The editor-in-chief of the magazine "Okhota" Valery Kuzenkov told the "Russian Planet" why the animal world of the country has become so impoverished. Who are we kidding? How old is Valery Kuzenkov

Fight at the taiga stream

In the office of the state industrial farm of one of the taiga villages, I saw a rather young man with such a disfigured face that it seemed that it was impossible to think of anything worse. Instead of a face - a terrible mask. The right hand was not up to the shoulder, one leg was crippled. From conversations with the hunting manager of the state industrial farm and other residents of the village, everything that happened to this person appeared in detail. A visit to the place where it took place helped supplement the picture of the tragedy that happened to him.

Having finished the chores, Anton went to his friend Ivan and persuaded him to visit his hunting grounds and, of course, the hunting hut tomorrow by motor boats. Both Anton and Ivan returned to their native village a year and a half ago after conscript service. Since childhood, they loved hunting, and therefore got a job at the state industrial farm as regular hunters.

Having grabbed food for a week, the friends set off early in the morning. Anton's "Kazanka" was the first. Ivan soon turned in his direction: the friends agreed to meet in a few days. On the bow of the boat lay a five-year-old West Siberian husky named Yukon. This dog was sold to his father by visiting hunters when Anton was still serving in the army. The Yukon was now in its prime. Lying in the boat, he looked at the shores passing by in a businesslike manner, with all his appearance as if saying to Anton: look how handsome and strong I am. The only thing that spoiled the husky's exterior was yellow wolf eyes, apparently inherited from his distant ancestors.

But Anton was completely sneezed on the exterior: he was not going to go to dog shows. And in terms of working qualities, Yukon had no equal in the village: he worked perfectly for sable, wood grouse, elk, and bear.

But most of all, Yukon loved to chase bears. Grabbing the scent of a clubfoot, he seemed to forget about everything and immediately rushed at the beast. And he did not just bark, but climbed into a fight, grabbed the gachi, inflicting lacerated wounds with powerful fangs. Several times the bears caught him with their clawed paws, but, having an excellent reaction, the dog got off with only scratches.

The hunters of the state industrial farm could not understand why Yukon hated bears so much. Maybe because only in them I saw worthy opponents?

As soon as the "Kazanka" hit the shore near the mouth of the stream, Yukon jumped to the ground and fled into the taiga. Apparently, he decided to go around all his possessions, look for dog hiding places. The dog left them in those days when he and the owner managed to get a moose or a bear. In such cases, Yukon, having eaten to the full, began to hide the half-eaten pieces of meat and bones for a rainy day. Moreover, he carried them away over fairly long distances. Probably, a thought also arose in the dog's brain: if you put it further, you will take it closer.

He headed up the stream, but soon the wind carried the smell of a bear to him. The scruff of the Yukon's scruff rose in an instant, the dog tensed and, bared fangs, rushed towards the enemy. Jumping out onto the ridge, nose to nose collided with a small bear. On the move, grabbing the cub by the gachi, the dog tore the muscles on his hind leg. The bear screeched sharply and shrilly. And then an angry bear rushed to the husky.

Dodging the blow with his paw, the dog turned around and bit her on the gachi. The bear stopped near the cub in a fighting pose. The Yukon spun around. At some point, he jumped too close to the beast, and he managed to pick it up with his paw. The dog was thrown up, turning over in the air, he hit the larch. Deciding that he needed to recuperate, Yukon withdrew from the scene.

Meanwhile, Anton was already standing at the hunting hut and smoking, watching his friend's boat. They agreed to meet in a week. Having finished smoking, the hunter took an ax and went up the stream, just in the direction where the bear and the bear cub were ...

Once again, drawing in the air, the bear smelled a man. She growled. The ears were pressed to the head, the lower lip dropped, and the upper lip lifted, exposing the fangs. The eyes were bloodshot. A man was more dangerous to her cub than a dog.

Anton chopped another slug and did not immediately see the approaching mistress of the forest. And when he noticed, he managed to think that, apparently, there was a bear cub somewhere nearby and his mother was just scaring him. Now she will stop, stand on her hind legs and bark to drive away the stranger. But the enraged beast attacked the hunter on the move. He tried to jump to the side, simultaneously hitting her with an ax. But in the jump, the blow did not work, the point of the ax only slid over the skull of the clubfoot, which angered him even more.

The blow of the bear's paw hit the arm. It cracked in the shoulder, and the ax fell out. The second blow is on the back. Anton felt his quilted jacket burst and a sharp pain burned his back. Embracing the hunter, the bear began to bite his head. He felt the fetid breath of the beast, felt the fangs of the bear tearing his face ...

Anton woke up in the dark. He lay by the stream between two stones, piled high with brushwood. The whole body ached, the face burned. The clothes were torn to shreds. Why didn't the bear kill him? Obviously, instinct worked - making sure that there were no signs of life coming from the person, she dragged him to the marked place, threw him with brushwood and dead wood, and then returned to the bear cub.

When Anton tried to get out from under the branches, the bear, having heard the noise, again rushed at the hunter. But at that moment, a Yukon appeared in her path. His bite was strong, and the beast, barking in pain, sat down on the ground. The dog rushed to the bear cub that turned out to be nearby and began to tear it up. The bear, forgetting about the hunter, rushed to the rescue of the cub. Anton did not see this any more - he lost consciousness again.

The first thing he heard when he regained consciousness was the growl of the Yukon. He attacked the bear, not allowing her to approach the owner. Anton managed to get up. After walking several tens of meters, he fell and lost consciousness again. For a long time now.

I woke up only at dawn. And immediately he heard the noise of a fight, guessing that his faithful friend had been saving him from the beast all night. Overcoming the pain, the hunter crawled to the hut. Looking back, I saw the Yukon running towards him, and behind him - an angry bear. Noticing the hunter, she darted towards him. But Yukon no longer with a growl, but with a wild howl jumped onto her back and dug into her neck. The bear howled and tried to fall on her back so as to crush the intrusive enemy. Realizing her maneuver, the dog jumped to the side and immediately, biting into her groin, pulled out a large piece. The dog attacked the bear with such fury that she again retreated from the man. Leaving her alone, Yukon ran to the owner, grabbed him by the collar of his quilted jacket and began to drag him to the hut. Anton helped him with his feet as best he could.

After a while, seeing that the bear was returning, Yukon left the owner and rushed at her. A new fight ensued. Anton continued to crawl to the hut - there is salvation.

How long Anton crawled to the hut, he did not remember.

The days that followed were foggy. Unbearable pain burned all over my body. Anton did not have enough strength to climb onto the bunk. He lay on the floor, occasionally reaching for the teapot to drink. The hunter understood that help would come only with the arrival of Ivan, and tried to hold on. Yukon held on, too, barking every now and then.

Ivan, as if anticipating something unkind, arrived ahead of schedule. Opening the door to the hut, he saw a friend lying on the floor. In tattered clothes, covered in dried blood, with a disfigured, festering face, he presented a terrible sight. But Anton was still alive, as Ivan was convinced when he raised water to his lips. He whispered something, and Ivan could make out: "Yukon, Yukon."

After treating his friend's wounds, Ivan opened the door of the hut and immediately heard strange noises, similar to moans and wheezing. Grabbing a carbine, he went in the direction where something incomprehensible was happening. Soon I saw a bear sitting, and only then a dog lying nearby. Yukon watched the movements of the bear and, as soon as she made an attempt to move from her place, rushed at her and grabbed the slats, which were a continuous bloody mess. The bear did not have the strength to hit the dog, and she simply sat down on the ground again. After that, Yukon walked away and lay down on the ground. Taking aim, Ivan shot the beast in the shoulder blade. Yukon looked at the hunter and made an attempt to wag his tail, which he did not do well ...

Having loaded his friend into the boat, Ivan carried the Yukon there, which was asleep and did not move. Six hours later, Anton was already at the village hospital. He had not woken up Yukon in his arms, he carried to Anton's home.

Anton left the hospital a few months later. Of course, he could no longer hunt. He got a job as a night watchman in the office of the state industrial farm. Yukon continued to hunt with Ivan - so Anton decided. But after the end of each hunting season, the dog returned to the house to its owner.

Gingerbread and new year oranges

There was a little snow this season, although it was already approaching New Year... But for the hunter-fisherman Alexei and his fiery red Karelian-Finnish husky Ryzhik, this was just the way. Due to his small stature, Ryzhik found it difficult to work in the deep snow that he had been in last year. And now the dog was tirelessly shuttling the taiga, from time to time crossing the owner's route in order to navigate where he is.

In the morning, before going out to hunt, Alexey fed his four-legged friend satisfyingly, preparing a stew of flour, cereals and three squirrel carcasses. And Ryzhik conscientiously searched for the beast, like the owner, rejoicing clean air, light frost and shallow snow.

It is believed that for successful work for a sable, a dog needs to be tall, have a good sense of smell, be hardy, strong, viscous to the animal and have a clear voice. All these qualities, except for growth, Ryzhik had. Karelo-Finnish huskies are not tall, males reach a maximum of 48 centimeters at the withers, and Ryzhik has grown just to this size.

Finally, finding a fresh sable footprint and untangling it, the husky drove the animal away. After a while, Ryzhik caught up with a sable, and he, to save himself, jumped on a large, in two girths, cedar and, rising to a dense crown, hid there.

Alexey approached the tree carefully so that the sable, who was giving all his attention barking dog, did not notice his approach. He did not see the animal, but he was sure that he was lurking somewhere, so he slowly raised his gun and fired at the tree trunk. Both he and the dog noticed how one of the branches swayed. Taking a closer look, Alexey saw a sable lying on it. Without sudden movements, the hunter broke the gun and replaced the spent cartridge with a new one. Taking aim at the animal's head, he admired the sable for a second - a good cat.

The shot snapped dry in the cold, the sable slowly slid off the branch and flew to the ground. Ginger grabbed the carcass, crushed it and, making sure that the sable was dead, presented it to its owner. The hunter smiled.

Well done, Ryzhik, however. Good dog, ”he said, examining the small hole in the sable's head left by the bullet. - And I, however, am good. Slap him on the forehead - and you're ready!

