The road through the forest

The road through the forest

Now all the way from the river to the left Schild people Forest village lies in front of me on a piece of paper. I walked this road many times before and I know it, painted from memory, and I can set this figure different signs, noting certain memorial sites and meeting …

Not far from the Schild ran across my path Menevia creek. I always stay here and smoke, here ended in possession of people and began ownership of the forest. After Menevia creek were bridges. Walkways around the stream were steep banks and viscous bottom, and it was more like in a location for a peat ditch. The first time I crossed this creek is the footbridge. But after the winter catwalk blown spring water, and to get into the woods, I had to cross a flooded spring creek on a raft.

Menevia stream — it is just two kilometers in a real forest.The stream starts soft and not very strong in the wet season turf road. Here at the edge of the road on chistine I often flush grouse. A little further on, in the dim cheese aspen, I was always frightened grouse. Grouse suddenly breaking out of the bushes by the road and noisy and hard rushed into the forest.

Aspen, where the fall going to feed grouse, old, but because the rotten and always wet. In that aspen from eternal dampness under your feet is always liquid gray clay. Of this acidic clay in the forest was once shady till the frost, for the winter. True, before the winter, before frost aspen forest suddenly transformed, flashed ceremonial colors, light up, light. But the road to the acidic clay did not get more fun from bright autumn leaves. On the contrary, a fallen leaf deceiving you. He hid the dirt road, you forget about the wrong clay, boldly set foot on the carpet gala, but boot immediately slid to the side, and dirt clods of wet heavy provided on your trousers.

Aspen remained behind. I wanted to stop and rest. But it is too early. The whole way along the forest road once and for all been painted. It had to go before dark — there is still a lot of hours of hard path, and stop and rest a bit after Aspen I allowed myself only sable tillage.

So why is this small piece of the former arable land in the forest was once called sable, I did not recognize him. Sable in the Arkhangelsk taiga, as I know, have not met anyone from the most ancient times. Instead of hunting sable is a bird and mice other valuable animal — marten. Maybe once owned this piece of land, known as some peasant or name Sable, and therefore they called plowing that name.

Sable arable land — it is six kilometers but heavy raskvashennoy road, this two hour trip with a backpack.

When you walk down the road into the woods, the first six kilometers to the sable tillage does not seem too difficult — you're not tired, you still have power, but when you come back from the forest back to the people, the last six miles that separate sable farmland from Schild , harry completely.

In the early winter of 1965, I came out of the woods. Behind me was a heavy backpack. Under the feet of heavy snow, Cover viscous swamp mud, do not pass until frost. The snow was above the knees. Under the snow is not always accurate way could guess, boots, punched decking snow, and then fell into a deep lyvy — nestynuschey water puddles with peat bogs, elm in thick mud and almost every step I had to pull hard to keep up with the heel of viscous mush. I walked for hours without a break, without a break. Forces had little. With difficulty I got to sable arable land, threw the bag on the snow and stood, swaying with fatigue and translating breath knocked down. The short winter day was nearing its end. And then there's blind thick shroud of snow down heavily on the forest and hid the road ahead. I gathered his last strength and wanted to throw up on the shoulders of a backpack. But if the backpack weight by two times and never left the ground. With difficulty I reached the snow pack directly to a thick tree and with more difficulty lifted his burden, and hung on a spruce branch. I left a bag in the woods, and he, somehow sorting by guessing ahead of the road through the snow blind, walked on. At this time of the arable land to housing sable I walked for hours. Menevia on stream I fell, broke his leg. Fell, stumbled from the road, hidden by snow, and then I was by the river, in the countryside. After a heavy winter road through the woods I came to himself for two days, and during that time my backpack hanging on the edge of the arable land in thick sable spruce bough. When I found my things in the woods, backpack seemed grasped frost lump of wet snow — otpotevshy for road backpack oplyl thick muddy ice, and before you remove it from the spruce bitch and raise his shoulders, I had a long time to clean off the ice.

