How old is Valery Kuzenkov? Stories from the books "Bear's Malice" and "About Hunters and Game Managers"

Fight at a taiga stream

In the office of the state industrial enterprise in one of the taiga villages, I saw a fairly young man with such a disfigured face that it seemed impossible to imagine anything worse. Instead of a face there is a terrible mask. His right arm was missing up to the shoulder, one leg was crippled. From conversations with the game warden of the state industrial enterprise and other residents of the village, everything that happened to this man appeared in detail. A visit to the place where it took place helped complete the picture of the tragedy that happened to him.

Having finished his chores, Anton went to his friend Ivan and persuaded him to visit his hunting grounds and, of course, his hunting hut tomorrow on motor boats. Both Anton and Ivan returned to their home village a year and a half ago after military service. They loved hunting since childhood, which is why they got a job at the state industrial enterprise as full-time hunters.

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

But Anton didn’t really care about the exterior: he had no intention of going to dog shows. And in terms of working qualities, Yukon had no equal in the village: he worked excellently on sable, capercaillie, elk, and bear.

But most of all, Yukon loved to chase bears. Having grabbed the scent of the clubfoot, he seemed to forget about everything and immediately rushed at the animal. And he didn’t just bark, but got into a fight, grabbed the gacha, inflicting lacerated wounds with his powerful fangs. Several times the bears grabbed him with their clawed paws, but, having an excellent reaction, the dog escaped with only scratches.

State industrial enterprise hunters could not understand why Yukon hated bears so much. Maybe because they were the only ones he saw as worthy opponents?

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

He headed up the stream, but soon the wind carried the smell of a bear to him. Yukon's scruff instantly rose, the dog tensed and, baring his fangs, rushed towards the enemy. Having jumped out onto the ridge, he collided nose to nose with a small bear cub. Immediately grabbing the little animal by the gacha, the dog tore the muscles on its hind leg. The little bear squealed sharply and piercingly. And then the angry bear rushed at the husky.

Dodging the blow with its paw, the dog turned on the spot and bit her on the gacha. The bear stopped near the cub in a fighting pose. The Yukon swirled around. At some point, he jumped too close to the animal, and it managed to pick it up with its paw. The dog was thrown up, turned over in the air, and hit a larch. Deciding that he needed to regain his strength, Yukon left the scene of the fight.

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

Once again, sucking in air, the bear smelled a person. She growled. The ears flattened against the head, the lower lip drooped, and the upper lip lifted, revealing fangs. His eyes were bloodshot. A man was more dangerous to her cub than a dog.

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

The bear's paw struck his hand. She cracked her shoulder and the ax fell out. The second blow is on the back. Anton felt his padded jacket burst and a sharp pain burned his back. Having hugged the hunter, the bear began to bite his head. He felt the fetid breath of the beast, felt the bear’s fangs tearing his face...

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

When Anton tried to get out from under the branches, the bear, hearing the noise, again rushed at the hunter. But at that moment Yukon appeared on her way. His bite turned out to be strong, and the animal, roaring in pain, sat down on the ground. The dog rushed to the bear cub that was nearby and began to tear it. The she-bear, forgetting about the hunter, rushed to the rescue of the cub. Anton no longer saw this - he lost consciousness again.

The first thing he heard when he came to his senses was Yukon's growl. He attacked the bear, not letting her near her owner. Anton managed to get up. After walking several tens of meters, he fell and lost consciousness again. Now for a long time.

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

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

He didn’t remember how long it took Anton to crawl to the hut.

The following days were a complete fog. Unbearable pain burned throughout the body. Anton didn’t have enough strength to climb onto the bunk. He lay on the floor, occasionally reaching for the kettle to drink. The hunter understood that help would come only with Ivan’s arrival, and tried to hold on. Yukon also held on - every now and then you could hear his barking.

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

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

Having loaded his friend into the boat, Ivan carried Yukon there too, who was sleeping and not moving. Six hours later, Anton was already in the village hospital. He carried Yukon, who had not woken up, in his arms to Anton’s home.

