So, as some people know, we had a problem with truffle thieves. several have been photographed and reported to the local authorities, which, to my eternal surprise are ACTIVELY investigating and pursuing the issue. And my own genteel ways have managed to earn me a nickname “The English”, which is quite funny as it obviously descends from my wife being English, and besides to the Average Italian that sounds more disparaging than “The Venetian” who after all, they do consider assholes, but still “Italian” (we are not).
Anyway, this morning I heard about 6 rifle shots in quick succession, a larger caliber than normal, probably a .308. later in the morning a couple more, and then about an hour ago, as I am working away in my office the wife comes to tell me she hears dogs barking. I’m busy, so I say “Ok.”
then she comes back to say the girls went to the bottom of our field and saw a man with a gun. He tried to talk to them and they said they don’t speak Italian and ran back up the hill.
Now, it needs to be stated that in this country hunters have the right to cross fields that are not fenced in and since fencing in 5 hectares of land (through a forest too) is rather expensive, they are legally allowed to pass through. Even so, I have only seen two in the last two years and both came to ask if they could be on the EDGE of my property, not even on it. Because by now, I think from here to Rome they all know about “The English”.
So I know there are hunters, they are in the area, it’s all pretty well regulated and they are always careful about safe distances, and directions of fire etc etc so again I’m not worried.
I asked the important question though: “What gun was he carrying?”
Blank stares.
I don’t even know what they teach kids in schools these days, I tell ya.
Anyway, more time passes, the wife again:
“There are voices really close to the house…”
Sound carries in this valley in a really weird way, you can sometimes hear conversations being had half a kilometre away on the hill above us.
“Ok babe, I am working…”
“I know but…”
Ok, fuck it. I’ve now been interrupted a half-dozen time sand I can’t work like this. So I set off.
I must look VERY menacing, in my tracksuit pants, old, torn long sleeved top and a 35 year old fleece with a broken zip and my bright yellow glasses (I use for writing) clipped to my neckline.
But I AM in a mood now. And truffle thieves would have bad day.
After traipsing through the field, then the forest, I hear the voices, and I go to the edge of my property, a filed of the neighbour. Cars and posted hunting safety officers about 30-40 metres away. All perfectly organised, legal and safe.
I politely ask if they are hunting boar, they say yes. I ask if they are shooting anything to their right, they say, no, not at all, and I think them letting them know I have small kids on the field. They reply that they are done anyway and just collecting the dogs.
We wish each other a good day.
On the way back up the hill, rather slower and less ready to compost for my truffles, I see the wife at the top of the hill, she comes towards me gingerly, concern obvious on her face. I figure she’s worried I will tell her she bugged me while in the middle of work for nothing, but no such thought enters my mind. I just let her know it was all in order, no trespassers, just hunters and being very correct about everything. She sighs relief, “Oh, good, good!” And hugs me spontaneously and tenderly. She’s not much of a hugger most days, and she’s clearly feeling weak in the knees.
“Hey what’s wrong?”
“Oh I just got worried!”
“What are you scared about? It’s all fine, nothing bad happening there.”
“Yeah, yeah, good, I just got really worried!”
Still hugging me. Ok, clearly she got scared about something…
“Ok, but what did you get worried about? The kids are all in the house anyway, right?”
“YOU’RE NOT!”
I was honestly stunned. Me? She’s worried about me?
It’s kind of… well, a little absurd frankly, but very sweet, I have to say.
“Babe, what can happen to me?”
“Well I don’t know! I don’t know who’s down there, or what they got!”
“But babe, honestly, what difference does it make? They would hardly shoot me on sight, and once I am close it doesn’t matter what they have, even if they have guns, they will be fired only after I shove them up their ass if they tried anything.”
“Well, I don’t know! I thought I heard someone say ‘ Let Go! ’”
I smiled and shook my head, thinking silently to myself, But the kids were inside, why would you think someone grabbed one of our kids? or something like that?
Gave her a kiss on the head and went back inside.
About three minutes later it hit me.
OH! She thought me or one of the hunters shouted “Let go!” which maybe one of them did, talking to a dog. She was worried about ME! Again, the thought never even crossed my mind.
I went back outside and hugged her again.
“Still babe, if you were that worried, why not come out armed?”
“I thought about it….then I figured no. My best weapon is my wiles. It’s what I am best at.”
And she is.
Now, regardless of the fact I was under no threat whatever, other than possibly my own foul temper if I had caught a truffle thief in flagrante delicto , the reality is that in her mind, her husband was possibly about to be assaulted, shot, stabbed, or killed by potentially evil truffle thief-murderers that could be roaming these here forgotten hills.
And reasoning it through in very much English fashion, far more coldly and rationally than I did in my Venetian temperament, since I didn’t even take my phone to photograph the potential thieves (and I only realised this half-way down the hill which only made me more pissed off, which would have made it worse for any would-be thief encounters) she nevertheless came out to help me, in nothing but her admittedly rather sexy and quite shapely black tracksuit outfit.
Quite frankly, that is a level of courage and loyalty that is uncommon in most men, never mind women, who are biologically wired to think of themselves and the kids FIRST.
Thing is, that like with any marriage we have arguments and in the past these were relatively nuclear sometimes, but thing also is… I knew the day I first saw her, even if I didn’t know how I knew. She’s The One.
We really are Fire and Water. And you need both for life to be good.
This post was originally published on my Substack. Link here
