The golf terrain below Motovun has barely opened to the public when the wild boar dug it up. And in earnest. A clever beast, everyone in town agrees. “What would you do about it?” I ask a local fellow over a glass of wine. He seems to be an expert on almost everything. “To begin with,” he squints at me, “the wild boar have been here much longer than golf…” “Okay, okay,” I wave my hand with understanding. No fan of golf, he.

Addendum (April 22, 2017)

Having come across this piece on one of my uncharted journeys through my writings, I have hard time remembering the local fellow in the story. Who could it be? The only expert on almost everything I can come up with is Rudolf Handjal, known to all as Rudi. To the best of my recollection, he also boasted of his marksmanship at the time. With his sniper, he could hit the wild boar on the golf terrain down below from the height of the Motovun wall. Actually, he could not possibly miss it, either. To be sure, the local fellow in the story must have been Rudi.