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

Camelina and NEW YEAR'S ORANGES

There was little snow this season, although the New Year was already approaching. But for the commercial hunter Alexey and his fiery red Karelian-Finnish husky Ryzhik, this was just in time. Due to Ryzhik’s small stature, it was difficult to work in the deep snow like last year. And now the male dog tirelessly shuttled the taiga, from time to time crossing the owner’s route in order to navigate where he was.

In the morning, before going hunting, Alexey fed his four-legged friend a hearty meal, preparing a soup of flour, cereal and three squirrel carcasses. And Ryzhik conscientiously searched for the beast, just like the owner, rejoicing in the clean air, light frost and shallow snow.

It is believed that in order to successfully work on sable, a dog must be tall, have a good sense of smell, be hardy, strong, amenable to the animal, and have a clear voice. Ryzhik had all the listed qualities, except height. Karelo-Finnish huskies are short, males reach a maximum of 48 centimeters at the withers, and Ryzhik has grown to exactly this size.

Finally, having found a fresh sable track and unraveled it, the husky chased the animal. After some time, Ryzhik caught up with the sable, and he, to escape, jumped onto a large, two-girth, cedar tree and, rising to the thick crown, hid there.

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

The shot clicked dryly in the cold, the sable slowly slid off the branch and flew to the ground. Ryzhik grabbed the carcass, crushed it and, making sure that the sable was dead, brought it to the owner. The hunter smiled.

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

To prevent the carcass from becoming stained with blood, Alexei wrapped the sable’s head in a clean cloth and put it in his backpack.

We should get a couple more of these today, and we can go to the village for the New Year,” he looked slyly at the dog. “We’ll rest in the village, hand over some furs to the industrial farm, and let some go to the pilots.” Do you remember them? Of course, they are bad people, they all wanted to buy you from me or trade you for vodka. It’s as if they don’t know that a dog is a man’s friend, and they don’t sell friends or exchange them for vodka.

Ryzhik, as if understanding his owner, wagged his tail.

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

The dog got tired of standing still, and he ran to look for the next animal. Alexey followed him. But, not even a hundred meters away, he noticed how his red-haired friend was spinning on a large earthen pile littered with branches.

What did you smell here? - he asked, also climbing onto the pile. But suddenly the ground began to move under our feet, and a muffled, menacing growl was heard. The dog and the hunter behind him immediately jumped from the den, and a large dark brown bear appeared from it.

Ryzhik was the first to come to his senses and, turning around on the spot, described a semicircle around the den, grabbed the bear's gacha and hung on it with a fiery red ball. Feeling pain, the bear stopped, and when Ryzhik jumped back, he tried to press his back against the turnout. Then his small eyes, filled with anger, stumbled upon a man. Instinctively realizing that a man is much more dangerous than a dog, the bear, pressing his ears back and growling angrily, went towards Alexei. Ryzhik again hung on the beast's gachas. But the bear's initial confusion was enough for the hunter to replace the shotgun cartridge with a bullet cartridge. He had a “Belka” - IZH-56, which had a smooth lower barrel for firing shot or 28-caliber bullets, and a rifled upper barrel for firing small-caliber rimfire cartridges of 5.6 caliber. Now he switched to a shot from a smooth barrel and calmly took aim at the bear's head. It was about five meters away when, after the shot, the gun habitually pushed the hunter in the shoulder. The bear immediately sank down and, sprawled out in the snow, remained there. The bullet hit him in the forehead and crushed his skull.

Well, here's this one. Clap your forehead and you're done. Well done, however,” Alexey said, watching Ryzhik pat the dead animal.

During his life, Alexey killed several dozen bears and long ago stopped being afraid of them. But every time he caught another bear, he realized what a serious opponent it was. And every time he sat down in front of the killed animal and quietly prayed to his hunting god, who helped him in the taiga, and in whom he believed very much. And now Alexey sat and, looking at one point, slowly moved his lips, as if he was talking to God. Having finished praying, he stood up.

