I’m always on the hunt «behind»! And if the name of the wild boar hunt, the more! Therefore, even at nine in the evening, I opened the door of the house hunters friendly barking at its West Siberian huskies. Hugged and greeted each other and sat down to tea.
— You were late, Dimon! But if you are not tired of the way, we can walk through the fields. Weapons you have the right, not blundered — I think the sense is.
At 22:30 we were on the leeward side of the field and watched through binoculars. Field size of three hundred to five hundred meters, sown vetch-oat mixture, leaving us in the lowlands and depended on the forest, and is expected to yield from wild boars.
Very soon, on the opposite side, in the forest, he heard a crash, and squealing pigs in a minute left on the field. The binoculars were seen five pigs, two of which were with piglets. Each mother was eight to ten piglets. It was hard to count them — they always revolved around mamok, then disappearing, then reappearing.
— It’s not ours, let it grow! Ours is seen to approach. Will wait…
Meanwhile boar family gradually shifted towards the center, fat and grunting. Watching them, I did not notice that on the edge of the fields, in the valley, there was a wild boar. As if from the ground up! Touching Nikolayevich shoulder, gesturing to the beast. Clinging to the eyepiece of the binoculars, peering into the gloom, he said softly: «Our client!» Chopper stood a long time in one place, apparently listening to the movements of his fellow, and making sure that he is not in danger, he began to cut oats, without departing from the edge of the field.
— Wind is good! Will you go the edge of the field, there is packed track, will be quieter! And I’ll stand here. Go!
Before boar was about three hundred meters. He calmly fed, sometimes pausing and smelling, listening. When he began skusyvat panicle of oats, I quietly began to move. But passing a dozen steps, he realized that the boots will not go: the wiki pods crackled beneath them. Sitting on the ground, he took off his boots and woolen socks tried to take a few steps.
It turned out well, the foot felt the slightest roughness, and I, like a cat, stepping smoothly, I began to approach the lactating animal. I hear champing — go, silence — I stop and froze. I raised the carbine, looking into the optics. Kaban dark spot stands out against the light oats, snout omitted. Steal more.
So gradually I came to the corner of the field where there was cleaver, but come closer I can not even to him, but he edge of the field from me! Would cut oats, pozhuet and held a dozen meters. Zaderet snout up sniff, stand up, listen, and again fed. For the first time in my life I felt such excitement, similar to hunting capercaillie current.
Closer eighty meters to go I could not. Or I am not so quietly moved or cleaver was cautious, but he stopped chewing and sucking air, turned in my direction. Looking at the sight, I saw a dark head and ears splayed. Kaban nervous, sensing danger. Another second and he could disappear in two leaps before reaching the forest! Navozhu red dot crosshairs between the ears, with bated breath, gently shake the trigger.
The flash from the shot dazzles me, and I for a moment I can not get over it. Hands shaking, the body has a fever, teeth knocked out tap! After a few deep breaths, he reloaded the shotgun and went to where it was just a wild boar. He lay where he was overtaken by a bullet. A sigh of relief, I sat on the extracted beast and feeling its warmth, stroking the stubble, and thanked God for good luck.
Blinking lantern Nikolaevich approached, put his boots.
— Well done! On the field! Good sekachik, one hundred and twenty kilos will be legal! Well, how do you shoot this?
— Class! — I said, glowing with happiness.
The next day we were soared in the bath drinking herbal tea under the endless hunting stories in the circle of the same passionate hunters, as I do. Time stopped, and seemed to have no happier person in the whole world.
Dmitry Vasilyev, Fryazino21 of September 2012 at 00:00