With the wolves in my life had rarely encountered. Actually, even quite often.
When I was five or six years, I first heard about the wolves by his mother. We lived then in the village. She once had to walk in the summer to get from a neighboring village on a country road. And as if she had met the wolf. How many stories house, fear and reproach to his father that he met on a horse. I remember well.
According to the accounts of villagers in our area especially wolves rampaged during the war. Intermittent cattle, there were attacks on people. As a child, it was in the early 60s, I’ll lend a hand witnessed a similar case.
One evening in February drove home father on the jeep and ordered State Farm to quickly assemble: — Let’s go to his grandfather, a wolf killed Kuzma.
Kuzma was brought to us in-law, my sister’s husband’s father. My grandfather lived in a neighboring village, was working in retirement, as they said, a beekeeper in the farm. Upon arrival to his grandfather in the house, we met with a great company rural peasants. They sat at a large table, and by the light of kerosene lamps were drinking vodka. In the middle sat Kuzma, a middle-aged peasant strong kind of guy. How do I stuck in my memory, he was very pale. Although drunk, I was sober. Guys noisy Kuzma met father and again, probably not for the first time, spoke about the incident.
Santa had a horse go to the kolkhoz apiary protopit omshanik. Apiary was eight kilometers from the village in a small birch grove. For company he had invited to go in-law. When we arrived to the apiary, the grandfather began rastoplyat oven and Kuzma told to go for straw. Close on the field stood still it is not removed from the stack fall. Kuzma sat in the sleigh and drove his grandfather to the specified direction.
In the field of strong winds. Turning away from the cold wind, setting the course of the horse, Kuzma sat with his back to the front of the sled. Smirnov horse walked slowly across the field, had to mow quite a bit. Suddenly the horse got up and began to snore. Kuzma turned and saw with horror that a few steps in front of the horse are three wolves. The biggest shows his teeth and growled.
Two smaller noses drawn into the air and seemed to be ready to jump on a horse and a man. As the sled pulled out an ax, took a pitchfork, Kuzma did not remember. But it is well remembered with an ax in his right hand with a pitchfork in the left slowly the shafts sled went to the horse’s head. Why not on the ground, he could not tell.
Reaching a little to the arc, threw the ax in a large wolf, hit in the head, he fell. Wolves smaller jumped aside. Pitchfork Kuzma pierced the chest of the wolf, he tugged and died. Two of his kinsman, whining, trotted into the woods. Was throw wolf at Kuzma, before he threw the ax, Kuzma could not tell. Shoulder wolf in the sledge, Kuzma returned to the apiary, went into omshanik. My grandfather was very surprised rapid return-in-law, but immediately saw that something was wrong. Kuzma was pale and barely turned his tongue – I killed the wolf …
This episode was living with me in mind. I grew up a lot of hunting, but a meeting with the wolves all happened. I would like to meet a wolf hunting. But in 70-80 years, they became very little. In the 90 wolves began to appear in our area. This usually happens in the spring. When in March in the taiga was formed crust, and Maral became difficult to move, we have the wolves and easily dealt with Maral. By all means rangers, game wardens staged hunting of wolves just to stop their robbery.
March 13, 1998 (remember this date well) I was on a snowmobile early in the morning went to the land located between the rivers Kiya and housing. Happy to see me planning to join the district game manager, we would drive around the territory and to trace footprints of wolves, and, perhaps, to meet them.
It was 9:00 in the morning. I just drove to the mouth of the housing. At night I fell a little snow and everything was shining white. For rock right floodplain opened casing. The five hundred meters from the mouth of the channel in the center of the fresh snow could see a single black dot. I looked closer, she moved. Increase speed on smooth powdered ice, I quickly approached the point. It was a wolf.
Large, dark gray color, with a black male mother’s back. Wolf, scenting me, ran first on the ice, then turned left and climbed steeply in the rock. Les slowly and often breaks. I thought that the issue has already been solved with the production, quietly pulled out of the trunk shotgun, loaded it. In the second wolf somehow he changed his mind to go into the rock, turned in steps of thirty leaped past me on the left bank and climbed up on the pow zalavok while quickly disappeared from view. Seeing how hard the wolf went over the snow, I decided that I was nowhere on it does not go away.
Going down a little lower on the bed, I found an old snowmobile trail and it is not entered, flew to zalavok. Traces of the wolf has been on the road snowmobiles, care steeply uphill on Chernyshnuyu. In this way, we often snowmobile down from the mountains in the casing than going up. Cool. Wolf, I have not seen. In dense snowmobile trail he quickly sped up. I cried production.
Succumbed momentum, I rushed for wolf tracks. Wolf swerved from the path, the snow on the left and the right was loose. Reaching the mountain as quickly as possible, I went on the mane. Soon birches flickered in front of a running wolf. Stop-and-shoot was a rash, stop for a second and a wolf sighting disappear from sight, worse than that, somewhere in the dense place in the side. To catch up with the beast, and at full speed and run into him, I brake. Wolf turned inside out of the snowmobile tracks, is not running right. He looks battered, right ear hushed. Shot. All. The hunt is over.
Trophy proved worthy. I put in the tank production snowmobile. Head, on the one hand, and the tail, on the other hand, he took the road. Wow, the reward for the hunter!
Although the village from where I got the wolf was close, still decided to go to the ranger cabin in the opposite direction, into the forest. Game manager had to come ahead Saturday and Sunday, you can travel by snowmobile. Also, I really wanted that somebody appreciated my trophy.
At this time, Kiya, casings are often passed rangers, forest protection workers, and of course I wanted to brag. His track I went down into the casing, moved to understand cues and drove to the base Gospromkhoz. Along the way, no one met, there was no one in the cabin. I lit the stove and drank tea. We regret that no one was able to show the trophy skinned with a wolf. From head to remove the skin did not, in the future, planning to make a beautiful rug with the head of the beast.
The photo is not the trophy. It was much later, and the beast is sourced not me personally, but the brigade. But the idea passes. Photo by the author
In the afternoon, after a rest, he went right bank in the direction of Kia’s Vladimirovka. Found another trail of a wolf, he did not seem old. I potropil him a little lost, after his return. He came to the hut. There was no one. It’s a pity. I heated the bath alone had dinner, drank a glass of vodka, to reflect on the life and fell asleep. No one came.
The morning was frosty. I turned wolf skin and tied to the trunk of a snowmobile in such a way that the head sticking out of the bag. Anyone who met me would immediately drew the attention of the head of a wolf. In quite a long road to the village, to my chagrin, no one met. Before the village drove the familiar farmer. He went out to meet with her son eight or nine – Dad, look, Uncle Sasha wolf killed!
Glancing in my trophy, a farmer, though hungry for human communication, and quickly began to talk a lot about problems in pigs and cows, about the food. My wolf was not appreciated. In the village I drove almost the main street and not fast. Himself of these places, I personally knew many of the villagers, and I was pleased to see their surprised faces. But nobody, except two or three attendants unfamiliar, I have not met.
At the home of relatives, where we stayed before the hunt, I was waiting for his wife, who had come with me from the city. When I entered the house, it’s a bit grumbled: — Where do you ride? It is time to go home. I said I got a wolf, she said nothing. In the yard when I was unpacking snowmobile went beloved wife, passed, uttered: — Look, and, the truth, the wolf. So I appreciated, and wanted to brag. I remembered from childhood, as noted by the event, when the wolf killed our son in law. Other, see, it was time.
My wolf is still appreciated. Regional Guide ohotupravleniya gave me a cash prize. From the skins taxidermists have made a decent carpet.
Alexander Krikovtsov18 January 2014 at 11:11