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

He took out a sharpened knife and began to skin the bear. An hour and a half later, everything was finished, and the skin lay spread out on the snow, and chopped pieces of meat were cooling next to it. Ryzhik, who had been lying aside while the work was going on, not disturbing the owner, now went up to the skin and lay down on it. Alexey smiled:

Stop fooling around. Let's go get the snowmobile. By the time we get to the hut, by the time we get back here, God grant we make it before dark.

As he expected, they finished the removal work after dark. It was still midnight when Alexey was getting ready for his trip to the village. The road was long, and they left at dawn. The owner was ahead on the Buran, behind him on a sled attached to a snowmobile, Ryzhik was lying on a bear skin. The dog didn't want to run. The day passed with one stop for tea, but still we reached the village only at night.

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

The pilot he needed was not there. They said he went to a construction site, but he wasn’t there either. Tired of fruitless searches, Alexey headed to the office of the state industrial enterprise, where the meeting was to be held. Almost all the workers of the state industrial enterprise had already gathered there, except for the hunters who, for various reasons, had not left the taiga. The topic of the meeting was summing up the results of the past year. Alexey listened to the game warden speaking, without delving into the meaning of the numbers he cited. Suddenly the game manager invited Alexey to speak as the best hunter who produces the most furs. He began to refuse, but fellow hunters began to agitate him.

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

There was nothing to do, Alexey squeezed to the podium.

However, what should I tell you? - he asked embarrassedly.

Tell me how you get sables and bears! - they shouted from the hall.

What can I say? I will find the animal along with my male, Ryzhik - a Karelian-Finnish husky. I'll take aim, though. Slap on the forehead - and you're done. Ryzhik is a great guy, a real friend.

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

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

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

Wow, Ryzhik, how hard it is to speak in front of people! A bear is easier to kill. But well done, I did it.

The dog looked knowingly into his owner's eyes.

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

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

Well, fruit! I see it for the first time. The color is like my dog. However, sell me a couple of kilograms to try.

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

Ryzhik was waiting on the street. Alexey sat down on a bench next to the store and took out the largest orange from the bag. I rolled it around before my eyes, admiring the color.

“You see, he’s also red, like you,” he said to the dog, and took a large bite from the orange. The simultaneous taste of bitterness, sweetness and sourness filled my mouth.

“Ugh, what disgusting,” Alexey spat.

Ryzhik approached the piece that had fallen into the snow, sniffed it and turned away.

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

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

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

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

Good dog. And how beautiful! Red like a fox

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

It would make a nice hat,” Volodya said, pouring out the vodka again. - There is a demand for such hats in the city. Fashion,” he bent down, stroked the dog and gave him more sausage. Ryzhik wagged his tail in gratitude.

What a hat! - Alexey was indignant. - The male is my friend. Recently saved my life!

Calm down, I was joking. I understand perfectly well that my friend. Thank you for bringing the skins and telling me about the oranges. Before leaving, I'll stop by the store and buy some for home. You won’t find them in our city before the New Year. Deficit. Come on, drink...

The next day Alexey woke up late. My head hurt and my mouth was dry.

The devil drove me to drink yesterday. You don’t drink in the taiga, and you don’t drink either. Now I will be sick for two days.

He went out into the yard, stood in the cold for a while, and remembered Ryzhik. The dog did not come when called. Alexey became agitated, hurried out into the street, and began whistling and calling. Ryzhik did not appear. After waiting for some time, Alexey got dressed and went to look for the dog around the village. I spent the whole day searching - Ryzhik disappeared into the water. Returning home, he asked his mother:

Did anyone come to see me today?

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

Why didn’t you say it before!

Having dressed again, Alexey ran to the aviators. Volodya denied everything and, having achieved nothing from him, the desperate hunter wandered home. On the way, a pilot he knew stopped him and asked him to light a cigarette.

Why are you so sad?

The dog got lost,” Alexey sighed. - I've been searching all day and it's all in vain.

Wait, I think I saw him this morning with Volodya.

