When skies turn gray and the gates of the clouds, there will be the way to the torrents of rain, it seems that the slopes of the mountains weep with joy at its sheer rivulets.
It seemed an auspicious day to devote to prose, behind any window .... next to the fireplace and the warmth of a great oak trunk, feeling the wind moan and hitting the water, feeling the smell of a good pot of navizas.
But insanity is very typical of those who practice sport hunting, we set out to figure out where you find the boar, after an overnight deluge and a windy morning and wacky water, guess where boar, under these conditions is as difficult as you win the lottery.
With the experience of older and sacrifice of young people nothing is impossible and we started the day doing a lift in the mountains of Cassia, where the virtues of Cesar and Luis de Coaña , resulted in a good piece of feral pig, the latter, where only the dark looked back again the quiet of these mountains, so give it back home to our wild boar.
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