Taiga people. Life in the taiga The last ones in the taiga. Khanty. surgut district hmao

"Probably, everyone is thumping there ?!" - I was asked this question so often after learning that I had been to the north of Russia. Yes, not without it, but how strong are stereotypes and how often do we think in "stamps", limiting our worldview?! You and I, sitting at monitors in cozy offices and drinking a sip of morning cappuccino from a Starbucks cardboard cup, it is difficult to imagine that there is another life, other values. "Tell me, why even live where it's -50 all winter?" - the answer to this question for me was also unambiguous before the trip to the north and meeting people in small villages beyond the Arctic Circle ... and how this answer changed after ... I fell in love with the north, its energy and its people. Yes, I can’t and don’t want to live there, but I want to come there again. During several trips, a lot of material has been accumulated for a series of reports about the people of the north of Russia, their way of life, stories, their problems and joys. These are happy people, people who will not change their native cold expanses, deprived of absolutely all our ideas about comfort, for the bustle of metropolitan megacities ... Fishermen, reindeer herders, a school teacher, a milkmaid, a paramedic, ordinary peasants are happy people of the north of Russia.

The Khanty are an indigenous people living in the north of Western Siberia. In the Khanty-Mansiysk Autonomous Okrug, there are only a little more than 1% of them, but many of them retain their identity and lead a traditional way of life, despite the fact that the world around has changed radically over the past century. We left Surgut before dawn along the winter road to the village of Ugut, where the road ended, changed to snowmobiles and then the path spread through the taiga, along the frozen Big Yugan ... to the Khanty yurts.

It is convenient to ride a snowmobile only behind the wheel ... but in a sledge you feel every snow hump with your whole body, and when the distance is measured in hours, such a trip turns into an interesting, but exhausting adventure. A burning frosty wind in the face, mixed with the smell of gasoline from the exhaust pipe of Buran ...

And sometimes one careless movement of the steering wheel and we are in a snowdrift, and then there is only hope for ourselves, around the taiga, frost ... And there is no connection, but what if there is one ?!

The Bolshoy Yugan is a left tributary of the Ob, flows into the Yugan Ob.

"Yurts" turned out to be small wooden houses, before the trip I imagined yurts in a completely different way. The way of life of the Khanty, their main occupations developed in antiquity and have survived almost unchanged to this day.

A Khanty family lives here: the head of the family Sasha, his wife Oksana and two children - 8 and 4 years old.

The main occupation in winter is fishing:

On a small forest edge there are several buildings, a barn, a cellar. There is no electricity here, a gasoline generator is used as the source of the latter:

And a mobile phone in only one place can sometimes receive SMS:

Oksana baked delicious bread, with a fresh crispy crust, it went perfectly in the cold!

The house consists of one common room, there are two beds, one for adults, the second for children:

The nearest yurts from here are about 1-2 hours on Buran winter time year, or in the summer by boat. The most difficult time is autumn and winter, when the snow cover is not yet sufficient, and stable ice has not yet frozen, in such weeks the yurts are completely cut off from civilization. School is a topic for another discussion. At the beginning of the school year, children are taken by helicopter from the yurts of the region to the boarding school and returned only for the holidays. It would seem that there is no other way to educate children, because they live in absolutely isolated territories, and on the other hand, initiatives are already being implemented in Yakutia distance education indigenous children. After all, the most important goal is to return children to their roots and continue the traditions of their ancestors. I will write about this separately.

By the age of 7-10, these kids become completely independent and help adults with the housework. They go fishing and hunting with adults.

The girl is actually not even 25 yet ...

I look at life and think, but they can go to live in the village, I can do other things ... but at some point I understand that I need to look further than the visual picture of a very untidy life ... these are the people of Taiga, these are their open spaces and they they will not exchange them for the comfort of city houses.

And children are like children, playful and shy:

One of the problems for the Khanty now is getting compensation from oil-producing corporations that exploit the natural resources of territories that originally belonged to indigenous peoples. This leads to a lack of motivation in some and, as a result, to alcoholism. But the phenomenon is not widespread.

Nature and communication with it is what we are deprived of, our joys and values ​​​​are completely different. Our complexes give rise to non-existent problems. You and I will never be able to feel what it is to be with nature on "you".

Watch the film "Happy People: A Year in Taiga", a life-affirming film with meaning and idea. There is also a more complete version of it in four parts.

In Russia, the number of rural settlements exceeds the urban seventy-two times. And, despite this, every year thousands of villages and villages disappear from the map of the country. Against the backdrop of general extinction and depopulation, the village of Vyezzhiy Log, located in the Mansky district of the Krasnoyarsk Territory, is like a white crow: new houses are being built here, young people are returning here, and adults still honor traditions. Correspondent of Prospekt Mir Diana Serebrennikova decided to find out how they live in the God-forsaken village and spend the last days of the hot summer there.

In the depths of the taiga

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

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

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

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

- I went for the cows, again by the autumn they began to spit. And you go to the house, dinner is on the table and in the bathhouse, it is already hot,- Aunt Anya admonishes and hides in the dark.

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

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

Master of the taiga

At first glance, Vyezzhiy Log is an ordinary village. But this is not so: there is one “point” in history that completely changed the self-awareness of local residents. In 1968, the shooting of the film "Master of the Taiga" took place here, in which the actor and poet Vladimir Vysotsky played a role. The event that 47 years ago stirred up the measured life of fishermen, loggers and "custodians of the unique moonshine recipe" is still fresh in people's memory.

The owner of the taiga is a Soviet detective whose action takes place in a quiet taiga village. In the center of the plot is a night theft of a local store, the investigation of which is taken over by a young village policeman. The picture showed the local beauties and life of the workers' settlement, its inhabitants engaged in logging and rafting of timber along the stormy taiga river.

Walking around the village, you can see that the office building still stands in its place, near which mass filming of the scene of departure to the market took place. But the store is no longer there, they were dismantled into boards and built a "flock". And the streets don't look the same anymore. But the residents of the village, who are older, still remember how the actors stayed with them, how most of the local population participated in the filming, and how they paid one and a half rubles a day for mass scenes for children and three for adults.

In memory of this event, on the bank of the Mana, where Vysotsky lived during filming, a stone with a memorial plaque was erected, an inscription was made on the mountain in honor of the creation of the film, and excursions and the festival of the author's song "Vysotsky and Siberia" are held annually.

- Because of this, the village is something we hear about. Sometimes you arrive in a new place, they begin to ask who you are and where you are from, but as soon as you name the village and mention the film, they immediately begin to nod in response, they say they know, - says young Inna Tsykunova, a sports instructor. She has been living in the village since birth, however, she left to study as a designer in Krasnoyarsk for three years, but somehow it didn’t work out, she returned home to rest, but she stayed that way. First, they offered me a job in the club, acting as director, then I moved to the youth center. The girl complains that earlier there was more attention to the village. But now everything has changed.

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

New life

In the summer the village is quiet. Only sometimes huge orange dump trucks rush along the main street, carrying gravel to the construction site. railway. Now almost half of the male population of Vyezzhy Log is working at this construction site. The rest - either on the mowing or in the taiga, pick berries. In general, the village comes to life only on holidays: so on the night of Ivan Kupala, the boys bring the wheels up the mountain, set them on fire and lower them down. Pieces of ten at a time, flaming tires roll from a height, scattering sparks, to the squeal of women and children. It’s also fun here on Maslenitsa: a Shrovetide town appears, guys climb a pole, girls laugh, and local grandmothers organize markets, sell pancakes with moonshine. Young people dress up, ride a sleigh, pull a rope, and eventually set fire to a scarecrow of winter. But while there are no holidays, it’s boring in the village - do work, read books, watch TV. Well, or sit on the Internet, since it is here now.

With the onset of twilight, people appear here and there on the deserted streets. Hunched over, a gray-haired man meets his wife from work. He carries her heavy bag and thinks about how to insulate the house during the coming cold winter so that his wife does not freeze while he goes on a long hunt in the taiga. Someone is pulling a whole cart of hay with a tractor, someone is driving a herd of cows along the main paved street ...

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

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

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

2. The road between the two settlements again twisted along the riverbeds, from time to time diving into the taiga forest and again emerging to the next bend of the river...

3. All these roads through the forest are cut by the Khanty themselves in winter, moving on "Burans" and "Yamahas" between the yurts and taking the skins and meat they get to Ugut.
In the spring they will not be ...

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

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

6. The catch cannot be called poor...

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

8. Cats are right there

9. A shy girl meets us at the entrance - this is Sasha's daughter

10. Sasha's wife - Oksana at this time is preparing to get freshly baked bread from the oven.

11. Khanty people traditionally bake bread in these street ovens.

12. To taste, it is very similar to the bread we are used to. It has a thick, crispy crust, but a slightly damp interior.
Bread is not baked every day. This stock will last Sasha and Oksana for a week.

13. Bread and clay oven

14. Oksana is a pretty young girl. But rather difficult natural conditions in these places very quickly outwardly age a person.
Sasha and Oksana have two small children - a boy and a girl.
The girl, as expected, is shy and flirtatious, the boy is curious ....

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

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

17. Children, such children... Sweets and sweets can be eaten endlessly.

18. It is getting dark and Sasha, throwing back the canopy behind the house, starts the diesel generator.

19. Let there be light...

20. By the light of a light bulb, we manage to more closely examine the house in which this family lives.
In the light, everything looks even simpler. There are no extra things here. Everything is just what is needed.
On the left is the female half of the house, on the right is the male half. Among the Khanty, it is customary for a man and a woman to sleep separately.

21. Male half. A simple sofa, it is not clear how it was brought to this place, a shelf with an LCD panel, a sewing machine and a potbelly stove

22. A thing that has long gone out of our everyday life - a VCR

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

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

25. On the window, mobile phones are in the only position that allows you to receive at least some signal.
For a long time it was a mystery to me how mobile communications can be provided in the taiga - after all, the subscriber base is extremely small.
It turned out that the oilmen were the cause of everything. By developing deposits, they also provide penetration mobile communications to taiga places

26. Dishes

27. Grocery cabinet

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

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

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

31. It's getting dark... outside the window it will soon start to get dark, and we are going on a long way back...

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

Hut on chicken legs or visiting Yugan Khanty

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

2. The rural settlement of Ugut unites under its jurisdiction the largest number of the indigenous population in the entire Surgut region. In total, about 3 thousand people live on the territory of the settlement, of which 900 people are Khanty.
The fact is that a rural settlement does not mean a specific settlement, but a huge area on which there are small settlements of the Khanty, which are called yurts.
In this context, a "yurt" is not a dwelling, but a small settlement consisting of log cabins. So these settlements have been called since the 19th century.
Andrei Nikolaevich Ogorodny, the head of the Ugutsky village council, personally took us to the distant yurts on his snowmobile, to which sleds were attached. On the second snowmobile - his assistant.

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

4. We alexcheban on riding sleds. You can only sit with your back to the movement, because. in 20-degree frost, out of habit, it is even impossible to breathe if you turn your face in the direction of travel at speed

5. Snowmobiles fly through the snow quite quickly, but the well-packed road is rather deceptive. It is enough to leave the track a little, and the snowmobile immediately burrows into deep snow.

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

7. We take out the snowmobile and drive on. Periodically, the road leaves the riverbed into the forest. This is either a loop of the river being cut off, or a transition to some of its tributaries is underway.

9. Swamp under the snow

10. On the edge of the swamp, a grove of slender birches

11. An amazing thing - signs in the taiga. In fact, we just cross the winter road - the winter road that oil workers use to get to their facilities. In the summer there is no road

12. The first yurts on our way....
I will repeat once again for those who have not read the caption to the second photo.
Yurts among the Khanty are not a specific dwelling, but a small settlement. Forest Khanty live in huts. Khanty-reindeer herders - in plagues.

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

14. But numerous footprints and paths rolled by snowmobiles indicate that people live here.
Most likely, the Khanty left either to hunt or to Ugut to hand over prey or buy supplies.

