No matter how much you think you know about animal behaviour, there will always be something to remind you not to take nature for granted and always to expect the unexpected.
Down here in the Pyrenees we get a lot of wildlife. From hoopoes to hares, vipers to vultures, even coypu are fairly widespread although, to date I have only seen two road casualties. Summer nights resound with the chirrups and songs of cicadas and crickets, which either never sleep or do non-stop shift-work. Redstarts nest around the house and badgers visit every night. For a nature photographer, this is bliss.
The Boar and Me © Rupert Soskin
France is still very much a nation of hunters, weekends during the season are punctuated by the sound of hunting dogs and gunshots echoing through the otherwise tranquil mountains. A few years back there was a big fuss about one trigger-happy hunter who had ‘bagged’ the last truly indigenous female Pyrenean Bear. His claim that he had “shot her in self defence whilst hunting wild boar” was enough to allow him to carry on as normal, perhaps setting his sights on the few introduced from Slovenia, brought in to increase the numbers and keep the bear population as safe as possible. But boars aren’t stupid and tend to stick to the forests that don’t smell of dogs and humans, only venturing further afield at night when the danger sleeps. Very occasionally, despite the dangers, youngsters are spotted closer to villages in daylight hours. Many will be orphans, parents lost to hunters too soon to have taught their young any caution.
Pyrenees Boar © Rupert Soskin
A couple of years ago three youngsters, still with their spots and stripes, raced out of the forest and sped across our field into the woods further up the mountain. Young boars never stray far from their parents so we guessed their mother had just been killed by the local hunters, leaving them running scared, back to familiar safe ground.
Sometimes though, those rare interactions with wildlife which make a naturalist’s life so magical, can arise in the most surprising ways. It was late one evening in the summer of 2008. The nights are warm and as usual, I was outside, listening to the sounds of owls and badgers in the woods, when I heard the noisy shuffling of something uncharacteristically large close-by. It could only be a boar. Shining my torch into the darkness I saw a young male, no more than three years old and barely ten metres away. He seemed totally unfazed that the smell of human was close-by, but as the noise and smell of hunting-human is always accompanied by the noise and smell of hunting-dog, I had no concerns about throwing him some stale baguette which he ate in no time before trotting back into the shadows. What a night! My first closeup sighting of a boar and right there in my own garden.
Boar Ball © Rupert Soskin
Well, the next night he came back, and the next, and the next. Each time I would talk quietly as I edged slightly closer, making it obvious that I wasn’t creeping up in predatorial fashion. The real shock was the following morning when he came trotting across the field for breakfast.
We kept his visits a secret so as not to tip-off the local hunters and over the coming weeks he became so trusting that he would come right to the house, day or night, happily snuffling around the grass within inches of us. After a while, he trusted me sufficiently to lie down beside me in the grass, nibbling on corn as the evening darkened. He ate, I talked nonsense – clearly the beginnings of a perfect relationship.
As if his daytime visits weren’t surprise enough, one morning he began taking a very un-boarlike interest in our football which he started pushing around with his nose. It didn’t take long for him to begin shoving it vigorously, seemingly astonished at how far it went. In fact, his extraordinarily playful nature became the biggest surprise of all. He would happily spend a few minutes knocking the ball around, then trot off to our pile of grass-cuttings which he would toss in the air like a young child kicking up the leaves in autumn. Perhaps, cutest of all, he liked to stick his head right into the oleander bush to sniff the blooms. Something which seemed to give him as much pleasure as we might derive from any sweet-smelling bunch of flowers.
Boar at Night © Rupert Soskin
Anthropomorphizing? Of course I am. But it is hard not to when confronted by an intelligent animal which is clearly enjoying itself. Sadly he didn’t make it through the following hunting season. The practice is too simple: a pack of dogs is sent in one side of the woods whilst hunters wait on the other, guns at the ready for anything breaking cover trying to escape. The relentless three-days-a-week pursuit leaves local nature lovers wondering how there are any wild boar left at all. Our young boar did however, show in a surprising way, how a wild animal can behave when it knows it is not in danger.
Photo Credits
All Photographs Are © Rupert Soskin
Rupert Soskin Photographer Bio
Rupert Soskin is a writer and nature photographer. His lifelong passion for natural history led him to further his research into geology, archaeology, anthropology and evolutionary psychology, particularly animal intelligence and the behavioural similarities between man and animals.
He is probably best known for his film Standing with Stones, an exploration into the megalithic sites of the British Isles.
Website: RupertSoskin.com
Trailer: Standing with Stones – A Film by Michael Bott and Rupert Soskin
Recent Guest Photographer Articles:
- Jack's Video Sports Bar
- From Landscape Photographer To Wedding Photographer
- New Johnson Street Bridge by Drone
- Living History: Lexington, Virginia
- Hells Canyon: The Cooler Side of Hades
Please Share Your Thoughts - Leave A Comment!