Russian hound hunting. Complete hound hunting

« Hound hunting» Nikolay Nekrasov

Providence was pleased to create man in such a way
that he needs sudden shocks, delight,
impulse and although instant oblivion from everyday life
worries; otherwise, in solitude, the disposition becomes coarse and
various vices take root.
(Reutt. Dog hunting).

The watchman walks around the master's house,
He yawns angrily and bangs on the board.

The sky and the distance are covered with darkness,
The autumn wind brings sadness;

Gloomy clouds are driving across the sky,
There are leaves all over the field and it moans pitifully. . .

The master woke up, jumped out of bed,
He put on his shoes and blew his horn.

Sleepy Vanka and Grishka shuddered,
Everyone shuddered - even the infant boy.

Here, with the flickering fire of the lanterns,
The long shadows of the hounds move.

Shout, commotion! . . the keys rang
The rusty hinges sang sadly;

They lead the horses out with thunder and water them,
Time is running out - saddle up quickly!

In blue Hungarian shorts on hare's feet,
In pointed, unheard-of hats

The servants drive up to the porch in a crowd.
Lovely to watch - well done!

Although many have thin soles -
Yes, the frock coats have yellow stitching,

Even though the bellies let us down from the oatmeal -
Yes, in braids under each saddle,

The horse is a sight for sore eyes, two packs of dogs,
Circassian belt, arapnik and spurs.

Here comes the landowner! Down with the caps.
Silently he twirls his gray mustache,

Terrible in posture and magnificent in attire,
Silently looks with a commanding gaze.

Listens to an important regular report:
“The snake died, in the slaughterhouse Nabat;

The falcon went crazy, Handra went lame.”
He strokes, bending down, Nahal's favorite,

And, voluptuously worried, Impudent
He lay down on his back and wagged his tail.

In strict order, at an accelerated pace
The hounds are riding through the hills and ravines.

It was getting light; passing through the village -
Smoke rises to the sky in a column,

The herd is chasing, with a painful groan
Ochep creaks (prohibited by law);

Women look fearfully from the windows,
“Look, dogs!” - the guys shout. . .

They are slowly climbing up the mountain.
A wonderful distance opens up to the eye:

The river below, under the mountain, runs,
The greenery of the valley glistens with frost,

And beyond the valley, slightly whitish,
A forest illuminated by a striped dawn.

But the hounds are greeted with indifference
A bright ribbon of fiery dawn,

And a picture of awakened nature
Not one of them enjoyed it.

“To Banniki,” shouted the landowner, “throw!”
The borzov workers go apart,

And the leader of the dog team,
The screamer-driver disappeared into the island.

God gave him an enviable throat:
Then he will blow a deafening horn,

Then he will shout: “Get there, dogs!”
Don’t give him, the thief, any favors!”

Then he’ll yell: “Ho-ho-ho! — tu!-tu!!- tu!!!”
So they found it - they followed the trail.

The boiling flock cooks,
The landowner listens, melting enthusiastically,

The spirit is busy in the powerful chest,
The ears are basked in marvelous harmony!

Littermates musical barking
The soul is carried away to that ideal world,

Wherever there are no payments to the Board of Trustees,
There are no restless police officers!

The choir is so melodious, melodic and even,
What is your Rossini! What's your Beethoven?

Closer and barking, and screeching and screaming -
The lively mainland hare has flown out!

The landowner whooped and rushed into the field. . .
Such is the freedom of the landowner's will!

Through streams, gullies and ditches
He's rushing madly, don't feel sorry for his head!

In stormy movements - the greatness of power,
The voice is imbued with the power of passion,

The eyes burn with a noble fire -
Something wonderful happened in him!

Here he will not be afraid, here he will not give in,
Here Croesus won’t buy it for millions!

Violent prowess knows no barriers,
Death or victory - not a step back!

Death or victory! (But where, if not in the storm,
And let the Slavic nature unfold?)

The beast recedes - and in mortal anguish
The landowner, crouched at the bow, is crying.

The beast was caught - he screams wildly,
He immediately opened his mouth, he’s rushing around,

Proud of the success of your favorite fun,
The hare's tail wipes off the armor

And freezes, bowing his head
To the neck of the foam-covered horse.

