Taiga residents. Animals of the taiga

Taiga, or northern coniferous forest - strip coniferous forests surrounding the globe in northern latitudes planets. This biome covers the northern parts of North America, Europe, Russia and Asia. Taiga is generally located south of the tundra and north of temperate deciduous forests and temperate grasslands. The taiga is the largest biome on Earth, totaling approximately 50 million acres (20 million ha), representing 17% of the Earth's land area.

The taiga, like the fauna of the tundra, is due to harsh winter, is characterized by relatively low diversity. Some animals of the taiga are able to cope with cold winter, others hibernate, but many species migrate south to areas with more favorable climates. Below is a list of the most typical animals for the taiga biome, including mammals, birds, insects, predators, rodents, herbivores and other fauna.

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Animals of Taiga:

Arctic hare

The Arctic hare is a social animal that lives in the taiga and tundra of North America, Newfoundland and Greenland. These hares often gather in groups of up to 200 individuals. They are capable of jumping at high speeds in a kangaroo-like manner due to their strong and massive hind legs.

Dalla Ram

The Dalla sheep is a cloven-hoofed mammal that lives in the mountainous regions of the taiga and tundra. They are herbivores and spend most of the day grazing. They eat grass, leaves, branches and shoots, and in winter the main diet consists of lichens.

Baribal

A large black bear with similar features to a brown bear. These solitary mammals are found throughout North America.

Badger

The badger, or common badger, is a nocturnal mammal, a member of the mustelid family. Characteristic feature The badger has black and white stripes on its face. Badgers have a fairly wide range, which extends to the forests, mountain plains and prairies of Asia, Europe and North America.

White Owl

The white owl, or polar owl, is a bird of prey that lives in the tundra and partly taiga of Europe, Asia, North America and Greenland.

Bald Eagle

The bald eagle is a large bird of prey native to North America. These birds live near rivers and large lakes, where they obtain the bulk of their diet. Since 1782, the bald eagle has been national symbol USA.

White-tailed deer

The white-tailed deer, or Virginia deer, is a herbivorous mammal from the deer family that lives throughout much of North and Central America, as well as northern South America.

White goose

White goose - migrant, native to North America, which breeds in the Arctic tundra and then migrates to the south and southwest of British Columbia and the United States in winter.

Chipmunks

Chipmunks are small rodents with bushy tails and strong hind legs. The main part of the species is found in North America and only one in Eurasia.

Brown bear

A large carnivorous mammal that lives in cold mountain forests, meadows and river valleys. Widely distributed in the northern hemisphere, found in North America, Europe and Asia.

Great Eagle Owl

The Great Eagle Owl is a bird of prey and the largest member of the owl family in North America. These widespread eagle owls are found in mountains, grasslands, coniferous forests, deserts and many other habitats of the Americas.

Ermine

The ermine is a small predatory animal, a member of the mustelid family. The body length of the ermine is about 25 cm, the tail length is 8 cm, and the body weight is about 200 g. Males, as a rule, are larger than females. The stoat's habitat includes the taiga, arctic tundra of North America and Europe.

Canada goose

The Canada goose is a waterfowl, a member of the Anatidae family. This bird species is native to North America, but Canada geese have been successfully adapted to wildlife UK, North West Europe and New Zealand.

Mosquitoes

Mosquitoes are widespread flying insects that are found almost all over the world, and the taiga is no exception.

Red-tailed buzzard

Red-tailed buzzard - common in Northern and Central America bird of prey, member of the hawk family. They inhabit swamps, taiga, desert and many other biomes.

Weasel

Weasel is a species of small predatory animals from the weasel family. They are found in North America, northern South America, Europe, Asia, and the far north of Africa.

Lemmings are small rodents from the hamster family that live in the tundra and, to a lesser extent, forest-tundra of Europe, Asia and North America.

Elk

Elk, or elk, is a herbivore, the largest representative of the deer family. Elk are found in boreal forests in North America, Europe, Russia and Asia.

Ants

Ants are social insects found throughout the world, with the exception of Antarctica. There are thousands of species of ants, most of which live in tropical forests, but also many species live in the northern regions of the planet, and the taiga is no exception.

Common fox

The fox, fox, common or red fox is a predatory mammal from the canine family. The fox is found in a variety of habitats, including forest, desert, savannah, plains, grassland and arctic snow. They live in Europe, Russia, Asia, Africa, Australia, North and South America.

Common lynx

A species of predatory mammal from the cat family that is found deep in the pine forests and dense bushes of North America and Eurasia. Lynx are generally nocturnal, but the greatest peaks of activity are observed at dawn and dusk.

Common beaver

The common beaver, or river beaver, is a semi-aquatic rodent with a large, flattened tail, the second largest living rodent after the capybara. Beavers live in the forests of North America and in some parts of Europe and Asia. They do not hibernate in winter, but prefer to remain in their shelters, where enough food is stored to last until spring.

Common arctic fox

The common arctic fox, or arctic fox, or arctic fox is a small predator whose geographic range extends further north than any other land mammal. They are found in the taiga, tundra, coastal regions of North America, Iceland, Greenland, Scandinavia and Siberia.

Muskox

A long-haired herbivore mammal well adapted to the cold environmental conditions of the taiga, tundra and Arctic.

Muskrat

The muskrat, or musk rat, is a species of rodent that inhabits freshwater swamps, lakes, ponds, rivers and streams in North America and Eurasia.

polar Wolf

A predatory mammal, a subspecies of the gray wolf, which is found in Northern Canada. This subspecies is smaller than other wolves and has long, dense white fur.

The average body length of an adult polar wolf without a tail is 1.30-1.50 m, height at the withers is 0.80-0.93 m, and body weight is up to 85 kg. Like other wolves, they have strong jaws with sharp teeth, including long fangs that tear flesh.

Wolverine

Wolverine - ferocious predator, representing the mustelidae family. The geographic range of wolverines extends to the cold forests of the taiga and tundra of North America, Europe and Asia. This solitary mammal runs poorly, but climbs trees quite skillfully.

Reindeer

Reindeer, or caribou, is a herbivorous mammal, an inhabitant of the northern regions of the taiga and tundra of North America, Europe and Asia.

Gray wolf

The wolf, or gray wolf, or common wolf is a species of large predatory animals that lives in steppes, semi-deserts, taiga, tundra, forest-steppe and rare forest areas in North America, Europe and Asia.

Scorpios

Scorpions are invertebrate animals that inhabit all continents of the Earth except Antarctica. Despite the fact that scorpions prefer more southern regions, some species are nevertheless found in the taiga.

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One way or another connected with the climatic region of the taiga. The fauna of the taiga has a certain hierarchy, in which the stronger absorb the weak - weak animals are a food source for stronger predators. I have compiled a complete list of animals living in the taiga, both dark-coniferous and light-coniferous. Full overview of the inhabitants northern forests Eurasia and North America, starting from the strongest, largest and ending with the smallest. The list will not include insects, earthworms and other small inhabitants of the taiga. I will not compose this article according to the model of classical encyclopedias, but will write only what I consider necessary. What seemed to me the most important and interesting for getting to know the animals of the taiga.

Bear

The most famous inhabitant of the northern forests is a bear. If only brown bears live in the taiga of Eurasia, then black bears also live in the forests of North America. The bear can rightfully be called the king of all animals of the taiga for its large size and physical strength. However, in Everyday life bears are very lazy and cowardly. In 99% of cases, bears avoid meeting a person or even some other animal because they do not want unnecessary conflicts. Bears most often attack people in two cases. It's either waking up in winter Bear rod , or a mother bear with cubs. In the first case, the bear, accustomed to feeding mainly on vegetation, looks for food and does not find it in winter forest, so it goes to what is, i.e. for meat. And if he comes across a person entering the forest, then the bear may not deny himself the pleasure of feasting on this dish. In fact, connecting rod bears often begin to hunt other animals themselves. Having smelled the scent of a person, the bear will hunt him. The she-bear is dangerous as a protector of her offspring. Her maternal instinct of protection simply turns on, and any living object potentially poses a danger to the cubs.

The bear is an omnivore; its diet varies depending on its habitat. For example, the North American Grizzly, like Kamchatka bears, reaches large sizes by eating fish. You've probably seen many photos of bears fishing in a stream. In places where there is a lot of fish, it is not difficult for bears to catch it. But bears living in central Eurasia are usually much smaller in size, since they usually feed on plant foods: berries, herbs, etc. Bears also love to eat carrion, after which Trichinella larvae penetrate into their meat.

Male bears always live alone, while the female always walks separately from the male along with her cubs. Due to the fact that a male can afford to attack the cubs of some other male, female bears try to mate with as many as possible a large number males living in nearby territories. In this case, the male will think that these cubs may be his, and will no longer attack them.

There have been cases when bears came to the camp with overnight tourists in search of food. These meetings can end sadly, so in places where the bear population is large (Kamchatka, Alaska, Yukon), people hang everything edible high on a tree at a sufficient distance from the camp. Also, all food is cut up, cooked and consumed away from the camp.

They hunt bears, as a rule, from a storage shed or in a den (in winter). According to the rule, it is very difficult to meet a bear in the forest, because... he tries to avoid unnecessary encounters; hunting with pursuit of a bear is a losing option in advance. Therefore, they hunt the clubfoot from ambush. Moreover, this ambush is made in a tree and their smell is carefully masked, since the bear, like all wild animals of the taiga, has a very well developed sense of smell, and he can already sense the slightest odors, and therefore, he will be afraid and will pass by. Most often they hunt not for meat, but for skin, bear fat and bear bile - the most valuable products of traditional medicine.

Elk

Many people think that the most dangerous animal in the taiga is the bear, but this is not so. The most dangerous is the elk. Namely, a male elk during the rutting period (" mating season"). At this time, the male, intoxicated by male sex hormones, becomes inadequate in his behavior and he perceives any living object as a competitor. An elk nursing a female is not interested in his chosen one being nursed by someone else - well, that’s understandable ( who would want to?) And so his aggression is very great . He simply attacks on the fly, indiscriminately. It hits its potential competitor with its front hooves, and if it is a person, then it has practically no chance. The blow of this giant (from 300 to 650 kg) is very strong, and therefore meeting with an elk during the rut is very dangerous. The rutting period lasts in the fall, September-October. The males with the largest horns are the most attractive to females. You say: because such a male seems stronger? Wrong. The female thinks that if this male has such large antlers, it means that he was able to get so much food for himself, compete so much for this food with other moose, that he was able to grow such large antlers for himself. This means that he will be able to get a lot of food for her future offspring, and the offspring will be healthy and strong. Compared to people, women are more likely to prefer a wealthier man to a less wealthy one.

The elk feeds exclusively on plant foods, as do cows and deer. Elk belongs to the deer family and the artiodactyl order. Moose eat branches of bushes, trees, mosses, lichens, edible mushrooms, and various herbs. They like to live in mixed forests with dense undergrowth, with an abundance of aspen and birch trees. In this way, the elk eats about 7 tons of food per year. Moreover, in winter he eats less, but saves energy.

Moose have well-developed hearing and sense of smell (like all animals of the taiga), but their vision is rather weak. A person standing motionless may not be noticed at a distance of a couple of tens of meters. In principle, it is a rather peaceful animal: if you do not provoke a conflict, the elk is unlikely to attack a person first.

Gamekeepers and hunters build special salt licks for moose - moose willingly lick this salt. They also approach highways and lick salt from highways. Moose live to be 20-23 years old when living in the wild. However, moose, like all artiodactyls, are also kept in captivity, raised on special farms.

Deer

In the northern forests, red deer are usually found. In the coastal taiga it is wapiti, in the forests of Altai it is deer, in North America it is wapiti. Deer feed on plant foods. The diet is varied: various herbs, mushrooms, berries. Eats pine, fir, and cedar needles. Due to the lack of minerals in the body, deer love to lick the ground, which has a lot of salt, and willingly approach salt licks specially prepared for them. In winter, animals are forced to eat almost all day long to replenish their energy reserves. In the wild, a deer lives on average up to 20 years, reaching sexual maturity at 5-6 years of age. Horns on young males begin to appear after about a year.

Young deer antlers (antlers) are of great importance in folk medicine. In Altai, deer have been bred specifically for their horns for many years. Antlers are cut off from live deer; when cut down, the antlers begin to bleed. The hydroalcoholic extract of deer antlers is used as a tonic, and preparations are made on its basis. Pantocrine - a drug used in complex therapy for neurasthenia, asthenia and arterial hypotension.

Deer hunting is prohibited in many places, and therefore they are hunted mainly by poachers. In addition to humans, the enemies of red deer are wolves, which attack them in packs. The deer try to resist with the help of their hooves and antlers, but, as a rule, the wolves rip open the deer's lower abdomen, and it dies.

Musk deer

Another representative of deer-like artiodactyls. Musk deer live in the Far Eastern taiga. Prefers dark coniferous taiga, with stone placers and outcroppings of rock outcrops. Runs well and jumps incredibly well. She is capable of changing the direction of travel by 90° while galloping, without slowing down. Fleeing from its pursuer, the musk deer, like a hare, confuses its tracks. It feeds on fir and cedar needles, lichens, and various grasses. The musk deer's diet is strictly vegetarian. Gathering food, the musk deer can climb an inclined tree trunk or jump from branch to branch up to a height of 3 - 4 m. The musk deer has a lot natural enemies. On Far East its main enemy is the harza, which hunts musk deer in families. A lynx often lies in wait for a musk deer while feeding, and is pursued by a wolverine and a fox. Their lifespan is only 4 - 5 years in nature and up to 10 - 14 in captivity.

Musk deer in the mountains		Musk deer calf

On the belly of the male musk deer there is a musk gland filled with a thick, pungent-smelling brown-brown secretion. One gland of an adult male contains 10 - 20 g of natural musk - the most expensive product animal origin. The chemical composition of musk is very complex: fatty acids, waxes, aromatic and steroid compounds, cholesterol esters. The main carrier of musky odor is the macrocyclic ketone muscone. Volatile components of musk carry information about the age and condition of the male and can accelerate estrus in females.

Musk is widely used in oriental medicine today. In China, it is included in more than 200 drug prescriptions. Experiments conducted in India showed that musk has a general stimulating effect on the heart and central nervous system, and is also effective as an anti-inflammatory agent. In Europe, musk as a medicinal product is not particularly successful, but here it has found another use: in the perfume industry as an odor fixer.

Roe

An artiodactyl animal of the deer family. Two species of roe deer live in taiga forests: the European roe deer, which only slightly covers the taiga region, and the Siberian roe deer. The habitat mainly depends on the height and duration of the snow cover. The critical height of snow cover for the Siberian roe deer is 50 cm. The Siberian roe deer avoids areas where snow of this height lies for 230-240 days a year. The roe deer enters the taiga only when there is deciduous undergrowth, and mainly lives in mixed forests.

As the best feeding areas, it prefers areas of light sparse forest with rich shrubby undergrowth, surrounded by meadows and fields, or (in summer) tall grass meadows overgrown with bushes. It is found in reed fields, in floodplain forests, in overgrown clearings and burnt areas, in overgrown ravines and ravines. Compared to Siberian ones, European roe deer They are practically sedentary and do not undertake mass seasonal migrations. It feeds on plant foods rich in nutrients and water. Young shoots (low in fiber) are most preferred. Dry and highly woody parts of plants, hard grasses and sedges, plants containing toxic substances (saponin, alkaloids, phenols and glucosides) are usually not eaten or eaten reluctantly.

To compensate for the lack of minerals, roe deer visit salt licks or drink water from springs rich in mineral salts. During pregnancy and lactation in females and horn growth in males, the need for minerals increases by 1.5-2 times. Water is obtained mainly from plant foods, but if there are bodies of water nearby, they regularly visit them; In winter they sometimes eat snow. The daily need for water is small and amounts to about 1.5 liters per day.

Boar

Mostly wild The wild boar lives in warmer regions and is found even in the subtropics and tropics. But it can also be safely called a representative of the animal world of the taiga. The wild boar is the ancestor of our domestic pigs and pigs, but is a strong, powerful and very aggressive animal. An encounter with a wild boar in the taiga can cost a person his life under certain conditions. It grows to unprecedented sizes; the body length of some individuals is, to be honest, about 4 meters. On the Internet there is trophy photos hunters with giant boars. But on average, a wild boar weighs about 175-200 kg, body length 1.5 - 2 meters.

The wild boar is omnivorous. And you can safely notice that this comrade loves to eat quite well. It feeds mainly on plant foods, but eats various small rodents and carrion. Wild boars prefer areas rich in various puddles and ponds. They love to wallow in these puddles and mess around in the mud (pigs). A rather clumsy animal, but it runs quickly and swims well. Hearing and smell are well developed, vision is rather poor. Boars are cautious but not cowardly: when irritated, injured or protecting their young, they are very brave and dangerous due to their strength and large tusks. They can also visit fields of potatoes, turnips, and grains, causing harm to agriculture, especially by tearing up and trampling crops. They often damage young trees. Very rarely, wild boars attack fairly large animals, sick or wounded, for example, fallow deer, roe deer, even deer, kill and eat them.