15. Template break - satellite dishes.
Yes, yes, the Khanty in our time are also quite advanced - they have televisions, they install satellite dishes and use satellite phones in the taiga.
Electricity is obtained from generators that everyone has.
Ask about the means for all these benefits?
In fact, the Khanty are not such poor people. They have several sources of income. Firstly, these are crafts - hunting, fishing, gathering. Someone sells skins and meat to state procurement offices, someone sells them at markets or fairs. Secondly, these are compensation payments from oilmen.
The fact is that each family is assigned ancestral lands. And if the oilmen want to place their rigs or other facilities on them, they conclude an agreement with the user of these ancestral lands, according to which they annually pay the agreed amount of money.
Here everything depends on the perseverance and business streak of the Khanty. Andrey Nikolaevich says that he knows some especially successful Khanty who receive in the form of compensations of a million rubles a year and more

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

17. This is a bread oven. Khanty bread is baked on the street (more on this in the next post)

18. We go further. Another forced stop. The reason is a steep climb to the edge of the forest along the river bank. The snowmobile cannot pull the sled through the deep snow, so we carry them out on our hands.

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

20. The next yurts on our way are Kogonchevy yurts. There are only a few houses here, and only a family of pensioners lives here.
Again satellite dish. In addition, metal-plastic windows are striking.

21. Owner - Kogonchev Petr Stepanovich.
The settlements here are named after their inhabitants. As a rule, this is one family.

22. If there is a hut on stilts in yurts, it means that there is a storehouse here. Here is stored the most valuable for the owners. Piles are needed so that animals and rodents cannot climb here. The ladder is always removed and is placed only if you need to climb into the storehouse.

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

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

26. Toilet.. Outdoors

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

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

29. She hunts on a par with her husband. The other day I got a hare, the skin of which we saw in the storehouse.
Pyotr Stepanovich was a noble hunter. In the best years, he harvested 80 sables during the winter.
Now, he says, the forest is not the same. Little animal...

30. Civilization also penetrates into taiga settlements....

32. Pyotr Stepanovich and Anna Vasilievna also have a mobile phone, although it catches only in some places ... Base stations are very far away

33. Anna Vasilievna knitted socks for her husband

34. What God sent..

35. Simple furnishings at home... By the way, in the next post, pay attention to how different the situation will be from this one in the house of the family that will be discussed

36. Water is obtained by melting snow near the stove.

37. Birch bark for kindling the stove

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

Born in the taiga huts, from childhood they absorb with their mother's milk for centuries the inherent skills and abilities.
From an early age, the boy, together with his father, learns to hunt animals and fish, and the girl learns to be the mistress of the house and the harsh taiga life.
They do not need a school and they do their best to hide from the educators by helicopter, who come to pick them up from the boarding school.
They have huge inquisitive eyes and, just like city children, they are madly in love with sweets...
Khanty children.

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

3. Families of the Forest Khanty, as a rule, have many children - from three or more children. The fact is that the family always needs extra working hands, so children from an early age become full-fledged assistants for their parents.
The second reason for families with many children is the rather difficult climatic and natural living conditions. Taiga is taiga, and serious illnesses, injuries, and even accidents while hunting or fishing are not uncommon here. You understand that children are in this respect in a much greater risk group than adults ...

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

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

6. It is in the importance and usefulness of children for the family that lies a rather significant problem of the Khanty - the education of children.
The Russian state requires and forces indigenous peoples to give their children compulsory primary education.
And since many settlements are located in hard-to-reach places, moreover, remote from administrative centers where there are schools, Khanty children receive this education in special boarding schools.
Naturally, they live there for many months.
This situation contradicts the centuries-old principle of building social ties among the Khanty, when children are full-fledged helpers.
It is for this reason that indigenous people often try to avoid sending their children to boarding schools.
Someone goes to the taiga, having heard the noise of a helicopter that flies for their child (and in Ugra there is a state program, according to which a fairly decent amount is allocated annually for the delivery of children to boarding schools and from them for holidays by air transport to distant yurts), who -something just with a scandal does not give the child away.

7. The Khanty believe that their child will not receive the necessary skills for life in the forest by getting an education in a boarding school.
On the one hand, it is. On the other hand, it is easy to deceive an uneducated person in a variety of situations - from trading in what is mined in the forest, ending with the conclusion of compensation agreements with oilmen.
Another factor that significantly affects parents living in the taiga is that often children, having studied on the Internet, do not really want to return to the traditional way of life.
Having tasted the joys of the life we ​​are accustomed to, having learned certain blessings of civilization, they begin to see life in the forest from a completely different perspective...

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

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

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

Cold night in Tayure

The autumn taiga stretched out in a boundless misty blue. A fresh November morning dawned over her in a pale dawn. A pink stripe of the sky quickly turns red, spreads like a gentle cinnabar along the jagged edge of the mountains. Here it flashed purple, and the morning sun rolled out from behind the rocky peaks in a crimson ball. The loaches of the mountain range shone like diamonds in a gold frame. In the dazzling rays, the transparent Tayura sparkled, irresistibly striving for Lena. The icy laces on the coastal stones are silvered with hoarfrost...

On the right bank of the Tayura there is a taiga settlement. On the left, a dark green fir wall climbs a steep slope. The rocky cliff blackens in the distance. Under the cliff, on a pebbly shallow, a heavy body sways in the waves. Spotted trousers and jacket are frayed on the rocky bottom. Crooked, bluish-purple hands and bare feet, shredded on the rifts, now appear above the water, then disappear into it. The human body, stirred by a white foamy stream, rises on the waves, beats against the stones.

At this early hour in the house, conspicuous from a distance with blue carved platbands, the door rattled, and Georgy Voilokov, the district police inspector, came out onto the porch. A bucket in each hand. One contains oatmeal for rabbits. In the other - a mish-mash for a piglet.

The latch of the gate clinked. Nastya Mukacheva, a worker at the timber industry, hastily entered the yard. Her husband, Ilya, a well-known strongman and drunkard in the village, with a brigade of hunters - fishermen squirrels in the taiga. And Voilokov was quite surprised to see a hastily dressed woman. The coat is open, a colorful scarf is carelessly thrown over tousled hair. Voilokov set down the buckets and frowned.

Isn't it otherwise, Ilyukha rolled up from the hunt and again buzzes early in the morning? Well, ep-ponsky god! Stop babysitting him! Have you written an application?

Yes, I, Georgy Georgievich, do not complain about Ilyusha ... They found a drowned man in Tayura. Under the cliff... All our timber industry employees ran there.

Let's run! Yes, they will trample the scene of the incident for me, ep-ponsky god.

Buttoning up his uniform jacket as he ran, Voilokov set off towards a high rock that hung gloomily over the river. The swollen body had already been dragged onto the wet sand by the chief engineer of the timber industry, Stukalov. He stepped towards the breathless Voilokov.

Barely pulled it out. Heavy as a barrel.

Who asked you? They really tried! Before the arrival of the task force, this should not have been done. Move away from the scene!

Hmm, please,” Stukalov pursed his lips in displeasure. “I wanted to help you, but you…” he waved his hand resentfully, and loudly slamming the door of a brand new Honda, he drove off to the office.

Voilokov slowly turned to the shapeless mass that had once been a man, and shuddered as he looked at the disfigured face. The workers were talking quietly to one side.

Belov... Our master.

His clothes ... So one was found.

Somewhere else will be washed ashore.

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

Hi George! Familiarize yourself with the act of forensic medical examination.

Alcohol was repeatedly mentioned in the act. Among the numerous abrasions described in detail, the entry underlined in pencil stood out. Abrasion on the back of the head.

Drunk, Belov fell out of the boat and shied away with his head against a stone, - Smirnov puffed on a cigarette ... - Night, cold, vile weather ... The peasants succumbed. It's common for fishing. Maybe they crashed into a rock or ran into a log in the dark. Look how many windbreaks float after the flood ...

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

And if we don't find Kasyanov's body? The river does not stand still. In a month, she could drag him into the Laptev Sea. What are we to expect?

What about his wife's letter? About lumber theft?

Some arguments and assumptions... We need facts. Where is the proof?!

Dig well - they will!

Smirnov smiled indulgently.

Do you think it's that easy?

It turns out that the Ep-Ponian god, Kasyanov and Belov drowned, and with them the ends in the water?

Smirnov spread his hands.

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

It was getting dark. Leaden-gray clouds crawled across the cloudy sky. In a cloudy drizzle, the wet branches of trees bare from foliage swayed. Blue clouds hovered over Tayura. Driven by a cold wind, whitish haze drifted along the taiga ravines. There, near the distant hills, the icy and clean Sable Spring flows into Tayura. A stormy river splashes like an ice font on granite rapids. It makes noise, rolls stones, knocks down a careless hunter, deceived by shallow water.

A week later, another drowned man was found on Kharyuzovy reach. Identified by an orange fishing jacket former director timber industry enterprise Sergey Kasyanov. Korchazhnik, sharp stones tormented the body beyond recognition. The shattered limbs were gnawed by the fish. It was impossible to take fingerprints for fingerprint analysis. However, the identity of the deceased was not in doubt. Too often, the inhabitants of the village saw the avid fisherman Kasyanov in this jacket. On that rainy evening, in wader boots and with a spinning rod in his hand, he walked in it along the banks of the Tayura to the blue motorboat, where Master Belov was waiting for him ...

"Fishing accident... Alcohol intoxication..." rapped police captain Smirnov on the computer console. He filed the sheet printed on the printer into a skinny paper folder, slapped it with his palm:

That's the whole story!

And it started like this...

In the September storm, Tayura spread widely. Roaring on the rapids, the river carried taiga rubbish to Lena. Along the ravines, washing away the banks, streams of muddy-red water poured into Tayura ...

The elements had not yet subsided when the blue motorboat howled angrily on the river. Cold rain poured down. Fidgety - the boys let boats made of pine bark in the puddles. Nothing to them, wet, sniffing noses, autumn slush. They were the first to tell Voilokov about the blue motorboat and the two daredevils who ventured to go fishing at such an inopportune time. The children got a good look at Kasyanov's yellow-red jacket and Belov's green-spotted encephalitis, sitting on the steering wheel.

There is only one blue duralumin boat in the village. Its owner, Chief Engineer Stukalov, was late that evening in his office compiling a monthly logging report. Ruby "Honda" Stukalova, gleaming with wet enamel, blushed at the gates of the office.

The wind blew in gusts, rocking the tops of the trees. The taiga, hidden by drizzle, made a muffled noise.

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

And why did they, epponsky god, go fishing in such weather?

This obsessive thought did not go out of my head. It seemed strange that people who had been living in these harsh lands for more than one year chose September bad weather for fishing. Fishing Kasyanov is not the first time. Doesn't he know what it's like to cross a stormy river, looking at night? Rain... Wind. A little gape on the steering wheel and write: gone. And if the engine stalls or breaks the screw? will spin fast current boat, throw it on the stones, overturn ... And the water in Tayura is golem ice. And you can't stay in it for a minute...

Jets of rain ran down the window pane. It was getting dark.

Voilokov dialed the number of the officer on duty in the district department.

Hello, Stepanych! Vylokov is worried. What am I calling? Yes, here, you understand, Kasyanov and Belov - our bosses, the timber industry, went up the Tayura ... Stukalov's motorboat. Do you know him? How, well, let it?! Not small children, you say? It is so. But the weather, ep-ponsky god! Tayura is raging today... You never know what... It's better for you to know whether to call a helicopter or swim in pursuit of them... My job is to crow, and at least don't dawn there... Bye, Stepanych...

Perplexed by the incomprehensible trick of Kasyanov and Belov, Voilokov muffled his boots along the corridor of the empty office. He knocked on the door of Stukalov's office, pulled the handle. Locked up. "I should have gone to see him first," thought Voilokov, regretting that he had not found Stukalov. Went outside. In place of the Honda, a deep, blurred rut blackened in the mud.

On Monday, alarming news spread around the village: the fishermen did not return. They did not return even after a few days.

The search began.

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

Where is your husband, you ask? In taiga. Fishing. Where else would he be if he took a whole case of booze with him? Why is it still not there? And how much do I know. He does not report to me about his endless absences, - Tamara Kasyanova, the director's wife, answered Voilokov's questions with irritation. “I have been looking for adventure for a long time. Maybe I found...

Clattering dishes in the kitchen, she grumbled angrily:

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

Voilokov looked around at the uncomfortable atmosphere in the Kasyanovs' apartment. Old newspapers, scraps of papers, worn-out slippers are scattered on the floor. Faded wallpaper on the walls. In the corner is an old TV. Opposite is a worn sofa with an unmade bed.

