Hog Wild!

I decided that there was no better place to dust off my old bicycle than southern France. I had my bike, circa 1985, shipped over and after some tuning up it was road worthy. I headed off to the hills by myself to explore the country. The biking is incredible here. Miles of winding roads up and down mountains and hills. A perfect day might be a nice b&b, a good ride through the hills all morning, a typical French lunch of incredible cuisine with lots of wine, some more riding then another b&b.
On a recent ride in the country, I stumbled upon a group of men in army fatigues yaking and exchanging stories. At closer inspection, I saw they were standing around their kill of the morning. I asked, in my bad French, if I could approach to inspect the kill. Encouraged to do so, I strolled up to what I figured were ducks or something. I was surprised to see three large wild boar fr. sanglier. Very fun to be there while they recounted the stories of the kill. I didn’t understand a lot what was said but got all of the body language. Amazing to see how the characters are the same at home standing over a golf ball or a dead pig.