Beginning of September. This is not a real fall. Shishkin swamp, near d. Shirokov, birch, alder and willow in a green summer attire. Occasionally their thick curls no-no peep leaf gold leaf. Not for long. Nabezhit breeze shake the branches and leaves on the sly steal it. Play, wander a little in the air, as if assessing that how much, and thrown to the ground or hide away in the bushes.
In these last days of grace my friend B. Chrome and full of strength and energy Russian spaniel Ares established to hunt ducks on this very Shishkin swamp. During the years of joint hunts we tasted many untrodden paths. Once roamed the lands with my AYTOS. Which not only climbed the jungle!
Which lining and swamp I have it anymore! But the enthusiasm did not fade. He was always willing to take the risk to find out what’s next. And now we have got into the unknown swamp swamps dense forest. Once, at the beginning of the last century, peat was mined here, and then abandoned. Career, drainage ditches filled with water, swamped. As time grew wild forest.
As time went on. Decrepit trees fell on age. Sometimes the wind blew and wrenched from the root of the weak soil and trees stronger. In their place they grew young, and everything is repeated. In the end, the swamp was impassable and primeval. And chosen, mastered his duck. For them, there was a «a quiet harbor». One could easily breed – no one bothered.
I liked the swamp and beavers. Obzhili, ponadelali dams built near lodges. In all directions for their future use cases piled trees – alder and birch. Willow gnawing muskrats. Well, what sane person voluntarily want to go? And we back it with a friend and it is necessary that we train hunters! Overcame the first hurdle – small ditch with water – and broke into the thickets of undergrowth.
We wade through the thicket of dense undergrowth – Only the crackling was. We stepped over the trunks of fallen trees. Tripped over the twisted roots and bumps. Bogged down in the soft marshy ground – barely dragged his feet. Incredibly zigzags spared deep space. We have one goal: next to the mirror open swamps. There must be a duck!
We walked so passed, and suddenly appeared in front of us a deep drainage ditch with a black swamp water and putrid odor slime. Do not get around to it, do not jump. Though ago back. But what is it? They walked and walked, and suddenly come back? We’re hunters! And out of the ditch bushes, and then the open expanse. Only forward! Fortunately, not far to the right, we noticed a birch trunk through the ditch. It has long beavers podgryzli it and dropped. The crossing is not? Only tonkovat seems. On the other side, on the edge of a ditch, stuck thick trunk of alder, broken in half. On it you can rely on. It is only necessary to show circus skill to pass on a very slippery trunk of a birch tree, both on board, and stay.
Cautiously, I decided to force the first hurdle. He began to move in small ladders steps. Unreliable «bridge» crackled ominously. From stress my knees were shaking. Trying to keep his balance, I tilts to the right – left. She balance, outstretched hand in hand. Volodya stood back and watched. Seeing my embarrassment, I cut a long stick with a hunting knife, handed: prop – This is the third leg. But it was hlipkovata: bent, that and look, break. Do not pass while swimming.
I carefully kept moving forward, before every pitch trying feet «kryahtyaschy» beneath me, staggering from side to side, top-down barrel. In one hand she was holding a gun, the other leaning on a stick. Solid ground, she did not reach: ill. «Were once we trotters…» – broken record in my head spun. But «trotter» now it is not the same zeal and he is not the same … a small step, two, three….
Saving bank of the ditch – hand. And very near – alder trunk protruding from the thick bough: if a helping hand extended. Oh, a couple of decades ago, I used this ditch defeated easily in two or three clicks! And now with the sixth barely moved, little by little … Here’s another small step – and all the saving shore nearby. Phew! Hooray! He held out his hand, leaned on alder as a nurse’s shoulder, – gently but firmly. AND… Suddenly seemed so reliable trunk fell into the water. Along with him, flat, like a log, he flew into the water and me. Even had no time to be scared! Tasty vskhlyup – duckweed in hand waves – of the gutter.
He came to himself when standing «on the neck» in the black water. Quickly realized: a gun! It has to be on the dry! Then he began to get out. It’s not that it was just on a slippery cliff. With hopelessness, I realized that I did not save not only the cartridge belt, but also the fact that in their pockets. I climbed out of the ditch – frightened frog jumped into it from the shore. Black jet flew with me on the grass. Fast, «in the fire»I turned out his pockets, pulled out and laid on the birch-brushwood tarnished documents (it’s good that the house put them in package!), Phones, cameras, ammunition, keys. He took off his all, pulled the boots full of water…
Ares was on this side and slipped behind the bushes. I heard a splash of water, flapping wings, and flew a duck «in moderation», Slightly to the side, over the bushes. Naked, I grabbed the gun and in the excitement, forgetting everything fired at random. Thrill of the Hunt – it’s another story. Probably, I would have shot out of the ditch, if the ducks flew. But alas! As no shot! Then just I saw that shot «nine». Initially (from cars to swamp) we went to the meadow nekoshenym weeds, waiting for Ares is about to raise the corncrake, and then I forgot to change the cartridge. Oh, old age is not a joy! I miss the chance!
Meanwhile, chromium (given my experience) moved me. Ares, do not waste time, clambered coastal thickets and returned to us. Before dark, the end of year, there were still about forty minutes. No wonder there is a saying: «Hunting Forest captivity». In the hope of booty (somehow embarrassing to hunt naked, although once was and is) put raw, somehow wrung clothes, and the hunt continued. Perhaps not freeze! Autumn has come, though, but not yet fully in their rights.
Our expectations were justified: the duck back. Those or other, but they flew at dusk silently as a shadow of the marsh shows. We saw them almost over his head against the sky illuminated by the sunset. They fired at random from the three shafts, almost at random – «the wrong way». A flock of solutions on the background of gloomy trees merged into a gray mass. Hit or not? From the bushes came the slapping of water. Two! There is! Know arrows though where we have!
– Well, the big-eared, that’s your job!
The first duck Ares brought quickly – perhaps, lay in the water nearby. From the second he had to tinker. Apparently, podranok huddled in crepe. For a long time we listened to the commotion spaniel in a swamp and wondered: will – it finds. Found! I got out of the water, put the duck on the ground, dusted himself off, took her in the face and gave up Volodya. I was a little taken aback, did not expect this. Khromov straightened up, took a proud posture: «What? Know ours!»
And what would we do without spaniel, without Ares do? And now they were both with the loot. No, not for nothing that I was drowning in a swamp. True say: «There is no way to hunt ducks and do not swim»…
In the forest, it was dark, it’s time to go back. Only now move on to our birch a bigger task. But we were lucky: ten meters from our crossing, behind the bushes, we spotted a beaver dam to hold water in the ditch. On it without incident, and we moved back.
While getting to the cars, it was dark. There was no moon. The sky from one end to the scattered stars, bright as bloated coals. Vaughn is the brightest, my favorite – Zuhra. And there Cassiopeia – It points to the North Star. It is well known: to live fire fire on the flowing water and the stars you can watch forever … But we are waiting for homes.
Leonid Karantaev29 October 2012 at 00:00