It is an object of sport hunting. Before eating boar meat, needs to be tested in a special laboratory (as well as bear meat) for the presence of capsules with Trichinella larvae in it. There are frequent cases of human infection with trichinosis after eating boar meat.

Wolf

The wolf is the most favorite animal of the taiga for many people. Many people like to put images of a wolf on their avatar and simply associate wolves with something beautiful, endowing wolves with nobility and even magical powers. But in fact, wolves are far from being as white and fluffy as many people see them. But lone wolves simply practically do not exist; they are very rare in the taiga. Wolves are pack animals; they gather in packs and have been doing so for many thousands of years. In a pack, it is simply easier for wolves to survive and get food in the frosty climate of the taiga than alone. Lone wolves, or rather families of wolves, are found in places where there is an abundance of food, and they no longer need to gather in a pack. But most often the wolf lives in a pack. And there is no nobility here. The pack is a strictly organized totalitarian society with its own hierarchy. There is a leader to whom all other individuals obey, there are average wolves and the lowest ones - outcasts. Such outcasts are not driven away, but treated extremely poorly, but it is still easier for an outcast to survive in a pack than alone.

Of course, wolves are very aesthetically pleasing in appearance because of their beautiful fur, but there is no nobility in them. They attack prey only in packs, and therefore a lone wolf is not dangerous. Wolves are most dangerous in winter , most often it is in winter that they attack people or livestock in villages. Black wolves are considered the most evil.

To hunt a wolf, you don’t need to buy tickets for crazy amounts of money, like, for example, for an elk. Hunting for wolves is always welcomed by hunting enterprises, because when the wolf population has grown in a particular region, wolves begin to attack domestic animals and people. Hunting farms organize special round-ups in which any hunters take part.

So, wolves are dangerous in the winter when attacked by a pack. Such a pack can be dangerous for both bears and moose. Wolves are most dangerous for moose in the spring, when the moose walks along the collapsed crust and moves slowly. The wolves attack him, and he can do nothing - death cannot be avoided.

Lynx is a rare animal of the taiga. To meet a lynx, you need to try hard. The lynx population is not so large, and it does not live in all places in the taiga. Unlike wolves, I would really reward the lynx with nobility. Lynxes do not gather in packs and hunt alone. Lynxes are self-sufficient and independent. They prefer to settle in the remote dark coniferous taiga and hunt fur-bearing animals: hares, etc. Many people believe that lynxes watch for their prey in a tree and then jump on top of it. This is wrong. The lynx attacks from an ambush, like all cats: having noticed prey, it quietly waits, and then makes a quick dash towards its prey. However, the lynx cannot pursue its prey for a long time - it runs out of steam after 65-85 meters of running.

Unlike many taiga animals, the lynx has well-developed vision, which helps it when hunting. Attacks various birds, rodents and even large animals: deer, roe deer, musk deer, foxes, etc. If there is plenty of food in its habitat, then the lynx lives in one place, leads sedentary image life, and if there is little food, then she has to constantly change her place of residence, nomad, and move around. She walks up to 30 km a day.

They hunt lynx only for its skin, often with traps. Lynx meat is not eaten. The skin is highly valued and worth a lot. There is no exact information about cases of a lynx attacking a person when the lynx was lying in wait for him.

The lynx is considered one of the most tame animals. Even adult individuals caught in traps are tamed. As a result, she can become almost tame, like a domestic cat, but with the habits of a wild animal. The film “The Path of Selfless Love” was made about such domestication in the Soviet Union. This northern animal deserves much stronger respect than the forest orderlies - wolves.

Fox

The most cunning animal of the taiga is the fox. It’s not for nothing that such an expression has even stuck among the people - “cunning as a fox.” This is understandable: in order for a wild animal with such a bright color to get food for itself, it simply needs to be cunning and agile. The fox has well-developed hearing; with the help of its ears, it learns that its prey is lurking somewhere nearby. In winter, the fox can clearly hear mice sneaking under the snow. The slightest rustles and vibrations are picked up by her excellent locator ears. Under a multi-centimeter layer of snow, the fox tracks down its prey, dives into it - and grabs the coveted rodent. Therefore, the fox prefers to settle more on open places, plains, ravines, rather than forests. Both in winter and in summer, it is much easier for a fox to get food in open areas than in dense forests. As a rule, foxes lead a sedentary lifestyle and do not migrate anywhere. Why go anywhere if there are mice everywhere!

The fox is a monogamous animal and prefers to live in burrows. Moreover, she either digs holes herself or uses someone else’s. Before going to bed, he carefully checks everything in the area, then lies down and listens to various rustles. Due to the fact that the main food source for foxes are rodents, the fox plays important role in regulating the number of rodents. Rodents pose a danger when eating grain. But sometimes the number of foxes themselves grows to large sizes. Then the foxes start to come in nearby villages, cities. Digging through trash heaps, climbing into plots. They like to approach tourist sites.

The fox's fur is valued, which is why the fox is a fur-bearing animal obtained by hunting. There are different subspecies of foxes, for example, the silver fox and the arctic fox, which live in the tundra. They usually hunt with traps and snares. Like all fur-bearing animals, foxes value only their winter fur. Foxes got their nickname due to their ability to confuse those who pursue them. Foxes are very careful. Therefore, it is almost impossible to track down a cheat. Hearing and smell are well developed, and upon sensing the slightest odor that heralds danger, foxes immediately change their route, which is why it is difficult to catch a fox with snares.

Badger

The badger is an animal of the southern taiga; it is not found in the northern forests. It adheres to dry areas, but near reservoirs and lowlands, where the food supply is richer. The badger lives in deep burrows, which it digs along the slopes of sandy hills, forest ravines and gullies. Animals from generation to generation adhere to favorite places. As shown by special geochronological studies, some of the badger towns are several thousand years old. Single individuals use simple burrows, with one entrance and a nesting chamber. Old badger settlements represent a complex multi-tiered underground structure with several (up to 40-50) entrance and ventilation holes and long (5-10 m) tunnels leading to 2-3 large nesting chambers lined with dry litter, located at a depth of up to 5 m. .

The badger's activity takes place at night. It is omnivorous, but prefers plant foods. The badger is not aggressive towards predators and humans; it prefers to move away and hide in a hole or another place, but if it gets angry, it hits its nose and bites the offender, and then runs away. It feeds on mouse-like rodents, frogs, lizards, birds and their eggs, insects and their larvae, mollusks, earthworms, mushrooms, berries, nuts and grass. When hunting, a badger has to cover large areas, searching through fallen trees, tearing off the bark of trees and stumps in search of worms and insects. However, he eats only 0.5 kg of food per day and only by autumn he eats up heavily and gains fat, which serves as a source of nutrition for him during winter sleep.

The life expectancy of a badger is 10 - 12, in captivity - up to 16 years. The badger is the object of hunting. Badger fat is used in folk medicine. It is considered a panacea for many diseases due to the fact that fat accumulates many biologically active substances that the animal needs during hibernation. Badger fat is completely absorbed by the body when taken orally. It increases emotional tone, gastrointestinal activity, is rich in vitamins and microelements, and most importantly, it is used as a bactericidal agent in the treatment of tuberculosis and other pulmonary diseases.

Cold night on Tayur

The autumn taiga stretched out like a boundless, foggy blue. The fresh November morning dawned over her with a pale dawn. The pink strip of the sky quickly turns red, spreading like delicate cinnabar along the jagged edge of the mountains. Then it flashed purple, and the morning sun rolled out like a crimson ball from behind the rocky peaks. The chars of the mountain range shone like diamonds in a gold frame. Transparent Tayura sparkled in the dazzling rays, uncontrollably rushing towards Lena. The icy laces on the coastal stones turn silver with frost...

On the right bank of the Tayura there is a taiga village. On the left, a dark green fir tree rises like a wall onto a steep slope. The rocky cliff turns black in the distance. Under a cliff, on a pebble shallow, a heavy body sways in the waves. Spotted trousers and a jacket are torn on the rocky bottom. Twisted, blue-purple hands and bare feet, mangled in the rifts, appear above the water and then disappear into it. The human body, stirred by the white foam stream, rises on the waves and hits the rocks.

At this early hour in the house, noticeable from a distance with its blue carved frames, the door slammed, and Georgy Voilokov, a local police inspector, came out onto the porch. A bucket in each hand. One contains oatmeal for rabbits. In the other there is a piggy mixture.

The latch of the gate clinked. Nastya Mukacheva, a timber industry worker, hurriedly entered the yard. Her husband, Ilya, a well-known strongman and drinker in the village, was hanging out in the taiga with a team of hunters and fishermen. And Voilokov was quite surprised to see a hastily dressed woman. The coat is open, a colorful scarf is casually thrown over his disheveled hair. Voilokov put down the buckets and frowned.

Surely Ilyukha has come back from hunting and is making a fuss again early in the morning? Well, ep-pony god! Stop babysitting him! Have you written an application?

Yes, Georgy Georgievich, I don’t have to complain about Ilyusha... They found a drowned man on Tayura. Under the cliff... All our timber industry workers ran there.

Let's run! Yes, they, my God, will trample the scene of the incident.

As he ran, buttoning up his uniform jacket, Voilokov set off towards a high rock hanging gloomily over the river. The swollen body had already been dragged out onto the wet sand by the chief engineer of the timber industry enterprise, Stukalov. He stepped towards the out of breath Voilokov.

I barely pulled it out. Heavy as a barrel.

Who asked you? They tried in vain! This should not have been done before the arrival of the task force. Move away from the scene!

Hmm, please,” Stukalov pursed his lips displeasedly. “I wanted to help you, but you...” he waved his hand offendedly, loudly slammed the door of the brand new Honda, and drove off to the office.

Voilokov slowly turned to the shapeless mass, once former human, and shuddered, looking at the disfigured face. Workers were talking quietly to the side.

Belov... Our master.

His clothes... So I found one.

Somewhere another one will wash ashore.

A few days after this incident, Voilokov was summoned to the district department by investigator Smirnov.

Hello, Georgiy! Read the forensic medical examination report.

The act repeatedly mentioned alcohol. Among the numerous abrasions described in detail, the note underlined in pencil stood out. Abrasion on the back of the head.

Belov, drunk, fell out of the boat and hit his head on a stone,” Smirnov puffed on a cigarette... “Night, cold, disgusting weather... The men gave in.” A common occurrence when fishing. Maybe they later crashed into a rock or ran into a log in the dark. Look how much windfall floats after the flood...

The second one has not yet been found... It’s too early to draw a conclusion...

What if we don’t find Kasyanov’s body? The river does not stand still. In a month she could drag him into the Laptev Sea. What should we wait for?

And what about his wife's letter? About lumber thefts?

Just reasoning and assumptions... We need facts. Where is the proof?!

Dig well - they will!

Smirnov smiled indulgently.

Do you think it's that simple?

It turns out that the ep-pon god, Kasyanov and Belov drowned, and with them their ends in the water?

Smirnov spread his hands.

The authorities, of course, know better,” said Voilokov, taking hold of the door handle. He put on his cap and, without saying goodbye, left the office.

It was getting dark. Lead-gray clouds crawled across the cloudy sky. The wet branches of trees bare of foliage swayed in the cloudy drizzle. Gray clouds hovered over Tayura. Driven by the cold wind, whitish smoke spread across the taiga valleys. There, near the distant hills, the icy and clear Soboliny Spring flows into the Tayura. A stormy river splashes like an icy plunge on granite rapids. It makes noise, rolls stones, knocks down a careless hunter, deceived by the shallow water.

A week later, another drowned man was found on Kharyuzov Reach. The former director of the timber industry enterprise, Sergei Kasyanov, was identified by his orange fishing jacket. The korchazhnik, sharp stones tormented the body beyond recognition. The exhausted limbs were gnawed by the fish. It was impossible to take fingerprints for fingerprint analysis. However, the identity of the deceased was not in doubt. Too often, residents of the village saw the avid fisherman Kasyanov wearing this jacket. On that stormy evening, in waders and with a spinning rod in his hand, he walked in it along the bank of Tayura to the blue motorboat, where Master Belov was waiting for him...

“Fishing accident... Alcohol intoxication...” police captain Smirnov tapped out on the computer console. He filed the printed sheet into a skinny paper folder and slapped it with his palm:

That's the whole story!

And it started like this...

During the September storm, Tayura flooded widely. The river roaring on the rapids carried taiga rubbish into the Lena. Along the gullies, eroding the banks, streams of muddy red water poured into Tayura...

The elements had not yet subsided when the blue motorboat howled hysterically on the river. A cold rain poured down. The restless boys launched boats made of pine bark on the puddles. They don’t care, wet and sniffling, about the autumn slush. They were the first to tell Voilokov about the blue motorboat and two daredevils who risked going fishing at such an inopportune time. The children got a good look at Kasyanov’s yellow-red jacket and Belov’s green-spotted encephalitis, sitting on the steering wheel.

There is only one blue duralumin boat in the village. Its owner, chief engineer Stukalov, was late that evening in his office drawing up a monthly report on logging. Stukalov's ruby ​​Honda, gleaming with wet enamel, turned red at the office gate.

The wind blew in gusts and shook the tops of the trees. The taiga, hidden by the drizzle, made a dull noise.

Voilokov, throwing the hood of his raincoat over his cap, hurried to the timber industry office, to his service room. Upon entering, he shook the moisture from his clothes and moved his phone closer.

And why, my God, did they go fishing in this weather?

This obsessive thought did not leave my head. It seemed strange that people who had been living in these harsh lands, we chose bad weather in September for fishing. This is not the first time Kasyanov has fished. Doesn’t he know what it’s like to float along a stormy river at night? Rain... Wind. I gape a little on the steering wheel and write: it’s gone. What if the engine stalls or the propeller breaks? The fast current will spin the boat, throw it on the rocks, capsize... And the water in Tayur is bare ice. You can't hold out in it for a minute...

Streams of rain ran down the window glass. It was getting dark.

Voilokov dialed the number of the duty officer at the regional department.

Hello, Stepanych! Voilokov is worried. Why am I calling? Yes, you see, Kasyanov and Belov - our bosses, the timber industry, went up the Tayura... On Stukalov’s motorboat. Do you know him? How, well, let it be?! Not small children, you say? It is so. But the weather, god damn it! Tayura is raging today... You never know... It’s better for you to know whether to call a helicopter or swim after them... My job is to crow, but at least it’s not dawn... Bye, Stepanych...

Puzzled by the incomprehensible prank of Kasyanov and Belov, Voilokov thudded dully with his boots along the corridor of the empty office. He knocked on the door of Stukalov’s office and pulled the handle. Locked. “I should have gone to see him first,” Voilokov thought, regretting that he did not find Stukalov. I went outside. In place of the Honda there was a deep, washed-out rut in the mud.

On Monday, alarming news spread around the village: the fishermen had not returned. They did not return even after several days.

The search began.

From conversations with relatives and acquaintances of the missing fishermen, it turned out that Kasyanov and Belov intended to fish in the upper reaches of the Tayura. We were going to the taimen. On Friday evening they carried gear, cans of gasoline, and food into the boat.

Where is your husband, you ask? In the taiga. Fishing. Where else could he be if he took a whole box of booze with him? Why isn't it there yet? How do I know? “He doesn’t report to me about his endless absences,” Tamara Kasyanova, the director’s wife, answered Voilokov’s questions with irritation. - I've been looking for adventure for a long time. Maybe I found it...

Rattling dishes in the kitchen, she grumbled angrily:

I told him - your fishing trips - drinking in nature with friends and girls - will not end well.

Voilokov looked around at the uncomfortable situation in the Kasyanovs’ apartment. Old newspapers, scraps of papers, worn-out slippers are lying on the floor. There is faded wallpaper on the walls. There's an old TV in the corner. Opposite is a worn-out sofa with an untidy bed.

He's almost never home. All the cases... Which ones are known. Drunken parties, partying, shura-mura... Trips abroad. Shenanigans with the forest...

Any facts?

It's not hard to guess. The forest is being pushed beyond the cordon by the wagons, but there is still no money to pay the workers. How many months have they not received a salary... And what a forest! Leaf timber and cedar boards! What in return?! Gum! The rags are rotten. People are embarrassing. They call Kasyanov a thief. And Belov is like his number six. Whatever Kasyanov says, he will do. He will arrange the commercial wood with firewood, the carriage will swell with the facing lath, he will throw aspen slabs on top to cover it up, and the carriage will go to China. How? Barter! And if you look into it, it’s just an ordinary scam. But Belov bought a Mercedes for his son. Daughters - Toyota. Right next to the Land Cruiser. And Kasyanovsky’s friend, Stukalov, is not far behind them: latest model I took a Honda... I was on vacation in the Canary Islands... I sent my daughter to the States to study... For what kind of money? And you say, where are the facts?

Kasyanova threw away the edge of the tablecloth on the table and handed over a notebook sheet with uneven lines of writing. - Here, I wrote to the police... Let them bring this goose to clean water. Kasyanov hasn’t even given me a penny yet, but his suitcase is stuffed with dollars.

Tamara looked back at the door and whispered:

He hurriedly grabbed the “case”, took the lid and opened it. The money was green and poured out of it in packs. Not ours. Kasyanov disappeared from his face. How he screams: “Why are you staring? This is not my money. Lespromkhozov’s money.” Why hide them at home then? So, and you say, where are the facts...