So I already asked him - he doesn’t know anything, he hasn’t seen anything.

He can lie. What a fruit! “Don’t worry, your dog will be found,” the pilot tried to reassure...

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

On a bench near the store, leaning his back against the wall, sat a pilot with a cap with a cockade pulled down over his forehead. I sat and sat. What's wrong with this? People walked by and cars drove by. And the man still sat. One, two, three. It was getting dark and the store was closed. And only then the saleswoman called out to the pilot:

Why are you sitting there floating? The store has already closed.

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

The investigation into the murder of the pilot, whose name was Volodya, led nowhere. The small bullet that entered the skull was so badly deformed that it was impossible to identify the weapon used to shoot it. And you never know how many unregistered weapons there are in the north. And in the suitcase of the murdered man, in addition to personal belongings and various furs, they found several salted dog skins. One of them was especially beautiful, fiery red. The color is very similar to an orange.

For cranberries

The sun came out from behind the forest, illuminating the village street and houses. Rooster Petka, a bully and a fighter, flapped his wings and instantly found himself on the fence. He settled down comfortably on it and, raising his head, decorated with a large red crest, to the sun, crowed loudly, welcoming the beginning of another day...

Crow! Crow! - echoed over the village.

Akhalnik! - an old woman scolded a small cockerel as she came out of the barn where she had just milked her goat. “I almost dropped the milk pan on the ground because of you.” “I would kill you if I spilled the milk,” the old woman swore quite kindly.

She smiled. The rooster, tilting his head to the side, glanced sideways at the hostess, as if wondering what could be expected from her at this moment. He flapped his wings and crowed again

The old woman waved her hand at the rooster and walked towards the house.

Marusya! - they called her from the street. She turned around. A woman who looked like the owner entered the yard, carefully closing the gate behind her.

Nastya! Neighbor! - the hostess greeted the newcomer.

Hello! - the guest greeted.

Hello! - answered Baba Masha.

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

I haven't thought about it yet. “I just milked the goat,” Baba Masha nodded towards the milk pan... “After breakfast, maybe I’ll go and feed Nyuska the goat.”

Just wait to graze,” the neighbor continued. - Let's better run to the swamp. We'll pick some cranberries. People were there and said that there were countless berries in the swamps this year. Oh, so many! In a word, harvest! They take all the berries, but I have no reserves for the winter. - Grandma Nastya fell silent, waiting for an answer.

“And I don’t have any berries,” Marusya agreed.

That's what I'm saying. They'll collect everything.

The lady of the house thought about it.

Things may still work out for me. I also wanted to pick out more potatoes.

Potatoes won't leave you anywhere. You and I are just going away for a couple of hours. We walk along the edge of the swamp and immediately go back,” Nastya persuaded her friend.

It’s unlikely that we’ll pick berries on the edge. The young ones have already picked all the cranberries. They're dragging it to the track to sell.

They won't collect everything. Let's go have a look. Why bother talking, let's get ready and let's go. In the meantime, I'm running to get the basket. Let's move. If there are no cranberries on the edge, we'll go to Devil's Corner.

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

“The grandson must come from the city for the holidays,” said Grandma Masha. - What if he wants cranberry pies?

He’ll definitely ask,” Nastya nodded her head. - Necessarily.

Oh well! - the hostess agreed with the neighbor. - Let's go or something. But why go to Devil’s Corner, maybe we’ll take a look at the moss swamp nearby?

It’s better to go straight to Devil’s. All the berries are there. Yesterday my godfather, Varka, went there with her family. So they collected two full buckets in an hour. Berry to berry. One to one, the green one is gone. The whole berry is sour, like fire, red...

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

Crow! Crow! - the village roosters crowed.