It was winter. And in the middle of summer, in the first road through the forest sable arable remember me deep peat mud underfoot and incredible variety of mosquitoes. Mosquitoes dopekali me before. At first I fought desperately with these bloodsuckers, and then stop all war, realizing the futility of it in the damp swamp taiga. Only when these restless insects boring droning, dense crowd gathered in her lap and my pants would try push their brand-proboscises through matter, I was angry and was laying his hand at once stubborn Piskunov. One day while resting in a way, I tried to count how many mosquitoes nakinuvshihsya on my knees, I can cover my palm. I felt defeated bloodsuckers carefully and was surprised to sum up operation "retaliation": immediately forty-seven mosquitoes punished for arrogance.

This record did I count on the way to the river Osinovka, at the very beginning of his career. Unfortunately, the record was held for long, and soon the number of mosquitoes that died under my hand, it was closer to a round hundred. And then I imagined the horror that soon mosquitoes can start even more acute attacks, which, of course, will not stop any of the victim. This is my cautious assumption was confirmed just on the edge of arable sable.

At the edge of a peat-ditch road from hummock to hummock someone had thrown a piece of pine stalk. The bark of the tree has long gone, and now smooth a log could not be better served as a tired man-wood bench sedelyshkom. Somehow I found the bench next to the block of wood, dry mound and rubbed his pack here. Then wearily sat down on a bench and a forest just about to doze off a little in the short pleasant holiday, as a gray mass of mosquitoes descended on my head on my shoulders, arms and legs. After waiting when mosquitoes sit down on my knees so thick that hide a cloth pants, I firmly and strongly closed palm of his right knee, and began to count the captured robbers by surprise. Presumed dead insects under my palm, I long, and when their number exceeded the second hundred, then counts left, giving the overall record is unfamiliar to me a meadow with a beautiful name sable arable land.

Just beyond the forest clearing close to the road approaching a dark wall spruce forest, rarely pierced there, here thin white birch stumps. Spruce wall squeezed from two sides forest road. Road thickly covered elastic damp grass, and among this herb on the road I could barely deciphered old, muddy footprints herd sent into the woods about six weeks ago. Traces of people, I never found out.

Under the rubber boots wet forest grass crisp broke down, I was on the grass, picking each new step poprochnee place, treading carefully on the birch and spruce trunks, abandoned by someone, probably a very long time on the acidic deep mud, and looking forward to, when the minute hand of the clock moves on the face by three-quarters of the circle. Only after that I will get right back to stop, throw a backpack on the ground and then take a break from the mud and a backpack.

I had to go another five minutes in order to maintain the schedule adopted me the same movement when wet, sticky road suddenly turned the fir wall and just sat up out of the swamp, suddenly found herself on a dry island, overgrown with birch trees. Next, the tiny island of dry. Sanchez, again stretched marsh mud. Stop in the middle of the dirt does not want to, I forgive myself disruption of schedule, and stopped to rest for five minutes before they are due.

Dry Island after three hours of mud seemed a paradise, and I could not get around it all, not to enjoy a very pleasant meeting.

Under the birches grew strong with dark brown cap mushroom boletus. Mushrooms were so many that I thought: "Do not stay here if I do not score a fungus, not a cook mushroom soup?" And it may very well be, I would have done if not for a discovery that made immediately .. .

Later, when bravely but wandered the forest, walking along a bear trail, and learned almost accurately determine that the bear is close to me. Helped me here and hearing, and smell — a bear, like every animal has its own special smell and the smell of large omnivorous animals can be caught with some experience from a distance. It helped me to know in advance of the proximity of the beast, and for some is not always precisely defined sense, which I have called for a sense of the beast … You're still kind of light and heard a crackling bitch bear paw, like even and could smell the beast, but you know for myself believe that the beast there, that he is going in your direction, coming … And I almost never wrong.