And where is he now?

Kasyanov?

No, a suitcase.

Over there, behind the wardrobe. Yes, but there is no money in it. That very Friday I put them in a backpack and took them away. That day some rude man came. In a leather jacket and a mink hat. Shoulder And his face is like Kasyanov’s: well-fed, impudent. They steamed in our bathhouse. They sent me for beer. Spray it on the heater so that the spirit is better. And when I was carrying beer to the dressing room, I heard the guest demanding dollars.

And what about Kasyanov?

Let's go fishing, Edik says, to Soboliny Klyuch. I'll pay there. Let's relax in nature. We'll catch some taimen!

It's time to relax: rain, slush... It's freezing cold.

I don’t know,” Tamara shrugged. - We steamed up, drank cognac and drove off to Stukalov. And the backpack with the dollars was taken away.

Voilokov walked slowly down the street, pondering Tamara Kasyanova’s unexpected confession. Her statement, however, differs little from the complaint of Nastya Mukacheva, who was beaten by her drunken husband. Both women decided not to go to the police out of a good life. Last week Ilya came home. I brought a birch bark tube of lingonberries and a bag of pine cones. He had a party with a friend, and in the morning, a crying Nastya laid out a statement in front of Voilokov.

That’s it, do with him what you want, but I won’t live with a drunkard anymore,” Nastya sobbed. - I'll get a divorce...

Voilokov suddenly slowed down. How come I didn’t remember right away?! Ilya's winter quarters in Soboliny Klyuch!

The outlines of the hills were drowned in the blackness of the approaching night. From the bank of Tayura, seething in the darkness, there was a damp smell of rotten pine needles. A sharp-eared, stocky husky with a tightly curled tail jumped out of the gate of the Mukachevo hut. She spun around at her feet, trying to lick her face.

Did you find out, Taiga?

In the hut, by the hot stove, the owner sat with his head down. Nastya was sobbing in the room. Voilokov sat down at the table and tapped his palm on the tablet.

Here, Ilya, is Nastya’s statement... Well, I drank... So why drive your wife away? What a bear you are! Has he gone completely wild in the taiga, or what? Ep-pony god! I found someone to fight with! Hero! She works hard at work, and also manages the house, wash the children, feed them... And you?! If you don't have anything to help her, you're waving your fists...

I don’t remember how it happened... Sorry, Georgy Georgievich! I'll quit drinking...

Not from me - from Nastya, pray for forgiveness.

I tried... And he doesn’t want to listen.

Voilokov approached the tearful Nastya and touched her shoulder.

Have you changed your mind about the application?

“I don’t want to put Ilya in prison,” Nastya whispered hotly. - Yes, if only he didn’t make a drunken fuss. Here, look,” Nastya showed the bruises and bruises on her elbows. - And a sober one is a golden man... You will scare him well!

Well, ep-pony god! Am I a scarecrow?!

No, what are you talking about! “That’s just me,” Nastya was embarrassed. - May you be stricter with him.

Okay, if you get bored in the taiga, you’ll get better... That’s it, Ilya. I won't wait for any more applications. I'll draw up a report... Think about the boy. About my daughter. Kolka's shoes need to be repaired. When do you ever get drunk? And how can Natasha do her homework if her father is rowdy? I remember you beat Kolka with a belt for getting two grades. And you, a grown-up kid, will you also be flogged? In general, in last time it suits you. Apologize to Nastya.

Thank you, Georgy Georgievich!

I almost forgot: by any chance, you didn’t meet Kasyanov in your winter hut? And master Belov with him? They were going to fish in Soboliny Spring.

So this is what bottles I found in the winter hut that week! I was at home that weekend when the fishermen disappeared. What Nastya wanted...

I see, I helped,” Voilokov muttered, pointing to the unwashed dishes and a pile of unwashed laundry.

I had a little too much... Then Nastya latched on, let's pester her for drinks. I couldn't resist...

The hunting season has begun... Why are you warming your sides by the stove?

So, after all, she scribbled out a statement... Well, I think it was Khan. What's the hunt now?

You talked about bottles in the winter hut...,” Voilokov recalled.

That's what I'm saying... I quarreled with Nastya and left for the taiga the next morning. On Monday, that is. And someone was in the hut. Empty bottles-- battery! I decided that the vagrants and city dwellers had come to visit... I wanted to hunt for squirrels. I couldn't. I was worried about everything because of Nastya. Returned home. Then I learned that Kasyanov and Belov had disappeared. It turns out they were there...

All over Tayura they were looking for missing people. The hunters searched the taiga and furrowed the river with seines and hooks. We examined the shallows and rifts. Pools clogged with grub and swampy floodplains were crawled out.

The first snow fell. The edge of the water near the shore was covered with thin ice.

The hunters returned to the village, confident that the current had carried the dead fishermen far down.

Tayura is big... Who knows what kind of reach they were looking for,” Ilya Mukachev told about his search. And pushing back his hat, he scratched the back of his head:

I can’t imagine why they came into my winter hut on a motorboat? It's easier to get there by car...

At the end of October, Tayura calmed down. Shallows covered with fragile ice floes were exposed. The drowned people were found. Little by little talk about the tragic fishing subsided. Stukalov was appointed the new director of the timber industry enterprise.

Official business brought Voilokov to the new director’s office. Stukalov furnished himself with computers, video and audio equipment, telephones, expensive office furniture. He did not expect Voilokov to arrive and fussed when he saw a police officer.

Sit down... I’m listening to you, Georgy Georgievich...

Freezing, Yuri Vitalievich. Just the right time to run into the taiga on the first snowball. Nowadays, they say, there are a lot of squirrels.

What a whitewash,” Stukalov nodded at the piles of papers on the table. - A lot of work. And you, excuse me, on what issue?

Voilokov took a sheet of paper out of the tablet and placed it in front of Stukalov.

The fire brigade's duty schedule has been updated. Check out...

Okay, leave it and I'll take a look.

Stukalov calmed down and leaned back in his chair.

You're offending me, Lieutenant. You're passing by. And we brought Panasonic plasma ones. Direct deliveries from Japan. I can offer. Inexpensive...

This is for someone... I have a Sharp. And you know - it shows perfectly! So, Yuri Vitalievich, don’t delay your schedule... Especially with the duty vehicle for the stronghold.

Stukalov pulled out a desk drawer to put papers in it. There was a round metal object lying there: a duralumin cap with a chain. Stukalov frightenedly grabbed it, looked around in confusion for where to put it, and threw it into the trash can.

There’s all sorts of rubbish lying around here... Left over from the previous owner,” he muttered, pushing the drawer closed with a knock.

The round white moon was already hanging over the pointed spruce trees when Voilokov got busy with household chores.

The pine rounds split easily, and the mountain of yellowish, resin-smelling logs grew quickly. He liked to chop wood. And a warm-up for the body. And rest for the soul. You can think about it. Why was Stukalov so alarmed? I realized that I saw a trinket with a chain and lost my face...

Voilokov swung, aiming for the block, but suddenly lowered the ax.

Holy shit god! This is not a trinket! This is a drain plug from the bottom of the boat! Was it from that same blue motorboat?

This thought excited Voilokov so much that he almost ran towards Mukachev’s house. The dog barked and squealed in recognition, but Nastya had already come out of the hallway.

Ilyusha went to the taiga. I didn't drink vodka. And he didn’t take it with him,” Nastya hastened to assure the policeman.

Did you do the evening cleaning in Stukalov’s office today?

Nastya raised her eyes in surprise.

Not yet... I'll go now.

Look carefully in the trash can. If you find a round piece of iron with a chain, tell me right away. And to no one!

Nastya came running half an hour later.

I shook out the whole basket, but there was no piece of iron. Some newspapers are torn.

I thought so. Thank you, Nastya! But no one about this! Do you hear?!

Nastya left, preoccupied with an incomprehensible request, and Voilokov again began to work on firewood. Looking from the outside, there is no simpler task: he swung, hit and... got the ax stuck in the wood up to the butt! You'll be forced to pull it out. Without skill you will suffer. And Voilokov will put up a block, twist it back and forth, looking for a weak point. In this matter, you also need to think about it. Don't hit anywhere. Where to hit the crack. Where along the knot. Some fibrous logs appear as if twisted. Here you need to chop off the edges, and only then hit the center.

That’s how it is with a person. Each one requires a special approach. Everyone has their own weakness. You have to hit it... How can you find out from Stukalov why he hides the cork from the boat in his office? And most importantly, how did he end up with it? Maybe he didn’t screw it in, but plugged the hole with a piece of wood? Should I go and ask him? And he, of course, immediately told everything frankly! No, Stukalov is not one of those people who show a red service ID, but he burst into tears and laid it all out... Khiter Stukalov! One of those stubborn silent people who will never admit anything until you press them with facts. What is the evidence against him? Kasyanov and Belov begged Stukalov for a boat. He allegedly dissuaded them from fishing. Where is it?! We insisted! What else? Fingerprints on bottles in the winter hut? Yes, but Kasyanov and Belov took alcohol from him, and then they touched the bottles. Edik in a leather jacket? Has no idea about him. An acquaintance of Kasyanov, that’s all. Fraud with the forest? Dollars in a suitcase? He’ll blame everything on Kasyanov, but now go and ask him! Stukalov is a tough nut to crack. To split it, you need to find a crack. Hit it with all your might and don’t miss! Eh, ep-pony god! I wish I could find a boat!

Less than a week had passed when hunter Ilya Mukachetstsyv drove up to Voilokov’s house in a mud-stained Minsk. He hurriedly leaned his motorcycle against the fence and ran onto the porch. Voilokov led the guest into the room and put tea, honey, and bread on the table.

Drink, Ilya! Are you frozen in your jalopy?

Warming his wide palms with a hot mug, the hunter said:

I set a trap at the mouth of Soboliny Spring. I look - something is turning blue. I came closer, and this...

She's the one. Stukalovskaya...

Have you examined her?

We know the matter. And do you know what I found?

A hole where the drain plug should be?

“Yes,” Mukachev was taken aback. - It turns out that I was wasting my time over potholes in vain?

Not in vain, Ilya. You will see this for yourself. We'll go there soon in your tyrtykalka. It’s not possible on my Ural - the trail is noticeable. And now here’s your mobile phone - call Stukalov. Please yourself with your find. And indicate the exact place. And add that you reported to the police, and tomorrow Voilokov will go to inspect the boat. It's clear? Tomorrow!

Mukachev called and heard in response loud voice Stukalova:

Tomorrow?! I see... Thank you for the good news. You understand, Ilya, you can’t do without a boat in our area...

Voilokov rushed to the hanger.

Start up your mallet, Ilya, and we’ll quickly go to Soboliny Klyuch! Come on, push it to the fullest!

Risking falling, they shook along the frozen rut of a broken logging road. Voilokov, clinging to the bracket, thought only about how not to fall and break his neck.

Violet twilight thickened in the valleys. Whitish wisps of fog caught in the clumps of fir trees. Already in the dark Voilokov and Mukachev reached Sobolinoy Klyuch. Behind, on the pass, flashed bright beam car headlight.

Mukachev covered the motorcycle with branches and moved towards the mouth of the spring. Voilokov could barely keep up with him. The quiet murmur of water was heard. The black silhouette of the boat appeared in the inky haze of the night.

Hide behind the turnout and freeze until I call you,” Voilokov said quietly. He leaned against a pine tree and became invisible.

Everything was quiet. A chilly October night hung over the taiga, over Tayura rustling nearby. The stars twinkled, foreshadowing bad weather. Dry trees creaked. The stream splashed endlessly and monotonously under the ice, making its way among the stones to the river.

Suddenly a light flashed in the clearing. Soon the crunch of dry wood began to be heard. Someone's cautious steps rustled on the fallen branches of the spruce forest. The pieces of ice began to jingle. Shining a flashlight, the traveler came out onto the bed of the spring, whitening in the darkness with piles of pellets. The ice is breaking very close under the feet of the night alien. So he approached the boat and shined a light inside. He rummaged in his pocket, took something out of it, and leaned over the boat. There was a clanking sound on the duralumin body. Something was wrong with this man. He cursed, sighed noisily and was nervous.

Suddenly a shaft of light illuminated the figure of a man bending over the boat. It was Voilokov who turned on the flashlight.

Has the thread rusted, Yuri Vitalievich?

Stukalov screamed and started to run, but Voilokov grabbed him by the fur lapel of his jacket. The tall and strong Stukalov easily wriggled free and snatched a gas pistol from his bosom. He didn’t have time to shoot: Voilokov deftly knocked out the pistol, but he himself immediately stretched out on the rocky scattering and hit his back painfully.

Like a bear from a den, the hunter rushed out from behind the hole and grabbed Stukalov with his huge arms.

Voilokov stood up, raised the pistol and, rubbing the bruised area, calmly said:

Let's go, Ilya, with Yuri Vitalievich to the winter hut. We'll talk there.

In the hunting hut, Stukalov suddenly became limp. He clasped his head in his hands and groaned, sobbing.

I knew that this would end... I knew... And that’s all Kasyanov... If only it weren’t him...

Who came to demand dollars on the day they set off on a motorboat to this very winter hut?

Morozov... Eduard... In the city he worked at the station... Racketeer... Bandyugan...

Did you get wind of your forest scam? Extorted money?

He threatened to hand him over to the police, the bastard...,” Stukalov said angrily.

Did you decide to remove it?

Kasyanov decided... I didn’t kill anyone. I just brought Morozov to the winter quarters. Kasyanov and Belov were waiting for us here. The weather was cold. With rain and wind. We drank all night. Belov boasted about the huge taimen he caught at the mouth of the Sobolinoy Spring. We persuaded Edik to go fishing. In the morning Belov put Kasyanov’s red rubber suit on Edik. I thrust a spinning rod into his hands... Give me some water, Ilya, something is dry in his throat...

The hunter scooped it out of the bucket with a ladle. Stukalov’s hands were shaking. Water splashed onto the moose-hide floor. Tapping his teeth on the edges of the ladle, Stukalov drank greedily, avidly. He took out a cigarette and kneaded it for a long time.

Voilokov waited silently for the newly minted director to light a cigarette. Here, in the winter hut, on plank bunks covered with straw, he no longer had the arrogant airs and arrogant arrogance of a successful businessman. He crushed one cigarette, then another. Finally, he lit a cigarette and puffed out smoke.

Please keep in mind: I tell everything myself... Without concealment. Sincere confession... I wanted to come to the police...

Speak up, Yuri Vitalievich, we are listening to you.

Belov unscrewed the plug... Started the engine. Edik got into the boat. And he was that... They pumped him up heavily with “Rasputin”. The boat rushed... At the mouth of the spring. It was dark. He screamed... Called for help...

Mukachev, lighting the stove, whistled:

It turns out that Kasyanov did not drown?!

“I took him to the station that night,” Stukalov answered, looking detachedly at the flickering flame of the kerosene stove. - I don’t know where he is now... He was planning to leave for Cyprus. Or maybe to Canada...

Voilokov turned up the wick. The fire burned brighter, illuminating the rough table, the iron stove, and the shelf with dishes.

He placed paper and pen in front of Stukalov.

Write, Yuri Vitalievich. The court will take into account a sincere confession.

Stukalov wrote for a long time. I crossed out what I had written, corrected it, and rewrote it. He threw the pen away and grabbed it again. Voilokov did not rush him. Ignoring Stukalov, he silently and casually peeled potatoes, helping Ilya prepare dinner.

It got hot in the winter. A frying pan began to rustle on the stove, and a smoked kettle whistled. It smelled of currant leaves thrown into boiling water, pickled mushrooms, hot bread steaming in the oven. Ilya chopped the lard, sprinkled with red pepper, moved the frying pan with the browned potatoes coming out to the edge of the stove. ghee and seasoned with fried onions. And put on the table covered with oilcloth the main dish - a pan of hazel grouse soup.

Shulyum is ready,” said Mukachev. - Please have dinner.

Without raising his head, Stukalov handed Voilokov a sheet of paper covered in writing and rustled his cigarette pack. Voilokov ran his eyes over it and returned it to Stukalov.

You forgot to write about the abrasion on Belov’s head. About a backpack with dollars.

Kasyanov hit Belov with an oar. He pushed me into the river. “Why,” he says, “do we need extra witnesses?” On the way to the station, we remembered that Belov still had the cork from the boat in his pocket...

And you took her then, under the cliff? From the pocket of a drowned man?

Stukalov nodded.

And money?

They were first divided into four...

Then for two?

Stukalov remained silent, kneading his cigarette.

Well, ep-pony god! However, Smirnov will have to sweat over the writings about this matter! But that's his problem. And we will have dinner. Take a seat at the table, Yuri Vitalievich! And you, Ilya, add some firewood to the stove. The night on Tayur is cold.

January morning. The hills turn black under the purple sky.

In a hollow, along a snow-covered river, there is a long street of cobblestone leafy houses. The village of Zavyalovo... Opposite the timber industry office there is a well with ice. Paths trampled in the snow ran away from him in different directions. Behind the outskirts there are stacks of logs and boards, dark silhouettes of cranes, timber trucks, and skidders. Lights flashed in the windows of some huts. The engines hummed in the garage. Buckets clanked at the well. The village woke up...

