'Woe betide any animal that crosses a French man's path.
BOOOM!
"What the **** was that?" remarked a passing tourist.
"Escargot on the hoof!" came the wilted reply.
"Wrap it in bacon, and I'll eat it!" commented the lost tourist who was looking for Finland but somehow ended up in France watching a mustard eating contest when the festivities were interrupted by the afore-mentioned auditory fulisade crackling across the crowd as they waited patiently for the Spicy Brown portion of the contest.
...or something like that'
BOOOOOM BOOOOM went the black powder muskets as the French charged naked across the fields of la belle France in hot pursuit of anything remotely edible.
A slightly confused American tourist with a camper van the size of the QE2 stopped ( eventually) to mildly enquire whether this activity was a mational past time or due to drinking too much Stella Artois.
Unfortunately we'll never know the answer as the 'lost American tourist' was eaten and the camper van made into repair panels for a fleet of Citroen H vans.
The moral of the story is do not stop in remote places in France least you get into someones sights

and do not poo poo mustard or Citoen H vans.