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

All their lives, as long as they could remember, they went to the forest and, of course, to the swamp for cranberries. The place where they were heading now was nicknamed Devil's Corner by the villagers. Why Devil? It happened that people wandered there. It was rumored that the compass needles in that place begin to make such leapfrogs that it becomes an absolutely useless piece of iron for a person, especially one who is lost. In short, the place is anomalous, which means it’s damned. However, the local residents of all the surrounding villages knew everything there, every bump and, literally, every tree, and they were not at all afraid to go to Devil’s Corner for berries. And the cranberry harvest there was excellent year after year. Why, no one knew. People carried bags of berries home. They cleared it of debris, dried it and carried it to a large asphalt road, where they sold it in the fall. That's how they fed, that's how they lived. This was the main source of income in the village, since there had been no other income for a long time. After the collapse of the USSR, who needed milk and potatoes? No one in particular. Even meat was bought for mere pennies. That's how we survived.

The old women were walking through the forest. At first, the path meandered between tall birches and fir trees. Soon it turned into a pine forest, and the grandmother-friends, enjoying the sunny morning, every now and then stopped and bent down, picking juicy and red lingonberries from the low bushes. They chewed them, enjoying the sweet and sour taste.

Brusena is good,” Marusya popped another handful of berries into her mouth, just picked right along the forest path. “If only more of it grew here, we wouldn’t have to run around for cranberries.”

It’s possible, but here at all times there are not a lot of lingonberries, so people run through them. Why bother in vain? You will lose time, but you will not collect more than one liter jar of lingonberries. Blueberries will grow well here. “Wow, how many of them were here this summer,” Nastya looked around. - It seems that I was just collecting it here. You won't believe it, in buckets.

But I failed. As the goat got sick, all my blueberries remained in the forest. Nyuska barely got out. They gave her injections and gave her powdered medicine, thinking that her milk would now be poisonous. No, nothing like that. The cat and I eat and live. It worked out.

What was she sick with? - asked a friend.

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

What did the vet say?

He said something, but will I remember his sophisticated expressions? He gave injections to Nyuska and prescribed medicines; I also agreed with the tractor driver Vaska that he would bring me those medicines from the district pharmacy. I bought it, I didn’t cheat. I paid a lot of money for all this, a whole month’s pension. Just terrible! But most importantly, not in vain! Nyuska was cured and became more alive than all the living. She’s mischievous, she’s just looked younger, you see, and she’ll soon delight me with a little goat. Or maybe two.

At the mention of the kids, Baba Marusya smiled with her toothless mouth

Thank God that everything turned out okay,” Nastya was happy for her neighbor friend.

Meanwhile, the path turned into a swampy forest, and the grandmothers now and then stepped their boots into the black peat swamp water that covered the path in one place or another. Fortunately, the depth of the puddles was shallow, and the old women, successfully overcoming water obstacles, continued their journey into the depths of the cranberry swamp, popularly called the Devil's Corner. The pine trees growing around became thinner in the trunks and lower. Excessive moisture in the area had an effect. Ledum grew, filling the surrounding forest with a characteristic smell. Slowly rotting, trees that had died from too much water fell here and there, their trunks lying on swamp mosses, as if on soft railings. The death of trees led to a further increase in groundwater in these places and to an expansion of the area of ​​the swamp, to which people came for cranberries...

Soon the whole area became the same. All around grew low-growing pines, mosses, blueberry bushes and some other herbs, which grandmothers had often seen here in the swamp before, but did not know what they were called. These moisture-loving plants, having had enough water, evaporated so much moisture in the sun that thanks to this there was humid air over the swamp and there was a slight fog.

The old women walked another hundred or two meters, and gradually the trail disappeared. It was at this point that the people who came here scattered throughout the swamp. Cranberries grew everywhere, and, picking berry after berry, people moved further and further from the path. There was only one danger - not getting lost. In such places you spin around in one place, spin around, and after a while you raise your head to look around, take your eyes off the berry and don’t know which way to go. Pines, sky and swamp, all the same. There is only one landmark left - the sun. You can, of course, follow the compass. But if there is no compass and the sun is hidden behind the clouds, then you can easily get lost. The tracks on the swamp mosses are barely noticeable, and you can scream as much as you want, but hardly anyone will hear. In Rus' there are swamps for more than one kilometer. It happened that people circled in these places for several days. And sometimes they didn’t go to the house at all...