They hunted a lot, they jumped a lot,
They threw hounds from island to island,

Suddenly failure: Fierce and Torment
They rushed into the herd, scolding them,

Following them are Ugar and Chamomile -
And they tore the lamb to pieces in a minute!

The master ordered the troublemakers to be flogged,
He himself spoke harshly to them.

The dogs jumped, snarled and howled
And they fled when they were allowed in.

Rheuma roars the ill-fated shepherd,
Behind the forest, someone is swearing out loud.

The master shouts: “Shut up, you beast!”
The lively fellow doesn’t let up.

The master got angry and galloped at the cry,
The man got scared and fell at his feet.

The master drove off - the man perked up,
Swears again; the master is back,

The master waved his arapnik angrily -
The brawler barked: “Guard! Guard!"

The beaten guy was chasing me for a long time
Master with his poisonous abuse:

“We’ll stir you up with a club
Together with your loud-mouthed lackey!

But the angry master no longer listened,
He sat down by the haystack and ate hazel grouse,

Threw the bones to Nahal, and to the hounds
He handed over the flask, having tasted it himself.

The hounds drank and were sullenly silent,
The horses were chewing hay from the stack,

And into the blood-stained mustache
Hares were licked by hungry dogs.

Having thus rested, they continue the hunt,
They jump, squawk and harass endlessly.

Meanwhile, time passes unnoticed,
The dog cheats and the horse gets tired.

A gray fog falls across the valley,
The red sun has set halfway,

And showed up on the other side
Essay on the lifeless white moon.

They got off their horses; waiting by the haystack,
The hounds are knocked down, called into three horns,

And are repeated by the echo of the forests
Wild sounds of discordant horns.

It will be dark soon. At a quick pace
They drive home over hills and ravines.

When crossing a muddy stream,
Throwing the reins, watering the horses -

The greyhounds are happy, the yappers are happy:
We got into the water up to our ears!

Seeing a herd of horses in the field,
A stallion neighs under one of the hounds. . .

We finally made it to our overnight stay.
There is joy and bliss in the landowner's heart -

Many hare souls have been ruined.
Glory to the diligent drive of yappers!

Knocking out timid animals from the forest,
You served honestly, faithful flock!

Glory to you, unchanging Nahal, -
You were flying like the desert wind!

Glory to you, little pobeda Pobedka!
You galloped briskly, you caught accurately!

Glory to the zealous and wild horses!
Glory to the breeder, glory to the hounds!

After drinking a lot, having a hearty dinner,
The master goes to bed carefree,

Tomorrow he tells himself to wake up earlier.
It’s a wonderful thing to jump and bait!

Combining almost half the world in itself,
Rus' stretches wide, dear!

We have a lot of forests and fields,
There are many animals in our fatherland!

There is no prohibition for us in the open field
To please the steppe and violent will.

Good for the one who surrenders to power
Military fun: he knows passion,

And gray-haired young impulses
It will remain beautiful and alive,

The dark thought will not come to him,
In idle peace the soul will not fall asleep.

Who doesn't like dog hunting?
He will fall asleep within himself and destroy him.

Analysis of Nekrasov’s poem “Hound Hunt”

The work of Nikolai Nekrasov is in the spirit of critical realism, and this is not surprising. Born into a noble family, the future poet saw two sides of the coin of landowner life from childhood. He was provided with everything he needed, but his stern father often beat not only the serfs, but also members of the household. Nekrasov often escaped from beatings in the people's room - a room that was reserved for servants. Over time, he fell in love with visiting here, listening to folk songs and fairy tales, receiving consolation from simple rural women with whom he had to share his fate.

Having escaped from his father's house, young Nekrasov was left without a livelihood and was forced to earn his own living. It will be many years before Nekrasov can afford a good suit and dinner in a decent restaurant. But even then, in his soul he will sympathize with ordinary peasants, since he is familiar first-hand with their difficult and hopeless life.

