Russian Borzoi Hunting

At the entrance to their hunting territory I was greeted by absolutely white Russian greyhounds, who treated me like the closest relative. As if they knew me for many years. Carefully sniffed my pockets, but, apparently, nothing good on the smell there was not found. Then they were interested in the photo bag. But, having familiarized themselves with the smells of its content, they lost interest in me. Again they began to rush one after another around the yard. Three of them were my elbow height. They, it seemed, didn’t even run in fluffy snow, but, as it were, flew over it, so long and graceful were their jumps. Continue reading →