of person would leave this dog?
The nice french man promised me that he would call the police to try to come get the dog.
The Italian man reacted differently. If the dog came close, he whipped the switch to keep him away. He wanted the dog to just go away. The french man and I looked at each other in understanding agreement. I kept saying, please no, let's help him, but my new friend was not interested.
The Italians, for the most part, treat animals differently. They feel animals belong outside or are used only for hunting. They are a bit rough in this area. It's one reason I would have a hard time living in Italy. The french are completely different with animals. I have to accept the Italians for who they are in this regard.
The dog followed us back to our cars. He passed us and wandered out into a grassy field. I dug through the car and found 2 small bones sticks. I tried to give them to him but he was not interested. He weakly lurched away. The last I saw of him was in the frosty field looking into the distance, disappearing into the last light.
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