Domingo too!

Another Sunday!

My dogs needed their early morning walk! We set off along the lane. The sun was rising, a rosy glow to the east over the sea, and reflecting golden on the Filabres to the west. Suddenly there was gun fire! Early morning hunters!

La Caza – the ‘sport’ of many men in this part of Spain. Every Sunday, they set out dressed in their camouflage to hunt rabbit, partridge and boar. I’m not sure about their hunting methods, but they involve guns, dogs or both; and the gunfire scares Holly, so that all she can do is tremble and hide for the rest of the morning. Pet dogs and hunters with guns don’t mix!

Now, a good part of my life in Spain seems to be about expending the energy of my dogs. A least two long walks every day are essential, if they are not going to pester me all evening to play games of their choosing! That being the case we decided to go down to Mojacar, for a walk along the beach, where they could chase seagulls and cormorants, up and down the surf, for miles, without fear of meeting La Caza, and hopefully to wear themselves out!

Millie

and Holly

As we drove into Mojacar, the sea glistened all across the bay as far as Aguilas, and the advertising sign of the ‘Pharmacia’ read 19deg centigrade. The resort town wasn’t melancholy today, as it had been through January. The town had spring in its step! Many more bars were open. Families were playing. There was a meet of cycle clubs. More people were strolling along the sea front.

We set off along the most southerly beach, just out of the town. It is the most deserted and undeveloped – mainly because of the recession! Several shells of apartments are awaiting completion. I suspect they will wait for some time yet! There are some fishermen on the shore and sailing boats out to sea. We set off towards the Moorish Tower and chirringuito at the far end of the beach, the dogs alternatively chasing, digging and playing. Prospects for a peaceful evening bode well! A motorised hang glider provided great entertainment for us and the dogs, the pilot waving back as he cruised overhead.

At the chirringuito we ordered coffee and tostadas – toasted bread spread with olive oil, tomatoes and cheese.  Some hikers came and went and then mountain bikers. Then a 4x4 arrived towing a trailer. Hunters with dogs in ‘tow’! On top of the trailer another ‘beast’ was laid, a deer or boar, dead!

I went to pay, and was astonished to see that the boar was by the counter, with one leg shackled with some cord so that it couldn’t run away. It was the size of a medium sized dog and was covered in course straight brown hair. It looked pretty bemused, pretty frightened!  I asked the camarera, if the pig was going to be eaten.  Sensing my feelings, she immediately replied ‘ oh no’; it was going to be released into the campo – to enjoy it’s life in the countryside! The huntsman led the poor pig closer to our table, where Millie and Holly surveyed it with much curiosity and just a little nervousness! I repeated the question – was the pig to be eaten? ‘Oh yes’, he said, ‘Do you want it’?

I declined! Poor Pig! I couldn’t have killed and eaten it. But isn’t it a more honest way of eating meat – hunting, finding, capturing and killing your food, that has had a life in the campo, than resorting to eating one of their ‘sorry’ relatives, who after no life at all, I often see being driven, in double-decker lorries down the motorway, to be slaughtered and butchered!