Читать книгу Vignettes - Life's Tales Book Three - William M.D. Baker - Страница 9

It was a warm sunny day in early Spring of 1955 while I was stationed at Allied Air Forces Central Europe (AAFCE) in Fontainbleau and living in Bourron Marlotte when my family of my wife, Pat, and our four young children went for a picnic in the Fontainbleau Forest. The forests of France are very much unlike our National Forests in that they have been forested for hundreds of years and are clear of all under-brush. Add to that the habit of the local people of picking up any all fallen twigs or limbs and you have a clean carpet on which the forest sits. It is picturesque, quiet and home to birds of all kinds, squirrels, deer and other animals, including Wild Boar.

While it was in our hopes that we would encounter birds, squirrels and deer it was not in our slightest expectations to meet a Wild Boar and certainly not more than one. But, that is what happened.

We had walked a good distance into the forest and selected a comfortable spot for our picnic. The ground held the suns warmth and gave comfort to us through the blanket Pat had spread out. The forest was quiet with only a whisper of a wind. We sat on the blanket watching the squirrels work the forest as Pat sat out food for our lunch. Suddenly, the quiet of the forest was pierced by a snuff and a grunt and the sound of stomping hoofs. I looked in the direction of the sound and there, a distance away, coming directly toward us was a huge Wild Boar with long tusks leading three or four others of smaller size. Pat and the children also saw the animals and scurried in a huddle around me in a noisy panic behavior which raised the boar’s attention. The boars stopped. The wildlife posters in the entrance to the forest warn of the Wild Boar and the harm they can inflict with their sharp tusks.

We stood, huddled. I spoke softly instructing the family to stand still and be quiet. Don’ talk. Don’t move. Those were my instructions. The big male scratched the ground, sniffed and snorted. The other boars stood still. We did the same. The big male again snorted, pawed the ground, sniffed the air and starred at our huddled family. Then, perhaps not feeling threatened by our presence the big tusked boar led his group past us and on into the forest.

Often, through the years, one member or another of our family has told the story about a “Boaring Time in the Fontainbleau Forest!”

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