Everything about leopard hunting in Africa
The African leopard (pantera pardus) is one of the most desirable and at the same time the most difficult hunting trophies. If an elephant and a buffalo are said to…

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Fox hunting
Hunters have such a rule: “Do not start fishing without finding out where the beast is found”. The fox usually lives where there are many mouse-like rodents. The number of…

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White Rhino Safari
One day, ten years ago, on the way to safari, I was stuck at Francistown airport, waiting for a plane to Johannesburg. We talked with a neighbor, an elderly Catholic…

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Boar Hunting in the Penza Region

We hunted in the Penza region. But this is not important. The same could happen when hunting for a wild boar and in any other locality, or, as they say now, a subject of the Federation. Unlike Moscow, where it was raining, there was snow at Penza at the end of November and, according to Dahl, rejuvenated. The snow was three inches, and the temperature stood at minus fifteen. From the evening we stopped at the base, trampled the room, sat at the table. As usual. In the morning, the thermometer markedly passed – it dropped to minus twenty-three (I’ll say right away that it did not get warmer by evening, but, on the contrary, it became colder to twenty-eight). But all this would be nothing: at least they saw the winter at the end of the year of the fiery dog. Hunters’ clothes and shoes were, thank God, reliable, nobody froze wow. It’s a shame the other – how stupidly we profiled the day of the hunt.

We got up in the dark, had breakfast, warmed up the “loaf”, packed into it and went to the “nearest dacha”, that is, to the nearest feeder, where the boars usually appear. It turned out that this is really quite close to the base. But not a single fresh trace was found near the feeding trough, and even far from it. Returned to the base.

Then I remembered with a sinful affair how I hunted near Kiev, in the hunting economy of the Dynamo Society. The company did not drink at all in the evening, in the morning after the toilet they had a good breakfast and began to read who was playing chess. I was surprised and asked, but what about the hunt? It turned out that the huntsmen, who with the first rays of the sun had gone to go around the neighborhoods and look for fresh tracks, had not returned yet. On the eve of the afternoon, they had driven around the grounds and already knew approximately where to go in the morning. As found and cut off, they immediately called back. The people quickly gathered and went to the place indicated by the rangers. There we were met by a man who quickly arranged the numbers, then a horn sounded in the distance, and so the corral began. In the first three deer were taken, in the second – two wild boars and another deer. By lunchtime they returned to the base with loot.

Under Penza, we gathered not so much as to send out patrols. All fit in one “loaf”, so we ourselves were trackers and hunters. And on the eve of the day there was no one to drive around the grounds so as not to waste precious time in the morning. What can you do? So I remembered about Kiev not in reproach to the Penza organizers of the hunt, but by association. As a positive example, perhaps …

They didn’t stand on the base for long – just who had forgotten to take it right away, now it’s taken back into the car Most importantly, they took a snack with them, since it was unknown how much to dangle in the woods.

As if on purpose, in the snow, wherever we went, there were either old tracks, or fresh, but moose, and we did not have a license for this representative of the hoofed animals. We traveled and drove, drove and drove and, from time to time lounging on each other, shrugged our shoulders: hunting is hunting. Be patient! In the rear compartment, separated by a sliding window from the cabin, two bobbles rolled from place to place, occasionally giving way to impatience.

Somewhere for dinner the trail was finally found. The local people quickly found out where to get up, where to start the pen. We got on the numbers, trampled down the grounds and waited.

And again, numerous pen hunting, in which one had to take part, came to mind. I can definitely say that most hunters do not have enough patience to stand still and not move, if they don’t imagine when the corral began. Some do not even know which side they will drive, since the huntsman, who should show the sector of shooting, usually says only one thing: “Get up here.” Even the first ten minutes after putting the number on the room, the hunters can stand without moving. And then it begins: someone turns a gun, and in sunny weather, although blued, but the smooth trunks glint like a light bulb; someone decides that he still has time to go to the toilet before the beast comes up; someone suddenly guesses that he has chosen an unsuccessful place, and begins to move back and forth in search of the most suitable one; someone remembers a piece of sausage in a backpack and arranges for himself an individual second breakfast; and someone about the flask with the intoxicating is not able to forget and, having come together with the next room, arranges a picnic. You need to have some kind of non-Russian self-discipline in order not to allow yourself to pick up, if you don’t know whether the corral has begun or not yet and how far the beaters are from you.

At the same time, as I understood from conversations with different hunters, very few people imagine that the beast is moving from its place long before the beater approaches the site of its initial location. Not only that, about a hundred and a half hundred meters to open spaces — glades, roads, glades where numbers can be, the beast stops and listens attentively and sniffs even more carefully. The slightest sign of danger makes him move along the line of shooters at such a distance to remain invisible to them, or to break through the line of beaters.

My forest life
If he was born in a forest village and from childhood he listened to the sound of the forest, the talk of fast rivers and streams, you simply cannot imagine…

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A story about boar hunting
The fourth night I sit on the tower, the guard of the boar. Just today I have to get it. Yes, today, and this particular boar. Firstly, I am leaving…

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Bold goat
This case was told to me by a wonderful man, hunter and writer Boris Yermilovich Tikhomolov. In the early thirties, he flew in the sky of Karakalpakia. He transported mail,…

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Stuffed bird
Early autumn with a red brush over the gardens and foothills. But summer reminded of another hot afternoon. On one of these days, the elder brother stood at the front…

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