He is almost never at home. All things ... What - it is known. Drinks, parties, shura-mura ... Trips abroad. Forest tricks...

There are facts?

It's not hard to guess. The forest is being driven across the cordon in wagons, but there is still no money to pay off the workers. They don't get paid for months... And what a forest! Listvjak timber and cedar boards! And what in return? Gum! The rag is rotten. People are ashamed. Kasyanov's name is thief. And Belov is like a six with him. What Kasyanov says, he will do. He will decorate the commercial wood with firewood, swell the car with a facing rail, throw it on top to excuse the aspen slabs and go to China. How? Barter! And if you figure it out - it's an ordinary scam. But Belov's son bought a Mercedes. Daughters - Toyota. Right next to the Land Cruiser. And Kasyanovsky's friend - Stukalov - does not lag behind them: he took the latest Honda model ... He rested in the Canary Islands ... He sent his daughter to study in the States ... For what money? Where are the facts you say?

Kasyanova threw away the edge of the tablecloth on the table and handed over a notebook sheet with uneven lines of writing. - Here, I wrote to the police ... Let them take this goose to clean water. Kasyanov didn't even give me a penny, but his suitcase was full of dollars.

Tamara looked back at the door, whispered:

He grabbed the "case" in a hurry, and take the lid and open it. The money is green and fell out of it in bundles. Not ours. Kasyanov left his face. As he screams: "What are you staring at? This is not my money. Lespromkhoz's." Why hide them at home then? Here, and you say where the facts are ...

And where is he now?

Kasyanov?

No, suitcase.

There, behind the chiffonier. Yes, but there is no money in it. On that very Friday, he put them in a backpack and took them away. On that day, some rude man came. In a leather jacket, in a mink hat. Shouldered. And a face, like Kasyanov's: well-fed, impudent. We steamed in our bath. They sent me for a beer. Sprinkle on the stove, so that, therefore, the spirit was better. And I, when I carried beer to the dressing room, heard how the guest demanded dollars.

And what about Kasyanov?

Let's go, says Edik, to go fishing, to Soboliny Klyuch. I will cry there. Let's rest in nature. What kind of taimen will we catch!

It's time to relax: rain, sleet ... Cold dog.

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

Voilokov slowly walked down the street, pondering the unexpected confession of Tamara Kasyanova. Her statement, however, differs little from the complaint of Nastya Mukacheva, who was beaten by her drunken husband. Both women, not from a good life, decided to go to the police. On last week Ilya came home. He brought a birch bark tues of lingonberries and a bag of cedar cones. Gulnul with a friend, and in the morning a weeping Nastya posted a statement in front of Vylokov.

That's it, do whatever you want with him, but I won't live with a drunkard anymore, - Nastya sobbed. - Divorce...

Voilokov suddenly slowed down his steps. How did you not remember right away? Ilya's winter hut in the Sobolin spring!

The outlines of the hills sank into the blackness of the approaching night. From the banks of the Tayura, seething in the darkness, one could smell the dampness of rotten pine needles. A sharp-eared stocky husky with a tightly curled tail jumped out of the gate of the Mukachevo hut. She twirled at her feet, trying to lick her face.

Got it, Taiga?

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

Here, Ilya, Nastya's statement ... Well, he drank ... So why chase your wife? What a bear you are! Completely wild in the taiga, or what? Ep-ponsky god! Found someone to fight! Hero! She works hard at work, and even household chores, wash the kids, feed ... And you ?! There would be nothing to help her - you wave your fists like that ...

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

Not with me - pray for forgiveness from Nastya.

Tried... And does not want to listen.

Voilokov went up to the tear-stained Nastya and touched her shoulder.

Did you change your mind about your application?

I don’t want to put Ilya in jail,” Nastya whispered hotly. - Yes, if only I didn’t buzz drunk. Here, look, - Nastya showed bruises and bruises on her elbows. - And a sober man is a golden man ... You scare him well!

Well, ep-ponsky god! What am I, scared?!

No you! This is me, - Nastya was embarrassed. - So that you are stricter with him.

Okay, if he gets bored in the taiga, he will become kinder... That's it, Ilya. I won't wait for more statements. I'll draw up a protocol... Think about the little boy. About daughter. Kolka's boots need to be fixed. Yes, when you go for a drink? And how can Natasha do lessons if her father is rowdy? Kolka, I remember, you whipped a belt for deuces. And you, an adult kid, will you also order to flog? In general, the last time you got away. Pray before Nastya.

Thank you, Georgy Georgievich!

I almost forgot: did you happen to meet Kasyanov in your winter hut? And master Belov with him? They were going to fish in the Soboliny key.

So, then, what kind of bottles I found in the winter hut that week! That weekend, when the fishermen disappeared, I was at home. Nastya wanted something ...

I see, he helped,” Voilokov growled, pointing to the unwashed dishes and a pile of unwashed linen.

Went through a little ... Then Nastya clung, let's pester for drinking. Didn't hold back...

The hunting season has begun ... Why are you heating the sides of the stove?

So after all, she scribbled a statement ... Well, I think, Khan. What is the hunt now?

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

That's what I'm saying... As I quarreled with Nastya, I left for the taiga the next morning. Monday, that is. And someone was in the hut. Empty bottles - a battery! I decided - stray, city people visited ... I wanted to hunt for a squirrel. I couldn't. I was worried about everything because of Nastya. Returned home. It was then that I learned that Kasyanov and Belov had disappeared. Turns out they were there...

All over Tayura they searched for the disappeared people. The hunters ransacked the taiga, furrowed the river with nets and hooks. Examined shallows and rifts. Pools clogged with korchazhnik and swampy floodplains crawled out.

Sprinkled the first snow. The edge of the water near the coast was covered with thin ice.

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

The tayura is big... Who knows what kind of reach they came up with, - Ilya Mukachev told about his search. And pulling off his hat, he scratched the back of his head:

I don’t know why they got into my winter hut on a motorboat? It's easier to get there by car...

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

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

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

Freezes, Yuri Vitalievich. Just right for the first snow in the taiga to run away. Today, they say, there are a lot of squirrels.

Yes, what whitening, - Stukalov nodded at the piles of papers on the table. - Works incessantly. And you, I'm sorry, on what question?

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

The schedule of duty of the fire brigade brought. Check out...

Okay, let me take a look.

Stukalov calmed down and leaned back in his chair.

Offend you, lieutenant. Pass by. And we brought "Panasonic" plasma. Direct deliveries from Japan. I can offer. Inexpensive...

This is for someone like ... I have a "Sharp". And you know - great shows! So you, Yury Vitalyevich, don’t delay with the schedule ... Especially with the duty car for the strong point.

Stukalov pulled out a desk drawer to put some papers in. There lay round metal object: duralumin cap with a chain. Stukalov frightenedly grabbed it, in confusion looked around with his eyes for where to put it and threw it into the wastebasket.

All sorts of rubbish lying around here ... Left from the previous owner, ”he muttered, pushing the drawer with a thud.

The round white moon was already hanging over the pointed fir trees when Voilokov took up household chores.

Pine rounds split easily, and the mountain of yellowish, resin-smelling logs grew rapidly. He liked chopping wood. And a body workout. And rest for the soul. You can think. Why was Stukalov so alarmed? I realized that I saw a trinket with a chain and went off my face ...

Voilokov swung, trying on a chock, but suddenly lowered the ax.

Eppon God! This is not a trinket! It's a drain plug from the bottom of the boat! Not from that same blue motorboat?

This thought excited Voilokov so much that he almost ran towards Mukachev's house. The dog barked, squealed, recognizing, but Nastya had already come out of the passage.

Ilyusha left for the taiga. I didn't drink vodka. And I didn’t take it with me, - Nastya hastened to assure the policeman.

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

Nastya raised her eyes in surprise.

Not yet... I'll go now.

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

Nastya came running in half an hour.

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

I thought so. Thanks, Nastya! But no one about it! Do you hear?!

Nastya left, preoccupied with an incomprehensible request, and Voilokov again set to work on the firewood. To look from the side, there is no easier task: he swung, hit and ... the ax got stuck in the wood to the very butt! Pull out by force. You suffer without skill. And Voilokov will put a chock, twist it back and forth, looking for weakness. In this case, too, you need to think. Don't hit anywhere. Where to hit the crack. Where along the knot. Other fibrous logs fall as if twisted. Here it is necessary to chop off the edges, and only then beat in the middle.

That's how it is for a person. Each one needs a special approach. Everyone has their own weakness. It is necessary to hit on it ... How to find out from Stukalov why he hides the cork from the boat in his office? And more importantly, how did she get there? Maybe he didn’t screw it in, but plugged the hole with a piece of wood? Go and ask him? And he, of course, immediately told everything frankly! No, Stukalov is not one of those to whom you show a red service certificate, but he burst into tears, laid out everything ... Khitor Stukalov! Of those stubborn silencers who will never admit to anything until you press the facts. What is the evidence against him? Kasyanov and Belov asked Stukalov for a boat. He allegedly dissuaded them from fishing. Where is it?! They insisted! What else? Fingerprints on the bottles in the cabin? Yes, but Kasyanov and Belov took alcohol from him, and then they sipped the bottles. Edik in a leather jacket? Has no idea about it. An acquaintance of Kasyanov, that's all. Forest fraud? Dollars in a suitcase? Everything will be blamed on Kasyanov, but go and ask him now! Stukalov is a tough nut to crack. To crack it, you need to find a crack. Hit her with all your might and don't miss! Oh, ep-ponsky god! Find a boat!

Less than a week later, the hunter Ilya Mukachotsiv drove up to Voilokov's house in a mud-stained "Minsk". Hastily leaned the motorcycle against the fence, ran onto the porch. Voilokov escorted the guest into the room, put tea, honey, and bread on the table.

Drink, Ilya! Frozen, go, on your jalopy?

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

I alerted the trap at the mouth of the Soboliny spring. I look - something turns blue. I got closer and this...

She is the most. Stukalovskaya...

Have you examined her?

We know business. And you know what you found?

A hole in the place of the drain plug?

Yes, - Mukachev was taken aback. - It turns out that he was pounding on the potholes in vain?

Not for nothing, Ilya. You will be convinced of this yourself. Soon we will go there on your tyrtykalka. On my "Ural" it is impossible - the trace is noticeable. And now here's your cell phone - call Stukalov. Enjoy the find. And give me the exact location. And add that you informed the police, and tomorrow Voilokov will go to inspect the boat. It's clear? Tomorrow!

Mukachev called and heard Stukalov's loud voice in response:

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

Voilokov rushed to the hanger.

Start, Ilya, your beater and we’ll go with you to Soboliny Klyuch soon! Come on, go full throttle!

At the risk of falling, they were shaking along the frozen track of a broken logging road. Voilokov, clinging to the brace, thought only of how not to fall off and break his neck.

Violet twilight thickened in the ravines. Whitish wisps of fog caught on tufts of firs. Already in the dark, Voilokov and Mukachev reached the Soboliny Key. Behind, on the pass, a bright beam of an automobile headlight flashed.

Mukachev filled up the motorcycle with boughs and moved to the mouth of the key. Voilokov could hardly keep up with him. There was a soft murmur of water. The black silhouette of the boat appeared in the inky haze of the night.

Hide behind the door and stand still until I call you,” Voilokov said in a low voice. Leaned against a pine tree and became invisible.

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

Suddenly, a light came on in the clearing. Soon the crunch of dry wood was heard. Someone's cautious steps rustled on the fallen branches of the spruce forest. The icicles rumbled. Shining a flashlight, the traveler went out to the bed of the key, whitening in the dark with heaps of pellets. Very close, the ice breaks under the feet of the night alien. Here he approached the boat, shone inside. He fumbled in his pocket, sniffing something out of it and leaned over the boat. There was a rattling on the duralumin case. Something was wrong with this man. He cursed, sighed noisily and was nervous.

Suddenly a sheaf of light illuminated the figure of a man bent over the boat. It was Vylokov who switched on the lantern.

Has the carving rusted, Yuri Vitalievich?