Sketches from it formed the basis for many of Nekrasov’s literary works, including the poem “Hound Hunt,” written in 1847. It tells about a very common hobby, for the sake of which landowners spared nothing. The hunt was furnished very luxuriously and tastefully. Even serfs were forced to dress up in expensive clothes, “even though the cotton wool made their stomachs ache.” But no one is interested in the fact that young rural boys have nothing to eat, and families in need of help are waiting for them at home. If the master is going on a hound hunt, then no one has the right to contradict him and spoil the pleasure.

The ritual of baiting forest animals with dogs itself is extremely cruel. But, as Nekrasov accurately notes, “the musical bark of littermates carries their souls to that ideal paradise.” Someone else's death, even if it is just a hare, does not touch the soul of a landowner who is fed up with such entertainment. He only feels excitement when angry dogs tear the poor animal to pieces. But if the beast was not driven away, the initiator of the hunt is attacked by “mortal melancholy,” since the hero of the poem, who is the prototype of the entire Russian nobility, simply cannot come to terms with such a failure.

His passion is so great that even when naughty dogs tear apart a lamb grazing nearby, the master takes out his anger not only on them, but also on the shepherd, who is not to blame for anything. But even this incident is not able to overshadow the anticipation of the hunt, which goes on as usual, exhausting dogs, horses and people. Only the master feels truly happy, because “it’s a wonderful thing to jump and bait.”

Sergei DUKHANIN

In the middle of the 18th century, during the reign of Peter III, the nobility was freed from service to the royal court. It was from this time that it began real story hound hunting in Russia. But it cannot be said that before that time there was no horse hunting with packs of hounds in Rus'. The imperial court invited specialists to manage packs of hounds from England, France and Germany at the very beginning of the 18th century, and in general, horse hunting with hounds and greyhounds goes back to the 15th century and earlier. The massive spread of dog hunting was facilitated by the huge landowners' lands with an abundance of animals on them, a lot of free time for the nobility exempted from service and noble goals - the destruction of the wolf, the main pest of the landowner and peasant economy, and Russian national traits - daring, courage, gambling, bordering on recklessness, which are fully manifested on this hunt. All this led to the fact that in all the central provinces, on every noble estate, they had hound hunting, even if not very large.

Unfortunately, in our country the entire culture of real hound hunting has been completely lost, but this is a historical phenomenon unique to Russia. The experts passed away - hunters, chasers, wranglers, stirrups and other participants in this fascinating action; there was no one for them to pass on the experience of coming and driving packs of hounds, breeding greyhounds, and the traditions of hound hunting. Only in the ancient books of P.M. Machevarianov, P.M. Gubin, N.P. Kishensky can today be found information on the organization, preparation and conduct of hound and gun hunts with packs of hounds. But these authors wrote their works, considering hunting from the height of their position - owners of hunting dogs. The details, subtleties, secrets of coordinating, arriving and driving packs of hounds and organizing hound hunts are lost, many forever. This information is collected bit by bit through the efforts of true lovers of horses, hunting with hounds and greyhounds.

Who can create hound hunting in our time? Firstly, these should be people who are very passionate about this idea - real enthusiasts, secondly, they should at least theoretically understand this complex issue, thirdly, these should be people who have enormous patience so that every day they do the same one small step forward, eventually getting an independent complete canine hunt. And the last condition, today one of the most important, is that they must be fairly wealthy people, because maintaining a hound hunt is an expensive undertaking, but a very prestigious one, which speaks of the high culture of the owner of the hunt, his desire to revive and preserve Russian national culture.

Dog hunting is a lot of work, a kind of art, science and, like every science, it has its own laws and its own terms, its own special colorful, figurative, accurate language of canine hunters of past centuries.

In the history of Russian national hunting with greyhounds and hounds, the names of complete hound hunts and packs of hounds are known. No one specifically assigned these names; they arose from the stories of participants in these hunts, from one or another publication in magazines or newspapers of those times. Names were usually associated with the location of the hunt - Pershinskaya and Gatchina hunts - or with the name of the owner. Now any efficient hunter knows the names of the Tula landowners F.A. Svechin, S.V. Ozerov, the Nizhny Novgorod landowner P.M. Machevarianov, the hunting dynasties of the Glebovs and Ermolovs, who maintained hound hunting for almost two centuries. The hound hunts of these people thundered throughout Russia. The hunt of the Oryol landowner N.V. Kireevsky, a friend of L.N. Tolstoy and I.S. Turgenev, is depicted in all colors in the novel “War and Peace” in the Rostov hunting scenes. N.V. Kireevsky held up to 200 bows of Anglo-Russian hounds! These were the hunts. Russian complete hunt cannot be compared with Western Parfors hound hunting. The famous Russian hunts, in whose kennels hundreds of hounds and greyhounds were kept, would simply be crowded in the lands of Western Europe.