To prevent the carcass from getting stained with blood, Alexey wrapped a clean cloth around the sable's head and put it in his backpack.

We could get a couple more of these today, and we can get out to the village for the New Year, ”he slyly looked at the dog. - In the village we will rest, we will hand over some furs to the industrial farm, and we will let the pilots go to the left. Do you remember them? They, of course, are bad people, they wanted to buy everything from me or exchange for vodka. As if they do not know that a dog is a friend of man, and that they do not sell friends and do not exchange them for vodka.

Ginger, as if understanding the owner, wagged his tail.

However, there is nowhere to go, - Alexey continued. - Pilots pay well for furs. But why did they catch all the stray dogs and put them on their hats ?! This is bad, however, oh how bad ...

The dog got tired of standing still, and he ran to look for another animal. Alexey followed him. But, not even walking hundreds of meters, he noticed how his red-haired friend spun on a large pile of earth littered with branches.

What are you smelling here? he asked, climbing onto the pile too. But suddenly the ground underfoot began to stir, a muffled, menacing growl was heard. The dog and the hunter after him immediately jumped from the den, and a large dark brown bear appeared from it.

Ginger was the first to come to his senses and, turning on the spot, described a semicircle around the den, grabbed the gachi and hung on it with a fiery red ball. Feeling pain, the bear stopped, and when Ryzhik jumped back, he tried to cuddle his back to the vortex. Then his small, angry eyes stumbled upon a man. Instinctively realizing that a man is much more dangerous than a dog, the bear, pressing his ears and growling viciously, went to Alexei. The redhead again hung on the slides of the beast. But the bear's initial confusion was enough for the hunter to replace the shot cartridge with a bullet one. He had a "Belka" - IZH-56, which had a smooth lower barrel for firing shot or bullets of 28 caliber, and the upper one - rifled, for firing small-caliber rimfire cartridges of 5.6 caliber. Now he switched for a shot from the smooth barrel and calmly aimed at the bear's head. Before that, there were about five meters, when after the shot the gun habitually pushed the hunter in the shoulder. The bear immediately settled down and, spreading out in the snow, remained lying there. A bullet hit him in the forehead and shattered his skull.

Well, here's this one. Clap on the forehead and ready. Well done, however, - said Alexei, watching Ryzhik patting the dead beast.

During his life, Alexey has killed several dozen bears and has long ceased to be afraid of them. But, having gotten another bear, every time he understood what a serious opponent he was. And each time he sat down in front of the killed beast and quietly prayed to his hunting god, who helped him in the taiga, and whom he believed very much. And now Alexei was sitting and, looking at one point, slowly moved his lips, as if talking to God. When he finished praying, he got up.

Well, Ryzhik, now we have enough work for the whole day.

He took out a sharpened knife and began to skin the bear. An hour and a half later, everything was over, and the skin lay spread out in the snow, and chunks of meat were cooling down next to it. Ginger, while the work was going on, lying aside, without interfering with the owner, now went up to the skin and lay down on it. Alexey smiled:

Stop fooling around. Let's go get the snowmobile. Until we get to the hut, until we come back here, God forbid to be in time before dark.

As he had expected, they had finished the hauling work after dark. For another midnight, Alexei was getting ready for a trip to the village. The road was long ahead, and they left at dawn. Ahead on the "Buran" was the owner, behind him on a sled attached to a snowmobile, Ryzhik lay on a bearskin. The dog did not want to run. The day passed with one stop for a tea, but still we got to the village only at night.

The next day, Alexei left the house for dinner. Together with Ryzhik he went in search of a familiar pilot. Aleksey did not like to stay in the village for a long time, especially since the construction of a gas pipeline had recently begun here. In the future, it was supposed to connect the gas-rich north with the rest of the country. Wages were good there, and even some full-time hunters went there to work. Alexei was disgusted with the pipeline. He believed that any interference with nature is unacceptable.

The pilot he needed was not there. They said that he went to the construction site, but he was not there either. Tired of fruitless searches, Alexey went to the office of the state industrial farm, where the meeting was to take place. All the workers of the state industrial farm have already gathered there, except for the hunters, who for various reasons did not leave the taiga. The topic of the meeting was summing up the results of the past year. Alexei listened to the speaking game manager, without delving into the meaning of the figures he quoted. Suddenly, the game manager suggested that Alexei act as the best hunter, catching the most furs. He began to refuse, but his hunting friends began to agitate him.

Come on, Lech, don't be shy. You put all the fishermen in the belt. Share your experience!

There is nothing to do, Alexei squeezed to the podium.

However, what can I tell you? he asked, embarrassed.

Tell us how you catch sables and bears! - shouted from the audience.

What to say something. I will find the animal together with my dog, Ryzhik, a Karelian-Finnish Laika. I'll take aim, however. A clap on the forehead - and ready. Ginger is a fine fellow, a true friend.

And it's all? - asked the game manager. Alexei only nodded in response and wiped his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his jacket.

I see, comrades. Let's thank our best hunter and his friend Ryzhik for a good speech. Let's clap.

The audience applauded loudly. How he got to his chair, how he sat further, Alexei did not remember well. He came to his senses only when the meeting was over, and he went out into the cold. Seeing Ryzhik running up to him, he patted him behind the ears.

Wow, Ryzhik, how hard it is, however, to speak in front of people! The bear is easier to kill. But I'm done, I did it.

The dog looked into the owner's eyes knowingly.

Let's go to the store and buy some overseas fruit.

There were no more people in the village shop - it was just before closing. But the saleswoman who knew Alexey let him in. Seeing oranges on the shelf, Alexei opened his mouth in surprise.

What a fruit! I see it for the first time. The color is like my dog. Sell \u200b\u200bme, however, a couple of kilograms to test.

Take it, sweets, - the saleswoman weighed two kilograms of large orange oranges, poured them into a paper bag and handed them to the hunter.

Ginger was waiting in the street. Alexei sat down on a bench next to the store and took out the largest orange from the bag. Twisted it before my eyes, admiring the color.

You see, he is also red, like you, ”he said to the dog, and took a big bite of the orange. The simultaneous taste of bitterness, sweetness and acidity filled my mouth.

Ugh, disgusting, what, - Alexei spat.

Ginger went up to the piece that had fallen into the snow, sniffed it and turned away.

So, you don’t like it either. ”He pulled out a second orange from the bag, wiped it on his sleeve, took a bite, chewed, and spat it out again. - However, I don’t understand what people find in these overseas fruits?

Alexey shook his head and noticed a rasp of firewood on the other side of the square. For her, he poured oranges into the snow, first making sure that no one sees him.

Ryzhik, however, I did not realize that even one kilogram would be enough for us to sample. Let's go to the aviators.

This time pilot Volodya was there. Having agreed on the sale of furs, Aleksey soon brought skins to the buyer. Volodya looked at them for a long time, shook them, blew on the fur, argued about the price. Finally, we agreed and shook hands. The pilot offered to mark the deal and took out a bottle of vodka. They poured alcohol into glasses, clinked glasses, drank. Volodya threw a piece of sausage to Ryzhik who was lying on the floor.

Good dog. And how beautiful! Red like a fox

Or, like an orange, - Alexey agreed. - He is my friend and breadwinner. Works great.

The hat would have come out just right, - said Volodya, pouring the vodka again. - There is a demand for such hats in the city. Fashion. ”He bent down, stroked the dog and gave him more sausages. Ryzhik wagged his tail in gratitude.

What a hat! - Alexey was indignant. - The dog is my friend. Saved my life recently!

Calm down, I was joking. I understand perfectly that friend. Thank you for bringing the skins and talking about the oranges. Before leaving, I'll pop into the store and buy it home. We cannot find them in our city before the New Year. Deficiency. Come on, drink ...

The next day, Alexei woke up late. My head ached, my mouth was dry.

The devil pulled me to drink yesterday. In the taiga, you don't drink, you don't drink - and on you. Now I will be ill for two days.

He went out into the yard, stood for a while in the cold, remembered Ryzhik. The dog did not come to the call. Alexei got worried, hurried out into the street, began to whistle and call. Ginger did not appear. After waiting for a while, Alexei got dressed and went to look for the dog around the village. Spent the whole day looking for - Ryzhik, as if he sank into the water. Returning home, he asked his mother:

Has anyone come to see me today?

Early in the morning there was a city pilot. It seems his name is Volodya. I said you were asleep. He also gave Ryzhik sausage.

What didn't you say before!

Having dressed again, Alexey ran to the aviators. Volodya denied everything and, having achieved nothing from him, the desperate hunter wandered home. On the way, a familiar pilot stopped him, asking him to smoke.

Why are you so sad?

The dog is lost, - Alexey sighed. “I've been looking all day and it's all in vain.

Wait, I think I saw him in the morning with Volodya.

So I already asked him - he knows nothing, has not seen anything.

He can lie. What a fruit! Don't worry, your dog will be found, - the pilot tried to calm down ...

Already in front of the house, Alexei suddenly stopped. Once again repeating the words of a friend: "He can lie. Volodya is a fruit!" Of course he lied. Besides him, there is no one to take Ryzhik away. And he didn't just feed him sausage. Fruit, orange. He also wanted to buy oranges tomorrow. I'll buy him ...

On a bench by the store, with his back against the wall, sat the pilot in a hat with a cockade pulled down over his forehead. He sat himself and sat. What's wrong with that? People walked by, cars drove by. And the man was still sitting. An hour, two, three. It started to get dark, the store was closed. And only then the saleswoman called out to the pilot:

Why are you soaring, sitting? The store has already closed.

The pilot did not answer. The woman pushed him on the shoulder - was he drunk? From the jolt, he fell on his side, the hat fell into the snow, and the saleswoman saw a neat hole on the man's forehead. The same hole appeared in the cap between the "wings" of the cockade.

The investigation into the murder of the pilot, whose name was Volodya, led nowhere. A small bullet hitting the skull was deformed so badly that it was impossible to identify the weapon from which they fired. And you never know in the north of unregistered weapons. And in the suitcase of the killed, in addition to personal belongings and various furs, they found several salted dog skins. One of them was especially beautiful, fiery red. Very similar in color to an orange.