Stukalov screamed and rushed to run, but Voilokov grabbed him by the fur collar of his jacket. Tall and strong, Stukalov easily wriggled out, pulled out a gas pistol from his bosom. He did not have time to shoot: Voilokov deftly knocked out the pistol, but he himself immediately stretched out on a stony placer, hitting his back painfully.

Like a bear from a lair, a hunter swung out from behind an eversion, wrapped his hefty arms around Stukalov.

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

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

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

I knew that this would end... I knew... But Kasyanov... If it weren't for him...

Who came to demand dollars that day, how did they set off on a motorboat to this very winter hut?

Morozov ... Eduard ... He worked at the station in the city ... Racketeer ... Bandyugan ...

Got wind of your forest scam? Extorted money?

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

Did you decide to remove it?

Kasyanov decided... I didn't kill anyone. I just brought Morozov to the winter hut. Here Kasyanov and Belov were waiting for us. The weather was cold. With rain and wind. They drank all night. Belov boasted of what hefty taimen he caught at the mouth of the Soboliny spring. Edik was persuaded to go fishing. In the morning Belov put Kasyanov's red rubber suit on Edik. I put a spinning rod in his hands ... Give me water, Ilya, something in my throat is dry ...

The hunter scooped a ladle from a bucket. Stukalov's hands were shaking. Water splashed on the floor covered with elk skin. Tapping his teeth on the edge of the ladle, Stukalov greedily, excitedly, drank. He took out a cigarette and kneaded it for a long time.

Voilokov silently waited until the newly-minted director lit a cigarette. Here, in the winter hut, on plank plank beds covered with straw, there was no longer the arrogant freedom and haughty arrogance of a successful businessman. He crushed one cigarette, another. Finally, he lit a cigarette and puffed out smoke.

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

Speak, Yuri Vitalievich, we are listening to you.

Belov unscrewed the plug ... The engine started. Edik got into the boat. And he was that ... He was pumped up hard by "Rasputin". The boat rushed ... At the mouth of the key. It was dark. He shouted... He called for help...

Mukachev, melting the stove, whistled:

It turns out that Kasyanov did not drown?!

I took him to the station that night, - Stukalov answered, looking at the trembling flame of the kerosene with a detached look. - I don't know where he is now... He was going to leave for Cyprus. Or maybe Canada...

Voilokov turned up the wick. The fire lit up brighter, illuminating a rough table, an iron stove, a shelf with crockery.

He put paper and a pen in front of Stukalov.

Write, Yuri Vitalievich. Sincere confession, the court will take into account.

Stukalov wrote for a long time. He crossed out what he had written, corrected it, rewrote it again. He dropped the handle and grabbed it again. Voilokov did not rush him. Ignoring Stukalov, he silently and routinely peeled potatoes, helping Ilya cook dinner.

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

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

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

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

Kasyanov hit Belov with an oar. Pushed into the river. “Why,” he says, “we need extra witnesses?” On the way to the station, they remembered that the cork from the boat remained in Belov’s pocket ...

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

Stukalov nodded.

And money?

They were first divided into four ...

Then for two?

Stukalov remained silent, kneading his cigarette.

Well, ep-ponsky god! However, Smirnov will have to sweat over the scribbling about this case! But that's his problem. And we'll have dinner. Take a seat at the table, Yuri Vitalievich! And you, Ilya, throw some wood into the stove. The night in Tayure is cold.

January morning. Hills blacken under purple skies.

In a hollow, along a snow-covered river, there is a long street of cobbled leafy houses. The village of Zavyalovo ... Opposite the office of the timber industry - a well with frost. Paths trodden in the snow ran in different directions from him. Behind the outskirts - stacks of logs and boards, the silhouettes of cranes, timber carriers, skidders darken. Lights flashed in the windows of some huts. The engines hummed in the garage. Buckets rattled at the well. The village woke up...

In one of the yards, a dog burst into loud barking. The door creaked in the hallway. A woman came out onto the porch wearing a downy shawl thrown over her shoulders.

Shut up, Naida! Shut up who you told!

I peered into the frosty blue. Baa! Mishka Khlebnikov welcomed. In a smoky badger's hat, in a woolen hunting jacket. In a hurry, he must have dressed lightly. He stands, tapping his boots on the gate, clapping his mittens. The frost is strong in Transbaikalia! Mishka's mustache and eyebrows turned white, covered with frost.

Chavo stuck in such an early?

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

More FAQ?! Nadys took - did not give ...

I'll give it back, Aunt Liz... Here's the cross, I'll give it back! Don't let me die. Everything inside burns with a blue flame.

I beg you on my knees, Aunt Liz... I don't have the strength to suffer... Well, at least give me some rubella. I'm dying, Aunt Liz. I'm burning alive...

No conscience in you, Mishka, no shame. I drank it all...

I'll get married - I'll stop drinking ... I just want to put out the fire ...

Who will go for you, the bastard?

It’s me with such a drink ... I’ll get drunk - I’ll unfold the accordion - not a single Zavyalovskaya girl can resist!

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

Chavo so nazyuzyukalsya?

Vaska Zaikov bought a piece of furniture... They washed it... After adding Povalikha's moonshine... He got poisoned, apparently, with this muck... Aunt Liz, I'll catch sables for you... For Lariska's hat...

Where else will it be?

I'll bring boots... The size of Borka is suitable for yours...

Sper, go, where?

In the animal industry yesterday they issued ...

Bring it. I'll take a look.

I'll be right there, Aunt Liz!

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

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

Thin ... It will be trampled down quickly ...

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

Okay, on! Pour your fire, - she pulled out a crumpled bill from her dressing gown. - Do not forget to return the debt!

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

Stop, Kolyan! Are you in the city center?

"Kamaz" hissed brakes. The driver leaned over and opened the door.

Kolyan, I'm dying! Click on everything! You will bring alive - I do not know. The head is cracking, - Mishka yelled, clutching his head. "I had a little too much yesterday at Vaska Zaikov's... I got addicted to Povalikha sivukha..."

The driver nodded in understanding.

Mishka climbed into the cab, and the Kamaz, releasing white puffs of exhaust gases, rushed to the bridge to the pass, turning pink on the horizon with a pale dawn.

Elizabeth returned to the house, pleased with the boots she had bought for nothing. She put on a short fur coat, tried on felt boots: just right! She grabbed buckets, a yoke and rather to the well. Find out the news, tell your own. For the habit of prying into other people's affairs, the Zavyalovites nicknamed her Nosikha.

Elizabeth filled the buckets, waited for someone else to come to the well. So Galina Moskaleva turned onto the path to the well. Foreman's wife, sawmill accountant.

Elizabeth picked up the buckets, swaying and splashing water, went to meet them.

What news, neighbor! Mishka Khleb got poisoned!

To death?!

How to know? Kolka Panov has now taken him to the district center a little bit alive ... I bought moonshine from Povalikha's grandmother and burned his insides ...

Wow! Be careful before the wedding! - Galina dropped the empty buckets.

He rattled me about getting married ... I thought he was lying ... Who is his bride ?!

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

From abnormal! Toil with a drunk all my life ...

And Verka herself, is it better? I went out with all the Zavyalovsky guys ...

Still, Mishka is no match for her. She is educated. On this, like him, it works on a computer. Playing the piano...

Finished the game, it turns out, with Mishka. He is on harmonica. She is on the piano. Good duet!

And don't tell! She, according to her education, does not need such a man. Cultural. For example, like your Yurka. And Mishka - who? Hunter?! Taiga scourge?! Of course, it’s still better to go for this than to covet other people’s men ...

Last summer the goat of the Pronkins climbed into the garden of the Moskalevs. Eat the cabbage. Trampled the beds. Publicly, in the store, in line for sausage, Galina scolded the negligent neighbor:

How to sharpen laces and discuss people, I would fix the corral and tie the goat, gossip!

Elizabeth harbored an evil, knew how the lascivious Verka shot with her eyes at the handsome mechanic. How she spun in front of him in a short skirt. So the zavgar would have dried up to her, but Galina pulled her rival by the hair in time, scratched her face. Know ours! But the words about other people's men hurt painfully. Silently swallowed the pill.

Elizabeth left, her lips stretched into a malicious smirk.

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

Hello Galya!

Hello, Maria!

Did you see the nose? Word of mouth, not a woman. Wireless telegraph! You won't listen to it again... Why did you rattle it?

She said: boyfriend Verkin was poisoned ... Kolka Panov tartaned to his hospital at the dawn.

Mitka is an accordion player, or what? And what did you get poisoned by? Glass cleaner, maybe?

Povalikhinsky moonshine!

Old witch! How long will the men be soldered?! There is no control over her!

Stepanida Povalyaeva among themselves was called grandmother Povalikha. Smoke smokes day and night over a smoky bathhouse in her garden, carrying a fusel smell. Stepanida mixes any dope into the moonshine. Henbane, tobacco, hops... To make you fall off your feet faster. That's why she got the nickname.

The husband of Maria Loseva, the bulldozer operator Ivan, often visited Stepanida, returning from her "on the horns". And Maria hurried to spread the sad news throughout the village.

At noon, people crowded around the office of the animal industry, where Mishka Khlebnikov was listed as a full-time hunter. Quietly talking...

And where is he now?

In the morgue Where else would he be? They do an examination. If they find poison, they will judge Povalikha ...

It's high time... Just now I bought a bottle from her. I assured you - pervach. And I tried - the water is bare! And it stinks of tobacco!

They pitied the bear, sighed.

Was harmless. Funny. He played the harmonica very well! As he would give, it used to be, a "gypsy girl", his legs would dance on their own! And where does fatigue go?

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

We sat normally yesterday ... Who would have thought? Eh, Mishka, Mishka ... I told him - that's enough, go home. He did not listen ... He was brought to Povalikha. And what kind of a man was it? Last year, I sprained my leg while hunting, so he carried me on himself until the very winter quarters ...

Mishka Khlebnikov is lonely. His house is small. Cat dog. There are no relatives. Nobody to bury. The administration of the animal industry allocated pennies for the funeral. Not enough ... Vaska went around the yards with a cardboard box.

Give as much as you can to Mishka's commemoration.

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

He was healthy! You won't overshoot! And against the "tumbled down" could not resist. And he drank cologne, and furniture varnish, and nothing.

Now you don't know what to drink... "Royal" is not allowed, "Amaretto" is not allowed... They sell vodka - denatured alcohol, diluted with water! Moonshine and that poison became!

In the carpentry of the animal industry, grandfather Prokop is cutting boards. Grumbles old:

It is necessary to remove the measure in such cases ...

They explain to him:

Will you leave for the city, grandfather Prokop? Do you see the weather? The blizzard has risen, no white light can be seen. The road has changed...

Yes, a cursed blizzard, the infection is not appeased, - the grandfather agrees. “And yet they always take measurements from the dead.” This custom...

Symy, grandfather measure with Vaska Zaikov. He and Mishka are the same height ...

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

What? I can't hear well... In the morgue? Khlebnikov? Do not understand anything ... With alcohol poisoning? There is one ... without documents ... Dark-haired ... Yes, with a mustache. Hello! Hello!

The tube crackled and rustled. The connection was lost.

Yes, it's him... all signs agree, - said the director. - Got drunk!

I would have asked Kolka Panov about Mishka, but he still hasn't returned. High snowdrifts piled up. Do not drive. Until the bulldozer clears the road, Kolka has nothing to think about getting out of the regional center.

A week later the storm subsided. The frost hit hard.

In the fur farm behind Mishkin's body, a tractor with a sled was equipped. They placed a coffin on them, smelling of pine resin. Covered with straw. At the same time, break through the road. Do not drive the same equipment twice. And Mishka now doesn't care - to beat on the bus or drag on a sleigh.

Go. Ivan Losev and hunter Vaska Zaikov are in the tractor cab. They sit and smoke. They glance sideways through the back window. The breeze stirs the straw on the lid of the coffin. And by themselves they reach for the bottle. The authorities issued four half-litres. To go into the morgue, to put Mishka in a coffin ... Not everyone will decide on such a sobering-up ...

We almost made it to the city center. The town is already visible in the distance. They look - someone is looming ahead. We looked closely: a man in a gray jacket, in a shaggy hat. He walks briskly, waving his arms.

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

His hat ... P-gait t-too, - Ivan stuttered, stammering, running his hand through his sweaty hair. Both, without saying a word, reached for the iron box under their feet. Ivan had a hammer in his hand, Vaska had a ring key. They sit whiter than chalk.