History has put everything in its place. Private stables have appeared in Russia again, there are kennel yards, which means there will be hound hunting. What is a complete canine hunt?

A set of independent hound hunting should consist of a pack of hounds from 9 to 20 bows (a bow is two hounds connected by special collars) and from 5 to 12 packs of greyhounds (3-4 dogs per pack). All canine hunters must be mounted. Hunters with greyhounds are called greyhound hunters, and hunters with hounds are called vzhlyatniks. The senior Greyhound breeder is a visiting dog, and the senior Vyzhlyat breeder is a driving dog breeder. The head of the entire complete canine hunt is the hunter; in small canine hunts, this role was played by the hunter.

In addition, the hound hunting kit included snares with snares - special nets with which strong participants fenced off islands through which the animal could “get off” unnoticed by greyhounds. Gun hunters were also allowed to hunt with dogs; they usually positioned themselves along the edges of established nets and shot animals walking along the nets. At the invitation of the owner, other hunters with their greyhounds and horses were also allowed to join the hound hunt. Hunters who full set Canine hunting was not affordable; those who kept 1-2 packs of greyhounds were called small-grass. In Russian literature there is a work by E. Dryansky, which is called “Notes of a Small Grass”. They say that the great Leo Tolstoy, a great lover and expert in hound hunting, wanted to write about it, but after reading “Notes...”, he abandoned this idea, considering that it was impossible to write better.

In hound hunting there was a uniform consisting of a caftan, trousers, a short sheepskin coat, boots, a cloth cloak and a cap with a visor. Caftans of the Vyzhlyatniks could have been bright colors, and the caftans of the greyhounds are only dark in color, so as not to frighten the animal that has crawled out of the island. In cold weather, a short sheepskin coat was worn under the caftan. Every hunter had hunting knife for receiving a wolf from dogs and arapnik, greyhounds - belt packs and small horns for giving signals, vzhlyatniks - bows and calling horns.

A hunting horse is a separate matter. Mainly geldings and mares were used in hound hunts; they are calmer than stallions. The animal will never go out into the hole where the horse behaves restlessly. In catalogs of hunting exhibitions of the 19th century, horses of mainly domestic breeds were indicated for hunting. The horse must stand calmly, not be afraid of a suddenly jumping out animal, including a wolf, not be afraid of a shot, ford or swim across bodies of water, walk through narrow places, and must also be calm and humble so that the hunted animal can be tied to it.

Hunters say: “Riding on horseback is an art, hunting on horseback is fearlessness.” A good horse is indispensable for hound hunting. It should be strong and strong, easy to move. Such a horse is a very great helper in mating greyhounds, in bringing and driving up a pack of hounds.

Ancient canine hunters believed that the most comfortable hunting saddle should be designed like a Cossack saddle, and the bridle must have a chumbur.

Special one-horse field carts and various carriages were also used in hound hunting. The main requirements for them are durability and softness when driving over rough terrain.

The passion for hound hunting among hunters is ineradicable; canine hunters did not get out of the saddle for weeks, chasing hounds, poisoning animals with greyhounds. It is a known fact that the famous hunter, Tambov retired general A.V. Zhikharev, who kept the famous Zhikharevo mountain greyhounds, hunted wolves on horseback three days before his death. And there would be nothing unusual in this fact if you did not know that he was 91 years old at that time.

They hunted with complete hound hunting along both the black trail and the white trail; the hunt differed only in the object - a hare, a fox or a wolf. They hunted near the house or in outlying fields.