Matryona and Nastya agreed not to go far from each other. They began to take berries. They picked one at a time, a second at a time, in a moss clearing they found a dozen, then another dozen berries, and now they were already a kilometer from the place where they entered the swamp. The old lady took voluminous baskets for the berries; a couple of buckets of cranberries would fit into each one without any problems. And although they picked the berries quickly, there were no more cranberries in the baskets quickly. To speed up the collection process, many local residents used so-called “harvesters” for this. Such special devices, sometimes similar to small sleds, and sometimes in the form of scoops with teeth along the edges. One bad thing: these “harvesters” tear the berries right with the leaves and destroy the cranberry bushes. The collection goes quickly, but after that you have to remove not only the cranberries from the swamp, but also a lot of foreign debris. After which the berries must be rolled out, the leaves and moss removed and sorted out. Such devices are good for industrial berry picking, when time is precious and you want to cut more money. Then the cranberry pickers use those “harvesters.” They tear it so much that moss hangs on the trees around. The berry growers do not spare and leave behind a “desert”. There is only one harm from such fees. That's what the old women thought. Picking up a berry with your hands is something else. Then the berry falls on the berry. It’s clean, nice to look at, and the cranberry bushes are preserved. Never in the old days did villagers use “harvesters” to pick berries. It was also forbidden to collect them before ripeness. Green, that is. Of course, many would like to. Cranberry is like that tomato, it will lie in a dark place and come. It will ripen. But with such a morality, it turned out that whoever ran to the swamp first, snatched it... This did not happen before. People waited for the berry to ripen. That's when it was collected. Not like now... So they reasoned and, probably for this reason, their baskets were not filled with sour berries as quickly as they wanted. However, by lunchtime there was already a bucket of berries in each basket. It became harder and harder to carry them around, and the grandmothers got tired and sat down on a pine tree blown down by the wind to rest.

Mash, what a fool I am! She was in a hurry and didn’t take any food. - Baba Nastya pulled a basket half filled with red ripe berries towards her. She ran her hand over the cranberries.

“It’s all our rush,” she answered. - It arrived to me at the crack of dawn. She stirred things up. Let's quickly run to the swamp, run. They will take all the berries. It has already been collected. Without us. Look how much we waved away, but the baskets were not filled. And you can’t see or hear people in the swamp. It used to be that they used to yell here and there. Apparently, people have already finished the season.

Marusya looked around.

Nastya, which direction did you and I come from? - she asked a question. Nastya paused, thought, put several sour berries in her mouth and crushed them with her gums and remaining teeth. I immediately didn’t want to drink because the cranberry juice was very, very sour. Nastya held the crushed berries in her mouth. She licked her dry lips with her tongue and, taking a sip, swallowed the juice and berries. She rose from the log and, looking around, confidently waved her hand in one direction.

From there!..

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

From a camel! I determined it by the sun. When we arrived at the swamp, it, dear, was behind us. And now that’s where it’s shining,” she pointed to the sun.

That's where we should go. I still have a compass in my head. Since early childhood I have never been confused. If something goes wrong, I’ll get up, calm down and imagine how I was walking through the forest before, and the whole road will immediately line up in my head.

That's how it goes...

And then, of course, I remember it,” Nastya assured her friend.

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

It’s sour, it’s an infection,” said the old woman.

Red and sour.

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

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

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

Scared the devil,” Masha cursed. - I didn’t even see him. Such a huge fool, but she sat there without moving. We approached, and she was right there. A crack, a pop, and my heart sank to my feet,” she sat down on a tree stump, holding her chest with her hand.

And this bird scared me. - Nastya came up to her and put the basket on the moss. - What are you doing? Did your heart catch? You, friend, give up this matter!

It seems to be letting go,” Baba Masha reassured her. “At first it hurt a lot, but now it’s gotten better.” - The old lady smiled. Maria’s wrinkled face, a scarf that had slipped off her head, gray hair and an old, threadbare jacket became wet from the rain as soon as the sun went behind the clouds, which had appeared out of nowhere in the late afternoon. The sun was shining and shining, and it was raining on you!