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

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

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

Director sent? Sysoev?

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

Sysoev, who else, - swallowed, said Vaska.

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

Where have you been?

They built kiosks in the regional center ... And they have different drinks - the sea is not measured! I took the bubble. Just knocked off the cork - my friend taxied. They spent one year together. And he handed over the furs, he had money. How lost! I don't remember what happened next. I woke up in the sobering-up station. Here the weather has not gone well. Startled... The bus doesn't run. Peshkodralom had to. And I need a winter hut. Rearrange the traps. Brought, go, everything ...

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

Who died, right?

So everyone in the village is talking about your death. As if you were poisoned by Povalikha moonshine ...

It was business. Almost got pissed off. An old hag mixed in some rubbish. Well, I'll come, I'll arrange a fun life for her! And the coffin, in fact, for whom?

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

The bear stared intently at the coffin.

Well, you've got a joke! No, I'm serious, guys...

For the sake of laughter, we would drag thirty miles through the taiga. Yes, even with a coffin!

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

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

Take me back, - Mishka said with a chuckle. - I'll take it for myself. Mice have sharpened my sacks of flour. I'll put it in the pantry - instead of the chest it will be.

In gives, - Vaska shook his head.

Mishka patted the lid of the coffin and laughed:

Tightly made. Reliably. Not otherwise, grandfather Prokop made?

His job. Tried for you... Why are you shaking like a fever? Frozen?

Chills with a hangover... Sushnyak presses... Isn't there something?

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

Hold on, dead! Roll for your Sunday from the dead. And we are for yours! You will live a hundred years, Bread!

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

Oh, an accordion would be now!

Get in the cockpit, dancer...

Mishka's face flushed. He opened his jacket.

Nope. I was already sweating all over while I was walking in the knee-deep snow. Yes, again in the cockpit to fry. I'll lie down in my box, rest a little.

Mishka threw a bundle of straw into the coffin under his head, fell into it.

In gives! - neighed Vaska, watching as Mishka comfortably folded his arms across his chest.

In Hochma will be when we bring him to Zavyalovo!

Pour it! Ivan said.

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

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

The bear, worn out by walking and vodka, soon began to snore. The sleigh twitched, shook the straw on the coffin, rushed over potholes and potholes.

Already at dusk, the tractor stopped at the house of the hunter Khlebnikov. The pointed-eared husky quickly jumped onto the sleigh, sniffed at Mishka's clothes with the smell of the taiga so familiar to her. Quietly whimpered.

In the cockpit, having moved out of the seat, Vaska Zaikov drunkenly whistled with his nose. Ivan Losev heavily jumped off the caterpillar of the tractor, fell to the side of the road. Muttering something, he got up and staggered over to the sleigh.

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

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

Explanation

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

Well, what kind of poacher am I? I don’t shoot squirrels, hazel grouse, ducks and other small animals. I do not hunt sable, column and other furs. Well, I’ll kill one moose in the winter and for a whole year ... Well, I’m going to die of hunger, or what? The salary has not been paid for half a year... The family ran away to the cities, but where should I go? I am here, and the taiga is my breadwinner... So am I a poacher?

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

Why didn't you come to work today?

Boris fired up the stove. I put the shavings under the logs, set fire to it. The fire quickly engulfed the resinous firewood, and he closed the firebox, looked unfriendly at the newcomer.

What do you want?

Like what? Timber trucks have arrived, but the sawmill is standing still, there is no wood ... So, explain why you didn’t come to the shop?

I got up in the morning, I look - the crows are flying. They croak, rush for the hill ...

Krutikov knew the sawmiller's habit of answering any question from afar, with approach and meticulous details. For that, in the timber industry, Boris was called "Kugokolo - around and around."

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

Very direct ... Why did the crows fly? Peck the meat! It was not otherwise that the hunters got the elk, butchered the carcass, covered it with blood in the snow ... So?

Let's...

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

Listen, Kugokolo, around the bush... My brains are not powder. Either go to work now, or I'll write a memorandum to the director.

You are a master at writing slander... Tell the director that I scored a bolt on the sawmill, and on you, Krutikov. To work for nothing, there are no fools. Understood?

The master blinked his eyes. I did not expect such an answer from the sawmiller, always cheerful and reckless.

You are Vasya-Vasya with your superiors, your salary is on time. And for the past six months, the accounting department has been giving me only settlement slips. What, you order them to eat instead of bread?

I would have said so. And then about the raven began ...

So after all, where there are hunters, there are crows. So I thought: “How are they better than me? I’ll take a gun, get a moose and all winter my legs will hit the ceiling ... And on the table there are barbecue, cutlets, dumplings,” Boris said dreamily.

So-so, around the bush, going to poach?!

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

Krutikov hesitated at the door, and Boris gave him a knee in the ass. The master flew out of the porch, somersaulted on the porch through the steps and dug into the snowdrift...

Okay, he hissed. You will get one more time from me.

Wali is still intact, the director's informer! Boris kicked the hat Krutikov had dropped from the porch and tightly closed the door.

Krutikov mentioned the term for a reason. It was in youth. Got into a fight in a village club over a girl with a visiting guy. They gave two years for hooliganism. By specialty he was serving ... At a logging site. There, in the zone, I learned a lot. To make hunting knives, carved boxes, cutting boards - a feast for the eyes, you can’t take your eyes off! It can also weave baskets, vases, baskets from birch bark. Throughout the district, huntsmen and hunters - to him best friends. Give them your crafts.

The hunter Maksimov somehow showed up home drunk after another drinking bout, called in the reports an "anti-poaching raid." His wife Ekaterina cracked him on the back with a carbine - the butt shattered into chips! Woe to Maksimov, but what! A service carbine! And the hunting season has begun. Came to Boris Kugokolo:

Will you?

He twisted the pieces of wood in his hands, grinned:

What to regret? About these wood? You will have a gorgeous example!

And did. Decorated with carved patterns, a type-setting butt plate. Not a butt - a feast for the eyes of art. Do not hunt with such - admire them at home. Maksimov walked like a gogol among the hunters. Only the chosen ones are allowed to hold the carbine, stroke the butt. Kugokolo laughs.

Now let Katya hit you with the butt as much as she wants - she won't break. Made from twisted birch.

The news of the luxurious butt of the regional hunter reached the chief hunter of the department. Came to Maksimov, asks:

Meet this craftsman.

Let's go to Boris. That house doesn't exist. I went to the taiga to bump. The chief hunter was upset, he left with nothing ...

Boris Krutikov drove out of the yard, he fell asleep himself. The time is late, and getting up early: run to the birch forest, which stretches along the stream for the hill. I went there for chaga - I saw holes dug in the snow by elks. In the same place, nearby, a gun and cartridges are hidden in a hollow fallen tree.

A little light came up. He slipped a loaf of bread into his pocket. He tucked the ax into his belt, threw his backpack behind his back.

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

Opened. Here are those times! District Inspector Shabulin welcomed! There are two more policemen with him. Looked out the window: "UAZ" police at the fence ...

Citizen of Kugokolo?

He is. What's the matter?

The signal came in ... Do you have a gun? Please hand over.

Where do you share?

drowned.

In that case, we'll check it out. Invite witnesses.

Witnesses - neighbors Peter and Valentina Obukhov are embarrassed. It's embarrassing for them to sit at Boris's house during a search.

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

All right, Citizen Kugokolo, come with us and write an explanation of how the gun was sunk.

They brought Boris to the regional department.

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

Not enough paper...

Shabulin was surprised, gave a few more sheets.

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

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

Have you written? asked Shabulin.

Not yet...

Another hour passed. Boris managed to write about how, together with Elsukov, they went to the saleswoman Malakhova and bought another pint. Then Yelsukov ran off somewhere and brought a bottle of moonshine...

Boris put down his pen to rest. Gather your thoughts...

Shabulin asked impatiently:

Ready?

I only half a day explained how I was carrying a gun to hand over to the police ...

The district police officer looked suspiciously at a pile of sheets written by citizen Kugokolo.

May I take a look?

What do you allow yourself? Are you writing a novel about drinking?

So you asked for details...

Chief of militia Potekhin looked into the office. I saw Kugokolo and, to Shabulin's considerable surprise, shook hands with him. Asked:

What is the question for us?

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

Potekhin skimmed through the finely written sheets and burst out laughing:

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

Already in the corridor, Potekhin took the sawmiller aside, pleadingly and even fawning a little, said:

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

Such - no.

Why? Potekhin was taken aback.

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

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

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

He saw an elk unexpectedly, going out to the edge of the forest. Thirty meters in front of him stood a mighty handsome man, crowned with a huge crown of heavy horns. Boris calmly pointed the fly under the left shoulder blade of the beast, pulled the trigger. Prongs took off, raising a cloud of snow dust, collapsed into a snowdrift.

Boris made a fire, sat down near the carcass, and began to remove the skin. A helicopter appeared from behind the distant hills. The chirps are getting closer. You can already see: he is landing, choosing a place. Boris knows: the hunting supervision has granted. The helicopter whirled the snow in the clearing with its propellers, frost fell from the fluffy Christmas trees. People armed with carbines got out of the helicopter and went to the killed elk. Kugokolo recognized the game manager Maksimov. Behind him, a heavy man in a sable hat and a suede sheepskin coat advanced with difficulty through the snow.

With the field, Boris Vasilyevich! Maximov said cordially, offering his hand. - You know, yesterday Potekhin gave me your explanation to read, how you drowned your gun on the way to the police. I almost died laughing. A classic, not an explanation! Scream! Yes, how are you going to take it out? Maybe you need help?

I manage myself. I’ll take a horse from the Obukhovs’ neighbors ...

Come on. In the evening we'll drop in to see you for a light ... Let's fly further, Viktor Ivanovich. It's all right here.

The helicopter took off over the taiga. The chief hunter once again looked through binoculars at the figure of a man near the carcass of an elk stretched out in the snow. Displeased remarked:

You didn’t even ask him for documents for shooting an elk. What is this bump from the bump? What general, or what?

Sorry, Viktor Ivanovich, I completely forgot: this is the same shish that the butt made for me ...

How?! - the chief hunter jumped up from his seat. - Why didn't you tell me? Didn't introduce me? After all, he promised! Forgot?! Oh, Maximov, Maximov...

Don't worry, Viktor Ivanovich! In the evening we will visit Boris for fresh meat. We'll taste fried livers, load up with meat. At the same time, agree on an example.

Baron Vova

Wow, bastard! I’ll drag you by the cloaks - you will know how to wander around the village all day long ... I cursed you, what did I order you to do? Fence a garden bed? And you? Another hangover in the head? That's how I move now!

A fat red-haired woman, with a big mouth and freckles, swung her rake and probably would have lowered it on the back of her husband - a shabby, long-haired little man, but he quickly ran back to the fence.

Yes, you will be furious ... Well, I did not have time ...

What was it that was so important? Roaming the yards? Did you ask for moonshine?

So, Nadia, can you understand our brother? How does everything burn inside?

Where am I? Oh, you lost soul ... I'll heat up the head with a handle - the ailment will pass!

The redhead continued to hold the rake at the ready, like a rifle, getting closer and closer to the frightened peasant. He guiltily pulled his head into his thin shoulders, hidden by tufts of long uncut hair.

Nadyusha, if I don't get drunk - that's all, consider the end!

Your drunken face! Where did you come on my head? Damn drunkard. No shame in you, no conscience... Baron von Shlikerman! You have to think of such a lie! Ugh! And how do you look people in the eye, samotnik?

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

Take the rake, you lousy baron! You won’t fence in the evening - did you see it ?!

The "Baroness" shook her freckled fist in front of her husband's nose, tight and weighty like a head of cabbage. The unfortunate husband raised the ill-fated rake, followed his wife with a downcast look ...

Oh, women, women! You can't get into the psychology of a man with your chicken brains! You have one concept of drinking, we have another. So it turns out discord in judgments on such a vital issue ... Drinking - what is it? Stimulus! No, it would not be nice, kindly ask, without shouting ... Put a bubble at the end of the garden. So that, it means, he finished and drank. And I would try! Like a tractor.

Vova Shlykerman! Hello! Why are you ruined alone?