Preparations for the hunt were made in advance, especially if it was necessary to hunt in outlying fields, when day after day, moving from island to island along certain hunting routes, a flock would rush into the island and poison the driven out animal. Sometimes the hunting routes of departing fields were laid along rivers, taking forest islands on both banks, and hound hunting was transported by ships. Hunting in the outgoing fields lasted up to several months. They were conducted strictly according to certain rules, mandatory for all participants; any violation of these rules could lead to the disruption of the entire hunt, even a very well prepared one.

The hounds were always thrown against the wind, so that those arriving and catching them could hear them. At the end of the work, it is easier for the traveler to collect the hounds remaining on the island, since now the hounds will clearly hear the horn in the wind.

The hounds were released into the island at the signal of a horn after the greyhounds had occupied the laz. Greyhounds, if the animal's hole passed, for example, along a ravine, took places on the side, without blocking it, they always stood under the cover of some bush. And if there was no shelter, then away from the island into some depression or, conversely, into the island itself, but facing the field. During the hunt, until the hounds left the island, the greyhounds were not allowed to leave the occupied hole. The greyhound on the manhole, when the beast appeared from the island, was obliged to freeze, even fall to the pommel of the saddle, holding the beast and allowing it in moderation, taking into account both the distance and the terrain, after which, quietly charging, show it to the greyhounds. They chased the dogs and the beast in silence, at an accelerated gallop until the beast was captured or until it became clear that the beast had left.

Greyhounds for hound hunting must be well bred, the horse must be trained, the pack of hounds must be brought in and driven. All this requires enormous work from amateurs and professionals involved in hound hunting.

Hunting is interesting only when the islands are small and there is a sufficient number of animals on them, especially foxes and brown hare. If the island is too large and the pack of hounds is small, then even from under the dirty hounds the animal rarely leaves the island, and it is hardly possible to drive the white hare out of the island at all. Therefore, hunting routes, that is, departing fields, must be prepared in advance; it is advisable to conduct pack training in these islands and hunt more often, then all the holes of the animal become known.

We can talk a lot about hound hunting, but in conclusion I will repeat the words of N.P. Kishensky, one of the most famous specialists in hunting with packs of hounds: “It is much better to learn this in the field with a good pack of hounds, where a young and smart hunter quickly acquires that hunting skill.” flair and dexterity that surprise people who are little familiar with this type of hunting.”

Providence was pleased to create man in such a way that he needs sudden shocks, delight, impulse, and even instant oblivion from everyday worries; otherwise, in solitude, the character becomes coarser and various vices take root.
Reutt. Hound hunting

1.
The watchman walks around the master's house,
He yawns angrily and bangs on the board.

The sky and the distance are covered with darkness,
The autumn wind brings sadness;

Gloomy clouds are driving across the sky,
There are leaves across the field - and it moans pitifully...

The master woke up, jumped out of bed,
He put on his shoes and blew his horn.

Sleepy Vanka and Grishka shuddered,
Everyone shuddered - even the infant boy.

Here, with the flickering fire of the lanterns,
The long shadows of the hounds move.

Scream, commotion! the keys rang
The rusty hinges sang sadly;

They lead the horses out with thunder and water them,
Time is running out - saddle up quickly!

In blue Hungarian shorts on hare's feet,
In pointed, unheard-of hats

The servants drive up to the porch in a crowd.
Lovely to watch - well done!

Although many have thin soles -
Yes, the frock coats have yellow stitching,

Even though the bellies let us down from the oatmeal -
Yes, in braids under each saddle,

The horse is a sight for sore eyes, two packs of dogs,
Circassian belt, arapnik and spurs.

Here comes the landowner! Down with the caps.
Silently he twirls his gray mustache,

Terrible in posture and magnificent in attire,
Silently looks with a commanding gaze.

Listens to an important regular report:
“The snake died, in the slaughterhouse Nabat;

The falcon went crazy, Handra went lame.”
He strokes, bending down, Nahal's favorite,

And, voluptuously worried, Impudent
He lay down on his back and wagged his tail.

2.
In strict order, at an accelerated pace
The hounds are riding through the hills and ravines.

It was getting light; passing through the village -
Smoke rises to the sky in a column,

The herd is chasing, with a painful groan
Ochep creaks (prohibited by law);

Women look fearfully from the windows,
“Look, dogs!” - the guys are screaming...

