Strolling around the town walls this weekend I noticed that there was something wrong with my roof. When I returned home, I took a good look from one of the two roof windows. Indeed, a whole bunch of roof tiles were raised around one of the two chimneys, and several were lying about helter-skelter. I called my builder, and he promised to send the fellows who had tiled the roof earlier this year. We both assumed it was the wind, and we did have some strong wind lately, but all the locals have subsequently assured me it was the martens. A close cousin to the smaller weasel, it can climb anything. My house stands alone, but that is not a problem for the clever beast. Short-legged and long-bodied, it can creep up drainpipes. Once on the roof, it looks for wasp nests under the roof tiles. Apparently, there is honey in those nests. Anyhow, a marten can wreck a roof in a jiffy. Perhaps there will be fewer wasps on my terrace in the spring?

Addendum (October 29, 2003)

The two young men who had tiled my roof in the spring came to fix it yesterday afternoon. They had no idea what was the cause of the damage, but they did report that they found empty honeycombs under the damaged tiles. In short, martens were up there on their round of Motovun roofs. Chances are that the raid has taken place within the last few weeks, as the nests are full of honey at the end of the summer. The nimble beasts climbed nearly three floors up new drainpipes or the new façade. A feat by any measure. Perhaps the only way to stop them is to destroy the nests beforehand. Even better, there might be a clever way to chase the wasps away before they start nesting. One of the tilers told me how he wards his land from wild boar that would otherwise ruin his crops with great efficiency and speed. He sprinkles human hair around the fields. Leary of people, wild boars skirt his land. This is an ancient remedy passed from generation to generation in his family. To top it off, he is never short of hair—his wife is a hairdresser.