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

Yes, how not to go broke, Vanya? You see, the red-haired beast nailed me. And my insides are blazing with a blue flame ... There is nothing to cool ...

The fence should be repaired... My pigs will tear up the beds, your baroness will come back to swear.

Until the gorodba, when the soul is about to fly away from me?

Let's go, I'll splash mutterings. Get drunk...

Forty-year-old hunter-fisherman Vladimir Shlykov, nicknamed Baron von Shlykerman, rubbed his chest with his palm. He felt the heat and looked longingly at the long, wide ridge. The economic wife intended to sow carrots on it in the winter. The villagers laughingly called her, miserly and mischievous, baroness. She was terribly angry. And the husband, on the contrary, was even proud of his outstanding nickname. After all, it’s not some Morel, like the groom Marchuk, or Zyuzya - the driver Zyuzyakin ... Baron von Shlykerman! Sounds! True, the full title of Shlykov was called less often. More often simply: Baron Vova.

Vova poked the rake on the loose earth.

Here heaped layers! She what?! The shovel is sharp, I sharpened it myself. Dig and dig ... And now I have to stir up and break dried clods ...

Come on, this is a thankless task! laughed Ivan Ryabov. “Do you hear, von baron? Let's go while I offer...

What am I? Am I against it?

Vova cautiously looked at the corner of the hut, behind which the obese figure of his wife disappeared, and carelessly threw the rake onto the roof of the barn.

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

I'll pay off my paycheck...

There will be no pay, of course. He said it in such a way as to somehow justify himself for free drinking. Vova was ashamed to drink on strangers. The "barony", apparently, made itself felt.

No, really ... I'll hand over the furs, I'll pay off ...

When else will it be? September has just begun. And sables still need to be caught ... Catch is not a problem. Vova is an experienced hunter, in the taiga from childhood. Yes, are they now in the taiga, sable, then? The year for the nut turned out to be lean, there were few squirrels. This means that there will be unimportant hunting for sable. Ryabov knows about all this as well as Vova: he lives in a taiga village among hunters. He himself likes to climb in the taiga with a rifle in winter ...

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

Enough, baron. He went wrong: "I'll pay off" ... Is it the first time you drink on mine? I myself invited...

Vova drank slowly, stretching his throat and savoring the wine. A pleasant warmth spread through my body. The weight of swearing with his wife has eased. My heart felt light and spacious. Oh, even the most droplet! At least on the bottom! But the blacksmith inexorably put the bottle in his pocket.

Basta, Vova. I'll take the rest home. I’ll heat the bathhouse - I’ll drink from the exhaust, and after the bath, Suvorov himself ordered. Trousers, he said, sell, and after the bath, drink!

Ryabov left. Vova turned around a little at the store, but no one came up. Thoughts in Vova's head spun like in a computer, and all in one program: where to add? I went over the old moonshiners in my memory, but not one of them would have poured in debt ... Stop! But it’s not for nothing that the blacksmith is talking about a bath! Saturday today... The city hunters will roll in, they will start asking questions about the lakes... And there the bus is gathering dust along the road. Oh, it was, it wasn't!

Vova took up a position on a hillock behind the outskirts. Favorable place! From here the trail starts into the swamps. The bus stop is visible at a glance. And, most importantly, not a single amateur, bent into three deaths with a tent, a backpack and a gun, will pass by ... There they are, got out of the bus, they are sorting out the bags, looking around. For the first time, you see, they came here ... You are welcome!

Vova is sitting on a stump. Waiting... It's okay, you can wait. It would be just for what! And their bags are heavy. Look how they puff! Barely dragging! There is no need to hurry and fuss here. They'll fit right in like they're cute. They will start to be interested - how and why? Where to shoot lucky? Just to avoid running into old acquaintances. You won't rub your ears the second time. They themselves will grind like that ... How last year... After that incident, Vova began to be nicknamed Baron von Shlykerman in the village. Yes, it's better not to remember! No, you can't see the old ones. All newbies... Dangerous business, whatever you say. Slap on the neck - twice two! But what will you not do because of an irresistible thirst! Vova took risks with trembling and excitement. He seemed to himself a scout, performing an important special task... And the townspeople were getting closer. There is still time to carry your legs in a good way. But there is no force that would push him off the ill-fated stump now.

To look at Vova from the side: some writer, artist or composer is sitting on a stump. Inspirational look. The beard is short, just beginning to grow. By today's standards - the most fashionable. And her hair is long, neatly parted, because combing her hair is Vova's weakness. He likes to turn around in front of the mirror, spitting hair to hair and smoothing it.

Not moving, Vova sits on a stump. Hands on his knees, looking thoughtfully at the flaming sunset. One visiting hunter, a candidate of some sciences, once saw Vova on this stump and said with hidden envy:

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

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

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

Hey comrade, can I ask you...

Excuse me, comrade ... - the townspeople remind of themselves.

Vova slowly gets up, dreamily says:

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

The hunters nod approvingly and in agreement. After all, they are also nature lovers. We came to enjoy and relax. Of course, everyone in their hearts wants to fill ducks, but more. But the brand of amateurs must be kept.

Yes, the sunset is amazing...

Fabulous...

Good paints, they ask for canvas ...

And you, gentlemen, are on the hunt, as I understand it?

Somewhat surprised by this treatment, the hunters agree:

Yes, they escaped from the city slums to breathe fresh air, shoot a little ... How about a duck? Staying here?

It should go to Sin-Ozero... Last Saturday yours came and filled a sack... Their trunks overheated from firing...

The townspeople are impatiently reaching for cartridge belts and guns.

Is it far to Sin-lake?

Kilometers from the heels will be ...

City rejoice:

Nonsense! Let's finish in an hour...

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

The lovers smiled again at the word "gentlemen." Hesitantly ask:

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

Vladimir Karlovich...

Please see me before that... Blue-lake...

As the great Griboyedov used to say: "I would be glad to serve - it's sickening to serve ...".

Well, what are you, Vladimir Karlovich ...

No, I’m like that, by the way ... Although, being a servant disgusts me from birth ... But this ... However, gentlemen, it’s hardly interesting for you ...

How, tell me, - the hunters ask, agreeing to do anything, just to get to the Blue Lake teeming with ducks. - Yes, it's already dark. All the same, without you now we can’t get to the Blue Lake.

Okay, we'll be there at dawn. Ammo enough? You have to shoot a lot. The duck is going there in a continuous shoal ...

We don't need cartridges!

Then a traditional bonfire?!

The hunters, delighted by the presence of an experienced man promising a lucrative hunt, readily agreed to spend the night outside the village in the company of interesting interlocutor. Joyfully began to carry branches and birch bark. Soon the fire was blazing, the pot under it hissed and splashed with chicken leg stew. Spoons, jars, glasses jingled.

Vladimir Karlovich, how about a drink?

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

The hunters looked at each other smiling. This Vladimir Karlovich is a strange man. Judging by the manners, not an easy one. Intelligent. A scientist, perhaps, or an artist...

We drank. Vova took a small sip and set the glass aside. He ate a slice of sausage. Where to hurry? You can enjoy as much as you want. He knew from experience that by nightfall everyone would get drunk. They will fall side by side into tents and wake up by noon. Not earlier. And they will never reach the tempting Blue Lake, drawn by Vova's imagination. You can't get to something that doesn't exist. But now the conversation has just begun. And closing his eyes, Vova was thrilled, listening to the gurgling from the neck of the bottle. Delightful sounds! The flame of the fire highlights the faces of the hunters, happy from the expectation of the upcoming hunt, the silence of the warm evening and the crackle of the fire. Fine!

Vladimir Karlovich! one hunter began cautiously. - Here we argued with the peasants: who are you - a musician? Writer? Artist?

Vova sadly shakes his head.

Who was nobody, he will become everything ... Remember, in the famous hymn? My grandfather Franz Shlykerman, on the contrary, happened ... Before the revolution, he was a baron, and after it he became a taxi driver ...

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

So you are... a baron?

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

The hunters were silent. Here it is! For the first time in my life, they sit so easily with a hereditary baron. Tell who...

Quietly the branches of the fire crackle. The neck of the bottle tinkles subtly on the edge of an enamel mug: the hands of the baron's heir tremble. It is understandable. Here, anyone you want will take a shiver. Such a state suddenly get!

Do you think I'm stuck in this Gusinka from nothing to do? No, gentlemen. I'm contemplating an excavation plan. One careless move and a work of art may perish.

Vova still drank. He ate a heavy bite of sardines. Poured to the hunters.

Come back next fall, gentlemen. I'll build such a hotel for hunters in Gusinka! I will arrange such a service on Sin-lake!

Flushed with vodka and agitated by the mysterious story of Vova, the hunters did not notice how they drained all the bottles. Soon they were snoring in cold, mist-shrouded tents. The fire was red with fading embers, and wisps of smoke still hovered over it. Somewhere in the darkness dogs were barking in the village, drunken cries were heard:

Nadia! Freckled fool! Who are you with the yoke? Well, I'll show you! Drop the rocker! Come on, I say!

Lives in Komarovka hunter-fisherman Viktor Bychkov, nicknamed Oblom. Victor is a former detective of the criminal investigation department, a police lieutenant, but few people in the village know about this.

From mid-February to late autumn, the hunting season is closed. At this time, the fishermen are preparing new traps, making bags and cherkans, cutting paths in the taiga wilds to the places of future bait, picking mushrooms and berries for delivery to the procurement center. And more are engaged in a personal compound. After all, it remains to be seen whether it will be lucky in the winter, what the fishing season will be, and when a cow lows in the yard, a pig grunts and chickens cackle, it is, of course, more reliable.

In Bychkov's taiga, everything has long been prepared for winter fishing: he smashed the traps to the places of fishing, cleaned the tracks from windbreak, and repaired the winter hut. He did not start a family, he does not need a household. But bees are an occupation for the soul. Everything they have is organized, subject to their bee laws. That would be so for people! Bychkov sat for a long time at the bee hole: the nerves calm down, philosophical thoughts come to mind. It would be nice, he thought, to become a bee for a while. Find out how they feel? How, having flown away for kilometers, do they find their home?

Apiary Bychkov - the most distant. In the key of Gorely, behind Komarovka. If you go to Kedrovaya Pad, there will be a bundle in fifteen kilometers. This is the road to the Burnt Key. Narrow and rocky, it climbs the pass, descends into a ravine and breaks off at a rift. The stream sparkles with splashes; behind him, on the gold of dandelions, rows of beehives. Blue, yellow, white... It smells like cut hay, linden blossoms and honey. And over everything - the unceasing rumble of bees...

The black "Volga" rustled its wheels along the pebble placer, gently rolled onto the sandbar. Four men with shaved heads jumped out of the car with machine guns and ran to the stream. The three leaned greedily on the clear, cool water. The fourth, thin and long, listened to the sultry silence. At his feet, shod in Adidas sneakers, a murmuring stream sparkled in the sun. The thin one licked his lips, turned away and peered intently at the edge of the cloudless sky. Where the sky blueness merged with the foggy blue of the taiga, keen eyes made out a barely noticeable point. The elongated face of the thin man was distorted by an evil grimace.

Car in the bushes! Well, live! he kicked a short, sturdy man in a plaid shirt and blue jeans with a kick.

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

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

The chirping, muffled by the distance, grew. Four half-naked people jumped under the evergreen spruce, fell silent.

The helicopter roared over the ravine. Cabin windows are open. The eyepieces of the binoculars are aimed at a patch of the clearing. Below, in full view: tiny houses for bees, a small dog rolls along the path from the stream to the log shed; a hut near which a figure of a man fumbles. He is chirping something: his hands are scurrying back and forth over the workbench. And there the road emerges from the key, surrounds the hill with a serpentine and is lost behind the pass. It is empty... A lone red deer on a hill, shaking its horns, rubs against a dry tree.

The spotted-green colossus, stirring up the hot air in the gully, rushed on. Stuffy, nasty, drowsy taiga stretched out under the helicopter. His chirring sound became quieter and soon died down completely ...

Bychkov admired the smoothly planed ceiling for the beehive, looked hostilely at the roaring helicopter. I wouldn’t go down lower ... The wind from the propellers will bring down the color from the linden, the bees will be swept away ... And what do you need? Messed up here...