They are slowly climbing up the mountain.
A wonderful distance opens up to the eye:

The river below, under the mountain, runs,
The greenery of the valley glistens with frost,

And beyond the valley, slightly whitish,
A forest illuminated by a striped dawn.

But the hounds are greeted with indifference
A bright ribbon of fiery dawn,

And a picture of awakened nature
Not one of them enjoyed it.

“To Banniki,” shouted the landowner, “throw!”
The borzov workers go apart,

And the leader of the dog team,
The screamer-driver disappeared into the island.

God gave him an enviable throat:
Then he will blow a deafening horn,

Then he will shout: “Get there, dogs!
Don’t give him, the thief, any favors!”

Then he’ll yell: “Ho-ho-ho! - that! - that!! - that!!!"
So they found it - they followed the trail.

The boiling flock cooks,
The landowner listens, melting enthusiastically,

The spirit is busy in the powerful chest,
The ears are basked in marvelous harmony!

Littermates musical barking
The soul is carried away to that ideal world,

Wherever there are no payments to the Board of Trustees,
There are no restless police officers!

The choir is so melodious, melodic and even,
What is your Rossini! What's your Beethoven?

3.
Closer and barking, and screeching and screaming -
The lively mainland hare has flown out!

The landowner whooped and rushed into the field...
Such is the freedom of the landowner's will!

Through streams, gullies and ditches
He's rushing madly, don't feel sorry for his head!

In stormy movements - the greatness of power,
The voice is imbued with the power of passion,

The eyes burn with a noble fire -
Something wonderful happened in him!

Here he will not be afraid, here he will not give in,
Here Croesus won’t buy it for millions!

Violent prowess knows no barriers,
Death or victory - not a step back!

Death or victory! (But where, if not in the storm,
And let the Slavic nature unfold?)

The beast recedes - and in mortal anguish
The landowner, crouched at the bow, is crying.

The beast was caught - he screams wildly,
He immediately opened his mouth, he’s rushing around,

Proud of the success of your favorite fun,
The hare's tail wipes off the armor

And freezes, bowing his head
To the neck of the foam-covered horse.

4.
They hunted a lot, they jumped a lot,
They threw hounds from island to island,

Suddenly failure: Fierce and Torment
They rushed into the herd, scolding them,

Following them are Ugar and Chamomile -
And they tore the lamb to pieces in a minute!

The master ordered the troublemakers to be flogged,
He himself spoke harshly to them.

The dogs jumped, snarled and howled
And they fled when they were allowed in.

Rheuma roars the ill-fated shepherd,
Behind the forest, someone is swearing out loud.

The master shouts: “Shut up, you beast!”
The lively fellow doesn’t let up.

The master got angry and galloped at the cry,
He got scared and fell down
and a man.

The master drove off - the man perked up,
Swears again; the master is back,

The master waved his arapnik angrily -
The brawler barked: “Guard! Guard!"

The beaten guy was chasing me for a long time
Master with his poisonous abuse:

“We’ll stir you up with a club
Together with your loud-mouthed lackey!

But the angry master no longer listened,
He sat down by the haystack and ate hazel grouse,

Threw the bones to Nahal, and to the hounds
He handed over the flask, having tasted it himself.

The hounds drank and were sullenly silent,
The horses were chewing hay from the stack,

And into the blood-stained mustache
Hares were licked by hungry dogs.

5.
Having thus rested, they continue the hunt,
They jump, squawk and harass endlessly.

Meanwhile, time passes unnoticed,
The dog cheats and the horse gets tired.

A gray fog falls across the valley,
The red sun has set halfway,

And showed up on the other side
Essay on the lifeless white moon.

They got off their horses; waiting by the haystack,
The hounds are knocked down, called into three horns,

And are repeated by the echo of the forests
Wild sounds of discordant horns.

It will be dark soon. At a quick pace
They drive home over hills and ravines.

When crossing a muddy stream,
Throwing the reins, watering the horses -

The greyhounds are happy, the yappers are happy:
We got into the water up to our ears!

Seeing a herd of horses in the field,
A stallion neighs under one of the hounds...

We finally made it to our overnight stay.
There is joy and bliss in the landowner's heart -

Many hare souls have been ruined.
Glory to the diligent drive of yappers!