Mash, did it start raining long ago? - Nastya looked at the sky.

I do not know. Somehow I didn't notice. - Baba Masha straightened the scarf, removing gray strands of hair under it. She tied a knot on her chin. “Let’s go, girlfriend,” she stood up from the stump.

We picked the berries, now we just need to deliver them. Time to go home. It’s already evening, and we haven’t eaten or drunk all day. It's time to feed the cattle. The old women more comfortably grabbed the handles of heavy baskets filled with selected berries and headed towards the village...

At least that's what they thought at that moment...

The path through the swamp was now given with great difficulty. At first my feet sank into moss. Then the boots broke through the moss and went into the water almost along the entire top. To pull them out of the swamp and take the next step, the grandmothers had to make every effort. Plus, the fatigue accumulated during the day was taking its toll. The young ones were tired, but here were women who were just over eighty. The baskets also did their job. But they walked and walked, turning swamp meters into kilometers.

Masha, let's sit down. “I’m tired of something,” Nastya asked. She stopped, shook her head, looking for a more or less dry place. But there was no island, no logs, just water, moss and stunted pine trees. There is nowhere to sit.

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

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

Apparently the damn corner played a cruel joke on us,” Maria swore.

Damn he is damned. It looks like we'll have to spend the night in the swamp today. Let's go find some dry place. We'll have dinner with klyukovka, snuggle up and warm up.

Instead of answering, Nastya just smiled sadly and picked up the basket. The old women walked by touch, not seeing anything in front of them. They walked, looking for a place to stay for the night.

Meanwhile, the rain only intensified, and they, having not found anything suitable, stayed overnight, sitting on a pine trunk, which had long since rotted and was covered with moss. That moss was saturated with rainwater, although it did not always dry out on sunny days. It was damp and therefore cold to sit on.

The grandmothers sat nearby and chewed sour berries with toothless mouths. We looked ahead into the darkness...

Nastya suddenly smiled.

We, Masha, are sitting next to each other. Come on, let's talk amicably.

Let's. I haven't gotten into trouble like this before. - Maria threw several berries into her mouth.

Do you remember, friend, how we lived during the war? How hungry were you all day? How was any edible grass torn and chewed? Nothing, then we survived. And now we won’t be lost.

“I remember, of course,” Nastya answered. - I remember well. But we were kids in those days. Hot blood was surging in all our veins. And now you can’t keep warm with old bones. And the blood is not the same. It blows once a year, and that’s it.

But our souls are young. Not every modern busty girl has such a soul. Don't be sad. The night will definitely end and the day will definitely begin. Maybe, luckily for us, it’s even sunny.

x x x x x

The September morning was rainy and gray. On top of everything else, a cold, piercing wind arose, which shook the tops of the low pines, causing dry, long-opened cones to fall onto the moss. From time to time, sharp gusts of wind shook the wild rosemary, and there were ripples along the water windows located between the marsh hummocks. This was the weather the morning greeted the grandmothers, who sat on the pine trunk all night. They were wet and cold, but still fell asleep. And now, with their heads bowed on each other's shoulders, they slept. The fact that the old women were alive could be understood by their breath, which escaped from their mouths in a barely noticeable park.

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

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

Maria opened her eyes first. She sat, did not move and looked ahead. There was no strength to move. Her body ached in every muscle, every bone. I really wanted to eat. The wet clothes stuck disgustingly to the skin and did not warm the old woman on this cold morning.

Nastya stirred. She lifted her head from her friend's shoulder. She straightened up.

It’s already morning,” she whispered. - Masha did not answer. Nastya bent down and scooped up water from the puddle. I washed my face. She took the scarf off her head and wiped herself with it. I straightened my hair.

Where should we go?

“Home,” Maria answered.

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

Let's go, look, we'll go out.