In one of the courtyards a dog began to bark loudly. The door in the hallway creaked. A woman came out onto the porch wearing a down shawl thrown over her shoulders.

Tsits, Naida! Shut up, whoever you told!

I peered into the frosty blue. Bah! Mishka Khlebnikov arrived. In a thick badger hat, in a cloth hunting jacket. He probably got dressed in a hurry. He stands, taps his boots on the gate, pats his mittens. The frost is severe in Transbaikalia! Mishka’s mustache and eyebrows turned white and covered with frost.

Did you arrive so early?

Aunt Liz... I can’t stand it... Borrow for a bottle...

Any more FAQ?! Nadys took it but didn’t give it back...

I’ll return it, Aunt Liz... Here’s that cross, I’ll return it! Don't let me die. Everything inside is burning with a blue flame.

On my knees I ask, Aunt Liz... I don’t have the strength to suffer... Well, at least give me rubella. Because I’m dying, Aunt Liz. I'm burning alive...

There is no conscience in you, Mishka, no shame. I drank everything...

If I get married, I’ll stop drinking... I just want to put out the fire...

Who will go for you, the drunkard?

It’s me who’s singing too much... If I’m hungover, I’ll unwrap the harmony - not a single Zavyalovo girl can resist!

And that's true. The bear is tall, broad-shouldered, strong. The mustache is black, the hair is lush. Looks like the artist Boyarsky! Joker and joker! Girls like such cheerful guys.

FAQ, did you talk like that?

Vaska Zaikov bought a furniture wall... They washed it... After pouring some moonshine, he added... Apparently he was poisoned by this nasty thing... Aunt Liz, I’ll catch you some sables... For Lariska’s hat...

When else will there be?

I'll bring some felt boots... The size is suitable for your Borka...

Stolen, guess where?

Yesterday the animal farm issued...

Drag it. I'll take a look.

I'll be right there, Aunt Liz!

He ran away and soon returned with a pair of gray, well-rolled felt boots.

Elizaveta Pronkina, the forester's wife, crushed them in her plump hands and pressed her finger on the sole.

A bit thin... Will trample quickly...

Yes, they will not be demolished, Aunt Liz, if they are hemmed. New felt boots!

Okay, here we go! Douse your fire,” she pulled out a crumpled bill from her robe. - Don’t forget to return the debt!

Last words Mishka hardly heard Elizabeth. Clutching the money in his fist, he rushed out into the street towards a passing truck.

Stop, Kolyan! Are you in the regional center?!

The Kamaz squealed on its brakes. The driver leaned over and opened the door.

Kolyan, I'm dying! Go all out! If you bring him alive, I don’t know. “The head is cracking,” Mishka screamed, clutching his head. “Yesterday I had a little too much at Vaska Zaikov’s... I got sick of Povalikhin’s vodka...

The driver nodded understandingly.

The bear climbed into the cabin, and the Kamaz, releasing white clouds of exhaust gases, rushed towards the bridge to the pass, turning pink on the horizon with a pale dawn.

Elizabeth returned to the house, pleased with the felt boots she had purchased for nothing. I put on a short fur coat and tried on felt boots: they fit just right! I grabbed buckets and a rocker and headed to the well. Find out the news, tell your own. For her habit of poking her nose into other people's affairs, the Zavyalovites nicknamed her Nosikha.

Elizabeth filled the buckets and waited for someone else to approach the well. Galina Moskaleva turned onto the path to the well. The manager's wife, the accountant at the sawmill.

Elizabeth picked up the buckets, swaying and splashing water, and walked towards them.

What news, neighbor! Bear Bread has been poisoned!

To death?!

Who knows? Kolka Panov just took him to the regional center, barely alive... He bought moonshine from Grandma Povalikha and burned the insides of him...

Wow! Just before the wedding! - Galina dropped the empty buckets.

He was talking to me about marriage... I thought he was lying... Who is his bride?!

There was only one... Verka Ryabova, an accountant.

Abnormal! To suffer all your life with a drunk...

Is Verka herself better? I hung out with all the Zavyalovo guys...

Still, Mishka is no match for her. She is educated. It works on this what's-his-name computer. He plays the piano...

I finished the game, it turns out, with Mishka. He's on the accordion. She's on the piano. Nice duet!

Don't tell me! She, according to her education, does not need such a man. Cultural. For example, like your Yurka. And who is Mishka? Hunter?! Taiga scourge?! Of course, it’s still better to marry someone like that than to covet other people’s men...

Last summer, the Pronkins' goat climbed into the Moskalevs' garden. Nibbled the cabbage. Trampled the beds. Publicly, in the store, in line for sausage, Galina scolded her careless neighbor:

Instead of sharpening the lasses and discussing people, I would fix the pen and tie the goat, gossip!

Elizabeth harbored a grudge; she knew how lascivious Verka shot her eyes at the handsome mechanic. How she twirled in front of him in a short skirt. The tan would have dried on her, but Galina pulled her rival by the hair in time and scratched her face. Know ours! But the words about other people’s men stung painfully. Silently swallowed the pill.

Elizabeth left with her lips stretched into a malicious grin.

Marya Loseva drove the cow to the well. She rattled the chain, lowering the bucket. She picked it up and brought it to the cow. Flaring her nostrils, the cow snorts and reluctantly drinks, as if straining, cold water.

Hello, Galya!

Hello, Maria!

Have you seen the nose? Word of mouth, not a woman. Wireless telegraph! You won’t listen to her again... Was she chattering for some reason?

She said: Verkin’s boyfriend was poisoned... Kolka Panov got him to the hospital before dawn.

Mitka is an accordion player, or what? And what did you poison yourself with? A windshield wiper, perhaps?

Povalikhinsky moonshine!

Old witch! How long will the men get drunk?! There is no authority over her!

The Zavyalovites among themselves called Stepanida Povalyaeva Grandma Povalikha. Day and night smoke smokes over the smoky bathhouse in her garden, spreading a fusel smell. Stepanida mixes all sorts of dope into the moonshine. Henbane, tobacco, hops... To knock you off your feet faster. That's why she got the nickname.

Maria Loseva’s husband, bulldozer driver Ivan, often visited Stepanida, returning from her “on the horns.” And Maria hastened to spread the sad news throughout the village.

At noon, people crowded around the office of the animal farm, where Mishka Khlebnikov was listed as a full-time hunter. They were talking quietly...

And where is he now?

At the morgue. Where else should he be? An examination is being carried out. If they find poison, they will judge Povalikha...

It's high time... I bought a bottle from her just now. She assured me that she was first-rate. And I tried it - the water is godless! And it stinks of tobacco!

They felt sorry for the bear and sighed.

He was harmless. Funny. He played the harmonica great! Whenever he gives a “gypsy girl”, his legs start dancing on their own! And where does fatigue go?

Vaska Zaitsev, Mishka Khlebnikov’s taiga partner, is more worried than others. Crying:

We had a normal time yesterday... Who would have thought? Eh, Mishka, Mishka... I told him - that's enough, go home. He didn’t listen... He drifted towards Povalikha. What kind of man was he?! Last year I twisted my ankle while hunting, so he carried me until the winter hut...

Mishka Khlebnikov is lonely. His house is small. Cat dog. No relatives. There is no one to bury. The management of Zveropromkhozovsk allocated pennies for the funeral. Not enough... Vaska walked through the yards with a cardboard box.

Donate as much as you can for Mishka's memorial.

The villagers put small money into the slot of the box and were surprised:

He was a big guy! You can't break the shafts! But he couldn’t resist the “tumbler.” And he drank cologne, and furniture varnish, and still nothing.

Now you don’t know what to drink... “Royal” is not allowed, “Amaretto” is not allowed... They sell vodka - denatured alcohol, diluted with water! Moonshine even became poison!

In the carpentry shop of the fur farm, Grandfather Prokop is cutting boards. The old man grumbles:

In such cases it is necessary to take measurements...

They explain to him:

Are you going to go to the city, Grandfather Prokop? Do you see what the weather is like?! The snowstorm has risen, there is no white light to be seen. The road has been swept...

Yes, the damned blizzard, the infection does not subside,” the grandfather agrees. “But they always take the measurements from the dead.” The custom is...

Symi, grandfather took measurements from Vaska Zaikov. He and Mishka are the same height...

The day before, the director of the animal farm, Sysoev, had difficulty getting through to the district hospital. The voice of the doctor on duty seemed to come from underground:

What? I can't hear well... In the morgue? Khlebnikov? I don’t understand anything... Alcohol poisoning? There is one... without documents... Dark-skinned... Yes, with a mustache. Hello! Hello!

The receiver crackled and made noise. The connection was lost.

Yes, it’s him... all the signs match,” said the director. - I've finished drinking!

I should ask Kolka Panov about Mishka, but he still hasn’t returned. There were high snowdrifts. Do not drive by car. Until the bulldozer clears the road, Kolka can’t even think about getting out of the regional center.

A week later the storm died down. A bitter frost has struck.

At the animal farm, a tractor with a sleigh was equipped for Mishka’s body. They placed a coffin on them that smelled of pine resin. Covered it with straw. At the same time, break through the road. Don't drive the equipment twice. And now Mishka doesn’t care whether he’s banging on a bus or dragging himself on a sleigh.

Go. In the tractor cabin, Ivan Losev and hunter Vaska Zaikov. They sit and smoke. They glance sideways at the back window. The breeze moves the straw on the coffin lid. And of their own accord they reach for the bottle. The authorities gave out four half-liters. To go into the morgue and put Mishka in a coffin... Not everyone will decide to do something like that...

We almost reached the regional center. Now the town is visible in the distance. They look - someone is looming ahead. We took a closer look: a man in a gray jacket and a shaggy hat. He walks with a flourish, waving his arms.

No way, Mishka Khlebnikov is scratching his way home,” Vaska said hoarsely, wiping sweat from his forehead.

His hat... G-gait s-too,” Ivan mumbled, stuttering, running his hand through his sweaty hair. Both, without saying a word, reached for the iron box under their feet. Ivan had a hammer in his hand, Vaska had a spanner. They sit whiter than chalk.

And Mishka came up, saw his villagers, as if nothing had happened, and shouted:

Hello, eagles! Where are the devil taking you along this road? And even in such wild frost?

So we...togo. Behind you...

Did the director send it? Sysoev?

Ivan and Vaska looked at each other, still clutching the pieces of iron in their hands, and not knowing what to say.

Sysoev, who else,” Vaska said, swallowing.

This, I understand, is a concern for personnel,” Mishka laughed. - Well, then turn the shafts!

Where have you been?

They built kiosks in the regional center... And they contained all sorts of swill - the sea is too big! I took the bubble. As soon as I popped the plug, my friend taxied. We squirreled together for one year. And he sold the furs, he had money. How they buzzed! I don't remember what happened next. I came to my senses in the sobering-up station. Here the weather has not gone well. It's pouring... The bus doesn't run. I had to do it on foot. But I need a winter hut. Rearrange the traps. It's all gone, I guess...

The tractor turned around, Mishka saw a coffin on the sleigh.

Who died, or what?

So everyone in the village is talking about your death. It’s as if you were poisoned by Povalikha moonshine...

It happened. I almost went crazy. The old hag mixed in some rubbish. Well, I’ll come, I’ll arrange a fun life for her! And who is the coffin really for?

That's what they said - for you! We're taking you to pick you up from the morgue...

Mishka stared intently at the coffin.

What a joke! No, I'm serious, guys...

We would trudge thirty miles through the taiga just for fun. And even with a coffin!

Well, that's it... Sorry guys, I have nothing to do with it, I didn't mean to...

Yes, okay, it doesn’t happen to anyone... What should we do with him now? - Vaska nodded at the coffin. - Chop it up and throw it away? Or will it suit someone...

Take it back,” Mishka said with a chuckle. “I’ll take it for myself.” The mice tore down my flour sacks. I'll put it in the pantry - instead of a chest it will be.

“Yes, yes,” Vaska shook his head.

Mishka patted the coffin lid and laughed:

Tightly made. Reliable. Not otherwise, grandfather Prokop made it?

His job. I tried my best for you... Why are you shaking all over like you have a fever? Cold?

I'm chilling from a hangover... The dry stuff is pressing... Is there something missing?

Vaska pulled out the finished bottle from under the seat and handed it to Mishka.

Hold it, dead man! Let's celebrate your Sunday from the dead. And we are for yours! You will live a hundred years, Bread!

I liked the joke. They laughed together, feeling relieved. Ivan and Vaska poured themselves a full glass and drank. The bear greedily emptied the rest into his mouth. He threw the bottle into the bushes and stamped his foot.

Oh, I wish I had an accordion now!

Get into the cabin, dancer...

Mishka's face was flushed. He opened his jacket.

Nope. I was already completely sweaty as I walked through knee-deep snow. Yes, it's time to fry in the cabin again. I’ll lie down in my box and rest for a while.

Mishka threw a bunch of straw under his head into the coffin and fell into it.

It gives! - Vaska neighed, looking at how Mishka comfortably folded his arms on his chest.

It will be funny when we bring him to Zavyalovo!

Pour it up! - said Ivan.

What am I doing?! - Vaska answered laughing, opening a new bottle. He turned around out the window and muttered:

No, look at this joker! Found a place to relax! Well, it does!

Mishka, worn out by walking and vodka, soon began snoring. The sleigh jerked, shook the straw on the coffin, and rushed over ruts and potholes.

Already at dusk, the tractor stopped at the house of hunter Khlebnikov. The pointy-eared husky quickly jumped onto the sleigh and sniffed Mishka’s clothes with the smell of the taiga so familiar to her. She whined quietly.

In the cockpit, having slid out of his seat, Vaska Zaikov whistled drunkenly through his nose. Ivan Losev jumped heavily from the tractor track and fell to the side of the road. Mumbling something, he stood up and walked, staggering, to the sleigh.

Get up, Bread, we've arrived... Hey, Bread?

The bear didn't move. His face, sprinkled with snow pellets, turned blue from the frost, and small prickly snowflakes, falling on him, no longer melted.

Explanation

Tell Boris Kugokolo that he is a poacher, he will be offended.

Well, what kind of poacher am I? I don’t shoot squirrels, hazel grouse, ducks and other small animals. I do not hunt sable, kolonka or other furs. Well, I’ll kill one elk in the winter and for the whole year... Well, should I die of hunger, or what? They haven’t paid their salaries for six months now... The families have fled to the cities, but where should I go? I am from here, and the taiga is my nurse... So, am I a poacher?

In the evening, the foreman of the sawmill Krutikov came to him. Asks:

Why didn't you go to work today?

Boris was lighting the stove. He placed the shavings under the logs and set them on fire. The fire quickly engulfed the resinous wood, and he closed the firebox and looked unfriendly at the newcomer.

What do you care?

Like what? The timber trucks arrived, but the sawmill was standing, there was no wood... So, explain why you didn’t come to the workshop?

I got up in the morning and saw the crows flying. They croak and hurry behind the hill...

Krutikov knew the sawmill operator’s habit of answering any question from afar, with approach and meticulous detail. That’s why at the timber industry enterprise they called Boris “Kugokolo - around the bush.”

I told him about the sawmill, and he told me about some crows... What's what? What do they have to do with your absenteeism?

Very direct... Why did the crows fly? Peck the meat! Surely the hunters got the elk, cut up the carcass, and covered it in the snow... Right?

Let's say...

Well, then you say what they have to do with the sawmill...

Listen, Kugokolo, it’s all around... Don’t fool my brains. Either go to work now, or I’ll write a report to the director.

You are a master at writing slander... Tell the director that I hammered a bolt on the sawmill, and on you, Krutikov. Work is free, there are no fools. Understood?

The master blinked his eyes. I didn’t expect such an answer from the sawmill, always cheerful and reckless.

You and your boss are ok, your salary is on time. And for six months now, the accounting department has been giving me nothing but pay slips. What, would you like to eat them instead of bread?

I would say so. And then I started about the crows...

So, where there are hunters, there are crows. So I thought: “Why are they better than me? I’ll take a gun, get an elk and keep my feet on the ceiling all winter... And on the table there’s barbecue, cutlets, dumplings,” Boris drawled dreamily.

So, so, around the bush, are you going to poach?!

Oh, you also call me names?! Well, get out of here!

Krutikov hesitated in the doorway, and Boris gave him a knee in the ass. The master flew out of the entryway, tumbled over the steps on the porch and buried himself in a snowdrift...

“Okay,” he hissed. - You will get another term from me.

Get out while you're safe, the director's informer! - Boris kicked the hat Krutikov had dropped from the porch and closed the door tightly.

It’s not for nothing that Krutikov mentioned the deadline. It was due to my youth. I got into a fight with a visiting guy in a village club over a girl. They gave me two years for hooliganism. He served in his specialty... At a logging site. There, in the zone, I learned a lot. Making hunting knives, carved boxes, cutting boards - a feast for the eyes, you can’t take your eyes off them! He can also weave baskets, vases, and baskets from birch bark. Throughout the district, huntsmen and game wardens - he best friends. He gives them his crafts.

