The Boar Hunt - Ernst Jünger

Part Two

“Die Eberjagd”

1952

First published in the journal Story

Translated by Bruno Zimmer

The image was over in a flash, but had imprinted itself with dreamlike sharpness. It was an impression that remained forever in Richard's memory: the scent of power and terror, but also of glory. He felt himself staggering his knees, his mouth opened, but he made no sound.

The apprentice was just as distraught, he turned pale and stared at the boar with open eyes. The beast almost touched him. It had already disappeared into the green when he raised his rifle and fired to where the branches were still trembling.

In the narrow thicket the shot sounded like a deafening drum. The two young men stared silently at each other. Between the spruces the pungent, murky smell of wild boar mingled with the scent of tar and the smoke of scattered gunpowder. A second signal sounded, ending the chase. One had heard only this one shot.

Then the forester, Moosbrugger, came running from the path with his hunting horn dangling from a green ribbon. His nose glistened like a carbuncle and he had to catch his breath before he began to swear. He examined the trail and found to his horror that the sow had not run off down the path as he had expected, but into the wilderness. Now the count and his guests had lost out. This hurt Moosbrugger personally, and Richard felt it was hard for Moosbrugger not to hit the young marksman. If it had been one of his hunting boys, he probably would have done so. This way, he had to be content with merely baring his teeth and questioning the student:

"Do you know what you just did?"

And when the respondent shrugged his shoulders in embarrassment:

"I will tell you: you have made an empty barrel."

Having said that, he laughed devilishly and turned back to the track. Richard now felt quite satisfied with the role he was playing as a spectator. The unfortunate apprentice flushed his face and looked uncomfortable in his hide. He grumbled to himself.

"Nobody ever did him justice. He would have mouthed off as well if I hadn't shot."

However, he felt guilty. First he let himself be intimidated by the brute pig and then he burned a hole in the air. With the same eagerness with which he had hoped the sow would pass him, he now cursed the fact that she had gotten in his way. He could already see the waldgrave, and behind him a group of hunters approaching him along the path. His confusion was so great that it spread to Richard. Despite it all, at least the dreadful Moosbrugger had disappeared into the bushes.

Just as the master hunter reached him, the forester's powerful voice echoed through the bushes:

"Dead sow! Dead boar!"

Then he blew his hunting horn, so that the sound reverberated far through the forest. The whole company of beaters followed the call of the horn and came out into the clearing behind the spruce belt. Moosbrugger stood there, next to the boar that had died in the fresh snow. He was now triumphant that the hunt had ended successfully, and was reporting to the baron again, while a terrible laugh split his face from ear to ear. Of course, he knew at once - just by the few strands of hair clipped and the sweat from his lungs - the damned things the young men were learning from him.