This feeling comes from experience, over time. And I could then I, a city dweller, accustomed to the traffic lights, signs, to advertising, accustomed that all that may be waiting for you in front, you tell others? .. And of course, I could not guess that just twenty meters from my backpack, dropped on the ground at the edge of the road, just resting bear …

Twenty meters from the road by a high, thick spruce to dry I saw a bed of spruce fir twigs, almost exactly the same, how satisfied tourists and hunters under his tent. Spruce featherbed surprised me. Lapnikom was fresh, freshly torn from the branches, has never dried up. It turned out that the tourists or hunters were here recently. But why not on the road I noticed traces of man? Next cautious suspicion crept to me when, surveying spruce quilt, I have not found anywhere traces of pegs, which usually strengthens the tent … Maybe lapnikom dragged the man who spent the night in the woods without a tent? I looked all around but could not find anywhere near that tree, which had to break the spruce branches. Usually I know of tourists and hunters do not do that — they did not go for the spruce branches too far away from their temporary camps and break off fir branches immediately, about the night.

And if you spend the night here real taiga hunter prospector, for which the forest home, where you can not behave wasteful, thoughtless … I probably would have long envisioned a cute image above lean, intelligent elderly man with a bushy beard, a soft, if my sentimental thoughts did not stop a puppy.

All the way to the swamp but my little friend drove me in his bosom, and now, during the holidays, I took it out from under his shirt and let run. Tsepok looked around, pulled a forest air left and right and, limping, stumbling in the grass, walked after me explore a dry patch of light woods, raised by the rotten swamps. I stopped at the spruce litter, mysteriously appeared in the depths of the forest, and did not notice that my faithful trudged on and disappeared somewhere in the bushes. And just then a bush-1 and there was suddenly angry barking, whining my brave puppy.

Puppy barking at something not seen and not heard by me to hide, I thought, before the wall spruces and birches. I stepped forward. Loyal, Encouraged my decisive step, as did some of his puppy small steps in the direction of the possible danger, but again stopped and squeaky vzbrehnul. I listened, looked closely, nothing dangerous in front of e discovered and was just going to chide his four-legged friend is very close to catch not a pleasant smell — just behind the bushes, which we overcame with true courage, the gray forest grass stains were liquid manure. Litter was quite fresh.

I have heard that if a bear how to scare, then it immediately upset stomach. This phenomenon is called "bear disease" and Vologda and Perm woods where I had to hear a range of bear stories, but to take these stories seriously, I could not, and often considered the "bearish disease" is not very witty anecdote.

I do not know how scared I should bear, or he himself, hearing, smelling man hurried to get out into the woods, but the fact that the stomach of these animals did not work quite well, I can attest to sufficient authority.

Guessed immediately who is arranged next to a fir forest road soft bed, I was probably at a loss then, at least, there and then gone on to pursue my animals did not, and as quietly as possible turned to his backpack, which lay under the tongue in cover my double-barreled shotgun sixteenth caliber is a disappointment for myself to remember all the details of last night to hear only the story of an old man and blundered about his son …

Gradually some uncertainty, I was, but it was like-and the recent desire to collect mushrooms in a dry island and cook here with clean, bright birch trees, delicious mushroom soup. I calmed down a bit and began to think what to do next with the gun. Leave the gun in a case, or is it to get it out of the case, to collect and carry just in case in hand … And suddenly …

Just like that, for the sake of a beautiful pose or unreasonable risk, I would not put the shotgun away. Simple enough to pull the trigger loaded guns, so even if you believe in guns and know how to not shoot too bad. But you can not shoot just because your fear is stronger than you.

So, my gun still remains in the bag. Uncertainty and ambiguity are over and I'm back to where evil recently grumbled my faithful, and found fresh tracks in the swamp-pit of bear paws — the bear went away from me salable, throwing away at rapid traverse legs peat mud. Then move the beast became shorter, on the green carpet of the forest swamps not come across to me are scattered clumps of dirt — a bear, apparently calmed down and beating the swamp in a semicircle, went out on the road. On the way, he slowly made his way in front of me.

I went back for a backpack, put the shirt and the True, waving away mosquitoes broken birch branches, went on the road after a bear: I had to go right in the direction you headed beast.

On liquid, broken bridge I crossed the forest stream, and immediately noticed the stream old and fresh bear tracks, traces were many, and they were submitted to the same animal. Footprints were drawn and on the edge of the road, then crossed the road with one or the other. Everything indicates that the bear wandered here often, frequently visited the stream that here he lives, looking for food, and that, finally, I came to the territory that belongs to the beast — first entered the real bear "home".

