Werner sits in an open tree stand rather than in front of his television screen. Half an hour passes… an hour… All is quiet. Not a hiker, jogger, or mountain biker is in sight – everyone is watching football. Suddenly, Werner twitches and grabs his binoculars. There, in the back, where the rows of maize transition to fields of wheat, is a dark shadow. Sow! She appears to be traveling alone, just strolling through the wheat – although not in the direction of the high seat. The wind is blowing gently towards him: Conditions are good for a stalk. That leaves no option but to climb down and head up the middle of the wheat field.
Werner has to take advantage of this opportunity. Wild boar don’t show themselves often in this corner of his hunting grounds; besides, his freezer is empty and the grilling season is just starting to heat up! Once he arrives at the wheat field, his next steps are to take off his shoes, pull neoprene booties over his socks, clamp his shooting stick under his armpit and shoulder his Mauser M18. He slowly approaches the sow, who is easily visible amongst the short stalks. The neoprene booties nestle silently into the dry and lumpy earth. Only 90 meters to go. When he hits the 80-meter-mark, the two-meter-tall (6 ft 7 in) man folds up like a pocket knife and starts crawling on all fours. Only 20 or 30 more meters. That should be close enough. Werner rises above the wheat like a breaching submarine. But the yearling is gone.