For cranberries

The sun came out from behind the forest, illuminating the village street and houses. Rooster Petka is a bully and a fighter, flapped his wings and in a moment was on the fence. He settled down more comfortably on it and, raising his head adorned with a large red comb to the sun, loudly crowed, welcoming the beginning of the next day ...

Kukareku! Kukareku! - echoed over the village.

Akhalnik! - the old woman, who came out of the barn, where she had just milked her goat, scolded at the small cockerel. - I almost didn’t drop the milkbag on the ground because of you. I would have killed if I had spilled the milk, ”the old woman swore quite spitefully.

She smiled. The rooster, tilting his head to one side, squinted at the hostess, as if wondering what to expect from her at that moment. Flapped his wings and crowed again

The old woman waved her hand at the rooster and went to the house.

Marusya! - called her from the street. She turned around. A woman who looked like a hostess entered the courtyard, carefully closing the gate behind her.

Nastya! Neighbor! - greeted the hostess who entered.

Hello! - the guest greeted.

Hello! - answered the woman Masha.

What are you going to do today? - the neighbor immediately asked the question.

I haven't thought about it yet. She just milked the goat, - Baba Masha nodded at the milk box with milk ... - After breakfast, maybe Nyuska-goat will go pop ass.

You wait to graze, - the neighbor did not calm down. - Let's run to the swamp. Let's pick up the cranks. People were there and said that there were a lot of berries in the swamps this year. Oh, how many! In a word, harvest! They take all the berries, but I have no supplies for the winter. - Grandmother Nastya fell silent, waiting for an answer.

And I have no berries, - agreed Marusya.

So I’m talking. They will collect everything.

The hostess of the house pondered.

Things can still be formed for me. I also wanted to pick out a potato.

The potato won't leave you anywhere. You and I will just leave for a couple of hours. We walk along the edge of the swamp and immediately back, - Nastya persuaded her friend.

We’ll hardly pick up the berries at the edge. The young ones have already picked up all the cranberries there. After all, they are dragging her to the track to sell.

They won't collect everything. Let's go and see. What are you talking about, let's better pack up and let's go. In the meantime, I'm running for the basket. Let's move. There will be no cranberries on the edge - let's go to the Devil's corner.

Marusya thought again, and Nastya stood and waited for an answer.

The granddaughter must drive up from the city for the holidays, - said Baba Masha. - What if he wants cranberry pies?

She will definitely ask, - Nastya nodded her head. - Definitely.

Okay! - the hostess agreed with the neighbor. - Let's go. But why go to the Devil's corner, maybe we'll see here on the mossy swamp?

Better to go straight to the Devil's. All the berries are there. Yesterday, just my godmother, Varka, went there with her friends. So they collected two full buckets in an hour. Berry to berry. One to one, green is gone. All the sour berry is like fire, red ...

Be it your way, if so, - Baba Masha agreed and went to get ready. The neighbor ran to her room. The sun, meanwhile, rose high above the forest. The wind blew, and the yellow leaves of the birches growing along the village street swirled like a golden rain over the roofs of the houses ...

Kukareku! Kukareku! - the village roosters shouted.

Soon the old women left the outskirts of the village and headed towards the forest. Dressed in old chintz shawls faded from frequent washing, identical jackets, sweaters and skirts, from the outside they could seem like twin sisters. They walked pretty fast for their age, and hardly anyone would have agreed to give each of them more than eighty years. Small, thin, even dry, rather slender and very nimble Baba Masha and Baba Nastya, each holding a basket for berries, crossed the village cattle and entered the forest. They walked, talking among themselves about something of their own, rural. They didn't turn around. They knew the way to the swamp well. A packed path led there.

All their lives, as long as they could remember, they went to the forest and, of course, to the swamp for berry-cranberries. The villagers called the place where they were going now, the Devil's Corner. Why Damn? It happened that people wandered there. It was rumored that the compass with arrows in that place begins to make such a leapfrog that it becomes an absolutely useless piece of iron for a person, especially a lost one. In short, the place is abnormal, which means damn it. However, the local residents of all the surrounding villages knew everything there, every bump and, read, every tree, and they were not at all afraid to go to the Devil's corner for a berry. And the cranberry harvest there was excellent from year to year. Nobody knew why. The people carried the berries home in sacks. They cleaned it of debris, dried it and carried it onto a large asphalt road, where it was sold in the fall. So they fed, so they lived. These were the main earnings in the village, since there were no others for a long time. Who needs milk and potatoes after the collapse of the USSR? Especially nobody. Even meat was bought for mere pennies. So they survived.

The old women walked through the woods. At first, the trail twisted between tall birches and fir trees. Soon she moved into a pine forest, and grandmothers-girlfriends, rejoicing in the sunny morning, now and then stopped and bent down, plucked juicy and red lingonberries from low bushes. They chewed them, enjoying the sweet and sour taste.

Brusena is good, - Maroussia put another handful of berries in her mouth, just picked right from the forest path. - There would be more of it here, you can not run after cranberries.

It is possible, but here at all times there is not a lot of lingonberry, the people run through it. Why squirm in vain? You will lose time, and you will collect no more than one liter jar of lingonberries. Blueberries will be good here. Straight uh, how many of her were here this summer, - Nastya looked around. - It seems that I was the one who collected it here. You won't believe it, in buckets.

But I failed. As the goat got sick, so all my blueberries remained in the forest. Nyusku barely came out. She was given injections, and she gave powder medicine, I thought that now her milk would be poisonous. No, nothing like that. The cat and I eat and live. All right.

And what did she hurt? - asked a friend.

Who knows. Maybe she ate some poisonous grass, or maybe someone bit it.

And what did the veterinarian say?

He said something, but will I remember his ingenious expressions? I injected Nyuske and prescribed medications, I even agreed with the tractor driver Vaska that he would bring me those medications from the regional pharmacy. I bought it, I didn’t deceive. I gave a lot of money for all this, a whole month's pension. Straight horror! But most importantly, not in vain! Nyuska recovered and became more alive than all the living. She's mischievous, she's just rejuvenated, you see, and she will soon please me with a little goat. Or maybe two.

Baba Marusya smiled with a toothless mouth at the mention of the kids.

Thank God that everything worked out, - Nastya was glad for her friend-neighbor.

The trail, meanwhile, turned into a swampy forest, and the grandmothers now and then stepped with their boots into the black peat bog water that covered the trail in one place or another. Fortunately, the depth of the puddles was small, and the old women, successfully overcoming water obstacles, continued their way into the depths of the cranberry swamp, popularly called the Devil's Corner. The pines growing around them became thinner and thinner in their trunks and lower and lower. Affected by excessive moisture in the area. The wild rosemary grew, filling the surrounding forest with its characteristic scent. Slowly decaying, here and there fell trees that had died from a large amount of water, the trunks of which lay on the marsh mosses, as if on soft railings. The death of trees led to a further increase in groundwater in these places and to the expansion of the area of \u200b\u200bthe swamp, to which people came for berries and cranberries ...

Soon the whole area was the same. All around there were stunted pines, mosses, blueberry bushes and some other herbs, which grandmothers often met here in the swamp before, but did not know what they were called. These moisture-loving plants, fed up with excess water, evaporated in the sun into so much moisture that due to this, humid air stood over the swamp and there was a small fog.

The old women walked another hundred or two meters, and gradually the path came to naught. It was in this place that the people who came here scattered through the swamp. Cranberries grew everywhere, and, picking berry after berry, people went further and further from the path. One thing was dangerous - not to get lost. In such places, you spin in one place, spin, and after a while you raise your head to look around, take your eyes off the berry and do not know which way to go. The pines, the sky and the swamp are all the same. There remains one reference point - the sun. You can, of course, follow the compass. But if there is no compass and the sun is hidden behind the clouds, then you can easily get lost. Footprints on marsh mosses are faintly noticeable, but you can shout as much as you want, still hardly anyone will hear. In Russia, swamps are not for one kilometer. Sometimes people circled in these places for several days. And sometimes they didn't go to the house at all ...

Matryona and Nastya agreed not to go far from each other. They began to take the berry. They plucked one by one, and the other, in a moss clearing they found at once a dozen, a dozen more berries, and now they are already a kilometer from the place of entry into the swamp. Baskets for the berries of the old woman took voluminous, a couple of buckets of cranberries will fit into each without any problems. And although they tore the berry sportively, the cranberries in the baskets did not grow quickly. To speed up the collection process, many local residents used so-called "harvesters" for this. Such special devices, sometimes similar to small sledges, and sometimes in the form of scoops with teeth at the edges. One thing is bad: with such "combines" they tear the berries right from the leaves and destroy the cranberry bushes. The collection is fast, but after that you have to take out not only cranberries from the swamp, but also a lot of extraneous debris. After that, the berry must be rolled away, cleaned and sorted out of leaves and moss. Such devices are good for industrial harvesting of berries, when time is expensive and you want to cut more money. Then the pickers pluck the cranberries with those "combines". They tear so that the moss hangs around the trees. Berry growers do not spare and leave behind a "desert". One harm from such fees. So the old women thought. Taking a berry with your hands is different. Then the berry lays down to the berry. It was clean, expensive to look at, and the cranberry bushes were preserved. Never in the old days did the village "combine harvesters" tore a berry. It was forbidden to harvest before ripeness. Green, then. Of course, many would like to. Cranberries, like that tomato, lie in a dark place and come. Matures. But with such morality, it turned out that whoever first ran to the swamp, he snatched ... It was not before that. People were waiting for the term when the berry would ripen. It was then that they collected it. Not like now ... So they reasoned and, probably, for this reason, their baskets were not filled with sour berry as quickly as they wanted. However, by lunchtime there was already a bucket of berries in each basket. It was getting harder and harder to drag them along, and the grandmothers got tired and sat down on a pine tree blown down by the wind to rest.

Mash, what a fool I am! She was in a hurry and did not take food. - Baba Nastya pulled up a basket, half full of ripe red berries. She ran her hand over the cranberries.

All our haste, - she answered. - It flew to me before dawn. Has stirred up. We run to the swamp, we run. They will take all the berries. It has already been collected. Without us. Look how much we waved, but did not fill the baskets. Yes, and people in the swamp are not visible or audible. Sometimes they yelled here and there before. It can be seen that the people have already finished the season.