Game manager Maksimov once showed up home drunk after another drinking binge, which the reports called an “anti-poaching raid.” His wife Ekaterina hit him on the back with a carbine - the butt shattered into splinters! Woe to Maksimov, yes! It's a service carbine! And the hunting season began. Came to Boris Kugokolo:

Will you do it?

He twirled the pieces of wood in his hands and grinned:

What is there to regret? About this firewood? You will have a gorgeous butt!

And did. Carved patterns decorated with a type-setting buttplate. Not a butt - a sight for sore eyes of art. Don't hunt with this one - just admire it at home. Maksimov walked like a gogol among the hunters. Only a select few are allowed to hold the carbine and stroke the butt. Kugokolo laughs:

Now let Katka hit you with the butt as much as he wants - he won’t break. Made from twisted birch.

The news of the district game warden's luxurious butt reached the chief game warden of the department. I came to Maksimov and asked:

Introduce this craftsman.

Let's go to Boris. That house is not there. I went to the taiga to make some noise. The chief game warden was upset and left with nothing...

Boris drove Krutikov out of the yard and fell asleep himself. It’s late, but it’s early to get up: run to the birch forest that stretches along the stream behind the hill. I went there to buy chaga - I saw holes dug in the snow by moose. There, nearby, a gun and cartridges are hidden in a hollow dead tree.

The light rose a little. He put a crust of bread in his pocket. He tucked the ax into his belt and threw his backpack behind his back.

Suddenly steps on the porch. There was a knock on the door.

Opened it. These are the times! District inspector Shabulin has arrived! There are two more policemen with him. He looked out the window: a police UAZ at the fence...

Citizen Kugokolo?

He is. What's the matter?

The signal has arrived... Do you have a gun? Please hand it in.

Where should we go?

Drowned.

In this case, we will conduct an inspection. Invite witnesses.

Witnesses - neighbors Pyotr and Valentina Obukhov are embarrassed. It’s awkward for them to sit with Boris during a search.

Shabulin searched long and carefully. In the garden, in the bathhouse, in the barn, in the underground, I examined everything, turned it over, shook it up. Nothing...

Okay, citizen Kugokolo, come with us and write an explanation of how the gun was drowned.

They brought Boris to the district department.

Here's paper and pen. Write an explanation, in detail, of how, where, under what circumstances the gun was drowned... Addressed to the chief of police, Potekhin.

Not enough paper...

Shabulin was surprised and gave him a few more sheets.

Boris pulled up a chair, wrinkled his brow and began to write in a sweeping manner.

“On September 15, at 8:17 a.m., I left the house. I was wearing a black Alaska jacket with a red hood. I had Chinese sneakers on my feet. Camouflage trousers, a gray sweater with the word “red” in English. I bought things at the market. I had a gun in my hands: a single-barreled sixteen-caliber gun. I found this gun in the taiga and decided to take it to the police. When I left the house, it was raining heavily. I returned home to take a raincoat. In the closet there was no raincoat. I remembered that I had given the raincoat to engine mechanic Skosyrev. I went to his house, but didn’t find him at home. He went to the regional center for groceries. His wife Elena Pavlovna Skosyreva can confirm that I came to them at that time. Then I returned home again and decided to wait until the rain stopped. But the rain that day never stopped. At 9:26 a.m., the driver of the timber industry enterprise, Ivan Timofeevich Elsukov, came to me. He brought with him a bottle of vodka. We drank. The vodka was called "Stolichnaya "But its quality is poor. Why do they bring such low-quality products to our store and no one cares about it? When we drank, Elsukov offered to cut firewood for the pensioner Baba Dusa. At first I agreed, but then I remembered that my “Friendship” saw did not have sharpened chains. And it kept raining..."

Have you written? - asked Shabulin.

Not yet...

About another hour passed. Boris managed to write about how, together with Elsukov, they went to the saleswoman Malakhova and bought another half-liter. Then Elsukov ran somewhere and brought a bottle of moonshine...

Boris put down his pen to take a break. Gather your thoughts...

Shabulin asked impatiently:

Ready?

I only spent half a day explaining how I carried the gun to the police...

The district police officer looked suspiciously at the pile of sheets citizen Kugokolo had written on.

May I take a look?

What are you allowing yourself? Are you writing a novel about drinking?

So you asked for details...

Police Chief Potekhin looked into the office. He saw Kugokolo and, to Shabulin’s considerable surprise, shook his hand. I asked:

What question do you have for us?

Yes, I’m writing an explanation of how I drowned my gun.

Potekhin quickly ran through the finely written sheets and burst out laughing:

Wow! Let's go to my office and we'll figure it out...

Already in the corridor, Potekhin took the sawmill aside, pleadingly and even a little ingratiatingly, and said:

Boris, when I saw the stock on Maximov’s carbine, my eyes almost fell out of envy. Could you make me one too?

This one is not.

Why? - Potekhin was taken aback.

I don't do the same thing twice. I'll make you another one, but better.

Well, thanks, buddy! Duty! Take Boris Vasilyevich home in my company car!

The next day, Boris went early to the treasured birch forest. He walked slowly and carefully, listening to see if a dry branch would crack somewhere.

He saw an elk unexpectedly, going out to the edge of the forest. About thirty meters in front of him stood a mighty handsome man, crowned with a huge crown of heavy horns. Boris calmly aimed the front sight under the animal's left shoulder blade and pressed the trigger. Sokhaty shot up, raising a cloud of snow dust, and fell into a snowdrift.

Boris lit a fire, sat down near the carcass, and began to remove the skin. A helicopter appeared from behind the distant hills. The chatter is getting closer. You can see it: he comes in for landing, chooses a place. Boris knows: hunting supervision has arrived. The helicopter swirled the snow in the clearing with its rotors, frost fell from the fluffy Christmas trees. People armed with carbines got out of the helicopter and headed towards the dead elk. Kugokolo recognized game manager Maksimov. Behind him, a heavyset man in a sable hat and suede sheepskin coat moved with difficulty in the snow.

Congratulations, Boris Vasilyevich! - Maximov said cordially, offering his hand. “You know, yesterday Potekhin gave me your explanation to read about how you drowned the gun on the way to the police station.” I almost died laughing. A classic, not an explanation! Hilarious! Yes, how are you going to export it? Maybe you need help?

I can handle it myself. I’ll take a horse from the neighbors Obukhovs...

Be there. In the evening we’ll drop by to see you... Let’s fly further, Viktor Ivanovich. Everything is fine here.

The helicopter rose over the taiga. The chief game warden once again looked through binoculars at the figure of a man near the elk carcass stretched out in the snow. He noticed with displeasure:

You didn’t even ask him for documents for shooting elk. What kind of bump is this from the hillock? What kind of general is it?

Sorry, Viktor Ivanovich, I completely forgot: this is the same bump that gave me the butt...

How?! - The chief game warden jumped up from his seat. - Why didn’t you tell me there? Didn't introduce me? After all, he promised! Forgot?! Eh, Maksimov, Maksimov...

Don't worry, Viktor Ivanovich! In the evening we will visit Boris for fresh food. Let's taste the fried liver, load up on the meat. At the same time, negotiate for the butt.

Baron Vova

Ooh, evil spirit! I’ll drag you by the boots - you’ll know how to wander around the village all day long... What did I tell you to do, you damned one? Fence the garden bed? And you? Another hangover in your head? That's how I'll move it now!

A fat red-haired woman, long-lipped and freckled, swung a rake and probably would have dropped it on the back of her husband, a shabby, long-haired little man, but he quickly ran away to the fence.

May you be mad... Well, I didn’t have time...

What did you do that was so important? Wandering around the yards? Did you beg for moonshine?

So, Nadya, how can you understand our brother? How is everything burning inside?

Where am I supposed to go? Oh, you lost soul... I’ll hit you on the head with a handle and the illness will go away!

The redhead continued to hold the rake at the ready, like a rifle, approaching the frightened man closer and closer. He guiltily pulled his head into his thin shoulders, hidden by tufts of hair that had not been cut for a long time.

Nadyusha, if I don’t get a hangover, it’s all over!

Your drunken face! Where did you come on my head? Damn drunk. There is no shame in you, no conscience... Baron von Shlykerman! You have to come up with such a lie! Ugh! And how do you look people in the eye, you bastard?

The annoyed woman threw a rake at her husband, but he, accustomed to this kind of conversation, deftly dodged it.

Take a rake, lousy baron! You won’t be able to protect it by the evening - did you see it?!

The “Baroness” shook her freckled fist, as tight and weighty as a head of cabbage, in front of her husband’s nose. The unfortunate husband picked up the ill-fated rake and looked after his wife with a downcast gaze...

Oh, women, women! You and your chicken brains cannot delve into the psychology of a man! You have one concept about drinking, we have another. So there is a discrepancy in judgments on such a vital issue... Drinking - what is it? Stimulus! No, ask in a nice way, kindly, without shouting... Place a bottle at the end of the bed. So that he finishes his harrowing and drinks. I would really try! Like a tractor.

Vova Shlykerman! Hello! Why are you going broke alone?

This is the neighbor, the blacksmith Ryabov, walking past from work. So, having nothing else to do, he shook the fence, almost collapsing the flimsy structure made of rotten posts and poles.

How can you not go broke, Vanya? Look, the red-haired beast has spoiled me. And my insides are blazing with a blue flame... There’s nothing to cool me down with...

The fence needs to be repaired... My pigs will dig up the beds, your baroness will come to swear again.

Is it time for a city when the soul is about to fly away from me?

Let's go, I'll spout some mumbo jumbo. You'll get hungover...

Forty-year-old commercial hunter Vladimir Shlykov, nicknamed Baron von Shlykerman, rubbed his chest with his palm. I felt the heat and looked around the long, wide ridge with longing eyes. The economic wife intended to sow carrots on it in winter. The villagers laughingly called her, stingy and mischievous, Baroness. She was terribly angry. And the husband, on the contrary, was even proud of his extraordinary nickname. After all, not just any Morel, like the groom Marchuk, or Zyuzya - the driver Zyuzyakin... Baron von Shlykerman! It sounds! True, Shlykov was called the full title less often. More often simply: Baron Vova.

Vova raked along the loose soil.

That's a lot of layers! What's wrong with her?! The shovel is sharp, I sharpened it myself. Dig and dig... And now I have to stir up and break the dried clods...

Come on, stop this thankless task! - Ivan Ryabov laughed. - Do you hear, von Baron? Let's go while I suggest...

What am I? Am I against it?

Vova looked warily at the corner of the hut, behind which the corpulent figure of his wife had disappeared, and casually threw the rake onto the roof of the barn.

In the store, Ivan took “rubbella” - a bottle of cheap port. Vova, of course, had no money. Holding out the glass, he mumbled:

I'll pay off my salary...

There will be no pay, of course. He said that in order to somehow justify the free drink. Vova was ashamed to drink on strangers. The "barony" apparently made itself known.

No, really... I'll sell the furs and pay...

When else will it be? It's just the beginning of September. And you still need to catch the sables... Catching them is not a problem. Vova is an experienced hunter, he has been in the taiga since childhood. Are there any of them in the taiga today, sables? It hasn't been a good year for nuts, and there aren't enough squirrels. This means that hunting for sable will be unimportant. Ryabov knows about all this no worse than Vova: he lives in a taiga village, among hunters. He himself likes to climb through the taiga with a gun in winter...

The blacksmith silently picked off the cork with his teeth and splashed it for Vova.

That's enough, Baron. He said: “I’ll pay you off”... Are you drinking with mine for the first time? I invited myself...

Vova drank slowly, stretching his throat and savoring the wine. A pleasant warmth spread throughout my body. The weight of quarreling with my wife has eased. My soul felt light and spacious. Eh, just a little bit more! At least at the bottom! But the blacksmith inexorably put the bottle in his pocket.

Basta, Vova. I'll take the rest home. I’ll heat the bathhouse and drink it off, and after the bathhouse Suvorov himself ordered. Sell ​​your trousers, he said, and have a drink after the bath!

Ryabov left. Vova hovered around the store a little, but no one approached. The thoughts in Vova’s head were spinning like in a computer, and everything was in one program: where to add? I went over the old moonshiners in my memory, but not one of them would pour it on credit... Stop! But it’s not for nothing that the blacksmith talks about the bathhouse! It's Saturday today... The city hunters will roll up and start asking about the lakes... And there the bus is gathering dust along the road. Eh, it was, it wasn’t!

Vova took a position on a hill behind the outskirts. Advantageous place! From here the trail begins to the swamps. The bus stop is clearly visible. And, most importantly, not a single amateur, bent to death by a tent, a backpack and a gun, will pass by... There they are, got out of the bus, are dismantling the bags, looking around. Apparently this is the first time anyone has come here... You are welcome!

Vova is sitting on a tree stump. Waiting... It’s okay, you can wait. It would be just for the sake of it! And their bags are heavy. Look how they puff! They can barely drag it! There is no need to rush or fuss here. They will fit themselves like little ones. They will start to wonder - how and why? Where to shoot successfully? As long as you don't run into old friends. You won't be able to close your ears the second time. They themselves will grind it down... Like last year... After that incident, Vova began to be called Baron von Shlykerman in the village. It’s better not to remember that! No, the old ones are nowhere to be seen. All newbies... It's a dangerous business, no matter what you say. Slap him in the neck - two times two! But what can you not do because of an irresistible thirst! Vova took risks with trembling and excitement. He seemed to himself to be a scout carrying out an important special mission... And the townspeople were getting closer. There is still time to get out of here as quickly as possible. But there is no force that would push him now from the ill-fated stump.

To look at Vova from the side: some kind of writer, artist or composer is sitting on a tree stump. Inspirational look. The beard is short, just starting to grow. By today's standards, it is the most fashionable. And her hair is long, neatly parted, because combing her hair is Vova’s weakness. He likes to twirl around in the mirror, slobber on hair and smooth it.

Vova sits on a stump without moving. Hands on knees, looking thoughtfully at the flaming sunset. One visiting hunter, a candidate of some sciences, once saw Vova on this stump and said with hidden envy:

Here is the true creator! Turned away from the hustle and bustle, gaining inspiration.

The footsteps of the hunters can already be heard. They shuffle with heavy rubber boots. Or they could have come in boots, if only they knew that they would meet Vova. Shlykov turns around, as if by chance, asking the price: the hunters are sniffling, well loaded with food and drink: they won’t get anything, so at least they’ll relax by the fire.

Twilight is getting thicker. The fog is denser in the lowlands.

Hey comrade, can I ask you?..

Sorry, comrade... - the townspeople remind themselves.

Vova slowly gets up and says dreamily:

No, just look at this sunset! Why am I not Raphael? Why not Aivazovsky?

The hunters nod approvingly and in agreement. After all, they are also nature lovers. We came to admire and relax. Of course, everyone in their hearts wants to stuff more ducks. But we must also maintain the brand of amateurs.

Yes, the sunset is a miracle...

Fabulous...

The colors are good, they just beg to be put on canvas...

And you, gentlemen, are going hunting, as I understand it?

Somewhat surprised by this treatment, the hunters assent:

Well, we escaped from the city slums to breathe some fresh air, shoot a little... How's the duck? Staying in these places?

This needs to go to Sin-Ozero... Last Saturday your guys came and filled a sack... Their barrels overheated from the gunfire...

The townsfolk are impatiently reaching for bandoliers and guns.

How far is it to Sin Lake?

There will be kilometers from your heels...

The townspeople rejoice:

Nonsense! We'll finish it in an hour...

Don't tell me. In such a fog, gentlemen, and at dusk, you cannot do without a guide...

The lovers smiled again at the word “gentlemen.” Hesitantly they ask:

Do us a service... Excuse me, how are you...?

Vladimir Karlovich...

Please take me to this... Blue Lake...

As the great Griboedov used to say: “I’d be glad to serve, but being served is sickening...”.

Well, what are you, Vladimir Karlovich...

No, that’s what I mean, by the way... Although, being a servant has disgusted me since birth... But this... However, gentlemen, it’s hardly interesting for you...

“Well, tell me,” ask the hunters, agreeing to do anything just to get to the duck-infested Sin-lake. - Yes, and it’s already dark. All the same, now we won’t be able to get to Sin Lake without you.

Okay, we'll be there at dawn. Are there enough cartridges? You'll have to shoot a lot. There's a whole bunch of ducks walking there...

We have no shortage of cartridges!

Then a traditional bonfire?!

The hunters, delighted by the presence of an experienced man who promised a prey hunt, readily agreed to spend the night outside the village in the company of an interesting interlocutor. They joyfully began to carry branches and birch bark. Soon the fire was blazing, the pot underneath was hissing and splashing with chicken leg stew. Spoons, jars, glasses clinked.

Vladimir Karlovich, how about some alcohol?

It's nothing, gentlemen. It's possible...

The hunters looked at each other, smiling. A strange man this Vladimir Karlovich. Judging by his manners, he is not simple. Intelligent. A scientist, probably, or an artist...

