Cranks are doomed to death by starvation in the winter.

Writes Igor Shpilenok
We often idealize the wild. In reality, there are many cruel, unacceptable from the point of view of human morality. But the rational evolution. Winter time in our northern latitudes, especially cruel. I remember when I was a schoolboy, was amazed to hear that nine out of ten blue-tits in the winter die ...

Sometimes it develops that in the eternal drama of predator-prey role of victim falls to man. And well, if you can resist it. I have such experience came in the January-February 2008, when I spent the winter on the River Quiet.

First, a few words about the weapon. When I lived and worked in the reserve «Bryansk forest", then I do without weapons. I was lucky enough to visit nearly half the reserves of Russia, and everywhere was unarmed. But even in the Kronotsky outdoor toilet I always go with a gun. Accustomed. The reserve is home to the largest population of the world's protected brown bears, among them, as well as among the people, sometimes there are abnormal. On average, every year helps me a gun. In one I wear the trunk flare, and the second - a bullet. Shot skyrocket (usually tselyus the ground) well sobering animal without causing it harm. Before the bullets is not reached. I should add that for me to carry a weapon - a considerable burden. Twelve-gauge shotgun weighs 3 to 5 kg. Mocassins, my main shoes - 3 kg. Clothing - at least 2 kg. The camera and three lenses with fotoryukzakom and easiest tripod weighs 12 kg. That is, every day wear on itself at least 20 kg. At first I "saved" the weight of luggage on the weapon. Once in early January last bears were placed in the den, she started walking without a gun, enjoying the ease on their shoulders. It is not met with this rod. Suddenly who have not read the comments to the previous post: the connecting rod - a bear, who failed to stock up fat for the winter in a den. This happens because of starvation, disease or injury. Cranks are doomed to death by starvation in the winter.
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In fact, the first rod, whom I saw in my life, was dead. In March 2006, we arrived with a colleague on snowmobiles in the cabin at the mouth of the river in the Kronotsky lake larch, here to spend the winter trip records. But the night turned out to be nowhere: the window of the hut was vylomleno, bunks and a table broken, gnawed to pieces. On the floor, among the torn mattresses lay skinny dead bear. Pull his frozen body either through the door or through the window was impossible. We had to carry out surveys of the other huts, not so easy. Frozen beast then I was not particularly impressed, and in the winter, I continued to work without a gun over his shoulder. Until the end of January 2008, when I saw on the infusion should from large claws. I was unarmed at six kilometers from the lodge and was going to go even further, but immediately changed his plans and went home, looking carefully. I understand that this is an empty rod, and jokes will not. In half a kilometer from the hut again crossed very fresh bear tracks, and I became very uncomfortable. But reached safely, he took his gun and made a circle with a radius of a kilometer around the hut, peering to the next. I found the whole path by the river Quiet - turns out the bear lived nearby had not less than a day ... The Beast fought for his life, diligently searching for at least some food, but she was not in the frozen forest. Except me ...

Our first meeting took place the next morning. Even in the pre-dawn twilight, I with a gun over his shoulder and two cans in his hands went to the river to fetch water, it is 300 meters from the property. I went down the steep slope; below, where the snow was loose, I stood waiting for me in there hunting skis and went to lightening among alder trees-freezing water of the river. Frost was under twenty, ski hard on the track screaming, but I was on guard, and heard from the place where the water scoops, heard the creak of snow. I stopped. The snow creaked again, and I saw on a background of soaring water hunched silhouette of the beast. Before he was forty meters. I grabbed the gun, abandoned cans rattled on the snow and the beast stood up on his hind legs, leaning one front paw on alder. Standing silhouette got to fly a gun and from that moment the fear vanished, my head started to work well, assessing possible options. Without taking silhouette of a fly, I got off the ski, trampled by a snow, with possible shots to be stable. We can assume that the bear in the head at a time, too, the options were counted and he took one of them - went down on all legs, bent his head to the snow and the most heavily hunched, walked straight up to me on my old ski track, not falling. I aim at the snow in front of the muzzle, but before you pull the trigger the barrel, which was charged skyrocket, put his foot on one of her skis and pushed with all his might on the track in the direction of the connecting rod. Ski with a frosty rustling-squeal flew under a light bias to bear. That's what he did not expect! That it somehow scared jitters! He jumped drove under it and ski gallop rushed past me into the bad frozen swamp, with a roar breaking the thin ice, sinking into the mud.



It turns out that several times during the night the bear walked around the cabin, trying to undermine the frozen ground around the toilet, investigated my yesterday's footprints. During the day I saw him through the window of the hut, he continually walked along the river, peering into the water probably remember the summer abundance of salmon, but the river was empty ... Then he went through the tundra to the ocean and wandered along the surging waves, but nothing has been found . Unhappy was so skinny that he was holding a thin crust, which I immediately sank without skis.
I stopped to leave the hut at night. During the day I met him on the beach. Rod did not try to approach me, but not running away. Just lay on the snow and watched what I would do. Several times I shot him from a distance of fifty meters, to get closer risked.
As already in mid-February of the night shook the hut, as if by an earthquake. I woke up and heard footsteps on the roof. Whose I guessed ... the house was covered with snow on the roof, so that I did not just step over a snowdrift on the flimsy roof that sagged even under my weight. For the room is heated and where I was sleeping, I was calm: over it at least some attic. But the old, unheated part of the house was entirely without an attic, a thin two-centimetric boards and two layers of roofing material. And it was heard that the rod scraping the roof and roofing torn by animals' claws. I pocketed a dozen rounds, included headlamp flashlight and went out into the hall, sending light and a gun at the ceiling. Ryska with rearing scruff too tensely watched the beam of light. Bear shifted from place to place and was seen as the roof caved in under him as a "game" in the boards frozen frosted nails. I opened the window, stuck the barrel and babahnul against the ear rod skyrocket into the sky. Landmarks lit up for a few seconds the green shimmering light. The animal ran away. More to housing is not suitable ...
A few days later I found it about four kilometers from the hut on the beach. The poor fellow was lying among the rocks, the forces have already left him barely lifted his head to look at me with indifference ... I realized that the move he can not.
The next day I went to the long-planned long-range patrols, which had long postponed because of a rod was afraid that in my absence, he defeated the hut. He came back in a week and immediately noticed a cluster of Steller's sea eagles and ravens in the place where I last saw the dying rod. He became food for taiga techs ...



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