Seemed strange to me only one thing: why the secret taiga beast made me a summer bed beside the road? And I tried to answer this question. People left out of the woods last year and left the road. All through the autumn, winter and spring on the road no one went and went. Spring bear rose from the den and looked toward the road, did not find traces of people and quietly stayed here. Apparently did not bother the animal and herd, drove into the woods at the beginning of summer. Why did the bear gave maturation at the road? Maybe because it is here that was dry, comfortable place to relax … Or, let it bear confidence, maybe he did not provide anything in his rash decision: we did something it's great fright.

Fresh tracks bear long stretched in front of me on a forest road, then left the beast of the forest road — turned to the left, and the traces disappeared in the bushes. I had to knead the peat mud for another ten minutes before the next holiday when fresh bear tracks crossed my path again, this time from left to right, as if an animal tested, where I was a forward or left behind. Judging by the tracks on the road was long and the bear disappeared into the dense spruce forest. I have not noticed any swaying branches, where the beast disappeared, heard crackling bitch — the bear was far ahead of me. He left me only a trace of cheese on black mirror hozhenoy people have not the road. I went over these tracks, and a little rest, we moved on.

Night stopped me on the road. I spent the night in the forest creek named Vologda. Prior to the shepherds, to the abandoned village of people were still / ten kilometers. I did not know anything about this remaining stretch of road, did not know anything about clearing the creek in Vologda, flattened black ring spruce trunks, and probably slept so peacefully.

The wood in the fire burned out. The coals from all sides flowed thick and dripping muddy strip of fog, and the recent gay and bold flames were only occasional crackling embers. Heads chadili raw smoke, which looked like all living things, that there is a man in the woods.

Perhaps, for the inhabitants of the forest fire smoke is associated in their minds with the smell of a man, is nothing else than the original post ENTRY formidable creatures, mark his territory. A foreign territory must be respected, especially since it is all-powerful master. I believe this idea, believed in the smoke of his fire in his application he had made the right accommodations in Vologda stream for tonight.

My right to their own territory and even to sleep is not recognized only mosquitoes. They are not frightened even smoke the fire, and all night they simply did not let me sleep. Before going to sleep, I also did not get the gun out of the case, do not collect it, did not lower the barrels slugs. Here, by the fire, I remembered the bear that came out on fire to hunters, recalled how the bear, which he heard on the shore of Deep Lake, feel free to stir up people's eyes extinguished embers, and he believed that the beast, which gave close to maturation expensive and that was to wander somewhere nearby, yet understand, that disturb a sleeping man he does not make any sense.

In the morning, in the fog, I anxiously discovered that night still risked — I could on the basis of full expel here. Near the fire at the bridge over the creek lay on the damp sand tracks portly bear and her young heirs. Bear with cubs wandered here only yesterday and, apparently, has long been considered and the bridge over the creek, and the old fireplace, and a portion of the road on which I got to the creek, their personal possessions.

On the trail, I found that there were three bears. This spring, selected from the den with her mother, bears saw the light of the sun, and now, funny, naughty, they scoured the taiga trails. Mother bear, apparently, was strict, and bears often received from her hefty slaps. Of such killings, punishment on the brown clay roads were skolznuvshie small traces back heels legs naughty bear. So the whole family and get to the creek., Crossing the bridge over the water hazard and was very close to the place where later I spread the fire.

To bear with cubs I frankly felt reverential respect and did not particularly want in their first road on the forest to meet with stout mummy face to face. Who knows how to lead it himself at a meeting with the man who broke into her personal possessions? Who knows how to behave like toddlers? Suddenly the Bears rush for me to play, and the gloomy mother will think that I have offended them. No, better to stay away from such a "fun little family."

Meeting with the bear and her cubs remained far for me extremely undesirable: while I did not really believe in that bear-mother, busy raising children, can take kindly to the man, to prevent her family happiness …

I walked towards the trail bear family went, as they say hunters, "heel", saw fresh and old tracks, washed by rain, weather-beaten, and found new evidence that now Walking through another bearish "home."

