The good morning

Six o’clock in the morning. Nasty squeak alarm pulls me out of the arms of Morpheus. I’d like to sleep, but the cold showers and hot coffee mug help to wake up. What I have planned for today?

The good morning

It is necessary to check the two bait, so to come back into the far corner, where I did not go this year for foxes. It is 80 kilometers in one direction. And we must go back to the hour – He promised to help his wife with the housework. In my head quickly earned a calculator: leaving in fifteen minutes at the first point at 7:20, 40 minutes to reach the bait, check the camera, and scatter nakrohu mashine- back to rush to the next point …

How well at night in the woods! Breathe in deeply the fresh cool air. Skiing, slightly cutting into the snow and slides easily over it, like a seven-league boots, quickly carried me to the cherished goal. What is there on the bait? I did last night a fox? Whether its camera to photograph? Questions that I would soon know the answer…

The good morning

Yes, she was here today. Uneven line naryska fox, wagging undecided from side to side across the field, still led to prokvashennym boar skins and residues of pig heads, dark blackened pile of white snow at the edge of the forest. The first time this week, motayas bait around the bush, she ventured to try the free food. Suppose now that sounds like a couple of nights, to learn, to lose vigilance. That’s when I met her, and then!

The good morning

Skis, ski cute, let’s quickly – behind schedule! Night fog thinned, made of dark silhouettes of trees, stood out in the distance the outlines of houses still sleeping village. Dawn is near!

I throw the car on the edge of the village. Camouflage, binoculars, shotgun, rangefinder, a decoy. All forward — in the Pampas!
Quickly brightens. Low leaden skies. The breeze in his face, swaying under his breath yellow blades of grass, weeds beams sticking out of the snow in an abandoned field. Whisking his binoculars on open spaces, searched the forest edge, the slopes of ravines, courtines willow – all in vain. Where, where are you, gossip? Generously you HERITAGE night — catching voles, roll in nizinke where slept grouse, several times raided the village on zakrayki. But where do I look now?

Hiding behind bushes, snow charted, probing the space in front of binoculars, slowly and carefully walk around the field. What is the dark spots out there in the details? Moose! Four pieces! Even without antlers bull calf and seems to have two cows. Licenses ungulates not, but just can not see foxes around, I’ll play a minute with you in the hunt Skrad. Before animals about half a kilometer. Varnished willow shoots (?), Moose slowly moving toward the woods, returning from a night zhirovki. Seizing the moment when the animals went into the thick bush, quickly run across the open space, dive into the hollow, reducing the distance separating us. Animals go against the wind, well, I try to visit them in the rear. Now between us smooth sloping surface of the autumn field with randomly scattered through groves of hay on it. Hiding behind that one, the other Kolk, I approach the elk meters at 200. They have about the forest. We went to the island of birch, from which rose a flock of noisy Kosachev. Flickering black-and-white plumage, black grouse pulled at me, but seeing the hunter, with an alarming kvohtane turned to the woods. But this moose did not seem alarmed. Flickering in the dark silhouettes melyatnike they slowly continued on his way. Kamusnye skiing quietly slipped on the snow and gaining speed, I caught up with animals, when the first of them, past the birch already disappeared into the woods. The red dot rangefinder lay on black and brown skin nearest elk, and the device showed 105 meters. Distance correct shot from the rifle — it can be assumed that the hunt took place.

Leaving the moose alone, I passed him in the heel through the birch and twisted to the next field. Before you go out into the open, as always, carefully examined everything in binoculars. Something dark at the edge of the woods on the opposite side caught my attention. A closer look, like, the spot does not move. After waiting a bit, quietly went about 100 meters again trying to search out what it is. Bah, I spot a ginger! A Fox! Without making any sudden movements, slowly settling into the snow. What to do?! In front of me naked field — quietly not come near; enticing far the mouse – rangefinder showed 530 meters to the target. I decided to wait a bit to see where goes Patrikeevna. It took 5 for 10 minutes, and the red spot under the low birches remained motionless. It turns out, the fox is sleeping. I will try to approach.

A cloud of talc, thrown up from the plastic bubble, floated lazily to the right. Oh, sorry, that the wind almost died down, no matter how podshumet beast. But there is nothing in polvetra hiding behind a bush growing not far from the foxes, verifying each step, I slowly slid forward. I walk a little, stop, dropping to the eyepieces of binoculars, eagerly watching for red spot in the snow, and the heart of the excitement Nakata beating loudly in my chest. Here I can already see the black animal ears and fluffy ginger pipe. Already there is no doubt that the fox curled up, asleep. In advance I place at the rifle bipod, I dumped the snow is now unnecessary gloves and binoculars. Why should I put on the boots today? In the courtyard near zero and loose snow continually sticks lumps on the felt, treacherously crunching, but should move to stop the body weight. We have to constantly make a stop and scrape it with a shoe …

Before the fox it is quite far away. «Watering can» It showed 120 meters. Everything does not cost more to experience success. Sliding in the snow, and then a new problem arises: tufts of grass sticking out here and there out of the snow, make it impossible to aim. Crawl on the belly a little bit to the side and finding bald spots sighting. From wayward breathing cross dancing, does not want to stand still, hooked on a red silhouette. It would be necessary to wait, calm down, but driven by passion and believing in luck, I squeeze the trigger. The bullet buzzed over his head fox and one could not understand half asleep jumped, froze column. Ears on the top, on the sides zyrkaet – what happened? Quickly distort shutter vytselivat neck, and the second shot is putting the fox in place.

The good morning

Home I had exactly one o’clock. With beautiful fiery red fox and a good mood.

Dmitry Kashirin10 January 2013 at 09:14

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