The game season may now be over, but for a few short weeks this autumn, the menus across the Saanenland were filled with Wild and La chasse. Dishes featuring venison or chamois appeared everywhere, usually accompanied by the same reliable friends: red cabbage, chestnuts, spätzle and cranberry sauce served in a slice of pear. It’s one of those unmistakable signs that autumn has arrived.

It always reminds me of an American colleague I once worked with. He was a long-time vegetarian who had given up meat back in college and never looked back until he moved to Switzerland. When the restaurant menus turned to Wild, he would set aside his principles and order venison. His reasoning was simple: “These animals lived freely and were hunted, not farmed.” At the time, I thought it was a curious distinction, but over time, I’ve come to understand his point of view.

A Season Worth Experiencing
Hunting in Switzerland isn’t a casual pastime; it’s managed, measured and treated with respect. The result is food that feels deeply connected to the land rather than mass-produced. Hunters must qualify, attend courses, and operate under strict regulations. It’s a process that leaves little room for improvisation or error, aiming to ensure balance between people and nature. There’s a clear logic to it, even for those who wouldn’t dream of picking up a rifle themselves. Game season brings with it a particular kind of excitement. Restaurant boards proudly display 'Wild' written in chalk, and even the ready-meal sections in supermarkets join in, offering venison stews and other such classics. Each season, my husband and I make sure we treat ourselves to a plate of game, often trying different restaurants around the area. This year we ate the most delicious venison at The Rialto - a reminder of just how special this short season is. It’s like a pause between the heat of summer and the onset of winter.

This Is Real Life
That said, it’s one thing to see Wild on a menu and another to be reminded that it comes from an actual hunt. During the season, you can sometimes hear the crack of rifles in the distance, sharp sounds that travel easily through the valley. They can startle you at first, but they’re simply part of life here.

A couple of weeks ago, on the road to Thun, we heard that same unmistakable crack. It wasn’t hunting season by then, and for a brief moment, we exchanged uncertain glances before realising it came from the shooting range nearby. Not quite the same thing, but enough to make us jump all the same.
Life here offers constant reminders of how close we are to nature. In the city, meat often arrives pre-packaged and anonymous. Here, you know it hasn’t travelled far and that someone local probably knows who brought it down from the mountain. Even for those who don’t eat game, there’s something grounding about that awareness.

As the restaurants now turn their focus to winter fare, it’s worth remembering this short season of Wild. And if you haven’t been here during game season before, it’s well worth planning a visit. It’s an experience that highlights the rhythm of life in the Saanenland. My American colleague would, I think, approve.

ANNA CHARLES