Superstitions of hunters

What hunters and fishermen are superstitious people, it is known to all. The causes of these superstitions are rooted in failures in hunting and fishing, and just in everyday life. Crossed the black cat road – to failure, a woman with empty buckets – the same boy you meet around will be, etc.

Superstitions of hunters

In everyday life I am an ordinary person, but it is necessary to pick up a gun or fishing rod, immediately begin to notice who he met, how he looked, how his wife conducted: if you are good – to failure, if a fight, – lucky. In God I do not believe, but also not displeased with It, although in difficult times sometimes and remember.

Intellectually I know that this is bullshit, but sometimes on hunting strange things happen that have no explanation, and begin to think. Maybe there is something in nature that drives us against our reason and our desires. The feeling of superstition inherent in the people more attentive, it is not a defect or a disease and is expressed most often in anecdotal form, causing laughter, although sometimes it is no laughing matter.

It all started in the beginning of my hunting, when on weekends I took the gun and went for uncle together to go hunting. The house of his neighbors was divided into two halves, in one lived a little withered old woman, but very friendly and kind, the other half of the house the family lived, and with them high large old lady, is very rude and always unhappy about something, saying hi to her, never answered, Burnet anything and everything. And when I see a little old lady, definitely we’re lucky, and if you tell my uncle that today, met a big old woman, not for the hunt will not go.

Then I became uncle to deceive, will come and say that he saw the good lady pass the day with him, and all to no avail. I avoided meetings with large woman, but not always succeeded, and then the day was ruined. As time went on, the old woman died, but no easier.

In the village there lived the sister of my uncle and my mom – my own aunt. My uncle told me: «Go hunting or fishing, look to aunt Nastya saw a blank come». The aunt was a person of interest, knew a lot, but too stingy, greedy. Coming on the hunt, I began to notice, really, as I meet her, the day empty, and the beast you see and shoot, and all in white light as a penny. A fishin ‘ trip, the fishing line is confused, torn, the hooks dig in, the worms crawl, one Mata. I must say, aunt asked my mom my progress on the hunt, and the mother said: «As you will find, comes empty».

I have been on vacation, went to a sheep farm, has trimmed its blind, watchmen warned that the next month I would wait for wolves, asked the vet, what kind of dead animals can be taken for bait, the circle made on the land, examining and counting the tracks. In General, all as always.

In the evening going to the farm, aunt comes, all I think Khan my hunts, – the holiday is spoiled, brought it hard, could have stayed at home watched TV, which staggers at night, or the day would come when I was not at home. Aunt and asks: «What, George, the Fox going to guard?» «We’ll see – said she was not very polite. – «Well, go-go». Goes to kitchen, takes out the piece of bread and puts it in my pocket and quilted jackets says: «Let it lie until the end of your vacation, you’re not going to eat it».

Smiled, and I think to myself: «Go out into the corridor and on the table will leave». While going, took the gun at the camera and forgot, went to the farmhouse in the blind, loaded the gun, and waited, until his eyes to the darkness get used to it. Look in the glass – Fox on my bait is sitting. Quietly drew it back, raised the gun – so a Fox with bait and left. Took her and went home.

Come – aunt with my card playing. Saw a Fox looking at me and somehow smiled enigmatically. And I begin to dissemble: «You, aunt Nastya, every evening come. That home one will do? At least we’ve got cards to play, and have someone to talk to» «Okay», – says. And I was almost every night to bring foxes and hares during the day Yes black cocks sometimes. And to my luck who rejoiced more? Me or aunt, you know.

Somehow in the same field noticed a lot of Fox tracks and decided to go for the main item on, Yes a little late, Fox had already left, I guessed her move, ran to the ravine and sat down behind a Bush, about twenty minutes after the Fox came a straight-on shot, took it, put it on the tree, sat down, smoked, and so I wanted. He reached in his pocket and bread there, already dry, and I ate it like a knife slashed abdomen, the pain is terrible, I squirmed the whole, about five minutes suffered – then everything went. I remembered the words of the aunt, but too late.

Superstitions of hunters

Two days aunt came, and I was from the hunt returned empty, even the mouse is not seen. In the evening, gather in the Boma – aunt comes: «Well, how’s it going?» – «I don’t! – say. – You don’t come – and I’m coming up empty». She looked at me and asked: «The bread was eaten.» – «Ate». Only about the stomach she didn’t say anything. She went to the kitchen, after a minute out exactly with the same piece: «Don’t go back to eat – get over it», – and put bread in my pocket. «Will be the last day on the hunt, – says – save it for the birds kaleen».

I listened to her, Packed up and went to the ambush, and in the morning brought home a wolf. On that trip I got 14 Fox, however, one was a shingles – it had to be bury, the wolf, and 5 or 6 rabbits, two grouse grouse Yes. And five years ago my aunt passed away, it was her 86 years. Recent years meeting with her brought me luck. Nothing lasts forever!

Again I began to notice that, like meeting a neighbor, is a day wasted. And as much as I tried to leave quietly, still meeting. Even an experiment conducted sat at the window and waiting for it to pass, half an hour spent – no! Probably, took place! And some force lifts me off the stool, go outside – meet a neighbor. I’m trying to find an explanation for everything going on and cannot find it.