Marusia looked around.

Nastya, what side did we come from? she asked. Nastya paused, thought, put a few sour berries in her mouth and crushed them with her gums and remaining teeth. I immediately got sick of drinking, as the cranberry juice was very, very sour. Nastya held the crushed berries in her mouth. She licked her dry lips with her tongue and, taking a sip, swallowed the juice and berries. She got up from the log and, looking around, confidently waved her hand in one direction.

From there! ..

How do you know? - Masha looked at her friend with disbelief. She was even offended.

From a camel! I identified it by the sun. When we came to the swamp, it, dear, was behind us. And now there is where it shines, - she pointed to the sun.

We should go there. I still have a compass in my head. I have never strayed from early childhood. If something is wrong, I will get up, calm down and imagine how I was walking through the forest before, so the whole road is immediately in my head and lined up.

And so it is lined up ...

And how, of course, I remember, - assured her friend Nastya.

Well, if that's the case, then let's go. Directly to the house. Or maybe we'll take some more berries? It would be nice to get the baskets. - Now Maroussia took a handful of berries, looked at them and famously put them in her mouth. She moved her lips, tried to crush ...

Sour, infection, - uttered the old woman.

Red and sour.

That's why she and cranberries. - Baba Nastya took the basket in her hand and walked through the swamp. After a minute she screamed.

Masha! You and I are two fools sitting, and here there are so many berries growing. Come here soon. Look!

A large cranberry-berry lay in a solid red carpet on the moss. As if someone had collected a lot of it in a swamp, transferred it here and at once poured it out in one place. All the moss, bumps, under the trunks of stunted pines, everywhere there was one solid cranberry. Delighted with what they saw, the old women began to pick that berry. And an hour later, one and a half baskets were filled. But I didn't want to leave. How can you leave when there are still so many berries left around. I don’t want to take it. And they took and took. They came to their senses only when a huge bird the size of a turkey living in Nastya's courtyard, though darker in color and more brownish in shade of feathers, flew out with a characteristic noise right from under his feet. Having frightened the old women to death, the wood grouse, often flapping its wings, flying into half of the low trees and maneuvering between their trunks and branches, disappeared from sight.

He scared you, devil, - Masha swore. - I never saw him. Such a huge fool, but she sat still. We approached, and she was right there. Crackling, banging, already the heart went into the heels, - she sat down on a tree stump, holding her chest with her hand.

And this bird scared me. - Nastya came up to her and put the basket on the moss. - What are you doing? Has your heart caught? You, friend, drop this business!

He seems to be letting go, '' Baba Masha reassured her. - At first it hurt a lot, but now it is relieved. The old woman smiled. The wrinkled face, the shawl that had slipped off the head, the gray hair and the old, shabby jacket of Maria became wet from the rain as soon as the sun went behind the clouds, which had come from nowhere in the late afternoon. The sun was shining, shining, and rain was on you!

Mash, has it started to rain long ago? - Nastya looked at the sky.

I do not know. Somehow I didn’t notice. - Baba Masha straightened her scarf, removing gray strands of hair under it. She tightened the knot on her chin. - Let's go or something, friend, - she got up from the hemp.

The berries are collected, now I would only get it across. Time to go home. It's already evening, and we haven't eaten or drunk all day. It's time to feed the cattle. The old women more comfortably grabbed the handles of heavy baskets filled with selected berries and headed towards the village ...

At least that's how it seemed to them at that moment ...

The path through the swamp was now difficult. At first, my feet were buried in moss. Then the boots broke through the moss and went into the water almost to the entire boot. To pull them out of the swamp and make next step, grandmothers had to make every effort. Plus, the fatigue accumulated during the day affected. Young, and they were tired, and here are women who are a little over eighty. The baskets did their job too. But they walked and walked, turning swamp meters into kilometers.

Masha, let's sit down. I'm tired of something, - asked Nastya. She stopped, shook her head, looking for a more or less dry place. But there was no island, no log, only water, moss and stunted pines. There is nowhere to sit.

Nastya wiped her face, wet from the rain and sweat, with the end of her handkerchief. It got so dark that the trunks of the trees were indistinguishable. They blurred, turning into solid black spots at night, elongated in length and slightly wide.

The black sky, black trees and black swamp frightened the old women. They realized that they were lost.

He played, apparently, a damn corner of a cruel joke with us, - Maria swore.

Bloody he is bloody. It looks like we will have to spend the night in the swamp today. Let's go look for some dry place. We'll have supper with Klukovka, snuggle up to each other and warm ourselves.

Instead of answering, Nastya just smiled sadly and raised the basket. The old women groped without seeing anything in front of them. We went looking for a place to sleep.

The rain, meanwhile, only intensified, and they, never finding anything suitable, stayed overnight, sitting on a pine trunk, which had long been half rotten and was covered with moss. That moss was saturated with rainwater, although it did not always dry out on sunny days. It was damp and cold to sit on.

The grandmothers sat side by side and chewed the sour berry with their toothless mouths. We looked ahead into the darkness ...

Nastya suddenly smiled.

We, Masha, are sitting side by side. Let's talk okay.

Come on. I never had to get into such troubles. Maria tossed a few berries into her mouth.

Do you remember, friend, how we lived during the war? How hungry all day? How was any edible herb ripped and chewed? Nothing, then we survived. And now we will not be lost.

I remember, of course, - answered Nastya. - I remember well. But we were kids in those days. Hot blood gushed in all our veins. And now the bones are old and do not get warm. And the blood is not the same. Puffs up once a year, and that's it.

But our soul is young. Not every modern busty girl has such a soul. Do not be sad. The night will definitely end and the day will definitely begin. Maybe, luckily for us, even sunny.

x x x x x

The September morning was rainy and gray. In addition, a cold, piercing wind arose, which swayed the tops of low pines, causing dry, long-opened cones to fall from them onto the moss. From time to time, the wild rosemary trembled from sharp gusts of wind, and ripples went through the water windows located between the marsh bumps. It was with this kind of weather that the morning met the grandmothers, who sat on a pine trunk all night. They were wet and cold, but still fell asleep. And now, bowing their heads on each other's shoulders, they slept. The fact that the old women were alive could be understood by their breathing, which burst out of their mouths in a barely noticeable park.

A large black raven circled over the people. He croaked loudly several times ...

Kru! ... Kru! ... - echoed over the swamp.

Maria was the first to open her eyes. She sat, did not move, and looked in front of her. There was no strength to move. Her body ached with every muscle, every bone. I really wanted to eat. Wet clothes adhered disgustingly to the skin and did not warm the old woman on this cold morning.

Nastya began to stir. She tore her head off her friend's shoulder. She straightened up.

It's morning already, ”she whispered. - Masha did not answer. Nastya bent down and scooped up water from a puddle. I washed my face. Taking off the handkerchief from her head, she wiped it off. I straightened my hair.

Where to go?

Home, - answered Maria.

Where is the house? - Nastya straightened her handkerchief, shook it sharply and tied it on her head.

Let's go, look and come out.

But they continued to sit. Strolling through the swamp, almost a sleepless night, lack of food - all this for two women of their age turned out to be the hardest test. However, it is necessary to go, and they have nowhere to wait for help, the old women understood this well. And so they somehow got up and went on. Everything was the same as yesterday. The legs first sank into the moss, then they sank into the water. - And so step by step.

The baskets filled with berries have become an overwhelming burden. And at the next halt, the grandmothers poured some of the berries directly onto the moss.

Let them stay. It will be easier to go. The main thing for us now is to get out - and the old women crossed themselves one by one.

Their hunched figures, dragging baskets in their hands, now on their shoulders, now on sticks, moved more and more slowly through the swamp. The rain did not stop, the sun did not appear because of the clouds, and they had less and less strength. The black raven circled above them again.

Kru! .. Kru! .. - the bird shouted.

Kru! .. - the second answered her, appearing over the clearing, where this time the old women were resting.

Are not our souls spinning? - Nastya closely followed the crow.

Whose else is it? There are no other Orthodox souls here. ”Maria wiped her teary eyes. She looked up. A pair of ravens were just flying over them.

Kru! .. Kru! .. - shouted the big black birds.

It's too early. We are still alive. Maybe they are already looking for us? - said Masha and was delighted. - Nastya! They must look for us. The second day we went, as we left the house. Poorly fed and half-milked Nyuska, hey, gives such concerts in the barn that her meek spreads throughout the village. Yes, and your cattle are not fed.

What kind of cattle I have! A cat and a dog. Although Polkan will not survive for long without food and water. Something, but he loves to devour. He will sit hungry, read the newspaper and start howling. Our villagers, you see, will pay attention. God willing, people will make a noise. The main thing is that they understand that we went to the swamp for cranberries.

They will understand. Where else can two fools from the village go? You better remember. - Maria looked at her friend.

Maybe someone saw us when you and I were stomping to the forest?

Nastya pondered. The old ladies were silent for a minute.

It seems not, - finally said Nastya. - I don’t remember something. Somehow we quickly left. And invisible to everyone.

This is bad, - Masha sat and chewed cranberries, trying to drown out her hunger. Several times I scooped up water from a puddle and drank.

It is better not to drink swamp water, - Nastya tried to stop her.

Yes I know. What is there to do? There is no other. And the hunt to drink, - she waved it off and asked, - Maybe the Lord God will tell us which way to go? Let's ask! She raised her face to the sky, crossed herself three times and said:

Lord help us! Get out of the damn corner! - crossed herself again and added, - Take me home! ..

The whole second day the old women wandered through the swamp, but the path to the house was never found. The day was rainy, cold, gray and gloomy. From food only cranberries and a couple of overripe mushrooms - boletus, which were found on a small dry forest mane, where the old women decided to spend their second night in the swamp. Barely moving between the trees, they tried to break branches from those stunted trees and pines that grew in this place. On top of the branches they poured needles, destroying it is not clear how the anthill that turned out to be here. Finally we lay down on a bed set up under a tree, huddled closely together. I wanted to warm up, but it turned out badly. Everything was wet. Earth, trees, clothes, no matter how much they squeezed it out. Skirts, scarves and sweaters were simply soaked in water. We were glad only for one thing, the rain stopped by nightfall. On the one hand, it was good. It stopped pouring from the sky, stars appeared, and the next day promised to be sunny. It must be a good day. But only not for the two exhausted old women lost in these northern regions. Vyzvezlo - to the weather. A good daytime autumn sunny weather is, as a rule, night frost, after all, the end of September - the beginning of October. And so it happened. In the morning the puddles were covered with thin ice. The wet moss immediately turned into a crisp crust, and the clothes of people who spent the night in the swamp that night turned into an ice shell ...