We drank. Vova took a sip lightly and put the glass down. I ate a slice of sausage. What's the hurry? You can drag out the pleasure as long as you like. He knew from experience: by nightfall everyone would get drunk. They will fall side by side into their tents and wake up by noon. Not earlier. And they will never reach the tempting Blue Lake, drawn by Vova’s imagination. It is impossible to reach what is not there. But now the conversation was just beginning. And closing his eyes, Vova was thrilled, listening to the gurgle from the neck of the bottle. Amazing sounds! The flames of the fire highlight the faces of the hunters, happy in anticipation of the upcoming hunt, the silence of the warm evening and the crackling of the fire. Fine!

Vladimir Karlovich! - one hunter began cautiously. “The men and I got into an argument: who are you, a musician?” Writer? Artist?

Vova sadly shakes her head.

He who was nobody will become everything... Remember in the famous hymn? For my grandfather Franz Shlykerman it was the other way around... Before the revolution he was a baron, and after it he became a taxi driver...

The hunters looked at each other again. But where did the grins and ironic smiles go? They are shocked...

So you... are a baron?

By origin, you understand... And without money, gentlemen, what kind of baron am I? I’ll dig up my grandfather’s treasure in the mound, bequeathed to his grandson, that is, to me, and I’ll become the owner of a huge fortune. Baron von Shlykerman was fabulously rich... By the way, gentlemen, do you know an archaeologist? I can even start excavations tomorrow, but I’m afraid of damaging things that are priceless: ancient Greek gold dishes, Bohemian crystal, ancient weapons...

The hunters fell silent. Wow! For the first time in my life, I’m sitting with a hereditary baron like this. Tell someone...

The branches of the fire quietly crackle. The neck of the bottle rings subtly against the edge of the enamel mug: the hands of the baron's heir tremble. This is understandable. Here anyone you want will tremble. To suddenly get such a fortune!

Do you think I’m stuck in this Gusinka with nothing to do? No, gentlemen. I'm thinking about my excavation plan. One careless movement and a work of art may perish.

Vova drank some more. I ate a hearty snack of sardines. I poured it for the hunters.

Come next fall, gentlemen. I’ll build such a hotel for hunters in Gusinka! I’ll arrange such a service on Sin-Ozero!

Flushed with vodka and excited by Vova’s mysterious story, the hunters didn’t even notice how they had drained all the bottles. Soon they were snoring in the cold, fog-shrouded tents. The fire was turning red with dying embers, and wisps of smoke were still hovering above it. Somewhere in the darkness, dogs were barking in the village, and drunken cries were heard:

Nadka! Freckled fool! Who are you with the rocker arm? Well, I'll show you! Drop the yoke! Stop it, I say!

Viktor Bychkov, nicknamed Oblom, lives in Komarovka. Victor is a former criminal investigation officer and police lieutenant, but few people in the village know about this.

The hunting season is closed from mid-February to late autumn. At this time, fishermen are preparing new traps, making culems and cherkans, cutting paths in the taiga wilds to places of future bait, collecting mushrooms and berries for delivery to the procurement point. And they are more involved in their personal farmstead. After all, it is still unknown whether you will be lucky in winter, what the fishing season will be, and when in the yard a cow moos, a pig grunts and chickens cackle, it is, of course, more reliable.

In Bychkov’s taiga, everything has long been prepared for winter fishing: he carried the traps to the fishing grounds, cleared the paths of windfall, and repaired the winter hut. He didn’t start a family; he didn’t need housekeeping. But bees are a hobby for the soul. Everything is organized for them, subject to their own bee laws. If only people could do that! Bychkov sat for a long time at the bee entrance: his nerves calmed down, philosophical thoughts came to his mind. It would be nice, he thought, to become a bee himself for a while. Find out how they feel? How do they find their home after flying kilometers away?

Bychkov's apiary is the farthest. In the Gorely spring, behind Komarovka. If you go to Kedrovaya Pad, after fifteen kilometers there will be a package. This is the road to Gorely Klyuch. Narrow and rocky, it climbs up the pass, descends into a gully and breaks off at a rift. The stream sparkles with splashes; behind him, on the gold of dandelions, are rows of hives. Blue, yellow, white... It smells like mown hay, blooming linden and honey. And above everything - the incessant hum of bees...

The black Volga rustled its wheels over the pebbles and gently rolled onto the sandbank. Four men, with their heads shorn, jumped out of the car with machine guns and ran up to the stream. The three greedily fell to the clear, cool water. The fourth, thin and long, listened to the sultry silence. At his feet, shod in Adidas sneakers, a gurgling stream sparkled in the sun. The thin man licked his lips, turned away and peered intently at the edge of the cloudless sky. Where the heavenly blue merged with the foggy blue of the taiga, keen eyes discerned a barely noticeable point. The thin man’s elongated face was distorted by an angry grimace.

Drive the car into the bushes! Well, it's alive! - he hurried the short, burly man in a plaid shirt and blue jeans with a kick.

He fell with his chest on a smooth pellet and scooped up water with his palms. He took a few sips, and a dull rumble reached his ears. The thin man jumped up and rushed into the roadside thicket. The car gleamed dully with enamel under hastily thrown branches and spruce branches.

Cover the windows! - the thin man shouted, taking off his pants and jacket and throwing them over the headlights. Others also quickly undressed and threw their clothes on the car.

Muffled by the distance, the chattering grew louder. Four half-naked people jumped under the upturned spruce tree and became silent.

The helicopter hovered over the creek with a roar. The cabin windows are open. The binoculars' eyepieces are aimed at a patch of clearing. Below, clearly visible: tiny houses for bees, a small dog rolling like a ball along the path from the river to the log barn; a hut, near which a figurine of a man is fiddling around. He is shaving something: his hands move back and forth over the workbench. And there the road emerges from the spring, encircles the hill like a serpentine and gets lost behind the pass. It’s empty... A lonely wapiti on a hill, shaking its horns, rubs against a dry tree.

The spotted green colossus, stirring up the hot air in the valley, rushed on. The stuffy, brooding, drowsy taiga lay beneath the helicopter. Its chirping sound became quieter and soon died away completely...

Bychkov admired the smoothly planed ceiling for the hive and looked with hostility at the rumbling helicopter. I wouldn’t go lower... The wind from the propellers will knock the blossoms off the linden tree, scare away the bees... And what do you need? I'm freaking out here...

The helicopter made a circle over the ravine and rushed to the distant peaks of the mountains. Bychkov followed him with his eyes, whacked the plane a couple more times and swept away the shavings under the workbench. A floppy-eared motley mongrel of unknown color ran out from there. She barked at the bee, annoyingly buzzing in front of her nose, and fell again onto a pile of scraps and sawdust. Burrs, shavings, and wax remain stuck in wool wet from swimming for a long time.

Have you seen these idiots, Kid? - Bychkov asked cheerfully. “They probably wanted to sit down, but it turned out to be a bummer.” And they did it smartly... God forbid, they would destroy the apiary with screws!

Bychkov lit a smoker, took a box with hundreds of frames, and hobbled towards the hive. He took off the lid, blew a smoke and leaned over the lounger.

If you look from the side, it’s not a person – it’s some kind of twisted poker. Right leg wheel. Left hand the elbow is bent - does not straighten. The head is tilted to the side and the nose is flattened. But the eyes are lively, cheerful, with a playful sparkle. There is a smile on the lips. No, Bychkov did not bend his soul. He doesn’t make any allowance for his crippled body. He adapted... And he is dexterous and hardy when hunting. I was not born a freak. This is now unshaven, with long hair. tied with a ribbon, lame and twisted. And in the photographs, what’s in the demobilization album?! On some - a slender, handsome sergeant. A maroon beret on the back of the head, a forelock underneath. There is a machine gun on the chest and parachute straps. Badges "Paratrooper", "Guard" and medal "For Courage". On others - in full police uniform, in lieutenant's shoulder straps. The overgrown disabled man, limping, in tattered pants and T-shirt, cannot be recognized as the former Bychkov!

But there was a case, they sent Bychkov to Chechnya... Near Gudermes, a police patrol came under fire from bandits. The bullet tore Bychkov's leg. The surgeons barely put it together, but it grew together crookedly. I couldn't work in the police. “Is my leg crooked?! Should I run hundred meters at speed? There’s nowhere to rush in the taiga!” - Bychkov was not upset. And he became a hunter...

A bear attacked in the raspberry thickets. He crushed it tightly. He injured his neck and arm. I tore my cheek with my claw. Whether you like it or not, wear a beard.

Bychkov is not discouraged: “Okay, at least I didn’t bite at all... The left curve is not the right one. I can shoot... And I can set traps. And with a beard I’m even more respectable...”

In a cold, windy autumn, a dead aspen two steps away from him fell to the ground with a crash. A thick branch caught me on the nose.

Bychkov looked at himself in the mirror and grinned: “Has your nose become like a cake? Nonsense, the girls won’t pester you about getting married... The main thing is that the aspen didn’t hit you in the head...”

More former paratrooper climbed a cedar tree to pick up cones. I carelessly stepped on a twig, and it broke off. He flew down almost from the very top of his head. Bychkov landed successfully. There was a tree stump sticking out nearby, if he landed on it, he'd be screwed!

Then he built an omshanik. I dropped a log on my finger. They put him in a plaster cast. “Little things,” Bychkov laughs. “If only my whole arm had been knocked off...”

When the butt of the gun broke the collarbone: he hurriedly poured two measures of gunpowder into the cartridge case - Bychkov (shoulder in plaster) just laughed: “Okay, the gun didn’t blow apart... And there are still a lot of intact bones...”.

From under his straw hat pulled down on his forehead, Bychkov looked at the sun. Noon. Until the evening he will deal with the brood.

His hands were covered with bees. It doesn't matter to him: crawl if you like. All attention is on the cell frames: just recently, larvae were swarming in the cells, but now - here you go! Young bees have spread their wings and are briskly scurrying around the foundation.

Oh you pilots! I saw how they turned the propellers. Are you planning to rebuild? Bummer, guys! I won't let you escape from the apiary. Then chase you through the taiga, take you off the birch tree... Bummer, pilots! You will fly to your own airfield. I'll put you in a new hive...

Bychkov talked to the bees the way summer residents talk to plants, or riders to horses. And all animal lovers communicate aloud with birds, fish, dogs, cats. Apparently, the bees also understood their owner. They calmly crawled over his bearded face, approached his lips, as if listening to kind words, suddenly broke off and rushed off into the taiga, invitingly smelling of honey plants. Having collected nectar, they returned from long-distance searches and sat down to rest on a man from whose hands the same honey smell emanated. Perhaps, in their bee language, they buzzed to the owner how difficult the path was. Bychkov took off first one wanderer, then another, and said something quietly and affectionately.

He took out a heavy honey-stained frame. Golden linden honey, sealed with delicate wax, glowed with wondrous amber.

Oh you falcons! Nice job! Here are the empty frames for you. Work!

And the bees hummed trustingly around the eyes. Not a single one stuck a sting in him all day. Or maybe Bychkov got used to bee venom and simply didn’t feel the pain?

After noon, Bychkov finally took the crumpled straw plate, called a hat, from his head. I wandered into the hut to prepare dinner. The baby also got out of the pile of shavings, shook himself off and hurried after his owner...

The four climbed across the stream on stones and stopped in fear: behind the willow bushes, an apiary opened up to their gaze. Looking around warily, they backed away into the dense foliage. A man was walking in a clearing near the hut, clinking dishes.

“Everything is fine,” the thin man parted the branches. - We're ready for lunch, bros. Went...

Bychkov went out into the street with a cup of porridge for the Kid, bent down to put the cup down, and was dumbfounded: next to him was a pair of feet in sneakers. The barrel of the machine gun swings over his ear. Three more people came out from around the corner. Gloomy, with an ominous gleam in their cold eyes, their hands covered in tattoos. They are silent, looking at Bychkov from under their brows. These will kill without hesitation, prudently and mercilessly.

The Kid turned out from somewhere and started barking.

A short, freckled man in a checkered shirt raised his machine gun. The thin guy in Adidas raised his palm:

Calm down, Mole. Don't make a fuss. Look around the house while I talk to my uncle. And you, Gray, go with him...

The thin man glanced at the dog's cup of porridge, and Bychkov realized: he was hungry.

Who are you? Beekeeper?

“I hunt in the winter and live here in the summer,” Bychkov answered calmly and turned away so as not to look at the black hole in the trunk.

Alone here?

Who else should be here? The kid is with me... Come on in... I have lunch ready. And there will be mead for good people...

Look what you got! Buried under the mattress was...

The freckled man, grinning his false teeth, was dragging a carbine by his belt.

Whose is it? Issued for hunting.

The thin man took the carbine and opened the bolt. The cartridge flashed with brass. The thin man closed the bolt and clicked the safety.

It'll do! Bring mead and a good snack, lame man!

And honey! With wax! - the freckled man snapped his fingers, grimacing like a thieve. - Oh, I haven’t tried honey for a long time...

Don’t wave your hands,” Bychkov remarked, but two bees had already thrust their stings into his freckled face.

With wild screams, the Mole rushed into the hut, one bee followed him and stung him in the ear.

Bychkov put a frying pan with fried meat on the table, laid out the spoons, and cut the bread. He dived into the cellar and took out four bottles of vodka, hidden just in case, from the barrel. Carefully poured the vodka into a bottle of mash.

Why are you messing around there, lame?

A thin man bent over the opening of the manhole and struck a lighter.

Yes, at the same time I’ll grab some pickled cucumbers and milk mushrooms...

At the sight of the cloudy bottle, the company perked up and reached for the glasses. The thin man, looking contented, blew on the foam in the mug and drank in large sips. He leaned back against the wall and lit a cigarette. Overwhelmed by the heat, a hearty lunch and fatigue, he quickly became drunk.

All right, bros. As soon as it gets dark, we’ll rush to Nakhodka... And beyond the cordon... I have a man in the port who will arrange a place on the ship. And there... Pour another ladle, lame man... Mole, look at your face in the mirror! Surely not a single cop will recognize you...

The company laughed in unison and moved their glasses. Still would! The escape from the high security zone was successful. Now you can hum, relax, taiga all around, wilderness...

The Mole's eye is swollen, his ear is swollen, his nose is like a potato. He sits, drowsily pokes bread into a plate of honey. The thin man sat down on the straw mattress and began snoring. Two more are muttering incoherently, leaning on the table...

It's a bummer, guys. “They couldn’t resist my ruff,” Bychkov said, taking his carbine and machine guns. - So the helicopter wasn’t spinning here in vain...

Soon all four, tied with belt reins, were snoring side by side on the plank bunks. Bychkov hid the machine guns in the forest. He put a barn lock on the door. The narrow window - a child couldn't get through it - was boarded up with a board. He threw the carbine on his back and, straight through the hills, went to Komarovka.

The villagers later learned about how Bychkov detained dangerous criminals from the district newspaper.

Unlucky

Taiga. Wilderness. Silence... Everywhere you look, the teeth of the spruce trees turn black against the light blue sky. On the slopes of the hills surrounding the village, along the fast, icy Nya, there were huts of lumberjacks, hunters, and bigwigs. One house from a distance turns red with a tin roof. High porch, canopy over the door with a sign "Prodmag". You will replenish your taiga provisions here and, before shouldering a heavy backpack and heading to the winter hut, you will sit down on the steps of the porch, washed by the rain, sprinkled with yellow leaves, and expose your face to the meager but still warm rays of the autumn sun. At the same time, through the door that is open to the street, you will hear village news.

What can I tell you, Valya: Kolka Koryakin is getting married again!

Here's a good-for-nothing! What time?

In the fifth... Or in the sixth... - And who is that fool who married him?

I found one like this. The teacher is arriving...

People say: “The grave will straighten the hunchback.” This, Klava, is exactly what was said about Kolka... He will exchange his teacher for the taiga!

While they were gossiping in the store, the sawmiller Koryakin and the teacher primary classes Yolkin's marriage was sealed at the registry office. Of course, marriage was not a new thing for Kolka, but this time he experienced different, previously unknown feelings. “This is probably love,” Kolka decided after his chosen one admitted that she also loves... nature. And in my dreams I saw the two of them skiing through the snowy taiga, spending the night in the winter hut, feasting on frozen blueberries...

Koryakin is a prominent guy. Broad-shouldered, pleasant in face. Industrious. Not pugnacious. Girls like it. There were also those among them who “delved into” his hunting interest, listened to long taiga stories. With such people, Koryakin tried to create a family in which dad, mom, and children would all love the taiga and hunting.

But his wives left him. Not because the newlyweds didn’t get along in character. No... Kolka is a good-natured, cheerful and hard worker. He plays the accordion famously, and if he starts telling jokes, you’ll burst your stomach with laughter... Kolka is not a miser and not some kind of scumbag. He gave every penny of the money he earned to his former girlfriends. What they bought with that money doesn’t matter to Kolka. And if you get money for furs, don’t bother – it’s mine! And he spent, as they said in the village, on trifles - on hunting knives, on cartridges and backpacks. No need to buy a plasma TV or video player! But this is how you look at things. If it’s with Kolkina, it’s not him, but others are wasting their money on all sorts of polished pieces of wood and foreign rags. According to him, he covered his body, there is a roof over his head, food and a stove in the house - what more could you want?! After all, the main thing is there, in the forest! In a taiga ravine, on the river bank or in the marsh reeds. There is no greater pleasure for him than to hide in tall grass, in dense foliage, to merge with nature and listen, with bated breath, to every rustle, every splash. “This is what makes life worth living! This is what you should spend money on!” - Kolka will say and it is useless to convince him. Listening to his interlocutor about the benefits of civilization, Kolka will at this time mentally wander in the spring, whistling with a hazel grouse, squelching his boots on the mossy hummocks, picking cranberries. Or sit in the reeds at dawn, listening to the whistling of duck wings and being afraid to scare away the dragonfly dozing on the gun barrels.