I’m back on another vacation. Gather again in the ambush, comes the roommate, lights a cigarette and asks: «Where are you?» – «Go to the farm sit, maybe someone will come!» – «Don’t go, – says – bad day today». – «It’s bad for you, but for me all good». – «Well, as you know!» Myself I think your eye is directed to the farm, I will not go there, and go to wolf’s transition, and your spell I won’t take it. Wolf trail runs along the cemetery, across the river, and along the ravine to the farm. At the beginning of the ravine my ambush, and then I wait. Up to fifteen meters of the river, and almost at once behind it the cemetery.

About this cemetery good report goes, the shepherd told him there is supposedly a white horse with long mane chased, says, barely escaped. And one day, says, day hear people talking in the cemetery, thought to bury anybody, I decided to go, maybe pour you a glass, come, and no one was there, a little heart, said not stopped. Someone heard at night in the cemetery the woman laments. Different horror stories are told about this cemetery, every holiday I was there waiting in ambush, but nothing heard and not seen.

In General, I came to the place, sat on the block a little cooked and sitting, left wolf track, right in front of me a rivulet, and beyond it a cemetery, crosses visible among the trees, dogs barking in the village, at the houses Windows are lit. Frost three degrees, sit quietly – waiting for wolves or foxes, the moon in the clouds, but you can see pretty well, and probably took a NAP, woke up, glanced at the clock – the second night, the silence makes your ears ring, and hear two women talking loudly so, what, I do not understand, like swear.

How they got here – at this time, lost. And so sick I felt, the chill on his back pulled, and the head under the hat became wet. No, I think today no one will come, have to go home, and ashamed to admit that I’m afraid. Rose from the block a little and slowly to the house, walked a few hundred meters, listened, kind of quiet spoken, even walked a bit, the voices were gone.

I stand and think: «Probably gone have to go back – sit still!» And the legs don’t go back. Came home, undressed – mom woke up: «Why are you so early?» – «Yes, no don’t go today, weather is not the same!» The tea is drank, lay down, and sleep not coming, all sorts of thoughts overcome you, damned women, all hunting ruined, but somehow fell asleep.

Next morning went to look, where you come from and where did the women, in a circle went around a meadow, on a hill which is a cemetery, not a single human footprint. What the fuck is this, it’s not aliens if they came and such an unpleasant feeling. Go to my block a little, like where they were going. Crossed the river, walked to the seat, no trace, sat down on a block of wood, lit a cigarette, hear, speak. Lord, what is it?

The gun in your hands and think: «Will meet, and there come what may». And the closer you get to the river, the louder the voices, and on the back sweat streams. Approaching the shore – no one, and the next voice, look, and the water in the river had subsided and become visible stones and making a noise, gurgling water on them. And as if talking. My jaw dropped, and laugh some unnatural turned out, I stand and I say to myself: «Don’t laugh! But tell me, how are you, old man, tonight gave out the craving!» Laughed at myself and went to trail hares. A good was and this leave – wolf, five or six birds with nine Yes Fox.

Every spring I go on spring hunting. I go along the river downstream. And on this path there is a cemetery where lie the remains of my ancestors. Going back, I always go to them, put on the grave a cigarette, I’ll wait till they burns out, and go to the river, in one place it makes a sharp turn, and bend love to hang out drakes. Gently fit candle rises Drake – shoot, he drops on the sand, half on sand, half in water, on the other side, and to get it, should go to the other side.

Water has already entered the coast, but still deep. Ten meters downstream from one Bank to another is dry alder, went, no, I will not go on her or his feet slip off, or break under me. I the mind all understand, but some unknown force tugging at me on the alder, and I have no power to resist it.

Superstitions of hunters

Take the gun in both hands as a counter-balance and, with careful steps, I reach the middle – the tree beneath me breaks and I’m flying into spring the icy water, plunging head first, as boiling water makes the body repel the feet from the bottom, in one hand the gun over his head, the other rowed to the shore, I would go there, where Drake, but the same force turns me and I’m going back where I came from. I would take hand on the tree, my boots, so no, taking off the backpack, put on his gun, lie down on your back, lift your feet and cry out, the water flows from the boots on his feet.

Wet to the skin, check the documents, cigarettes, matches, they’re all in cellophane bags, tied with a rubber band Bank, – all the dry. Go up, twenty meters water caused different stuff and so took what I got on the other side as the bridge. Took the duck and ran home, almost every spring, but never got sick, must have hardened.

When I’m on the hunt and see game, when you think about it, all she is mine, will definitely miss, and so throughout my hunting life. And the last hunting by coot out of the doorway and towards the janitor with an empty bucket, missed thirty times, and only got one. How to explain all that? This accident, coincidence or suggestion?! Or indeed are there any forces in nature, unknown to us, which we cannot resist, and these forces in certain places at certain times can influence our subconscious, directing where absolutely do not want.

I’m laughing at themselves over their silly superstitions, and, having lived more half of life, coming once again to the village, struggling with bushes along the river, to neighbor didn’t see how I’m going hunting.

Yuri Krasovski March 2015 at 03:00

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