Bear lived here, who regularly visited a large area of my current path. Razvorochennoy ant pile, whipped mushrooms, stem from the mushrooms, scattered trash and old stumps nokony … End of the last bear farm disheveled anthill. Here the bear came out of the forest on the road yesterday and earlier. Maybe now, in the silence of the misty early morning by a timid squeak just awakened grouse bear wanders here to the road shore forest stream …

And if you spend the night here real taiga hunter prospector, for which the forest home, where you can not behave wasteful, thoughtless … I probably would have long envisioned a cute image above lean, intelligent elderly man with a bushy beard, a soft, if my sentimental thoughts did not stop a puppy.

All the way to the swamp but my little friend drove me in his bosom, and now, during the holidays, I took it out from under his shirt and let run. Tsepok looked around, pulled a forest air left and right and, limping, stumbling in the grass, walked after me explore a dry patch of light woods, raised by the rotten swamps. I stopped at the spruce litter, mysteriously appeared in the depths of the forest, and did not notice that my faithful trudged on and disappeared somewhere in the bushes. And just then a bush-1 and there was suddenly angry barking, whining my brave puppy.

Puppy barking at something not seen and not heard by me to hide, I thought, before the wall spruces and birches. I stepped forward. Loyal, Encouraged my decisive step, as did some of his puppy small steps in the direction of the possible danger, but again stopped and squeaky vzbrehnul. I listened, looked closely, nothing dangerous in front of e discovered and was just going to chide his four-legged friend is very close to catch not a pleasant smell — just behind the bushes, which we overcame with true courage, the gray forest grass stains were liquid manure. Litter was quite fresh.

I have heard that if a bear how to scare, then it immediately upset stomach. This phenomenon is called "bear disease" and Vologda and Perm woods where I had to hear a range of bear stories, but to take these stories seriously, I could not, and often considered the "bearish disease" is not very witty anecdote.

I do not know how scared I should bear, or he himself, hearing, smelling man hurried to get out into the woods, but the fact that the stomach of these animals did not work quite well, I can attest to sufficient authority.

Guessed immediately who is arranged next to a fir forest road soft bed, I was probably at a loss then, at least, there and then gone on to pursue my animals did not, and as quietly as possible turned to his backpack, which lay under the tongue in cover my double-barreled shotgun sixteenth caliber is a disappointment for myself to remember all the details of last night to hear only the story of an old man and blundered about his son …

Gradually some uncertainty, I was, but it was like-and the recent desire to collect mushrooms in a dry island and cook here with clean, bright birch trees, delicious mushroom soup. I calmed down a bit and began to think what to do next with the gun. Leave the gun in a case, or is it to get it out of the case, to collect and carry just in case in hand … And suddenly …

Just like that, for the sake of a beautiful pose or unreasonable risk, I would not put the shotgun away. Simple enough to pull the trigger loaded guns, so even if you believe in guns and know how to not shoot too bad. But you can not shoot just because your fear is stronger than you.

So, my gun still remains in the bag. Uncertainty and ambiguity are over and I'm back to where evil recently grumbled my faithful, and found fresh tracks in the swamp-pit of bear paws — the bear went away from me salable, throwing away at rapid traverse legs peat mud. Then move the beast became shorter, on the green carpet of the forest swamps not come across to me are scattered clumps of dirt — a bear, apparently calmed down and beating the swamp in a semicircle, went out on the road. On the way, he slowly made his way in front of me.

I went back for a backpack, put the shirt and the True, waving away mosquitoes broken birch branches, went on the road after a bear: I had to go right in the direction you headed beast.

On liquid, broken bridge I crossed the forest stream, and immediately noticed the stream old and fresh bear tracks, traces were many, and they were submitted to the same animal. Footprints were drawn and on the edge of the road, then crossed the road with one or the other. Everything indicates that the bear wandered here often, frequently visited the stream that here he lives, looking for food, and that, finally, I came to the territory that belongs to the beast — first entered the real bear "home".

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