I filled the bag remains biscuits, packed the same bag of salt and a bottle of pepper, poured water into a liter flasks and zavilsya the steppe for the day. Found a place where the channel wider and smaller, undressed, chest-deep in the water to the other side. Vodicka somewhere degrees for four or five, not more, as the skinned body, but it is a good thing, I will only spirit soar, and all sorts of nasty things fly off completely human society. I even hummed to himself a German march, and the wedding march – what could it be?
After the break with this skotobazoy my heart was somehow easier, like an abscess burst. They now own the company, I have mine – I'll let the Lord God of Hunting. I am not responsible for them, and they went exactly where they sent Tatiana. I was wandering, substituting face pale sun, and smiled blissfully. That here and there in the distance and ducks flew something bigger, and maybe geese can swan flamingo who knows. The shot did not come across anything yet. No problem, my not going anywhere. On the move was sleepy – I slept nothing at all. And why should not sleep. I cut the cane broke, still grinning pointless and nap for an hour.
Woke me sound like someone hammering away thrashed on a sheet of iron. I opened my eyes stunned – from a hammer? – And saw just above a low-flying goose. Several of these calls flap – and have not heard anything, just see how he turns his head in the air from side to side like a snake. Of course, I grabbed the gun, I jumped up, but where there – the goose is closer to the horizon. No goose, and just "Boeing" some before a healthy and fast. For five minutes the heart returns to normal. Sat and sipped some water, nibbled bread. Walked on.
On this side of the channel, such as swamps and lakes, as the west, but the duck came across more good for nothing, in the local krasnobash, Qizilbash, he's pochard. I have this thing I can not stand long, the youth shot at him a bunch of bullets and did not extract. Old hunters know that this dive – awful how sensitive bastard, hear the hammer strike the primer and has time to dive under the water before it will cover a fraction. Beat them in an year or from melkashki: the speed of the bullet more than a fraction. But I could not resist spending a few rounds and did umolotil one. First drove into the water, he's sailed, swam, I jumped closer, and when he stuck his head off his red out of the water, I had shied away, and he paws up. Again had to undress and get.
It was already three hours in the stomach grumbled, as in the orchestra pit, and I decided to be fed to the hunting style. Krasnobasha gutted, cut off the head and legs, rubbed the inside with salt, sprinkle pepper and coated it with feathers in clay, buried in the sand and spread it over a small fire of dry reeds. Forty minutes later he's in my oven loss in juice rather than in a restaurant, "Beijing." Here I have the whole thing and usoyuzil just let the sand pits on teeth crackled.
I dried panicles reeds zamaslivshuyusya face and fell back to rest, as the faun in the afternoon. Paradise, and only: will not need to rush, no you do not have to, if you want – you are going, you want to – go ahead, fixed his eyes on the space provided, listening to the wind, clouds flowing scrutinizes or just watching, that you yourself in the head cooks. Nirvana, man. From thinking about that, what svolochmi there are people who dismiss difficult, but possible. And then all sorts of nice stuff head climbs.
My stream of consciousness for the "Faun" was hooked, and Nijinsky remembered it this number otchebuchit in Paris, was a big scandal, because he finally sketch depicted an orgasm, and perhaps achieved. Whistling, booing, slap in the front row, and even seems to be then a duel at dawn in the Bois de Boulogne.
Me their problems, I sighed. What are your problems, everything is clear now, shoot birds so chew enough salt and vodichku savings. The main thing – in the desert in the dark do not get lost, the compass I'm home on the table forgotten fucking twit. But there seems simple – go to the evening dawn, until the channel you turn to, and there right along the canal, the whole business.
Zorya I stood up in a small lake. Again the clouds, the squadron flew in the sky flocks and singles, this time from the sea to the land, to the night feeding, but there were no sea ducks, and the local lake. These lower flying and even the hunters say, "saluted" – declined sharply over the coastal strip of cane, then shoots up. It would be nice to have stuffed animals, but where to get them.
I hid under a bush near the coast Jing, knelt down, bowed his head, bent in three deaths and only eyes zyrkal when flocks swept low over the reeds. What is the use of fire, still can not find it. Finally, I bumped right on the lake with a couple of some big, pretty high, and got a beautiful shot, but hit only one, the second disappeared in the darkness, before I could lead the barrel. The one that I cut down, hit the land ten paces from me, the sound was so heavy that I was overjoyed – I think goose. Jumped, and this Ogar, or in the local Atay, a major waterfowl duck that nests in hollow trees. And what a joy.
That's all I persevered, though adrenaline allocated abound, and then tossing the gun and dropped. I hate to lose the game without the use of, and the darkness was so much as in a dry place like hell you will find, especially if podranok.
Years ended, and I walked home. As for home, I, of course, stupidity blurted out. Home – this is where you are waiting for, and that's not where this crap with rubbish. But more or less cost, knead. When I went up to the fire, the two men were sitting together with all and eagerly participated in the conversation. It can be seen from the breed that you want someone with no soap in the ass vlezut. They persecute you in a window, and they certainly have leaked into the door. I gave Atay, Tatiana, and someone from the darkness said, "Oh, Ogar. Their meat is tough. " Well people. Well, do not miss the chance to bite the intellectual. Although meat from Ogar really harsh. Nothing lived. I refused to play the game – who will score more points. I have my own world and its own rules. Rule one: civility.
I sat for a couple of minutes for decency, then went to bed. Could ask for a cup of tea, but my pride would not let me. Tent, the two asshole myself, thank God, delivered, or someone put it, out of pity, and I am at ease in their spread. Beauty. Terrible respect this is a condition where fatigue can be prohibitive, and finally throw bones aching for something more or less soft in the cozy cavern, where at least there's no wind.