It was clear that the two guys didn’t understand what this holidaymaker wanted from them, no more than Franck knew what a blood-tracking dog was. The driver of the 4×4 seemed friendly and polite, but the older one was silent, not hiding his irritation at this tourist, this townie, who had perhaps come looking for stories about hunting or something like that. At least that’s what Franck felt, from the suspicious way the older guy was eyeing him. The driver, no doubt flattered that he was being asked about his dogs, walked towards them, keen to impart his handler’s knowledge, inspecting them through the bars as he did so to check that all was well. Innocently, Franck had another go.

‘And what are blood-tracking dogs?’

‘You’re not a hunter, are you?’

‘No.’

‘They’re for tracking injured game. You set the dogs to follow a blood trail and they lead you to the injured animal. But they won’t find prey to hunt; they’re not pointers.’

‘Oh, I see. And do you think there are stray dogs in the area? I mean dogs without a collar, dogs that have run away.’

‘Now that, I don’t know. It would surprise me. You always lose dogs in battues, but you usually find them again, and they always have a collar.’

The older guy seemed increasingly irritated. Franck sensed that he didn’t like the mention of hunting and especially of ‘battue’. You don’t talk about that kind of thing, not with a stranger at any rate. The people from here, or at least the hunters, had no desire to broach such a controversial subject with a townie from God knows where. Franck felt obliged to add something to lighten the atmosphere.

‘Following a blood trail must be exciting. And do you do that, as, how can I put it … well, as a job?’

‘No, it’s just that we like animals. There are always hunters who injure game animals but don’t kill them, either because they’ve aimed badly, or because they don’t have the right bullets. Rather than let those animals suffer in the wild, we track them down; it’s more humane.’

‘And what do you do with the injured animals?’

The man looked Franck straight in the eye, baffled by his naïvety, and the older one spat out, ‘We kill them.’

A little thrown by this, Franck replied simply, as if he approved, ‘Yes, of course.’

He couldn’t have said it with enough conviction because the two men didn’t really believe him. Nonetheless the owner of the vehicle, out of politeness, said that one day he should come with them, and then he would see what it was like.

‘I’d like that. Has the hunting season already started?’

‘For us, yes. But only at sundown, and with a clean shot.’