Finally, the sun rising over the trees illuminated the two friends, who were lying on the bed they had built. Their bodies seemed to have gotten smaller that night. They were already grandmothers of not heroic growth. And now just two little men, two girls, were lying next to each other, hugging each other. If it were not for the gray hair that had been knocked out of the headscarves that had come off their heads. And so are children and children.

And the sun rose higher and higher. Steam came from the clothes. The sun's rays were doing their job. They warmed wet clothes, they dried out and steamed ...

Soon the old women stirred and got up. Nastya somehow sat down, and Marusya remained lying, only put her head on her hand.

The sun, - said Nastya.

And what is the sun for us now, since we do not know where to go, ”Maria whispered.

How do we not know? On the first day it shone in our backs. Let's face the sun and go. Get up.

Nastya helped her friend to get up and to her feet. They were visibly shaken. Both women were scary to look at. The faces turned black. The lips were cracked and bleeding. Affected by fatigue and lack of food. A healthy young man cannot last two days on a berry and two mushrooms. And here are the old women who all this time walked and walked through the swamp. Nastya looked at the baskets. She waved her hand and stepped over them. She barely got up anyway. I only had enough strength to bend down and pick up a stick from the ground. I leaned on it, and it became easier to stand. She looked for another staff. For a girlfriend. And when I found it, I picked it up too. Gave it to Maria.

Take this. And what have we not guessed before? It will be easier this way.

I did not want to leave the dry island of the earth. But there was nothing to do, and they set off again. Thus began the third day of their swamp life.

One step, another step, another step. Nothing, it seems they parted. The baskets were thrown, they did not carry the burden, they only dragged themselves. Their bodies. However, this was now done with great difficulty. A hundred meters is a stop. A hundred more - and another stop. After a couple of hours of such a walk, the steps of the old women became shorter, and the stops became longer and longer. More than once, one or the other stumbled, clinging to the trunks of trees, twigs and bog bumps. They were falling. They lay for a long time, feeling the cold swamp water burning their bodies. Having rested, they began to grab hold of the trunks of the pine trees that grew nearby. Pulled up their bodies. At first, they got up on their knees, then, scraping the palms and fingers to blood, rose to their full height. For a while they just stood and walked and walked again.

An hour passed, then two, three ... Everything was repeated. In one place the old women crossed what looked like a narrow path. Barely noticeable in the swamp, winding between hummocks, trees and low bushes of wild rosemary, the trail was laid by people. But the state of the lost women by that time was such that they simply did not notice this human footprint. We crossed the path, going further and further away from it along a green moss carpet that spreads for many kilometers.

The sun went down, and grandmother Masha, having fallen for the umpteenth time, could not rise again. She lay, quietly moaning and crying, knowing full well that the chances of getting out of this damn swamp to the house were less and less. Nastya sat next to her friend and persuaded her to get up, pulled on the sleeve of her jacket. I tried to raise from the water with my shaking weak old woman's hands. It turned out badly. Masha fell and fell into the swamp. Her handkerchief had long been lost, and gray strands of disheveled hair, smeared with marsh mud and covered with small branches of trees and moss, presented a terrible sight.

Masha! Well, what are you? Get up, honey. Let's try to get through. We can find a way out. The trail! At least let's get to the dry land. We can't survive the night here. - Nastya plucked the cranberries growing around and tried to feed her friend. She tried to chew the cold red berries as best she could. It did not work, and the old woman began to swallow them whole. She didn't taste the sour cranberry flavor. And when she got tired, she dipped her face into the water and drank. Sip after sip. After quenching her thirst, Maria rolled onto her back. She closed her eyes.

Exhausted, Nastya sat down next to her on a bump. She leaned her back against a pine trunk. It seemed to her that the fatigue that had accumulated over these days in her body, the fatigue was gone. Hunger was not felt, it became easy, only a little dizzy. Something to do, I didn't want to move. First appeared before her eyes bright sun, then a blue sky, a village, a house, blooming garden, the face of her long-dead husband, the faces of her children, now living in the city, grandchildren and ... then one solid black spot came ...

It got dark outside. This night was colder than all the previous ones. The stars flickered in the sky. The women, one of whom was lying and the other was sitting next to her, no longer moved. And when in the morning the frost intensified, and the bright autumn sun illuminated the moss cover of the swamp, white with frost, it became clear that they would no longer rise. Their clothes and faces were white and sparkled in the bright sunlight. Only a few blood-red cranberries, sandwiched between the fingers of one of them, remained unfrozen, because they still kept the warmth of her body.

Kru! .. Kru! .. - shouted the crows circling over the dead.

Rescuers will find the dead women in a few hours for these birds. Their bodies will be taken out of the swamp and buried nearby in the village cemetery.

They were friends all their lives, went for a berry together, and lie together with them ...

Curriculum Vitae

Valery Petrovich Kuzenkov was born in 1961 in the city of Losino-Petrovsky, Moscow Region. He is one of those rare lucky people who felt his real calling in life even in preschool (!) Age, when he first fired from his father's gun. From childhood, Valerka went hunting with his relatives and was so keen on this activity that he could convince his uncle to give him, the green boy, a gun to hunt any day. It can be seen that there was something special in the nephew's arguments, that a loved one could not refuse him in any way.

At the age of 12, the teenager realized that hobby should become a profession and decided to learn to be a hunting expert. But where can you get such a specialty? Valera diligently wrote a letter to the All-Union television with a request to recommend the necessary educational institution.

At that time, such issues of youth were treated with respect. Soon the boy received a detailed answer, where it was said that required universities are located in Kirov and Irkutsk. Therefore, it is understandable that in 1978, Valery Kuzenkov became a student at the Kirov Agricultural Institute.

Much water has flowed under the bridge since those blessed days. Valery Petrovich gained solid experience, both everyday and professional. What happened during these years? Notable achievements that are crowned with public recognition. Today Valery Kuzenkov:

• Honorary member of the Moscow Regional Society of Hunters and Fishermen.
• Honorary member of the Polish hunting safari club.
• Honored worker of the hunting industry of the Rosokhotrybolovsoyuz Association.
• Honorary member of the Military Hunting Society.
• Honorary member of the Center for the Promotion of Hunting and Fishing.
• Member of the Council of the Moscow Regional Branch of the Russian Geographical Society.
• Awarded with the badge "Honorary Worker of Nature Conservation of Russia".

Interview

Valery Petrovich, please tell us about the prospects of the hunting industry in Russia.

They are, without exaggeration, huge. Look at the territory of our Motherland. Here is where to settle and live fruitfully for birds, beasts and fish. But spaces alone are not enough. Today, the animal world of Russia needs serious human help.

Several murky recent decades have led to the fact that animals are completely uncontrolled. The natural reproduction process was disrupted. And the restoration of populations must be dealt with as quickly as possible, at a serious state level. Otherwise, the trouble. Instead of the Red Book with a list of endangered animal species, we will have to publish a Black Book with descriptions and photographs of those animals and birds that will never again please us with their beauty.

Is it really that bad? After all, thousands of licenses for hunting animals are issued to hunters every year?

That's right, they are issued. But let's see some numbers. Take a wild boar, for example. We issue permits only for 60 thousand per year for the whole of Russia. And Germany shoots 700,000 wild boars every year! As they say, compare the areas of Russia and Germany. Another example. In Sweden, 100,000 moose are harvested. Russia issues only 20 thousand permits. Let's take a roe deer. Germany shoots 1,040,000 roe deer a year. And Russia issues only 30,000 permits. And this, mind you, from Vladivostok to Kaliningrad!

Little Latvia shot 12,000 European reindeer last year. Russia has issued 9,000 permits for the entire country! Moreover, these "hoofed" permits include European deer, red deer and red deer. And they managed to shoot only 5,000! The conclusion is simple: there are simply no living creatures!

And, please, the last sad touch. This winter, my acquaintances were counting the beast in Nenets district... They flew about 10,000 km by plane. And what did they count there? On a vast territory, they counted 26 elks, one wolf and, to great joy, found a group of reindeer, about 100 heads. Imagine, 100 heads for the entire Nenets district! Sad joy!

Yes, there are fewer and fewer animals. There were about a million saigas in Kalmykia, and only two or three thousand heads remained. We ask local officials why this is so, and they, you will not believe, seriously answer that the number of saigas has fallen due to solar flares! Ooh! As they say, at least stand, at least fall!

Of course, the Department of Hunting (DOH) is bravo reporting an increase in the number of animals. But such "growth" occurs only on paper due to forged credentials. This is happening throughout the country in order to obtain more permits for the extraction of moose, deer, wild boars, bears and other animals. For example, Dokh prepared documents for the government, where they wrote that the number of musk deer increased by 47.9%, elk by 15.5%, bighorn sheep by 27.9% (I name it from memory, I could be wrong, but the procedure is clear). But these are sly numbers.

What to do?

And how can the situation be corrected?

(Laughs) There are already really two inevitable, like paying taxes, purely Russian questions: Who is to blame and What is to be done? Here's what to do.

First, in order to protect the animal world, it is urgent to create a unified state hunting inspectorate and subordinate it directly to the Administration of the President of Russia. This is a guarantee of a quick solution to emerging current issues and cutting off all kinds of "blatniks" and ordinary crooks.

Secondly, urgently prepare a real current legislative framework... Today, work has already begun on a new draft of the national hunting law. By me, as an assistant to the deputy State Duma Nikolai Valuev and Nikolai Sergeevich himself, many game users from all over the country are involved in this work. It's a common matter. Further, having received the proposals, we, at the level of the expert council in the State Duma, will work them out in detail and the most valuable thing will definitely be included in the working draft of the new Law.

