For some time now I never go hunting with untested people. Once it so happened that the father of a childhood guarded me from random encounters with hunters whose passion took precedence over prudence and caution.
Photo by Anton Zhuravkova
Almost all the people around us were serious hunters who do not only the perfectly fulfilled the safety requirements for handling weapon, but and require similar conduct of others.
And once in our team was a random person. He was checked for then headed by Pope factory, so do not deny his father I ventured out of politeness. Since his gun at not human it was, he gave him the MC-9, and he himself took the imperial tulkus 16-gauge. Thus, although I and committed hunting, but I found myself without a gun. Hunt was supposed to hounds in frozen pond reeds steppe.
I, as always, had come with the tail of the Pope, and the other participants had gone hunting snow-covered creek, taking thus the most likely Laz gonnogo animal. Zaitsev That year, a lot of people. Young at Russian first field hounds and Mukhtar Agra, from the lowered svorki quickly went into climb. There was an expectant silence. Could be heard rustling in the reeds wind and snow crunches under seeking dogs.
Dad loaded gun. I took up a position behind him, because We were so taken. Finally vyzhlets pomknul loud bass to vyzhlovka joined him, bringing in a shrill falsetto, and Hong boil. Father cocked the trigger. Ghosn went to otrozhkam distant pond on I stopped for a while, but and soon he straightened again boiled with new force. AT forty meters away from the reeds on net jumped hare I sat listening to the voices of the dogs. Dad raised his rifle.
At this time in front of the reeds shot rang out. By ice around us, in direction hare lay track fraction. Hare fled to reeds.
— Where to shoot? — shouted his father.
— It seems, got, — It was the response of the reeds.
— Come on, son, away from this hand, — quickly said my father, and We rushes moved to the left hand, is closer to line rut.
At the new site with his father stood the edge of the reeds near the willow bush, opposite the narrow bridge between two otrozhkov pond. Soon rut again approached us hare jumped right on jumper. A shot rang out, there was a cry: «Eliminated!» AND now the father cuts pazanki, throwing their basement dogs.
After lunch and a blizzard was played I had to shoot dogs rut, leaving home. When the inspector went to hotel, we began to undress.
— Wow, that was! — suddenly exclaimed the father.
Bootleg his brand new tarpaulin boots was a sieve. Miraculously, not a fraction hit the shin or calf. AT Next time, no outsiders, no have a hunting permit, father is on not hunt I take, regardless of their positions and rank.
Igor Borodavkin22 August 2014 at 00:00