Every time Koryakin’s hope for family happiness collapsed, the village wondered: “Why didn’t you get along with him? A prominent guy, without bad habits...”.

Then they realized: women leave Kolka for one reason - they are unable to bear his irrepressible passion for hunting. As soon as he gets home from work, he will immediately begin to repair traps, load cartridges, and skin skins. Whether the weather is rainy or stormy, Kolka has something to do to his liking: sewing ichigs, making a butt for a gun, or sharpening an axe.

In Koryakin's hut, animal skins, stuffed birds, bundles of furs, traps, rules, pots, flasks, and cedar cones are hung on the walls. Sleeping bags, backpacks, and skis are stacked in the corners. But Kolka’s special pride is the Polish tent. Comfortable, durable, lightweight. With streamers in all directions, she flaunts herself in the middle of the room. Something is constantly being hemmed, tacked on, secured in it. And since it is more convenient to do this in warmth and light, then best place and can't be found!

Of course, at first the wife is delighted with such exoticism, hoping to soon arrange everything in her own way. Not so! Koryakin zealously ensured that every hunting item was in a visible place. The first wife tried to hang a carpet instead of a skin. The second one decided to replace the tent with a furniture set. Two more unsuccessfully tried to persuade their husband to put things in order in the house, to which Kolka responded in surprise: “Order?! Everything is tidy for me, every thing is in its place...”.

The last wife, the librarian Zina, threw all her hunting equipment into the closet in the absence of her husband. Returning home from hunting and seeing the bare, cleanly whitewashed walls, Kolka almost fainted. If he had caught Zina with her lover, he would have forgiven her even then. But this...

And finally, I met a kind, sensitive, attentive woman who sublimely loves nature.

On the days of their dates, they walked along the path along the rocky shore of Niya and, listening to her, Kolka smiled happily: “What a man! Cultured, educated! Her taiga experiences and hunting impulses are close and understandable to her.”

The next day after registration, the joyful husband hurriedly rose from the bed, rattling his bowler hat, gun, and cartridges. Dawn was just breaking outside the window. He hurriedly put supplies into his backpack.

His wife woke up and silently looked at him from under the blanket with surprised eyes. This is how he remembered them: with a mocking squint, with hidden resentment.

You lie down, sleep. You understand - I’m on vacation, the fur hunting season has opened... Yes, I’m here with a wedding... I hesitated a little... I’m running into the taiga, whitening a little...

He rattled his gun and ran out into the street. It was getting light. Kolka almost ran towards the logging road, which went around the gloomy hill like a serpentine.

The squirrel walked around in search of food. Here and there rustling and clicking noises were heard. Kolka tirelessly rushed from tree to tree. He shot, picked up prey, but the squirrel kept walking... It seemed as if animals from all over the taiga had come running to one place so as not to let Kolka go home to the teacher he adored. In the excitement, not noticing how night had crept up, Kolka tiredly sank onto the dead wood. He lit a fire, had dinner with hastily cooked soup, drank tea and began to remove the skins from the hunted animals.

“I’ll hunt for another day tomorrow, and then I’ll go home,” he thought out loud, intoxicated by luck, cheerfully hanging out squirrel skins to dry.

As soon as dawn broke, a beaded squirrel, covered in droplets of blood, fell at his feet. Second, third... again and again... He lost track of time and shots. Just like the previous day, he ran around the valley in a daze, deafening the taiga with gunfire, and leaned his gun against a thick cedar only in the dark, when he couldn’t take aim. Spent the night by the fire and got ready to go home in the morning. But next to him, as if teasing him, a squirrel sat down on a branch. I couldn’t resist and took it off with a shot. Another one jumped up, then another... Having forgotten about everything except the flashing squirrel tails, I came to my senses when it got dark...

Several days passed like this. The cartridges ran out, and Kolka picked up his backpack tightly stuffed with skins. “There are still so many squirrels in the forest... We must have time to load the cartridges before morning,” he thought, quickening his steps towards the house.

He entered the cold, unheated hut. Turned on the light. Everything was in place. Only the bed was sadly white with unmade sheets. Koryakin picked up a piece of notebook paper from the table and ran his eyes over the uneven lines: “You really are unlucky. Farewell. Happy hunting!”

Koryakin clenched the piece of paper in his fist and gritted his teeth. He brushed away his tears. I imagined how tomorrow before dark the fluffy squirrels would rustle in the dry leaves and sway on the branches. How he will slowly and carefully walk through the foggy taiga. And you won't have to rush home...

Without undressing, so as not to waste time lighting the stove, Koryakin sat down at the table and began loading cartridges. He covered the last one with a note from his wife. Now an ex...

Stolbov is risen

The timber industry enterprise did not work for seven days. They were looking for a hunter who had disappeared in the taiga.

On the weekend, driver Ivan Stolbov was going to climb the taiga with a gun. To hunt... He did not have a specific goal - what animal or bird to go for. Stolbov is not a special hunter. He doesn’t have a decent gun, he doesn’t have any good equipment, not to mention the documents for the right to hunt. And what kind of licenses and vouchers can there be in Mokhovka, where the taiga begins right behind the vegetable gardens and no one has reached its edge yet?!

Ivan pulled out an old gun, loose in its locks, from the closet, looked into the barrels and winced: it had turned sour... It hadn’t been cleaned since last fall... There was no time.

Varvara! Where's the ramrod? I stuck it here, under the ceiling...

In the kitchen the roar of buckets and cast irons died down for a while, and a dissatisfied voice was heard:

Take it wherever you put it...

Again, I guess I used a ramrod to drive a cow into a stall...

Get off! He was impatient. Hunter! I would clean the barn... The cow has nowhere to lie. And your wandering through the forest is still of no use...

Ivan still rummaged around in the hallway on the plank ceiling. I found a bird cherry twig with the remains of tow at the end. I soaked it in liquid wood ash and pulled it through the trunk with a creaking sound.

His wife Varvara, red-cheeked, with a shock of disheveled hair, supported her sides with her plump hands, stood next to him. The dirty padded jacket and tarpaulin boots smelled of manure.

I keep wondering when your conscience will awaken and you will clean up the flock... Or should I move the pitchfork myself?!

Just think, Frau has been found... If you wash yourself an extra time, it will be beneficial...

He blurted this out in vain... He hinted at Varvara’s plumpness. There was no need to touch her before the hunt. You can't stop it now.

Ivan Stolbov - short, stocky, wearing a driver's quilt, trying not to look at his wife, concentratedly squeezing the ramrod. Oh, he's tired of these nagging! Just an hour ago I was running home, in a hurry, but now, without looking, I would go anywhere, just so as not to listen to these reproaches. What are you dissatisfied with? I brought my salary and put it under the oilcloth on the table. And another stake for the left flight: I threw some firewood to the grandmother alone. Others would have drunk it, but he gave his wife every penny. He spends days cranking up the steering wheel, he can’t get out into the taiga once a year... And October is coming to an end. The snow is about to fall. While it’s warm and sunny, I’d like to run along the black trail, shoot a roe deer, a red deer. If you're lucky, you'll get a moose...

Ivan finished with the gun and began putting food into his backpack. I took supplies for two days. He said dryly:

Nothing will happen to the cow. Other men are also going to the taiga today...

But Varvara did not let up:

You're a quitter, not a man! There is no need to roam around the taiga while there is too much to do at home! And why did I just marry you! Just think, a handsome man has been found! I would live now without hassle, without worries...

But now Varvara, in the heat of the moment, said something that was not what she thought. You can tolerate her bickering, but this... It’s clear who he’s hinting at. The long, hunched director of the timber industry enterprise, Shlissel, looked after Varvara and proposed marriage. She might have agreed; there aren’t many gentlemen in Mokhovka. Yes, Ivan Stolbov returned from service. In borderline form. One green cap is worth something. Slender, fit, handsome soldier. What about Shlissel? One advantage - the director has money. If you marry someone like that, you won’t know grief. Schlissel has a cottage in Germany and spends his holidays in Bavaria every summer. But he is very unsightly - blond, hooked nose, ears sticking out like two mugs. And a disgusting mouth: with thin lips and sparse crooked teeth.

So, according to Schlissel, it means you regret? Well, go to your pop-eyed one! You'll go to Bavaria, get servants... "Oh, Frau Varvara, would you like some coffee in bed?"

Varvara threw on a scarf and moved cast iron in the kitchen. She mixed the cow's swill and went to the door with heavy buckets. She turned around and said angrily:

Yes, I’ll take it and go to Shlissel. Come on, go to the taiga, chill out... Why would such a quitter give in to me? You may not come back at all...

Stolbov tore a faded rain jacket from the hanger, grabbed a backpack and a gun, kicked the door open and ran out into the garden. He jumped over the fence and there it was, the taiga. “It’s okay, I won’t be lost... I’ll kill the elk and spend the winter in the hunting hut... And then we’ll see...”

Having gone deeper into the dark spruce forest, Ivan stopped as if he had run into a stump: what about the cartridges?! He looked in confusion through the branches at the roofs of Mokhovka: “Ugh, devil take you! How can I go without cartridges? I forgot about them in a hurry...”.

He stood dejectedly, not knowing what to do. Running around the taiga with an empty gun is stupid. Return and listen to Varvara’s caustic ridicule? No way!

The gaze fell on a log pile at the end of Grandma Lukerya’s garden. There was once a sauna-heater, but it was overgrown with nettles. Looks like Lukerya hasn’t been coming here for a long time.

When it got dark, I made my way into the bathhouse and opened the lopsided door. It creaked disgustingly on its rusty hinges. He bent down and entered. I stumbled with my outstretched hand on a shaky shelf. There is a heap of old, flying brooms on it. It smelled of soap, mold and smoke.

Putting his backpack under his head, he tossed and turned a little on his rustling little feet and soon fell asleep.

A week has passed. There was enough water in the large cauldron, covered with soot, but the bread and lard were gone. It’s cold again... At night, Stolbov made a foray into his own barn and returned to the bathhouse with the chicken. Dawn had barely broken when wisps of smoke curled over the abandoned hut. It was hot and stinking inside.

Ivan got out into the street to take off his so tired rain jacket, when suddenly his sensitive ear caught quiet but familiar voices. Two men, looking around, headed towards Lukerya’s bathhouse. Ivan took a closer look - and so it is: Seryoga Adamenko and Nazim Bikmullin. Stolbov feverishly grabbed the chicken from the heater, stuffed it into his backpack, threw it under the shelf, and the gun dropped there. “Brought these drunks!” - Stolbov thought, regretting the undercooked chicken. He didn't want to meet them at all.

As soon as Ivan climbed under the smelly shelf, the door creaked and Nazim’s bearded face appeared in the low opening. He turned his head and said quietly:

Go, Seryoga, there is no one...

The men sat down on the shelves and sniffled.

Smells delicious... Fried...

Well, you said grandma makes moonshine. And here she was burning a chicken early in the morning... The coals are still red... And the feathers are lying around.

Mud-stained boots dangled in front of Stolbov's face. The old, rotten boards of the regiment creaked, and Stolbov waited in horror for them to break through and for the burly men to collapse on him.

It’s a pity, I thought we’d steal a bottle of moonshine from Lukerya. Get ours, let's remember Vanka Stolbov. Now it’s clear that he’s screwed. After all, they searched everything... The bear stopped him. Otherwise, where would you go? The crows would indicate the place. And the bear loves the gap. He buried Vanka somewhere and devours him for his pleasure...

It must be said that he was a lousy guy... Old Agafya recently asked him to bring firewood, so he tore the bride price from her.

They speak well about the dead, Seryoga. Or nothing at all... Let's drink to Stolbov, and at the same time remember my horse... That's who had a kind soul.

Glasses clinked and the bottle cap clicked. It gurgled.

The men fell silent, and Stolbov held his breath. My nose smelled of dampness and rotten meat. Don't sneeze...

Sergey and Nazim drank and exhaled noisily. Stolbov smelled the smell of vodka and garlic. He swallowed: they were snacking on lard.

Yes, well, Shlissel has raised the entire timber industry enterprise to its feet to look for Stolbov. They searched the whole taiga and it was like he disappeared into the water,” muttered Adamenko, barely moving his mouth full.

The bear dragged me away. “I went into the taiga riding Agata... to look for Stolbov,” Nazim said quietly. “There’s a bear here... I fired from both barrels for the sake of caution... The bear ran away, and the horse went crazy.” It doesn’t work and that’s it! I pull the reins, beat him with a stick... He spins in place, but there is no way to move him forward... I fought with him for three days... I had to quit. Do you know what the horse was like? Good girl! And all because of Stolbov!

And Varka! She was blaming the man on every corner, and when he disappeared, she began to roar. Why shed tears now? It is necessary to feel sorry for the living, not the dead. Now Stolbov has disappeared - for some there is grief, and for others there is joy.

Who's happy?

Don’t tell me... Stolbov was the first in line for a new cobblestone house. And now Yurka Bobrov, an electrician, will take over this house. Schlissel is also happy: he’s just right to hit on Varka, he’s been luring her with Germany for a long time... And me too... I’ll tell you one thing... I didn’t have enough for a Toyota - I borrowed some money from Stolbov. When he borrowed money, Stolbov asked not to tell Varvara; she would never agree to lend it. Well, now you don’t have to give it away! - Adamenkr laughed.

It's your business... Be happy if it's so.

And Marchuk? The Japanese timber carrier Stolbov will be given to him. And Vitya the Fool, who spends the night in the stoker, dances: “Jelly,” he says, “we’ll eat at the wake!”

And so it turns out: there lived a man who seemed to be needed by everyone, but he went to the next world and... they even rejoice...

But woe to Mishka Parshukov... Stolbov took the chainsaw from him. Mishka went to Varvara for a saw - she wouldn’t give it back. “I don’t know,” he says, “nothing about any saw.” He’s crying for Vanka, he doesn’t believe that Stolbov has died. What's the point in not believing - he won't resurrect...

I'll be resurrected again! - Stolbov thundered with his gun.

Some kind of grimy, overgrown scarecrow suddenly appeared in front of the men, frozen in amazement. For half a minute they stared in amazement at this “miracle” in a crumpled hat covered in stuck feathers. Adamenko was the first to break, followed by Nazim. They collided in the doorway, the door broke off its hinges, and the friends rushed through the garden shouting loudly:

Stolbov is risen! Stolbov is risen!

In Russia, the number of rural settlements exceeds urban ones by seventy-two times. And despite this, every year thousands of villages disappear from the map of the country. Against the backdrop of general extinction and desolation, the village of Vyezhy Log, located in the Mansky district of the Krasnoyarsk Territory, is like a black crow: new houses are being built here, young people are returning here, and adults still honor traditions. Prospekt Mira correspondent Diana Serebrennikova decided to find out what they live in a village not forgotten by God and spend time there last days hot summer.

Deep in the taiga

The road to Vyezhy Log winds through the taiga. The sun slowly sets behind the tops of spruce and cedar trees, plunging the road through the forest into twilight. We are going to Vyezhy Log with Igor, one of the natives of this small taiga village, to catch the last days of summer and see how the village is preparing for winter. Igor's relatives invited him to help with the mowing.

- It’s good, if the sunny weather lasts for a week, then the grass in the field will quickly dry out, and we will have time to prepare hay for the winter. All you need is nothing - five large seeds,- says the guy.

We left the city late, and night overtakes us on our way. Vyezzhy Log is 180 kilometers along the highway through the forest. It’s mid-August, and the weather at this time is very capricious, but after a week of rainy and cloudy days, summer suddenly came to Vyezhy Log, and the thermometer rose to thirty degrees.

We enter the village after three hours of travel, already late at night, but it is light in it: lanterns illuminate the main street, which at the end of the road ends with a bridge over the Mana River. After weaving through the streets, we climb the hill where Igor’s relatives live. We are met by his Aunt Anya. Lighting her way with a hand-held flashlight, she opens the gate, letting us into the yard.

- I went after the cows, and by autumn they began to stray again. And you go to the house, dinner is on the table and to the bathhouse, it’s already hot,- Aunt Anya admonishes and disappears in the darkness.

From the hill on which the house of the family that sheltered me is located, there is a view of the village at night: it stretches along the forest along the river bank. Some houses were lined up at the foot of a forested hill, others “climbed” its slopes.

The houses here are well-kept, with plastic windows, rowan bushes in the yard and large garden plots. There are several grocery stores, a pharmacy, a post office, a club, a high school and a paramedic station.

Master of the taiga

At first glance, Vyezhy Log is an ordinary village. But this is not so: there is one “point” in history that completely changed the self-awareness of the local residents. In 1968, the film “Master of the Taiga” was filmed here, in which the actor and poet Vladimir Vysotsky played a role. The event, which 47 years ago disturbed the quiet life of fishermen, loggers and “keepers of the unique moonshine recipe,” is still fresh in people’s memories.

