Fuckers. Actually, it was just one fucker. A baby fucker.
Excuse my language. I'm still going through the mourning process. I've reached the anger stage.
Upon noticing the damage, which is not hard to miss even for a novice gardener like me, I called Augusto.
"Ciao, Augusto. Bad news."
"Lina, cosa c'e'?!"
"Cinghiale. They took everything."
"I'll be right there."
We walked the whole area looking for how they got in. Finally we saw this.
We surmised that it was one little guy who squeezed his chubby little wild boar butt in under my fence. And proceeded to feast on my fave...and peas....and onions. He was very thorough, gotta give him that.
He did leave me the broccoli, proving that children of all nationalities and species don't like broccoli.