Historical Documents, Studies & Articles

Excerpt from Diana Magazine of January 31, 1959

(...) if on the sloping crags of granite and gabbro one could see the imposing silhouettes of those beautiful wild animals of ours that are the mouflons, animals that around 1900 had already been introduced to the nearby island of Montecristo, and by now long since destroyed.

On Giglio this realization has been reached in an area west of the island called "Il Franco", situated between Poggio Zufolone and Poggio Giannetto, above Campese, with the creation of the "Parchetto del Franco", an extension of almost 100 hectares completely fenced in, an oasis desired and cared for by Professor Baldacci who loves Nature and hunting with such dedication that he considers them as his indispensable elements of life. The total fencing of this park, extended also on the side of the sea, has been carried out without economy of means, with galvanized net more than two meters high, overhung by barbed wires, and supported by thick posts, partly in wood and partly in iron, where necessary walled in the rock; the net is buried for about thirty centimeters.

This onerous fence not only protects the borders, but also prevents the sheep of some flocks from coming into contact with the mouflons who, as is well known, mate with them with a certain ease, which would compromise the current purity of their race.

In the morning we gather information from the guard and set off in search of the wild animals. My particular intention was to observe them in their environment, to photograph them and to take note of the order of the park.


In this park, with its thousands of paths through the high scrub, clean and tidy as in a garden, all the most favorable conditions and details for the development of game have been implemented: thus, among many works, the water has been wisely distributed in the various troughs located in the thickest of the scrub; in the meadow shelves, green pastures of suitable grasses. I also observe new species of plants that have been planted and are now thriving.

Giglio's mild climate also offers possibilities for citrus culture in the open ground, without shelter. A good reforestation on this island would be just as important as the introduction of game. I have noticed that even in the cracks in the rock where little earth emerges, there are robust shrubs and plants. In fact, at the beginning of the fifth century, Rutilio Numanziano wrote: Igilii silvosa cacumina minor; and again in 1594 a private individual contracted 11,000 stacks of holm oak wood for four years (Medicean Archives). The forest of tall trees would not take long to form again if man, as unfortunately happens, did not come in with an axe as soon as possible.

In the Parchetto del Franco, the scrub of alaterno, lentisk, arboreal heather, cistus, oak, Juniperus phoenica, which here, as in the Maremma, is called sabina, and many other plants dominate so that at Giglio there are about 780 species. In this area, in the process of being constituted as a closed reserve - supported by the authoritative praise of the illustrious Prof. Ghigi of the Zoology Laboratory - seven mouflons were released, four females and three males, of which a young male with the classic "saddle" still underdeveloped, and two females coming from Germany, from a Sardinian-Corsican strain, imported for the first time in Hungary around 1800 and fortified, while maintaining the purity of the breed, in Germany. The other subjects come from the reserves of Sardinia.


We come out of a grove of Aleppo pines and in a cultivated meadow bounded by a large spur of greenish rock (serpentine schist) on which rests a thick tangle of dog roses, we see a male Mouflon intent on a strange job. Mindful, perhaps, of the times in which the male shone for his chivalry, we see him start off with his head down and violently clash against the trunk of a young olive tree; at this shock some fruit falls from the plant and here are two females cautiously appearing from the bush, they come forward, eat the olives and perhaps thank him in their own way. But they still wait, they are certainly not full. And in fact the beautiful head of the mouflon stretches out towards the olive tree until it reaches a branch with its mouth, bites it and bends it towards the ground so that his companions can continue eating with more ease.

In the meantime, however, we had gotten too close and at the imperious alarm whistle of the male, the mouflons disappeared very quickly to reappear almost immediately, high up, glued to a cliff, from which they watched us curiously. They are beautiful!

This ovid would certainly deserve an even larger increase, as has already been done in America for one of its not-so-distant relatives, the Bighorn (Ovis canadensis). The Mouflon, or Capra Aegoceras of the ancients, seems to have also populated the Balearic Islands and the mountains of Greece. The Romans held it in high esteem for its delicious meat, and Pliny made a clear distinction between the mouflons of Corsica and those of Sardinia, calling the former Musmon and the latter Ophion. We resume our march and we enter the paths where on the sides the low scrub and the rock alternate more frequently. Here we see a brigade of beautiful and agile oriental partridges or Chukar; they pass in pairs in the uncovered stretches, following quickly. Others we can photograph with the telephoto lens in their peaceful environment. This game has magnificently reproduced itself, so that some brigades have even radiated on open ground. In order to protect this species, it would be desirable that the hunting authorities under whose jurisdiction this island is located, prohibit hunting absolutely for a certain period of time.


These birds are relatively domesticated and I think that this is due to the quiet life led in the Park, as it happens, after all, when the wild animals feel safe and quiet; (...). The chukar also lives well in proximity to the red partridge, so the latter will be released in the Parchetto del Franco this year.

(...) Of small snakes there is only the harmless whip snake, destroyer, mainly, of small mice. At the villa I have the occasion to taste a special grape jam, typical of the place, made almost without sugar and with a particularly pleasant taste.

Evening approaches. The Mediterranean scrub is dressed in a pale, evanescent pink and the dull rays of light filter through the winter mist making the black tip of the Pagana stand out. Alaterni, prickly broom and rosemary stand out in the humid breeze; from the low fishermen's huts, amidst the bluish smoke, gusts of "monachine" rise in the air that the wind carries along with the grateful smell of burning mastic.

We spend time after dinner playing cards next to the fireplace where large logs are burning; from the window we can see the white-green glow of the lighthouse beyond the Campese Tower. Outside, calm and silence; only the monotonous tapping of the rain gently cradles such peace...

On the return voyage, at the first light of dawn, sitting at the stern of the Aegilium which is now close to Porto Santo Stefano, I squint my eyes and see the outline of this island again, as if it were the shaggy rump of a sea monster resting on the water.

Up there, behind the Pagana, the chukar and the honey-eyed mouflon have come back to life, and look serenely at the blue expanse of the sea.

Valerio Masserini