But we must remember that the "devil" is always in the details. I'm talking about regulatory documents, local bylaws. Often it is this "ad-libbing" that introduces confusion into any, even a well-prepared law. For example, today the Hunting Rules are written in such an abstruse language that it is not easy for a specialist with higher education, what can we say about the inhabitants of the province of advanced years. You can not do it this way. Any document that has a mandatory status must be written in Russian and understandable to anyone without a "Russian-Russian" dictionary.

Thirdly, it is necessary to deal with the public hunting movement. We have vast territories assigned to various hunting societies in which people are members, but few people work with them. And we need to have a powerful social hunting movement. Such an alliance that will lobby the interests of hunters and help the state in resolving issues with wildlife.

Fourthly, to put things in order in nature protection zones, the so-called PAs. This is 10-13% of the total area of \u200b\u200bthe Russian Federation. We need to return them to the function for which they were created. Now people come there to take a steam bath, take it "on the chest" and, attention, sometimes even hunt for the purpose of "regulating the number of wild animals"! And after all, the Law on Specially Protected Areas allows hunting on their territory! This is nonsense!

Fifth, we must give jobs to people living in the High North and Far East... There have always been procurement trading posts in small settlements. It is necessary to recreate the crafts. As long as our people live in Kamchatka, it will be Russian. As soon as ours leave from there, not ours will immediately come there. To prevent this from happening, we need a state program to recreate the hunting industry.

These are the urgent steps to restore order in our national hunting economy. Frankly speaking, all these proposals have been written and reported long ago. Moreover, in serious structures - such as the Control Directorate under the President of Russia. I myself have voiced them at several international environmental forums. In words, everyone nods their heads, supports me with both hands, and then ... nothing! NOTHING!

Relative happiness

Valery Petrovich, do we have groups of animals where things are going well with their numbers?

These are groups of predators. A brown bear, a wolf, a fox, a raccoon dog, an American mink, etc. But even here it is not that simple.

So at meetings of different levels they say that the number of brown bears has fallen and it is necessary to stop shooting them. Where did they get this at all? On the contrary, there is a lot of this beast. Often, in search of food, bears fearlessly go to a person's dwelling. In my opinion, last summer in one of the regional centers of the Magadan region there was a shocking case when a bear in the center (!) Of the settlement lifted a man up, and then ate him for two days! The most striking thing is that it was not immediately dealt with. The hunters could not shoot (it is forbidden for them), the police with service pistols were unprepared. A special team was called from Magadan to kill the cannibal. That is, there was not even a real hunter on the spot who could remove him!

And young girls hunting experts with beautiful hairstyles and brand new diplomas in all seriousness recommended local residents boldly beat the saucepans so that the bear gets scared and leaves! A sort of powerful detachment of metal "snitches", armed with hunting nanopanes. I would like to see these resounding daredevils in front of the man-eating bear!

We have a lot of beavers. For a long time, the hunt for him in the country was closed. Then the beaver became a licensed species. Its population has grown tremendously today. And you can safely shoot. The correctness of this step also lies in the fact that it will be possible not only to earn money by selling licenses, but also to partially save the bird. How?

For example, in the Baltics, spring bird hunting is completely prohibited, but in the spring amateur beaver hunting is allowed. What's the bottom line? People can hunt, the number of animals is regulated, the bird is preserved, money is paid to the budget. Okay? Highly! And we can do it! How much I say about it, but things are still there!

About frames

This incident with a bear in the Magadan region does not get out of my head ... And what about the industry personnel?

This is a sore question. The hunting institute has been destroyed. Pitiful crumbs remained. There were three hunting schools in the country: Irkutsk, Moscow (Balashikha), Kirovskaya. Today there are more such schools, but who teaches there and how? In Yekaterinburg, for example, a livestock specialist by education reads. In Rostov, a former policeman and engineer teach. What will they tell? There is an urgent need to restore and strengthen these schools. Invite experienced people, seasoned hunting experts to teach. There are not many of them, but they are there.

And, of course, it is necessary to systematically conduct refresher courses. Various seminars for current personnel: regional, regional, federal. This is communication, exchange of opinions, new knowledge. As you know, cadres decide everything, especially when these cadres are trained.

Literature

Valery Petrovich, we cannot but ask a question about your studies at the Gorky Literary Institute. We are sure that today you are the only certified hunting expert in the world with a Russian writing diploma ...

(Thinks for a second, then smiles broadly). Listen, you are the first to tell me this. And it’s true. In the world, perhaps, such another "man with a gun" still look! I will have to tell my children how lucky they are with their father! (Laughs)

To be honest, I sat down at my desk almost by accident. Once my friend Mikhail Yashin, listening to my stories, complained that he was listening to these forest adventures (not only mine) alone. “You need to write,” he urged me. “You must understand how much Russian literature would have lost if Ivan Turgenev had not composed his famous“ Hunter's Notes ”. And he recommended that I "put" the description of different cases on the hunt on paper.

I thought that, indeed, my surname, separated by a comma after the surname of Turgenev, would look good among Russian writers-hunters (Valery Kuzenkov laughs) and ... he followed the advice. Published the first story in the magazine "Military Hunter", and things went well.

In 2001, my first book, Bear Spite, was published. And here I wondered, am I writing correctly? So I knocked on the door of the selection committee of the Gorky Literary Institute, within whose walls I spent two years at the Higher Literary Courses. To date, I have published three books, and I have more in the works. I want to write a lot and it is interesting.

Tyumen

Valery Petrovich, what would you like to wish the readers of our newspaper?

I have never been to the Tyumen region, but I know that this is the land of strong, courageous people. The well-being of our state, as you know, largely depends on your enormous natural resources. But together we can make our country even stronger if we develop the Russian hunting industry into a large and prosperous industry. Then our forests and oak groves will not be lifeless, without bird chirping, "deserts", but a place where "our smaller brothers" freely live.

Sometimes it seems deceptively that you alone cannot do anything. One - yes, but together we are power!

I wish there were more newspapers like yours. The more hunting publications and specialized TV shows, the more correct and powerful our common Russian hunting economy will develop.

It is necessary to raise problems, discuss, remove the interfering administrative paper "rubbish". Today you need to understand that when you go to the forest, you go to your house, which should be looked after. We need to raise animals, otherwise we will soon see their images only in pre-revolutionary paintings.

It is important that caring people write to the newspaper, raise problems, express opinions. This is a platform for fruitful communication. Let there be hunting portals, sites, clubs. There they argue, discuss, offer. And in the end, we get those correct decisionsthat serve one thing: the greatness of our mother Russia and the well-being of people! Thank!

Kuzenkov Valery Petrovich is one of the most famous and authoritative specialists in the field of hunting and game management in Russia. Valery Petrovich is the editor-in-chief of the popular Okhota magazine, a member of the editorial board of the Okhotnik magazine, the host of the Main Ohota TV show on the Okhota I Rybalka channel and the TV show About Hunting and Hunters with Valery Kuzenkov on the Okhotnik I Fisher HD channel ...

Biography

V.P. was born. Kuzenkov July 17, 1961 in the city of Losino-Petrovsky, Moscow region in the family of a hunter, in the same city he graduated high school... Own life path Valery Petrovich defined in preschool age, firing his father's TOZ-BM rifle for the first time. From childhood, he went hunting with relatives and was so passionate about this occupation that he preferred to save money on school lunches in order to buy his uncle a bottle of wine and persuade him to give his gun to hunt.

At about 12 years old, the young hunter decided that his beloved hobby would become his profession, and he wanted to learn to be a hunting expert. Then Kuzenkov did not know where to get such a specialty, and therefore sent a letter to television with a request to recommend an educational institution to him. In the reply letter, it was said that the universities, which train hunting experts, are located in Kirov and Irkutsk. After graduating from school in 1978, Valery Petrovich left for Kirov and entered the Kirov Agricultural Institute, having endured a serious competitive selection... In 1980, he joined the Society of Hunters and Fishermen (VOO MOOiR).

In 1984, V.P. Kuzenkov graduated from the institute with a degree in hunting biology. According to the distribution, he was sent to Moscow to the staff of the Main Directorate of Hunting Economy and Reserves under the Council of Ministers of the RSFSR. There he worked until 1989, first as a state hunting inspector, then as a senior state hunting inspector, took part in the creation of the "Model rules for hunting in the RSFSR", adopted in 1988 and existed before the collapse of the USSR. From 1989 to 1995, Valery Petrovich was engaged in the development of foreign hunting tourism in a large travel company "Balchug". In 1995 he became the head of the hunting department of the Military Hunting Society of the Central Organ of the Ministry of Defense, in this position he worked until 2007.

Since 2001, Valery Petrovich entered the literary path. He was invited to the editorial board of the magazine "Okhotnik", for which he wrote articles. Once the deputy chairman of the Military Hunting Society Mikhail Ivanovich Yashin invited Kuzenkov to write a story. Valery Petrovich wrote about hunting with a hound dog "Thank you Naida", then in 2001 his first book "Bear Spite" was published, for which he was awarded the medal "Sergei Yesenin". In 2006, his next book, "About hunters and game managers," was published, and in 2012, the book "People and Wolves". The author took all the plots for the books from the real life of hunters - his friends and acquaintances. From 2007 to the present, V.P. Kuzenkov heads the magazine "Okhota", is the head of the writers' guild about nature and hunting, a member of the Union of Writers of Russia. In 2008 V.P. Kuzenkov received a second specialty - literary work, graduated from the Literary Institute. A.M. Gorky.

Hobbies

In addition to hunting, Valery Petrovich is fond of fishing, photography, travel and extreme tourism. He took part in numerous hunting expeditions in the Far East, countries Central Asia and non-CIS countries.

Honorary titles:

Honorary member of the Moscow Regional Society of Hunters and Fishermen.

Honorary member of the Polish hunting safari club.

Honored worker of the hunting industry of the Rosokhotrybolovsoyuz Association.

Honorary Member of the Military Hunting Society.

Honorary member of the Center for the Promotion of Hunting and Fishing.

Member of the Council of the Moscow Regional Branch of the Russian Geographical Society.

Awarded with the badge "Honorary Worker of Nature Conservation of Russia".