The helicopter made a circle over the ravine and rushed to the distant peaks of the mountains. Bychkov followed him with his eyes, slammed the planer a couple more times and swept the shavings under the workbench. A lop-eared motley mongrel of an incomprehensible color ran out from there. She barked at a bee buzzing annoyingly in front of her nose, and again fell into a pile of scraps and sawdust. Burdocks, shavings, honeycomb got stuck in the wool wet from bathing for a long time.

Seen those assholes, Baby? asked Bychkov cheerfully. - They probably wanted to sit down, but they turned out to be a bummer. And they did it smartly ... God forbid, they would have swept away the apiary with screws!

Bychkov lit a smoker, took a box with honeycombs, hobbled to the beehive. He took off the lid, puffed with a smoker and bent over the sunbed.

From the side you look - not a person - some kind of crooked poker. Right foot wheel. The left arm is bent at the elbow - it does not unbend. The head is tilted to one side, and the nose is flattened. But the eyes are lively, cheerful, with a perky brilliance. A smile on her lips. No, Bychkov did not bend his soul. He makes no allowance for his crippled body. Adapted ... And on the hunt he is dexterous, hardy. Was not born a freak. It is now unshaven, with long hair. tied with a ribbon, lame and twisted. And in the photographs that demobilization album?! On some - a slender, handsome sergeant. Maroon takes on the back of the head, forelock from under it. On the chest machine gun, parachute straps. Signs "Parachutist", "Guard" and the medal "For Courage". On others - in full dress police uniform, in lieutenant's shoulder straps. In an overgrown invalid, limping, in tattered trousers and a T-shirt, one cannot recognize the former Bychkov!

But there was a case, they sent Bychkov to Chechnya ... Near Gudermes, a police patrol came under fire from bandits. The bullet tore apart Bychkov's leg. Barely collected her surgeons, but fused crookedly. Didn't work for the police. "The leg is crooked?! What about me, running a hundred meters at speed? There is nowhere to hurry in the taiga!" - Bychkov was not upset. And he became a hunter...

In the thickets of raspberries, the bear attacked. I crushed it hard. I hurt my neck, my arm. Ripped his cheek with a claw. Like it or not, wear a beard.

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

In a cold, windy autumn, a dead aspen, a stone's throw from him, crashed to the ground. A thick bough hooked on the nose.

Bychkov looked at himself in the mirror, grinned: "Has your nose become a cake? Nonsense, the girls will not pester with marriage ... The main thing is that the aspen did not hit you on the head ...".

Another former paratrooper climbed onto a cedar for cones. Carelessly stepped on a branch, and take it and break it off. Flew down almost from the very top. Successfully landed Bychkov. A stump stuck out nearby, if he hit him - krants!

Then he built an omshanik. He dropped a log on his finger. They put him in plaster. "Little things," Bychkov laughs.

When the collarbone was broken with the butt of a gun: he hastily poured two measurements of gunpowder into the sleeve - Bychkov (shoulder plastered) just laughed: "Well, the gun didn't smash ... But there are still a lot of whole bones ...".

From under his straw hat pushed to his forehead, Bychkov looked at the sun. Noon. Until the evening will cope with the brood.

Bees covered his hands. It doesn't matter to him: crawl if you like. All attention is on the honeycomb frames: until recently, larvae were swarming in the cells, and now - here you are! Young bees spread their wings, scurry around the wax.

Oh you pilots! I saw how they turned the propellers. Have you thought about breaking out? Bummer, guys! I will not let you run away from the apiary. Then chase after you through the taiga, shoot from the birch... Bummer, pilots! You will fly to your airfield. I'll put you in a new hive...

Bychkov talked to bees the way gardeners talk to plants, riders talk to horses. Yes, and all lovers of living creatures communicate aloud with birds, fish, dogs, cats. Apparently, the bees understood the owner. They calmly crawled along the bearded face, crept up to the lips, as if listening to kind words, suddenly broke off and were carried away into the taiga, invitingly smelling of honey plants. Having collected nectar, they returned from a distant search and sat down to rest on a person, from whose hands the same honey smell emanated. Perhaps, in their bee language, they buzzed to the owner how difficult the path was. Bychkov took off first one wanderer, then another, and spoke softly and affectionately.

He took out a heavy, honey-drenched honeycomb frame. Golden linden honey, sealed with delicate foundation, lit up with wondrous amber.

Oh you falcons! Nice work! Here are the blank frames. Work!

And the bees hummed trustingly at the eyes. Not a single one had stuck a sting in him all day. Or maybe Bychkov got used to bee venom and simply did not feel pain?

In the afternoon, Bychkov finally removed the crumpled straw plate called a hat from his head. Went to the hut to cook dinner. The kid also got out of the pile of chips, dusted himself off and hurried after the owner ...

Four of them climbed over the stones across the stream and stopped in fright: behind the willow bushes, an apiary opened up to their eyes. Cautiously looking around, they moved back into the dense foliage. A man was walking in the clearing near the hut, clinking dishes.

All the way, - the thin one parted the branches. "We're in time for dinner, bros." Went...

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

From somewhere the Kid wriggled out, burst into barking.

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

Calm down, Mole. Don't make noise. Set up a search in the hut while I talk to my uncle. And you, Gray, go with him...

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

Who are you? Beekeeper?

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

One here?

And who else should be here? The kid is here with me ... Yes, you come in ... I have dinner ready. And there is mead for good people...

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

Freckled, baring his false teeth, was dragging a carbine by his belt.

And then whose? Issued for hunting.

Thin took a carbine, opened the shutter. The cartridge flashed brass. Thin closed the shutter, clicked the fuse.

Will do! Drive, lame, mead and a good snack!

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

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

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

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

What are you doing there, lame?

A thin man leaned over the opening of the manhole, struck a lighter.

Yes, at the same time I’ll grab pickled cucumbers and gruzdochki ...

At the sight of the cloudy bottle, the company perked up and reached for the glasses. The thin one blew on the foam in the mug with a satisfied air and drank it in big gulps. He leaned back against the wall and lit a cigarette. Worn out by the heat, a hearty meal and fatigue, he quickly got drunk.

All the way, brothers. As soon as it gets dark, we'll rush to Nakhodka... And beyond the cordon... I have a man in the port who will arrange for a ship. And there ... Pour, lame, another ladle ... Mole, look at your mug in the mirror! You, for sure, not a single cop will recognize ...

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

Mole's eyes were swollen, his ear was swollen like a bun, his nose was like a potato. He sits, dazedly pokes bread into a plate of honey. The thin man leaned back against the straw mattress and began to snore. Two more mumble incoherently, leaning on the table...

It's a bummer, guys. They could not resist my ruff, - Bychkov said, taking his carbine and machine guns. - The helicopter, therefore, was not in vain spinning here ...

Soon all four, strapped to the reins, were sniffling side by side on the plank planks. Bychkov hid machine guns in the forest. Hung a padlock on the door. The narrow window - the child cannot climb through - was boarded up with a board. He threw a carbine on his back and, straight ahead, through the hills, went to Komarovka.

About how Bychkov detained dangerous criminals, later the villagers learned from the district newspaper.

unlucky

Taiga. Wilderness. Silence ... Wherever you look - the teeth of spruce forests turn black in the light blue sky. On the slopes of the hills that surrounded the village, along the fast icy Niya, the huts of lumberjacks, hunters, and cones were stuck. One house from a distance turns red with a tin roof. A high porch, a canopy over the door with a sign "Prodmag". You will replenish your taiga provisions here and, before you take on a heavy backpack and go to the winter hut, you will sit down on the steps of the porch, washed by rain, sprinkled with yellow leaves, and turn your face to the stingy, but also warm rays autumn sun. At the same time, through the open door to the street, you will hear the village news.

And what can I tell you, Valya: Kolya Koryakin is getting married again!

Here's the unlucky one! Which time?

In the fifth ... Or in the sixth ... - And who is the fool who went for him?

Found one. The teacher is coming...

People say: "The grave will fix the humpbacked one." This, Klava, is exactly about Kolka ... He will also change the teacher for the taiga!

While gossiping in the store, the sawmiller Koryakin and the teacher primary school Yolkin was sealed in the registry office by a marriage union. Of course, marriage for Kolka was not a new thing, but this time he experienced different, previously unknown feelings. “Probably, this is love,” Kolka decided after his chosen one admitted that she also loves ... nature. And in my dreams I saw how they skied together on snow-covered taiga, spent the night in a winter hut, regaled themselves on frozen blueberries ...

Koryakin is a prominent guy. Shouldered, pleasant face. Industrious. Not pugnacious. The girls love it. Among them were those who "delved into" his hunting interest, listened to long taiga stories. With such Koryakin tried to create a family in which father, mother, and children would all love the taiga and hunting.

But his wives left him. Not because the newlyweds did not agree on the characters. No... Kolka is a good-natured, merry fellow and hard worker. He famously plays the harmonica, and when he starts telling jokes, you'll tear your stomachs with laughter... Don't miser Kolya and don't be some kind of squaller. He gave the money he earned to the penny to his former chosen ones. What they bought with that money - Kolka does not care. And if he helps out money for furs - don’t hide it here - mine! And he spent, as they said in the village, on trifles - on hunting knives, on cartridges and backpacks. No need to buy a plasma TV or a video player! But this is the way to look at things. If it’s with Kolkina, then it’s not him, but others are throwing money away, on all sorts of polished pieces of wood and foreign rags. According to him, he covered his body like that, there is a roof over his head, food and a stove in the house - what more could you want?! After all, the main thing is there, in the forest! In the taiga ravine, on the banks of the river or in the marsh reeds. For him, there is no greater pleasure than to hide in tall grass, in dense foliage, merge with nature together and listen with bated breath to every rustle, every splash. "That's what it's worth living for! That's what you need to spend money on!" Kolka will say, and it is useless to convince him. Listening to the interlocutor about the benefits of civilization, Kolka will at this time mentally wander in the key, whistling with a hazel grouse, squishing with his boots over mossy tussocks, picking cranberries. Or sit at dawn in the reeds, listening to the whistling of duck wings and being afraid to frighten away the dragonfly dozing on the gun barrels.

Every time Koryakin’s hope for family happiness collapsed, people in the village wondered: “And why didn’t he live with him? A prominent guy, without bad habits ...”.

Then they realized: women leave Kolka for one reason - they cannot bear his irrepressible passion for hunting. He will not have time to come home from work, as he will immediately begin to repair traps, load cartridges, skin the skins. It will rain, the weather will purr - Kolka and then there is something to his liking: he sews ichigi, makes a butt for a gun or sharpens an ax.

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

Of course, at first, the wife admires such exoticism, hoping to soon arrange everything in her own way. It wasn't there! Koryakin zealously made sure that every hunting item lay in a conspicuous place. The first wife tried to hang a carpet instead of a skin. The second decided to replace the tent with a furniture set. Two more unsuccessfully tried to persuade the spouse to put things in order in the house, to which Kolka replied in surprise: "Order?! Everything is tidied up for me, every thing is in its place ...".

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

And then, finally, I met a kind, sensitive, attentive woman, sublimely loving nature.

On the days of their dates, they walked along the path along the rocky shore of the Niya and, listening to her, Kolka smiled happily: "Here's a man! Cultural, with education! His taiga experiences, hunting impulses are close and understandable to her."

The next day after registration, the joyful spouse hastily got out of bed, rattled with a bowler hat, a gun, and cartridges. Outside the window, light dawned a little. He hurriedly stuffed supplies into his backpack.

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

You lie down, sleep. You understand yourself - I have a vacation, the hunting season for fur has opened ... Yes, I'm here with a wedding ... I hesitated a little ... I run into the taiga, whiten a little ...

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

In search of food, the squirrel was on the move. Here and there rustles and clatters were heard. Kolka tirelessly rushed from tree to tree. He shot, picked up prey, and the squirrel kept walking ... It seemed that animals from all over the taiga ran to one place so as not to let Kolya go home to his teacher, whom he adored. In excitement, not noticing how the night crept up, Kolka wearily sank down on the fallen tree. He made a fire, ate a hastily cooked soup for dinner, drank tea and began to remove the skins from the animals he had caught.

"I'll hunt another day tomorrow, and then I'll go home," he thought aloud, intoxicated with luck, cheerfully hanging squirrel skins to dry.