Knocking out timid animals from the forest,
You served honestly, faithful flock!

Glory to you, unchanging Nahal, -
You were flying like the desert wind!

Glory to you, little pobeda Pobedka!
You galloped briskly, you caught accurately!

Glory to the zealous and wild horses!
Glory to the breeder, glory to the hounds!

6.
After drinking a lot, having a hearty dinner,
The master goes to bed carefree,

Tomorrow he tells himself to wake up earlier.
It’s a wonderful thing to jump and bait!

Combining almost half the world in itself,
Rus' stretches wide, dear!

We have a lot of forests and fields,
There are many animals in our fatherland!

There is no prohibition for us in the open field
To please the steppe and violent will.

Good for the one who surrenders to power
Military fun: he knows passion,

And gray-haired young impulses
It will remain beautiful and alive,

The dark thought will not come to him,
In idle peace the soul will not fall asleep.

Who doesn't like dog hunting?
He will fall asleep within himself and destroy him.

Yekaterinburg city

For a long time, my friends invited me to visit - Alexey and Galina Adaev, with whom we have known each other for many years thanks to our cop dogs. But in last years they also became avid canine hunters, and I always wanted to see how this happens. But in the fall, something didn’t work out, the winter flew by in worries, and suddenly it turned out that the next weekend was the last of the season! Must go! And, as luck would have it, the flu begins to break me down... I chew some pills all day, drink hot wine, and by the evening I already feel quite tolerable. I'll go in the morning.

Two hours of travel - and I’m there. In addition to the owners, four greyhounds and three setters come out of the house to greet me! What a team! Until I hugged everyone, they didn’t let me pass.

We drink tea and get ready to go to the field. Galya is also sick and stays at home. Alexey and I and four dogs (bandyuki, as they are affectionately called in the family) are loaded into an old cornfield. And then the dogs started singing!

What's this! - says Alexey. Now, if they see a dog on the road... or a cat...

So we met a dog... I can’t imagine how my eardrums remained intact.

Soon we drive into a field and fall out of the car. This is where the dogs surprised me for the first time. Any self-respecting setter in such conditions would take a few laps around the field to relieve tension and just warm up. Greyhounds don't run anywhere. Although they howled in anticipation! No, they stand there, calmly waiting for us to put on our skis and move forward. Done, let's go! And the dogs don't run again. They walk next to the owner. This is also surprising to me! After all, the pointer, working at a gallop, will non-stop comb the area in front of the hunter, sometimes all day long (if she is in good shape).

What if it’s a hare and I’m tired? - Alexey explains to me. - the greyhound gives so much effort while racing after the animal that in the heat it can even die. They save energy.

Meanwhile we wander on hunting skis, sticking to the already spring snow, I’m pouring out a flu-like sweat, and my neck is being pulled back by the camera - Oleg Anatolyich apparently gave me the healthiest lens on purpose... iron, heavy... and if you hang it over your shoulder, you’ll definitely miss all the most interesting things!

From time to time Alexey stops, examining the area with binoculars, and tells how he competed in this place with a fox, who still deceived him and the dogs and left, leaving everyone with their noses.

After some time, Karai broke away from the company - he is the most mature and independent. He walks a hundred meters away from us, thinking about something of his own. He sits on the mane and looks out for the beast while we crawl through the lowlands. Then he slowly moves on to the next mane and again sits in meditation.

Finally, we come across a hare trail, not too fresh. And then the dogs surprise me for the third time. They're on the trail! That's something I've never heard of! Of course, this is not a hound that will keep the scent by scent and gallop. They work “in the heel”, plunging their anteater noses into all the holes, and slowly moving forward. Nevertheless, says Alexey, they often untangle the fat themselves and lift the hare from its bed. And now the whole company moved to comb the stake - but, alas, to no avail.

About two hours later we sit down to rest and drink tea. The dogs are showing impatience - why are we sitting, we need to go!

But we are already turning towards home, because the day is short and it will soon begin to get dark. And although we walked in a circle, the dogs immediately realized that the hunt was ending. And now Azarna also broke away from the company and went into the bushes, hoping to finally scare off something.