Valery Kuzenkov's books

In many countries, hunting is a developed sector of the economy. The hunting economy creates jobs, significantly increases not only domestic, but also foreign tourism, the industry receives orders for hunting equipment. Hunting farms make sure that the animals are counted and not shot in excess. "Russian Planet" learned from the game manager Valery Kuzenkov how things are in this area in Russia.

Valery Kuzenkov was born in 1961 in the city of Losino-Petrovsky, Moscow Region. Editor-in-chief of the magazine "Okhota", biologist, hunting expert, from 1984 to 1991 - senior state hunting inspector in the Main Directorate of Hunting Economy and Reserves under the Council of Ministers of the RSFSR. Participated in the creation of model rules for hunters, which were adopted in 1988 and worked until the collapse of the USSR. Author of the books "Bear Malice", "About hunters and game experts" and "People and wolves".

- In Germany, the Scandinavian countries, hunting is one of the priority directions in state policy, but how are things going in Russia?

In Russia, no one sees the benefits of hunting in the government and the Duma. Nobody wants to turn to nature conservation and hunting. For seven years I have been visiting the State Duma, the presidential administration, and I cannot prove to anyone that the hunting industry needs to be recreated. We have a lot of money going into sports, health care - that's great. But why is money not being invested in nature conservation? After all, without this, citizens will not have health. Clean rivers, lots of animals and fish, a guarantee that we will get sick less and study better. But so far this is nothing.

Instead of working laws, we adopt laws that make hunters into poachers. For example, in Karelia the regulations for issuing hunting permits have been made. Now every hunter, in order to shoot a bear, elk or wild boar, must go from the village to the republican center, get in line and get permission. In the regions, it was forbidden to issue permits, and the prosecutor's office strictly monitors this. But there are not everywhere roads. Such laws are a provocation, they undermine the credibility of the authorities.

- Who came up with such a scheme?

The decision was made by the Ministry of Natural Resources, signed by Minister Sergei Donskoy. The situation is similar with permits for the import and export of weapons abroad: why get additional permits for export if I already have one permit? For people to give bribes, to get their nerves in the police.

- What about the hunting economy?

And we do not have any hunting economy. There was an industry in the USSR national economy, at the moment it is not. In some regions there are separate private farms where everyone does what he wants. The authorities are now developing a strategy; they will again write an unreadable 500-page text. And there are actually only four main tasks.

- Can you describe them briefly?

Of course. Firstly, for the protection it is necessary to create a unified state hunting inspectorate. Now the Ministry of Natural Resources and the Ministry of Agriculture are engaged in hunting on a leftover basis.

Second: you need to deal with the hunting movement. We have huge territories assigned to the Okhotrybolov Union, it consists of people, no one works with them, there is a sale of property, theft is flourishing. The chairpersons do nothing, they just get paid. And the union should be powerful, lobby the interests of hunters and help the state in resolving issues with wildlife.

Third: to put things in order in nature protection zones. This is 10-13% of the total area of \u200b\u200bthe Russian Federation. We need to return them to the function for which they were created. Now people come there, take a steam bath, drink vodka with the girls, and hunt. Today, the law on specially protected areas allows hunting on their territory. This is nonsense!

Fourth, we must give jobs to people living in the Far North and Far East. There have always been procurement trading posts in small settlements. It is necessary to recreate the crafts. As long as our people live in Kamchatka, it will be Russian. As soon as ours leave from there, not ours will immediately come there. How this will turn out is understandable. To prevent this from happening, we need a state program to recreate the hunting industry.

- You mentioned the trades, what will people do there?

Get furs, fish, wild berries, engage in animal husbandry. This is an important factor for people to stay in their places, not get drunk and do not dream of leaving.

- Do you think people flee from Kamchatka and the Far North because they have nowhere to fish?

- According to polls, many residents of Kamchatka want to leave it. Now they are engaged in poaching, fishing, beating the bear on its paws and bile (bear paws are a delicacy in China; bile is widely used in pharmacology - RP) in order to somehow survive. Most of the poaching in Russia is social. From despair. But there are more reasons. Today hunting for a seal (newborn baby harp or Caspian seal - RP) is closed, although one icebreaker kills more seal pups than all the Pomors caught.

Now nine villages are dying out on the coast of the White Sea. In Kamchatka, the difficulties are not only with hunting. The cost of diesel fuel is 45 rubles per liter, in the city. In villages, its cost is more than 50 rubles per liter. Foreign tourists cannot reach Palana, because a plane ticket costs 20 thousand one way. 40 thousand per trip is expensive for them. Helicopter flying 150 thousand hours in a region where there are no roads.

- How to change the situation?

The state should come here, fix everything, it will not require a lot of money. One bridge to Russky Island cost how much, and as a result, it was immediately washed away by the rain! And to arrange life here you need less money.

- In addition to the intervention of the state, hunting experts will be needed, do we now train specialists?

In the Duma, at a meeting chaired by Mr. Pekhtin, I proposed opening a hunting department at the Far Eastern University. We will train specialists, procurers, the guys will be able to undergo practical training and work in special new factories, we will train specialists in cellular fur farming. An entire national program could be implemented at the university. There are no specialists. But there are 150 thousand police officers who have been laid off. It would be possible to organize for them refresher courses and send them to work in the regions as inspectors. All this, but in more detail, I told the deputies. Pekhtin in response began to shout at me: “We know what is happening in the Far East, what are you talking about here? I spoke out! We have the chairman of the "Association Rosokhotrybolovsoyuz" Eduard Bendersky. " My words angered Pekhtin, because Bendery is his friend.

In the Russian Federation, hunting experts are trained in Irkutsk, Kirov and other cities, more than 100 technical schools and colleges. But the question is: who is lecturing? In Yekaterinburg, for example, a livestock specialist by education reads. In Rostov, a former policeman and engineer teach. What will they tell? Even in Kirov, where there has always been a serious school, they graduate huntsman-level specialists. And they cannot find a job, and whoever does, receives a salary of four or seven thousand rubles.

- Is it true that in Russia soon there will be no one to hunt?

The number of animals is getting smaller and smaller. There were about a million saiga in Kalmykia, only two or three thousand remained. Officials say saiga numbers have dropped due to solar flares. I think this is nonsense, the saiga was knocked out by poachers.

- But the Department of Hunting (DOH) claims that the number of animals is growing.

Growth occurs only on paper through credential fraud. This is happening throughout the country in order to obtain more permits for the extraction of moose, deer, wild boars, bears, etc. For example, Dokh prepared documents to the government, where they wrote that the number of musk deer (a small artiodactyl deer-like animal - RP) increased by 47.9%, elk by 15.5%, bighorn sheep by 27.9%. I call from memory, I could be wrong.

- What's the catch?

The point is that the number of musk deer in Russia was not taken into account at all. Musk deer is crushed by everyone because its navels sell well in China. They crush with loops, and they, as you understand, do not have much selectivity, therefore, on average, three females fall into one male, they are thrown out, because only males have the necessary navels. The number of bighorn sheep could not grow by 27%, because their census should be carried out by feet or aerial census, and such a census was not carried out anywhere, with the exception of the Kronotsky Nature Reserve. We have no state system animal monitoring, there is no federal center for statistics. We call numbers according to the principle: who is in what is much. For example, according to the latest laws that exist in the country, the user can say “I have two hundred wild boars,” but he does not have to prove anything. The state, in turn, cannot control this in any way. In the USSR, the number of animals was controlled by the state, and why? Because all wild animals belong to the state hunting fund.

- Should the state take on this task?

Yes, and keep records by users. Besides, we have publicly accessible lands, for example, in Karelia. There they make up 60% of all land in the republic. And they have only 36 inspectors, of which 15 work in the region on 17 million hectares of land. How will they carry out the count, if each has more than a million hectares?

- Is this situation everywhere?

Yes. We have six hunting inspectors for the whole of Kalmykia and two for the entire Yamalo-Nenetsky autonomous region... There is only one inspector in Evenkia. How will he carry out the necessary accounting? All calculations are estimates. Nobody knows exactly who lives with us and how many animals there are in Russia.

- What is the volume of production?

Let's take a boar. We only issue permits for 60 thousand for the whole of Russia per year. Germany shoots 700,000 wild boars annually. Compare Russia and Germany. An even simpler example: Latvia issues permits for 30 thousand wild boars annually. Half of what Russia shoots! And Latvia has an area of \u200b\u200b6 million hectares. Let's take Sweden - 100 thousand moose are shooting there. Russia issues only 20 thousand permits. Here are the numbers. Take roe deer: Germany shoots 1 million 40 thousand roe deer a year. All of Russia issues 30 thousand permits from Vladivostok to Kaliningrad.

- Do poachers kill the rest of our animals?

What kind of poachers? They simply have nothing to take here, the hunters have knocked out all the animals, no one breeds new ones, does not monitor their numbers. Latvia has shot 7,000 deer this year. Russia has issued 9 thousand permits for the whole of Russia! The permit includes: red deer, red deer (East Asian deer - RP) and red deer (artiodactyl mammal of the deer family - RP). We managed to shoot only 5 thousand. If we had an abundance of animals, not five thousand permits would be issued, but 50 thousand.

- Is the situation reversible? Is it possible to somehow restore the number of wild animals?

To some extent, although the processes have already begun to acquire the character of irreversible. In Latvia in the 1990s, all wild animals were knocked out, no one was left. And now they shoot more than Russia. They did it due to the normal working attitude towards the economy, the working nature conservation, the laws in force. They regard wildlife as their wealth and benefit. Only we have a desolate hunt.

- What animals do we have a lot, are there any such?

We have a good number of beavers, we need to hunt for it. We have no problems with hazel grouses, foxes, wolves, owls and some other species of animals. We have problems with ungulates, as this is the most widespread species for trophy hunting.

- There is a lot of talk about the deplorable state of affairs with tigers, do you know something? How many of them do we have?

The numbers are known: 70-80 tigers are poached every year in our country and exported to China. We do not have any other shooting of tigers, because tigers are listed in the Red Book. Over the past ten years, we have the same figure from year to year - about 470 heads. Tigers don't give birth?

- And who is responsible for this?

