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three, four hours by car to the new day. The trip had not been long. Even early in the morning not. Day before yesterday we received the message. Hunters are looking for. And good dogs. Today it's so far. The first summer was very hot. Then the weather was changeable. For now one of the last hot day is announced. I was on the verge of a hunting trip abroad and want to take the last summer in Germany. I know it is a beautiful, a hot day at the corn field.
I'm at the meeting point. Five men get off three vehicles. It's still cool. You can see their breath. Peter laughs at me wide. He loves the cold weather over the summer. His dog howls.
"Good morning. Well prepared?"
"How can you be."
Peter never talks too much. He knows that I have spent many hours in the cinema and shooting at the shooting range. Mostly he was there. He knows, as I did with the 8 x 57 IS schieße.Die thermos can only hold a pint. I had bought them for a mountain hunting. It is easy. Now it seems to me ridiculously small. But now is all hunting. The dogs make a noise. Them the long drive plugged into the bone. We furnish us a last drink coffee. Then we leave.
The dogs are nervous. Now it is warm enough to take off the jacket. The first field is rectangular, we are half inclined to the north falls off the field. The farmer comes. The tobacco pipe between his lips. Does not talk much. If a Peter. The huge guy standing there, as always, leaning forward slightly with the much smaller, wiry peasants in the middle of the field. His dog is with him. Such a picture. I want to burn me. The two could also be stood 100 years ago. They talk their heavy, slow moving from their heavy dialect and Lower Saxony and head slightly. But we wear bright red vests. The dogs and harvesting machines are used. Now, we on our positions.
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Now. You press. Let them. I'm out of place. Peter holds iron on discipline. He's known me for over 20 years, knows more about me than most. Still, he has checked my hunting license yet. But he is right. Order must be and we must not jeopardize any frivolity. "That, my friend," he always said, if someone does not understand his accuracy, "would then be charged the entire hunt. And we must protect them".
It should be about eleven clock. I'm sweating. The sun shines us stronger than ever. I'm already long since in the old olive green undershirt. On the orange vest, something I am also accustomed to. Peter with only the vest. My water bottle is empty. I shot twice. So far without success. We are on the second field. The fields are huge. I had not thought of. At home they are very well manageable. "What do you mean, why do we need so many hunters," Peter had said thoughtfully.
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He was shot once. Of course, successful. And he a defector had been using the Saufeder. Peter could handle it. The six-foot long shaft disappeared into his hand like a walking stick. "I do not want to go hunting with firearms through the field. Safety, you understand. Iff a pig in front of our dogs, is catching a cold weapon is better."
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me running down the sweat. It gets hotter. "My God, we are not Africa," rebukes Peter. The others sweat it. But me is the reminder. Our range is still low. My nerves are strained as on the prowl. The rustling in the field. The noise. Screams. Here they come. Da. I must away, away from the field look and shoot. Now. Weapon to his cheek. Wait. Just talk. Wait. Then it runs back out there. Long time no. Someone shoots. The dogs. Who's fucking time with the dogs.
It is noon. We break off. We are all in a vest. The farmer gives us hot coffee. Bread and sausage, we have Peter himself is quite happy dar. He had shot two and a razor. Jochen had a one and Fred. Klaus, Rainer and I have nothing. After lunch, we wanted to take over, to another field.
The Sun bangs on us to others. "Old African", Peter says to me, "age Africans, the sun makes you nothing." And really, I'm tanned than usual this year, my sunburn, I had already gone. He introduces me to the wide side. I am all alone. "You are talking thus not". He knows perfectly well that I would not like to go home empty-handed.
Then I will still get into the brooding . Ah! what can they spinner still criticize the corn hunt. Lead-free ammunition. My God. What nonsense. We carry no infantry engagement in the maize plots. How many floors are there for. Not much. And the Abprallgefahr for soft iron. Even the safe shot. Well, yes just take one of us. Thank you, gentlemen. The same nonsense as in the water hunting.
The heat can not be after. The Sun is burning and it's no wind. You can smell the field. The dogs are hungry for water. Peter drags now ran a wild bath. Bob Peters Dog drinks. Peter looks mild. His shirt stuck to the body. He laughs now over. In his hands he holds his Saufeder. Welding sticks to it. On the back it has the 98s. Looks like a toy gun at him. The dogs drink. No one speaks. Hunting continued peace prevails. You can hear Bob drink.
Peter beckons silently. It goes on. The sun shines now more than ever. Dogs. Shots. Not me. I hear you calling Peter. Do not understand him. This is not me. I think the door. If there is a problem, we talk via radio. Damn old-fashioned in the age the mobile phone. But we know so and not otherwise. Long I hear nothing. I'm still standing with his back to the corn edge. Get rid of is not here. Excluded. Shooters only shoot forward. And stupid were those who clamored now or went away. For if a man is with us no place.
Often sows changed after the quiet bustle of the direction or remained anyway in corn and can barely squeeze out, then suddenly depart. Anyway, it was so far so often. Stop.
There goes one. To my right, he leaves. Gun to the cheek. Shot. Goes five yards. Six. Ten. Content. Good. Pretty good. I shot with the 8 x 57th That should be sufficient. Hopefully be back Aufbrechpause. I look at the Clock. My God, how time flies. These corn hunting stimulates all the senses. The whole man I am very thirsty.
I listen tense. As I hear it. It is blown off. That's it for today. A sow stretched. Overall a very good track. No requesting. Of course, no incidents. One notices in many details, such as Peter has led the hunt. The Aufbrechpausen are fixed and it will work fast and accurately. He explained again and again the response to misses. It is one of the best teams requesting that I know in readiness. made-in and departure without barking, no chatter, and even without boots creak. We know how to avoid it. Although it is unappetizing.
We go to the range space. It is really unnecessary because it is still light, but of course still burning fire. I hear what others have shot. None is seeking. No hunter and not a dog is missing. Now it's going to bowl after driving. In the old coaching inn with low ceilings and oak table, a lockable gun room is ready. The door is always in view. The beer is already in place. I'm still thirsty. It smells of frying.
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Peter draws his gun by briefly and wiped it off. "So much time has to be," he says. And then he is away, and he closes the door. I go to wash myself quickly. Above the first floor of each room is reserved. At nine, there will be breakfast. Until then, it is still long. And now I would not be the last at the table.
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