In the world there are so many shows. We enjoy some by eyes: a sunset or a full moon; We appreciate others by the sense of smell: the blooming of the cherry trees or water vapor of a lake; others through our whole body: the rain and the wind. And yet you can be part of a show by ears, hearing.
It can happen in September, going for a high path that leads in Val Germanasca, to enter into a world of unexpected sounds, almost troats, roaring that if you do not know they are roars and, together, as a fine accompaniment, a sweet and very small singing , almost shy, and even the high notes to play the part of more acute violins .
Roars of deer, song of young grouse trying chords for the first time, calls of buzzard looking for its similar or a jay that harks back the verse.
A concert, huge and enveloping, you do not expect, and that takes you and whisks you away, brings you on the wave of the sounds to caress the author, even if it is as big as a deer, and unfriendly. For this the young grouse or black grouse sings sending to heaven its first notes: to sweeten everything and make it more beautiful. And because the music might be a bit flat, it’s up to the buzzard to give it acute heights.
All those sounds together make you fly with thought and heart; you want to sing too, and dance and rejoice, or get mad, along with those special authors, your brothers of adventure on Earth.
And be there, partaker, is great luck, and you thanks the Heavens.
Rarely is granted such a beautiful sight to man even if you do not see the buzzard behind the trees and even the young pheasant hiding in the bushes. You see deer; that in September make love.
This is the key to everything: love. It is he who raises and gives life to the concert, which set the tone to music. It is not surprising, because love opens the most beautiful doors, lets in the heart the wonders of the world, and also of the sky; only with sounds, if it happens.
In a few weeks the law of my country will allow to shoot on deers and grouse concert performers, to shoot them.