The Ministry of Natural Resources, of course, before the Ministry of Agriculture, they cover all this. Forums are held, President Vladimir Putin spoke on this issue, grants are allocated for the protection of the tiger, but it is not known where they go. Recently, the director of the Tiger Special Inspection, Viktor Gaponov, filed a letter of resignation because there is no money.

- Is it the same in fisheries?

Yes. The same situation. Two fish inspectors for the entire Vladimir region. There are almost no fish left in the rivers, and a fishing law has not yet been adopted. The fact that fishermen went out to action did not change the situation in any way. I advise you to watch the film "Happy People", everything will become clear to you.

My personal problem, probably, is that when I read documents that are in one way or another related to hunting and the Russian hunting industry, I see and perceive them completely differently than many other people. What is the reason for this? Most likely, due to the fact that, being in Russian hunting for more than 30 years, for some time of them I had to work in the system of the Main Directorate of Hunting on the economy and reserves under the Council of Ministers of the RSFSR.

Directly in the central office, and believe me, then it was the best hunting school. Moreover, the school is of an all-Russian scale. This I do not praise myself and do not put above other hunting experts, but when at the age of 25 you begin to travel to the regions with inspections as a representative of the Main Directorate and, in addition, you are the chairman of the commission on the line of the Council of Ministers of the RSFSR in the field of hunting activities, this imposes certain imprints of responsibility for the rest of his life.

In addition, when you take the most direct part in the writing of regulatory documents, for example, such as the Model Hunting Rules in the RSFSR, on the basis of which the entire hunting population of the country begins to live, this also makes a person often wonder whether he is right or not, since the hunting people asks the authors of the Rules: for what and why they are punished.

Years have passed, and now one has to even suffer from the knowledge gained at that time. When I analyze the affairs of modern heads of the hunting industry and write articles about it, I get only one thing in return: “Kuzenkov has learned everyone by heart, he is the most dissatisfied, everything is bad in his publications, he quarreled with everyone, he is a populist, etc. etc.". It turns out that there is nothing good for Kuzenkov in the hunting world, but only bad.

I want to assure readers that this is not at all the case. For me personally, there is a lot of good in hunting, and that's what I live for. However, I want more not only for myself, but also for you. My next problem is that, by the will of fate, over the years I have been able to travel around many regions and hunt there: Europe, America, Africa, countries the former USSR... As they say, I've seen. I often ask myself why hunting is better there than here? Even too much better. Why can't Russian people live and hunt like that? Are we a thousand times worse than them? No and no again.

Russia was not like that. They made her this way. Ask who is to blame for this? I will answer. Often we ourselves are to blame - the citizens of our country. And that's all. Poor and rich, healthy and sick, stupid and smart, good and evil, heroes and cowards, hunters and not hunters. Isn't that so? We sit and wait for something. And what?

Let's take hunters and written for them in 2009 in the State Duma of the Russian Federation by Mrs. Komarova N.V. with associates Federal Law No. 209 "On hunting ...". Then she headed the Committee on Natural Resources, Nature Management and Ecology of the State Duma of the Russian Federation. Before that, the hunting law in Russia had been written for 20 years, but we got what we have. The law is dead, and I know perfectly well why this happened, since I was in a group of specialists who worked on this law.

Five years have passed, and the hunters understand that, by and large, Federal Law No. 209 "On hunting ..." needs to be redone anew for the benefit of the Russian hunting industry and all hunters in the country. The pinpoint amendments made to it now will not change the situation. Why are they not allowed to change the whole law? For a simple and trivial reason. As long as the people who wrote it continue to work in the Main Legal Department of the Presidential Administration of the Russian Federation, they do not allow anything to be done. If a hundred or two amendments are made to the law, then the Presidential Administration may think about the competence of the person who worked on the law "On hunting ...". Over his professionalism. I think that after this the person can be fired. So he does not allow to do something good for the good of the state. Unfortunately, this is our country.

We are all invited to work on amendments to the law. We're going to do it. I personally, back in 2010, sent to the RF Ministry of Natural Resources a proposal for revising the law, as much as 14 pages. I even received an answer from there signed by the director of the Hunting Department A.E. Bersenev No. 15-47 / 6101 dated April 30, 2010, where he announced: “Your proposals will be taken into account when preparing regulatory legal acts in order to implement the norms of the Federal Law No. 209-FZ dated July 24, 2009“ On hunting and preserving hunting resources and on amendments to certain legislative acts Russian Federation", As well as the improvement of the legislation of the Russian Federation in the field of study, use, reproduction and protection of objects of the animal world and their habitat." What's the use?

I would like to ask why our amendments have not yet been taken into account and not adopted, because the year 2013 is already in the yard, and not 2010. These are four years of human life. To say that these amendments are illiterately worded is the easiest way, but then prove that this is so. Working groups are gathered in the Committee on Natural Resources, Environmental Management and Ecology. People hope for positive things and spend their personal time on it, taking it away from their main work. They don't get money for this, and once again they have that draft law "On hunting ...", which I want to voice.

Reading this bill, you immediately understand that not a single proposal from the specialists of the working group created in the Committee of the State Duma of the Russian Federation passed, no matter how amendments passed from hunting science, from the public hunting movement, from the hunting people and even from hunters - deputies of the State Duma of the Russian Federation ...

What is accepted? Only one thing - production hunting control. Why? Because it is necessary to carry out the instructions of the President of Russia - V.V. Putin. Nobody argues with that. Assignments russian President need to be done. The question is, how are they performed? What is the quality of their performance? We all understand that this or that work can be done in different ways. For example, take and dig a well, spending a lot of time and money on it, but only there may not be water in it. The same thing happens with the Federal Law No. 209 "On hunting ...". It's no secret that the country has been overwhelmed by poaching.

All hunting media have long been talking and writing about the lack of a single effective service in the field of nature protection in the state. This also reached the President of Russia - V.V. Putin. However, instead of constructive solutions, someone reports to him that by empowering the staff of hunting users with the right to draw up acts against violators of hunting rules, we will put an end to poaching lawlessness, and this is reflected in the law. Really, in the State Duma of the Russian Federation, no one can understand that this is not the main thing in the protection of the animal world of Russia. All this is complete nonsense! Who are we kidding? Only ourselves!

Industrial hunting control will not save us from the poaching that has swept the country. Another bluff and self-deception. We have already gone through all this. Such a right was given to hunting users earlier by the Glavokhota of the RSFSR, prescribing everything in the Model Rules of Hunting, and now the decision should be made almost by the President of Russia - V.V. Putin. Has he nothing else to do? Of course, if there is a certain woman in the apparatus of the Government of Russia who keeps and loves greyhounds, and who does not want to be checked by the huntsmen of hunting farms in the hunting grounds, we will not go far.

Did the huntsmen of public hunting organizations not have the right to report violators of hunting rules to the state hunting agencies before that? So why didn't they do it? Based on the experience of my work as a senior state hunting inspector of the Glavokhota of the RSFSR, I can assure everyone that the bulk of violations have always been revealed by state hunting inspectors of the state hunting supervision service. This is the main essence of the problem of protecting the animal world. We will be saved only by the creation of a strong and unified service of state hunting supervision.

We read the changes made to the Federal Law No. 209 "On hunting ...":

Article 34, paragraph 43) verification of the knowledge of the requirements necessary for a candidate for production hunting inspectors to carry out production hunting control, in the manner prescribed by the federal executive body.

Who will test the knowledge of the production hunting inspectors? Modern regional state hunting structures? Now they themselves need to be taught and taught. After the last seven reorganizations and the management of Russian hunting by the Ministry of Agriculture and the Ministry of Natural Resources of the Russian Federation, we have in the State Hunting Structures practically ubiquitous regional illiteracy in the field of hunting, hunting management and protection of wildlife. There are no hunting specialists and there are no methodological normative documents for their training. There is no need to be ashamed of the fact that the hunting industry of Russia has been moving towards this for the last 20 years. It is necessary to correct the situation that has arisen. Just imagine what acts on poachers will be drawn up by a gamekeeper of a hunting user who lives somewhere in the regional hinterland. I can say with full confidence that 90% of such acts by the Ministry of Internal Affairs or the prosecutor's office simply will not be accepted for production.

Article 41, paragraph 2. Production hunting control is carried out within the boundaries of hunting grounds specified in hunting agreements.

Why was given the right to production hunting control only for game users who have a hunting management agreement? But what about the rest of the users who live and work under the licenses previously issued to them for the right to use the wildlife for the purpose of hunting? Today, there are more than 80% of such users in the country. Don't they need to protect their hunting grounds?

Article 7. Production hunting inspectors are entitled to:

1) upon presentation of a certificate of a production hunting inspector, check the fulfillment of requirements in the field of hunting and preservation of hunting resources, including compliance with the rules of hunting ... within the boundaries of the hunting area being inspected.

Why only within the boundaries of the checked hunting area? And if the poachers run over the border of the hunting farm or flood the elk on the other side of the clearing, which is precisely the border of the huntsman's detour. What then? The production hunt inspector needs to turn around and leave, since his certificate in that territory has no legal force? This is tantamount to the fact that a policeman from Krasnodar walking around Moscow will pass by a man who is beaten on the head with a stick by hooligans on a Moscow street, since his identity card is valid only within the boundaries of his precinct.

In general, the adopted amendments to Federal Law 209 "On hunting ..." turned out to be another bluff. We wanted the best, but it turns out as always. We will accept everything. We will report the work done to the President of the country and deceive ourselves and him. Not this way?

And who will protect the public hunting grounds? Will there remain six state hunting inspectors in Kalmykia for the entire republic? And who will give jobs to people living in remote regions of Russia, where the hunting industry once worked? Questions remain, and, unfortunately, the amendments adopted in the Federal Law No. 209 "On hunting ..." do not give an answer to them. If the law gives the right to full-time employees of hunting users (production hunting inspectors) to draw up acts on administrative offenses and check permits for hunting, hunting tools, hunting products and vehicles from persons located on the territory of the assigned hunting grounds, then all the same in we will not end poaching in the country. That's for sure.

I would like to say: Dear President of Russia V.V. Putin! All wrong. You are being misled and deceived. Much is happening quite the opposite, and something urgently needs to be done while there is still an opportunity to have time to correct the current situation. Delay for the nature of our Motherland is like death. Please make a decision. We wait.