As soon as dawn broke, a busaya squirrel, in drops of blood, fell at his feet. Second, third... more and more... He lost track of time and shots. As on the previous day, he ran dazedly along the ravine, deafening the taiga with shooting, and leaned his gun against a thick cedar only in the dark, when he could not aim. Spent the night by the fire and in the morning zasobiralsya home. But next to him, as if teasing him, a squirrel sat on a bough. Couldn't resist, took it off with a shot. Another one jumped up, then another... Forgetting about everything except the flickering squirrel tails, I came to my senses when it got dark...

So several days passed. The cartridges ran out, and Kolka picked up a backpack tightly stuffed with skins. "How many more squirrels there are in the forest... We must have time to load the cartridges before morning," he thought, speeding up his steps towards the house.

He entered the unheated cold hut. Turned on the light. Everything was in place. Only the bed was drearily white with unmade sheets. Koryakin picked up a notebook sheet from the table, ran his eyes over the uneven lines: "You really are a badass. Farewell. Happy hunting!"

Koryakin clenched the paper in his fist and gritted his teeth. Wiped away the tears. I imagined how tomorrow the dry leaves would rustle in the dark, fluffy squirrels would sway on the branches. How slowly, carefully, he will go through the foggy taiga. And you don't have to rush home...

Without undressing, so as not to waste time on kindling the stove, Koryakin sat down at the table and began to load the cartridges. The last of them he puffed up with a note from his wife. Now former...

Stolbov is risen

The lespromkhoz did not work for seven days. They were looking for a hunter who disappeared in the taiga.

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

Ivan pulled out an old shotgun loose in the locks from the closet, looked into the barrels and grimaced: it’s sour ... It hasn’t been cleaned since last autumn ... There’s no time.

Barbara! Where is the ramrod? I stuck it here, under the ceiling...

In the kitchen, the roar of buckets and cast irons subsided for a while, and a disgruntled voice was heard:

Wherever you plug it, take it there ...

Again, go ahead, drive a cow into a stall with a ramrod ...

Get off! It pissed him off. Hunter! I would clean it in the barn ... The cow has nowhere to lie down. And from your roaming through the forest, all the same, there is no sense ...

Ivan still rummaged in the passage on the wooden ceiling. I found a bird-cherry rod with the remnants of tow at the end. He soaked it in liquid wood ash and dragged it through the trunk with a creak.

Varvara's wife, red-cheeked, with a mop of disheveled hair, propping her sides with plump hands, stood beside him. The soiled jacket and tarpaulin boots smelled of manure.

I keep thinking, when your conscience wakes up, and you clean it in a flock ... Or should I turn my own pitchforks?!

Just think, Frau was found ... If you wash yourself one more time - it will be useful ...

It was in vain that he blurted out ... He hinted at the completeness of Varvara. It was not necessary to hurt her before the hunt. Now you won't stop.

Ivan Stolbov - short, stocky, in a driver's quilted jacket, trying not to look at his wife, concentratedly pressed the ramrod. Oh, he's tired of these nit-picking! An hour ago, he was running home, in a hurry, and now, without looking, he would go anywhere, just not to listen to these reproaches. What are you dissatisfied with? I brought the salary, put it under the oilcloth on the table. And another stake for the left flight: I threw firewood to one grandmother. Others would drink it, but he gave his wife every penny. He winds up the steering wheel for days, once a year you can’t break out into the taiga ... And October is running out. Here comes the snow. While it is warm and sunny, I would like to run along the black trail, shoot a roe deer, a deer. And if you're lucky, so is the moose ...

Ivan finished with a gun, began to put food in his backpack. I took supplies for two days. Said dryly:

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

But Barbara did not let up:

You're a slacker, not a man! Roaming around the taiga unnecessarily while at home there is a lot of things to do! And why did I just marry you! Think you've found a handsome man! I would live now without hassle, without worries ...

And now Varvara, too, in the heat of the moment, said something different from what she thought. You can endure her squabbling, but this ... It's clear who she's hinting at. Long as a wick, the hunched director of the timber industry enterprise Shlissel courted Varvara, proposed marriage. She, perhaps, would have agreed, there are not so many gentlemen in Mokhovka. Yes, Ivan Stolbov returned from the service. in border form. One green cap is worth something. Slender, fit, handsome soldier. What about Shlissel? One advantage - the director, with money. Marry such a person - you will not know grief. Schlissel has a cottage in Germany, every summer he spends his holidays in Bavaria. But he is very unattractive - blond, a hooked nose, ears protruding like two burdocks. And a disgusting mouth: with thin lips and rare crooked teeth.

So, according to Schlissel, then you are sorry? Well, go to your pop-eyed! You will go to Bavaria, you will get servants ... "Ah, Frau Barbara, would you like coffee in bed?"

Varvara threw on her handkerchief and moved the irons in the kitchen. I mixed the cow with swill, went to the doors with heavy buckets. Turned around, threw evil:

Yes, I'll take it and go to Shlissel. Come on, blow into the taiga, cool off ... Why did such a slacker surrender to me. You may never come back...

Stolbov tore off a faded windbreaker from the hanger, grabbed a backpack and a gun, kicked the door open and jumped out into the garden. I jumped over the fence and here it is, the taiga. "Nothing, I won't be lost... I'll kill the moose, wintering in a hunting hut... And then we'll see...".

Deepening into the dark spruce forest, Ivan stopped as if he had run into a stump: what about the cartridges?! He looked in confusion through the branches at the roofs of Mokhovka: "Pah, goblin take you! How can I go without cartridges? I forgot about them in a hurry ...".

He stood dejectedly, not knowing what to do. To shirk through the taiga with an empty gun is stupid. To return and listen to Barbara's sarcastic taunts? No!

His gaze fell on a log block at the end of Grandma Lukerya's garden. Once there was a bath-house, but it was overgrown with nettles. For a long time, you see, Lukerya has not been coming here.

When it got dark, he made his way into the bathhouse, opened the lopsided door. She creaked disgustingly on the rusty hinges. Bending down, he entered. He stumbled with his outstretched hand on a rickety shelf. On it is a pile of old, flown brooms. It smelled of soap, mold and smoke.

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

A week has passed. There was enough water in a large cauldron covered with soot, but the bread and bacon ran out. Again, cold ... At night, Stolbov made a sortie into his own barn and returned to the bathhouse with chicken. Dawn had hardly dawned when wisps of smoke curled over the abandoned hut. It was hot and suffocating.

Ivan got out into the street to pull off his so annoying windbreaker, when suddenly a sensitive ear caught quiet, but familiar voices. The two men, looking around, were heading towards Lukerya's bathhouse. Ivan took a closer look - it is true: Seryoga Adamenko and Nazim Bikmullin. Stolbov feverishly scooped up a chicken from the heater, stuffed it into a knapsack, threw it under the shelves, and dropped the gun there. "Brought these drunks!" ' thought Stolbov, regretting the undercooked chicken. He did not want to meet them at all.

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

Go, Seryoga, there's no one...

The men sat on the shelves, sniffling.

Smells delicious... fried...

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

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

It's a pity, I thought we'd steal a bottle of moonshine from Lukerya. Get ours, let's remember Vanka Stolbov. Now it is clear that he is a khan. After all, they searched everything ... The bear pinned him down. Otherwise, where would you go? Crows would point the place. And the bear loves the abyss. He buried Vanka somewhere and devoured it for his own pleasure ...

I must say, he was a shitty man ... Recently old Agafya asked him to bring firewood, so he tore off her money.

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

Glasses clinked, bottle caps clicked. Bubbling.

The men fell silent, and Stolbov held his breath. His nose was damp and musty. Don't sneeze...

Sergey and Nazim drank, exhaled noisily. Stolbov smelled the smell of vodka and garlic. He swallowed: they are eating bacon.

Yes, things, Shlissel raised the entire timber industry to its feet in order to look for Stolbov. They searched the whole taiga - as if he had sunk into the water, - Adamenko muttered, barely moving his full mouth.

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

And Varka! Khayala peasant on every corner, and disappeared - roared. Why shed tears now? You should pity the living, not the dead. Here Stolbov disappeared - to whom grief, and to whom joy.

Who is joy?

Don't tell me... Stolbov was the first in the queue for a new cobbled house. And now Yurka Bobrov, an electrician, will occupy this hut. Schlissel is also happy: he can hit Varka exactly, he has been luring her with Germany for a long time ... Yes, and to me ... I’ll tell you alone ... I didn’t have enough for a Toyota - I borrowed some money from Stolbov. When he borrowed, Stolbov asked not to tell Varvara, she would never agree to lend. Well, now you don't have to give up! Adamencre laughed.

Your business... Rejoice, if so.

And Marchuk? The Japanese timber carrier Stolbov will be given to him. And Vitya the Fool, who spends the night in the stoker, dances: "Kisel," he says, "we'll hire him at the commemoration!"

And so it turns out: a man lived, it seemed that everyone needed him, but he left for the next world and ... they even rejoice ...

But grief to Mishka Parshukov ... Stolbov took a chainsaw from him. Mishka went to Varvara for a saw - she does not give it back. “I don’t know,” he says, “nothing about any saw.” He is crying for Vanka, he does not believe that Stolbov has disappeared. Yes, what's the point of not believing - it will not rise again ...

How will I be resurrected! - Stolbov rumbled with a gun.

Some grubby, overgrown effigy suddenly appeared in front of the peasants, frozen in amazement. For half a minute they stared dumbfounded at this "miracle" in a wrinkled hat, plastered with stuck feathers. Adamenko fell first, followed by Nazim. In the doorway they collided, the door fell off its hinges, and the friends rushed around the garden with loud cries:

Stolbov is risen! Stolbov is risen!

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

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

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Taiga animals:

arctic hare

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

Sheep Dalla

Sheep Dalla - artiodactyl mammal, which lives in the mountainous regions of the taiga and tundra. They are herbivores and spend most of the day grazing. They eat grass, leaves, twigs and shoots, and in winter, lichens form the basis of the diet.

baribal

A large black bear that resembles brown bear traits. These solitary mammals are found throughout North America.

Badger

The badger, or common badger, is a nocturnal mammal, a member of the weasel family. characteristic feature badger, are black and white stripes on the muzzle. Badgers have a fairly wide range that extends to the forests, mountain plains, and prairies of Asia, Europe, and North America.

White Owl

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

bald eagle

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

white tailed deer

White-tailed deer, or virginian deer, is a herbivorous mammal from the deer family that lives in most of North and Central America, as well as northern South America.

white goose

The white goose is a migratory bird native to North America that nests in the arctic tundra and then migrates south and southwest by winter British Columbia and USA.

Chipmunks

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

Brown bear

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

virgin eagle owl

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

Ermine

Ermine is a small predatory animal, a representative of the mustelid family. The body length of the ermine is about 25 cm, the length of the tail is 8 cm, and the body weight is about 200 g. Males are usually larger than females. The range of the ermine includes the taiga, the arctic tundra of North America and Europe.

Canadian goose

The Canada Goose is a waterfowl, a member of the Anatidae family. This bird species is originally from North America, however, Canadian goose have been successfully adapted to wild nature UK, Northwest Europe and New Zealand.

mosquitoes

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

red-tailed hawk

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

weasel

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

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

Elk

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

Ants

Ants are social insects found all over the world except for Antarctica. There are thousands of ant species, most of which live in tropical forests, but also many species live in the northern regions of the planet, and the taiga is no exception.

red fox

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

lynx

A species of carnivorous mammal from the cat family, which is found deep in pine forests and dense bushes of North America and Eurasia. The lynx is generally nocturnal, but activity peaks at dawn and dusk.

common beaver

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

Arctic fox

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

musk ox

A long haired herbivore mammal well adapted to the cold environments of the taiga, tundra and arctic.

Muskrat

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

polar Wolf

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

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

Wolverine

Wolverine is a ferocious predator representing the mustelid family. The geographic range of wolverine habitat extends into the cold forests of the taiga and tundra of North America, Europe and Asia. This solitary mammal does not run well, but climbs trees quite adeptly.

Reindeer

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

Gray wolf

A wolf, or a gray wolf, or an ordinary wolf is a species of large predatory animals that lives in the steppes, semi-deserts, taiga, tundra, forest-steppe and rare forests in North America, Europe and Asia.

scorpions

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

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