Briefed by a Lawyer - Fat Dogs and French Estates - page 83

What a fascinating approach to pest control I thought. I was about to comment when
Jack, pointing at Biff, chipped in with some surprisingly helpful advice about the value of
terriers when it came to rabbit extermination. Monsieur listened intently.
“So you must leave the little one in the garden with the vegetables so it can kill the
rabbits,” he snapped. “The big one, it can stay too. There is a fence so they cannot escape.”
I wasn't sure whether he was referring to the dogs or the rabbits. But Biff was now
fizzing with excitement so even though there wasn't a vegetable in sight, I thought it would
give them both a bit of exercise with some excellent purpose.
Our initial approach to the rear of the house was uneventful. But as we turned a corner,
it all changed. My breath and balance were simultaneously taken away by the wind that
blasted up the hill and battered against the side of building.
“Oh gosh!” I gasped as I was whacked against a shutter.
Jack, second one round and therefore forewarned, had braced himself quite nicely
against this meteorological onslaught and pretended to be unaffected. The ample Jimmy
followed and bobbed about a bit but, because of his generous ballast, was otherwise un-
ruffled. Monsieur , sensing my unease, stated the blindingly obvious.
“We have a little wind. My now ex-wife, she did not like it. She too is petite,” (critical
look in my direction) “but the wind is good, it is not stale.”
“Yes, quite.” I replied, trying to recover my equilibrium. “I think fresh, yes, that's what
it is, extremely fresh and perhaps a touch chilly.”
Once stabilised, I understood the purpose of this first endurance test. The view was
panoramic and true to the photographs, the house overlooked its own land, which was
mainly pasture. Quite apart from our early encounters with gales in this area, niggling mis-
givings were already setting in. My private apprehensions were sharply interrupted by Jack.
“There aren't any trees here,” he remarked.
“Well, that's not strictly speaking true. There are several spinneys and…” I paused,
nervously casting around for the odd bough or two, “the beginnings of a substantial ex-
panse of woodland over there.”
“Humph. That's not large enough to attract a family of medium-sized squirrels let
alone a few sounders.”
Monsieur overheard the last comment.
“Ah, James told me that you are the hunters,” he interjected. “But what are these
sounders?”
Jack explained that it was the collective noun for groups of wild boar.
“Ah, yes, I think they do make a lot of sound, but I am not the hunter myself.”
“So do you have much game here?” asked Jack.
“Well, I must have. C'est la campagne n'est-ce pas? And of course these rabbits.”