If it were sunny, explains Lyosha, the foxes would come out into the field, their rut is beginning. And so - grey, gloomy, windy, they are holed up somewhere.

And suddenly one of the dogs galloped, the rest followed him, and the whole pack rushed away in the blink of an eye. What, who, where???

Behind the crows,” Alexey laughs. - since there is no game, at least this way to warm up.

Alas, our campaign was not crowned with success.

But I felt better, the illness went away with sweat, and I returned to the car quite cheerfully.

Initially, one day of hunting was planned, but after the bathhouse and evening gatherings we decided to try again, go to a new place suggested by the huntsman.

So, new morning, new sunset! We drive further away, find an exit into a field - the path has been very successfully cleared by a bulldozer. We start to drive down - and Alexey slows down, because a flock of partridges slowly runs out from under the wheels and runs along the path in front of us. I don’t know what I looked like then (Lyosha says my eyes almost popped out on the hood)), but my first thought was - where is my dog, where is my gun?!

So shoot! - oh right, I have a camera on my lap! But by the time I opened it and turned it on, it was too late, they took off.

Well, not a bad start to the day!

We go around the fields again, and again there is no sun, but the light has already changed - it is completely spring, watercolor, with March blue.

There are many more tracks in this area, and I ask Saint Tryphon, the patron saint of hunters, so that we can at least see the beast again.

We imperceptibly descend into the lowland, where there is much more snow than on the windy slopes, we go around several pegs trampled by hares and marked by foxes. At some point,

filled with grace, I break away from reality, merge with the sky and space... And then Alexei’s exclamation brings me back to life - just about there, just about there!!!

And then the dogs rushed, and I saw a fox that rose from the peg in front of us, about thirty meters away. Wow and tail! And he seems to be running leisurely... I throw up my camera, click-click-click, - and the race is already a hundred meters away. Alexey observes through binoculars and comments on what I can no longer see clearly: Paramon has caught up!!! That's it, it's the end of the fox, they'll take it now!!! He turned it around!!!

Indeed, the fastest one, Paramon, caught up with the fox and forced him to turn back, but... Azarna and Mertsay, who were literally a couple of meters behind, did not have time to catch it, and, elegantly waving its tail, the animal literally leaves from under two pairs of dog noses.

Oh you! The dogs are falling through the snow, but the fox is walking on the crust!! He will leave!

Indeed, the distance between them increases, the cunning beast walked along the indentations, along the snowy ridges, where the dogs drown up to their chests. Soon they all disappear from sight; the bandits cannot give up the pursuit.

Alexey, red and excited, takes a drag on his cigarette:

I was sure they would take it!!! How he left! And he let us get very close and stood up in front of us!

Let's go look for a bed and find

almost on the edge of the grove, on the leeward side, but on level ground - not under a bush, not under a tree. We move further along the tracks and read the race - here Paramon overtook the fox, turned around, yeah, failed... and the fox's tracks ran along the ridge itself, like soft cat paws, without stopping anywhere.

About ten minutes later, Alexey takes the horn off his shoulder and begins to call the dogs - “that’s it, they’ll be firewood now...”

The dogs do not return immediately and reluctantly. They grab the snow, plunge their long muzzles into the snowdrift right up to their ears - and they really give it their all.

Twinkle stops a hundred meters from us, and suddenly begins to whine and lay down on the snow.

“My muscles cramped,” says Alexey, “he’s already old.”

We go to the suffering dog, we feel sorry for him, Lyosha rubs his paws.

For some reason Karai is not coming back...

The horn plays again, but the dog is not visible. Alexey looks around the area with binoculars. And suddenly the barely alive dogs take off again and again disappear over the horizon.

Punish the beast there!!! - and we rush after.

But by the time they ran around the stake, on wide skis, it was all over. The dogs began to chase the beast from very far away, and of course he left. There is no point in continuing the hunt, the dogs are exhausted, and I have to go in the evening.

This time Alexey and I made the way back completely alone - the dogs trailed far behind, hid in the bushes, and did not even respond to the horn. It was difficult to assemble into the car:

They know they didn't catch it! They are worried. They want to work. Get lost!

After this walk, I can hardly climb the steps, but I think that I will definitely not miss the next invitation to a hound hunt.