The owner of the taiga is a Soviet detective story, the action of which takes place in a quiet taiga village. The plot centers on a nighttime theft of a local store, which a young village policeman takes upon himself to investigate. The film showed the local beauty and life of a working-class village, its inhabitants engaged in logging and rafting of timber along a stormy taiga river.

Walking around the village, you can see that the office building is still in its place, near which the mass shooting of the scene of departure to the market took place. But the store is no longer there; it was dismantled into planks and a “flock” was built. And the streets no longer look the same as before. But the village residents, some of them older, still remember how the actors stayed with them, how she participated in the filming most of the local population, and how they paid one and a half rubles a day for crowd scenes for children and three for adults.

In memory of this event, a stone with a memorial plaque was erected on the banks of the Mana River, where Vysotsky lived during filming, an inscription was made on the mountain in honor of the creation of the film, and excursions and an art song festival “Vysotsky and Siberia” are held annually.

- Because of this, the village is on our lips. Sometimes you come to a new place, they start asking who you are and where you’re from, but as soon as you name the village and mention the film, they immediately start nodding in response, saying they know - says young Inna Tsykunova, a sports instructor. She has lived in the village since birth, although she went to study to become a designer in Krasnoyarsk for three years, but somehow it didn’t work out, she returned home to rest, and stayed that way. At first I was offered a job at the club, acting as director, then I moved to the youth center. The girl complains that before there was more attention to the village. But now everything has changed.

- We used to have the festival “Vysotsky and Siberia” here, and then it was moved to Narva, they say there is more space there. And because of the festival, people came to us, at least some development. We even wrote posters against the postponement of the festival, they protested, but what's the point. In general, we already have a lot of tourists coming for rafting. Since the end of May, boats have been appearing on the shore, rafts are being built. From here people are swimming into the upper rapids. The lower ones are also beautiful, but there are not such stones, as in the top ones.

New life

In summer the village is quiet. Only occasionally do huge orange dump trucks rush along the main street, carrying gravel to the railway construction site. Now almost half of the male population of Vyezhy Log works at this construction site. The rest are either in the meadow or in the taiga, picking berries. In general, the village comes to life only on holidays: on the night of Ivan Kupala, boys carry wheels up the mountain, set them on fire and bring them down. About ten at a time, flaming tires roll from a height, scattering sparks, to the squeals of women and children. Maslenitsa is also fun here: a Maslenitsa town appears, guys climb the pole, girls laugh, and local grandmothers organize markets and sell pancakes with moonshine. Young people dress up, ride on a sleigh, have a tug-of-war, and end up setting fire to the effigy of winter. But while there are no holidays, it’s a bit boring in the village - do your work, read books, watch TV. Well, or surf the Internet, fortunately it’s here now.

As dusk falls, people appear here and there on the deserted streets. A gray-haired man hunched over greets his wife from work. He carries her heavy bag and thinks about how to insulate the house during the coming cold winter, so that his wife will not freeze while he goes on a long hunt in the taiga. Someone is dragging a whole cart of hay with a tractor, someone is driving a herd of cows along the main asphalt street...

As in many villages, people here like to noisily celebrate a wedding, which can last a week, or a protracted meeting New Year. Get drunk and fight over nothing. But if suddenly some misfortune happens, then everyone unites: together they put out a fierce fire and defend the village from fire or leave for mowing. This is the whole village life, which can only be understood after living here for several months.

I visited Khanty-Mansiysk (northern Russia) and told how the indigenous people live there.

A simple wooden hut, consisting only of a room, simple utensils. This is exactly how, according to the owners, the indigenous people of these places now live in distant settlements...

2. The road between the two settlements again wound along the river beds, from time to time diving into the taiga forest and again emerging at the next bend in the river...

3. All these roads through the forest in winter are cut by the Khanty themselves, moving on Burans and Yamahas between yurts and taking the obtained skins and meat to Ugut.
They will be gone in the spring...

4. We arrived in a small settlement where only one family of four lives just before sunset. In the open spaces it was still quite light, but in the forest almost nothing was visible.

5. Just at the moment when we arrived, the owner of the yurt was scooping fish out of a dam in the river.
The Khanty know many clever ways of fishing. One of them is in the photo - a large hole is cut in the ice in shallow water and a dam like this is built there - something like a cage. Something edible is thrown to the bottom, and the fish rushes to an open space with good access to oxygen, where they also feed.. From here all that remains is to scoop it out once a day with a net

6. The catch cannot be called poor...

7. The sun sets over the tributary of the Bolshoi Yugan, on the banks of which the settlement is located. The owner Sashka carries a large bag of fish scooped out of a dam cage

8. The cats are right there

9. A shy girl meets us at the entrance - this is Sashka’s daughter

10. At this time, Sashka’s wife, Oksana, is preparing to take freshly baked bread out of the oven.

11. The Khanty traditionally bake bread in these outdoor ovens.

12. It tastes very much like the bread we are used to. It has a thick, crispy crust but a slightly soggy interior.
Bread is not baked every day. This supply will be enough for Sashka and Oksana for a week.

13. Bread and clay oven

14. Oksana is a fairly young girl. But the rather harsh natural conditions in these places make a person look old very quickly.
Sashka and Oksana have two small children - a boy and a girl.
The girl, as expected, is shy and flirtatious, the boy is curious....

15. In the upper room. A simple wooden frame, no interior decoration. Wooden floors, a stove, a simple table...

16. An indispensable attribute of Khanty dwellings is a kerosene lamp.

17. Children, such children... They can eat sweets and candies endlessly.

18. It’s getting dark and Sashka, throwing away the canopy behind the house, starts the diesel generator.

19. Let there be light...

20. By the light of a light bulb, we are able to more carefully examine the house in which this family lives.
In the light everything looks even simpler. There are no unnecessary things here. Everything is just necessary.
On the left is the women's half of the house, on the right is the men's. Among the Khanty, it is customary for men and women to sleep separately.

21. Male half. A simple sofa, it’s unclear how it was brought to this place, a shelf with an LCD panel, a sewing machine and a potbelly stove

22. A thing that has long gone out of our everyday life is a video recorder.

23. Dining table, on the left above which hangs simple utensils for needlework and more.

24. Scissors, frying pan, heating pad - all together

25. On the window, mobile phones are in the only position that allows them to receive at least some signal.
For a long time it was a mystery to me how mobile communications could be provided in the taiga - after all, the subscriber base is extremely small.
It turned out that the oil workers were the reason for everything. By developing deposits, they ensure the penetration of mobile communications into taiga areas

26. Dishes

27. Grocery cabinet

28. Here you have a bathroom, a storage room, and a dining room for cats

29. There are shoes, a washbasin, and towels...

30. It is still interesting to observe how the life of people leading a traditional lifestyle is penetrated by things from civilization - satellite dishes, mobile phones, generators, toothpaste and shaving foam...

31. It’s getting dark... it’ll soon start to get dark outside, and we’re getting ready for the long way back...

32. Sashka and his daughter come out to see us off... Ahead of us are 5 hours of jolting on sledges through the night taiga.
That day we arrived in the village of Ugut after midnight...

Hut on chicken legs or visiting the Yugan Khanty

The most interesting part of my spring trip to Ugra was getting to know the way of life of the Khanty, the indigenous population of this region.
Not ostentatious plagues and national clothes, designed for tourists and guests, which we saw at the day of the hunter, fisherman and reindeer herder in the village of Russkinskaya, but real life real people.
This was not included in the program of our blog tour, but we managed to persuade the organizers to arrange a trip to the Khanty yurts of the Greater Yugan.
Leaving Surgut at 6 am, after four hours of jolting along the winter road, we arrived in Ugut - a rural settlement and local administrative center, covering a fairly large territory in the south of the Khanty-Mansiysk Autonomous Okrug, where greatest number indigenous peoples of the region - Khanty.
It was from here that we had a further journey, already on snowmobiles, to the Khanty yurts...

2. The rural settlement of Ugut unites under its jurisdiction greatest number indigenous population throughout the Surgut region. In total, about 3 thousand people live on the territory of the settlement, of which 900 people are Khanty.
The fact is that a rural settlement does not mean a specific village, but a huge area on which small Khanty settlements, called yurts, are located.
In this context, a “yurt” is not a dwelling, but a small settlement consisting of log huts. This is what these settlements have been called since the 19th century.
The head of the Ugut village council, Andrei Nikolaevich Ogorodny, personally took us to the distant yurts on his snowmobile, to which a sled was attached. On the second snowmobile is his assistant.

3. On the way we had to stop at several settlements, the most isolated of which is located 5 hours away by snowmobile.
All winter roads are laid on the ice of the frozen Big Yugan and its tributaries. This is quite convenient, because... there is no need to cut roads through the forest, and the locals know the river very well.
In summer, these same paths are used for boat travel.
The most difficult thing is in spring and autumn, when the ice melts and becomes. Then getting to the settlements is quite difficult. In fact, this is only possible by helicopter.

4. We are with alexcheban on sleds. You can only sit with your back to the movement, because... at 20 degrees below zero, out of habit, it’s impossible to even breathe if you turn your face in the direction of travel at speed

5. Snowmobiles fly quite quickly through the snow, but the compacted road is quite deceptive. It is enough to go off the track a little, and the snowmobile immediately buries itself in deep snow

6. The photo clearly shows that the snow in this place is waist-deep

7. We take out the snowmobile and move on. From time to time the road leaves the river bed and goes into the forest. This is either a loop of the river being cut off, or a transition to some of its tributaries.

9. Swamp under the snow

10. On the edge of the swamp there is a grove of slender birches

11. An amazing thing - signs in the taiga. In fact, we are simply crossing the winter road - the winter road along which oil workers get to their facilities. There is no road here in summer

12. The first yurts on our way....
I’ll repeat it again for those who didn’t read the caption to the second photo.
Among the Khanty, yurts are not a specific dwelling, but a small settlement. Forest Khanty live in huts. Khanty reindeer herders are in tents.

13. Untrodden snow and huts. The settlement is empty...

14. But numerous tracks and tracks made by snowmobiles indicate that people live here.
Most likely, the Khanty left either to hunt, or to Ugut to hand over their spoils or buy supplies

15. Pattern break - satellite dishes.
Yes, yes, the Khanty nowadays are also quite advanced - they have televisions, they install satellite dishes and use satellite phones in the taiga.
Electricity is obtained from generators, which everyone has.
Ask about the funds for all these benefits?
In fact, the Khanty are not such poor people. They have several sources of income. Firstly, these are trades - hunting, fishing, gathering. Some people donate skins and meat to state procurement offices, others sell them at markets or fairs. Secondly, these are compensation payments from oil workers.
The fact is that each family is assigned ancestral lands. And if oil workers want to place their derricks or other objects on them, they enter into an agreement with the user of these ancestral lands, according to which they annually pay an agreed amount of money.
Here everything depends on the perseverance and business spirit of the Khanty. Andrei Nikolaevich says that he knows some particularly lucky Khanty who receive a million rubles a year or more in compensation

16. Fish is stored simply - freshly caught, dumped in the snow and covered with a piece of tarpaulin or canvas. And they sprinkle snow on top. The beast will not get it from there, and the frost will ensure its safety

17. This is an oven for baking bread. Khanty bake bread on the street (more on this in the next post)

18. Let's move on. Another forced stop. The reason is a steep climb to the edge of the forest along the river bank. A snowmobile cannot pull the sled through deep snow, so we carry it by hand.

19. There are Khantam gifts in the boxes. There is no vodka in the box - there is cereal and bread. Alcohol and the peoples of the north are incompatible things. The thing is that these people do not have an enzyme in their body that breaks down alcohol, so even a small dose of it can make a person dead drunk within 10 minutes.

20. The next yurts on our way are the Kogoncheva yurts. There are only a few houses here, and only a family of pensioners lives here.
Another satellite dish. In addition, metal-plastic windows catch your eye.

21. Owner - Kogonchev Petr Stepanovich.
Settlements here are named after the names of their inhabitants. As a rule, this is one family.

22. If in yurts there is a hut on stilts, this means that there is a storehouse. The most valuable things for the owners are kept here. Piles are needed to prevent animals and rodents from getting in here. The ladder is always removed and is only installed if you need to get into the storage shed.

24. The main means of transportation for a hunter in the taiga are skis.

25. Khanty hunt, fish and collect berries and mushrooms. Each owner always has a rich arsenal of nets and other fishing gear

26. Toilet.. On the street

27. At the entrance to the living part of the house there are two large vats with salted perches. It is more difficult for pensioners to survive in the taiga, because hunting is more difficult than when you are young.
That's why fish always helps out

28. Wife Anna Vasilievna.
They have lived here since birth. They have two daughters, but they no longer lead a traditional lifestyle and moved to the village.
Nowadays, fewer and fewer people remain in their ancestral territories, moving to civilization

29. She hunts along with her husband. The other day I caught a hare, whose skin we saw in the storage shed.
Pyotr Stepanovich was a noble hunter. IN best years I caught 80 sables per winter.
Now, he says, the forest is not what it used to be. There are few animals...

30. Civilization penetrates into taiga settlements....

32. Pyotr Stepanovich and Anna Vasilievna have both mobile phone, though it only catches in some places... The base stations are very far away

33. Anna Vasilievna knitted socks for her husband

34. What God sent..

35. Simple home furnishings... By the way, in the next post, pay attention to how different the furnishings will be from this one in the house of the family we are talking about

36. Water is obtained by melting snow near the stove

37. Birch bark for lighting the stove

38. Pyotr Stepanovich and Anna Vasilievna turned out to be hospitable hosts...

Born in taiga huts, from childhood they absorb with their mother’s milk the skills and abilities that have been developed over centuries.
From an early age, a boy and his father learn to hunt animals and fish, and a girl learns to be a mistress of the house and the harsh taiga life...
They don’t need school and they try in every possible way to hide from the teachers by helicopter who fly in for them from the boarding school.
They have huge, curious eyes and, just like city children, they are madly in love with candy...
Khanty children.

2. These brother and sister, living in the remote taiga on the Great Yugan, see strangers almost for the first time in their lives.
For the first hour, there was wariness in their eyes, mixed with sincere curiosity.
Having received a huge bag of sweets, the children turned all their attention to it....
Until they saw a large camera in my hands.
The boy, who was embarrassed and did not say his name, still wanted to look into the huge glass 82 mm Canon eye...

3. Families among the Forest Khanty are, as a rule, large - from three or more children. The fact is that families always need extra workers, so children from an early age become full-fledged helpers for their parents.
The second reason for large families is the rather difficult climatic and natural living conditions. Taiga is taiga, and here they are often serious illnesses, injuries, or even accidents while hunting or fishing. You yourself understand that children are in a much different position in this regard. larger group risk than adults...

4. Children early receive small copies of various adult objects: a knife, a bow and arrow. The toys are mainly miniature copies of adults' clothing sets: for girls - a pincushion, a box with sewing supplies, a cradle, for boys - a boat, a bow with arrows, and deer figurines. Children's games often become full-fledged labor lessons. Toys in the full sense of the word are more rare than common.

5. A girl of two or three years old can already assemble a bracelet from beads, and a boy can throw a lasso on any object that reminds him of a deer. At the age of six, a child can independently manage a reindeer team and collect tens of kilograms of berries per season. From the age of twelve, a girl can independently run a household, and a boy goes hunting alone.

6. It is precisely in the importance and usefulness of children for the family that lies a rather significant problem of the Khanty - the education of children.
The Russian state demands and forces indigenous peoples to give their children compulsory primary education.
And since many settlements are located in hard-to-reach places, also remote from administrative centers Where there are schools, Khanty children receive this education in special boarding schools.
Naturally, they live there for many months.
This situation contradicts the centuries-old principle of building social ties among the Khanty, when children are full-fledged helpers.
It is for this reason that indigenous people often try to avoid sending their children to a boarding school.
Someone goes into the taiga, hearing the sound of a helicopter coming for their child (and in Ugra there is a state program, according to which a fairly decent amount is allocated annually for the delivery of children to boarding schools and from them on vacation by air to distant yurts), who He just doesn’t give up the child with a scandal.

7. The Khanty believe that their child will not receive the necessary skills for life in the forest while receiving an education in a boarding school.
On the one hand, this is true. On the other hand, an uneducated person is easily deceived in the most different situations- starting from trading in what is extracted from the forest, ending with the conclusion of compensation agreements with oil workers.
Another factor that significantly influences parents living in the taiga is that often children, having weaned themselves on the Internet, do not really want to return to the traditional way of life.
Having tasted the joys of the life we ​​are accustomed to, having learned certain benefits of civilization, they begin to see life in the forest from a completely different perspective...

8. It's hard to say who this one will be a little boy in 15-20 years...
He will return to Big Yugan with a gun and a snowmobile to continue doing what his father, grandfather and great-grandfather did, or he will remain in Surgut or Pyt-Yakh to work in unskilled work, or even enter a university...

9. In the meantime.... while he runs after his father into the street to help him with freshly caught fish, throwing his only toys on the bed....

The last ones in Taiga. Khanty. Surgut district of Khanty-Mansi Autonomous Okrug.