Welcome to the rabbit's hole. A blog on pulp.
I love to go boar hunting. I love they way they grunt and pose with their tusks. I love the significance family has for them and how fiercely they protect their kin from any intruder. The way they charge and the intimidation combination of power and rage they wield on you.
As long as I play an MMORG.
Now they like my compost and I can’t say I would agree. And it is a bit frightening to get woken up by the grunts of quite a numerous horde of boars which obviously find the remnants of my meals far more interesting than I usually do. And don’t ask me how they made it through two other gardens and across the road at 7 am. There’s some serious traffic on that bloody road at seven in the morning – and I counted six boars without the need to sniff at their trails… the way they wandered off into the woods when they heard me coming can only be described as the ultimate form of Gemutlichkeit.
And if there is one thing I have a greater dislike for than boars, then in is boars that practise Gemutlichkeit. Uncooked.