But they continued to sit. Wandering through the swamp, an almost sleepless night, lack of food - all this turned out to be a very difficult ordeal for two women of their age. However, they had to go, and they had nowhere to wait for help, the old women understood this well. And so they somehow got up and moved on. Everything was the same as yesterday. My feet first sank into the moss, then sank into the water. - And so on step by step.

Baskets filled with berries became an unbearable burden. And at the next stop, the grandmothers poured some of the berries directly onto the moss.

Let them stay. Everything will get easier. The main thing for us now is to get out,” and the old women crossed themselves one by one.

Their hunched figures, dragging baskets sometimes in their hands, sometimes on their shoulders, sometimes on sticks, moved through the swamp more and more slowly. The rain did not stop, the sun never appeared from behind the clouds, and they had less and less strength left. The black raven circled above them again.

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

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

Are our souls spinning around? - Nastya carefully watched the crow.

Whose else? There are no other Orthodox souls here,” Maria wiped her watery eyes. I looked up. A pair of ravens were just flying over them.

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

It's too early. We are still alive. Maybe they are already looking for us? - Masha said and was delighted. - Nastya! They must be looking for us. It's been two days since we left home. Unfed and underfed Nyuska, I guess she gives such concerts in the barn that her noises are heard throughout the whole village. And your cattle are not fed.

What a beast I am! A cat and a dog. Although Polkan will not survive long without water and food. He really loves to eat something. He sits there hungry, reads the newspaper and starts howling. Our villagers, you see, will pay attention. God willing, people will make a fuss. The main thing is that they understand that we went to the swamp to get cranberries.

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

Maybe someone saw us when you and I were walking towards the forest?

Nastya thought about it. The old women were silent for a minute.

“I don’t think so,” Nastya finally said. - I don’t remember anything. We left somehow quickly. And unnoticed by everyone.

This is bad,” Masha sat and chewed cranberries, trying to drown out her hunger. She scooped up water from the puddle several times and drank.

It’s better not to drink swamp water,” Nastya tried to stop her.

Yes I know. So what to do? There is no other one. “And I’m thirsty,” she waved it off and asked, “Maybe the Lord God will tell us which way to go?” Let's ask! She raised her face to the sky, crossed herself three times and said:

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

The entire second day the old women wandered through the swamp, but they never found the path to the house. The day turned out to be rainy, cold, gray and gloomy. The only food to eat was cranberries and a couple of overripe boletus mushrooms, which were found on a small dry forest mane, where the old women decided to spend their second night in the swamp. Barely moving between the trees, they tried to break branches from those stunted fir trees and pines that grew in this place. Needles were poured on top of the branches, destroying the anthill that had ended up here. Finally they lay down on a bed equipped under a tree, huddling closely together. I wanted to warm up, but it didn’t work out well. Everything was wet. Earth, trees, clothes, no matter how much they squeezed it out. Skirts, scarves and sweaters were simply soaked with water. The only thing we were happy about was that the rain stopped by nightfall. On the one hand, it was good. The sky stopped pouring, the stars appeared, and the next day promised to be sunny. It must be a good day. But not for two exhausted old women lost in these northern regions. Starred - for the weather. And good daytime autumn sunny weather usually means frost at night, after all, late September - early October. And so it happened. In the morning the puddles were covered with thin ice. The wet moss immediately turned into a crispy crust, and the clothes of the people who spent the night in the swamp that night turned into an ice shell...

Finally, the sun rose above the trees and illuminated the two friends lying on the bed they had made. Their bodies seemed to become smaller that night. They were already grandmothers who were not of heroic stature. And now two little people, two girls, were just lying next to each other, hugging each other. If not for the gray hair that had escaped from the scarves that had slipped from their heads. And so children and children.

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

Soon the old women stirred and stood up. Nastya somehow sat up, and Marusya remained lying down, just resting her head on her hand.

“Sun,” said Nastya.

“What do we need the sun for now, since we don’t know where to go,” Maria whispered.

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

Nastya helped her friend get up and get to her feet. They were noticeably unsteady. Both women were scary to look at. The faces turned black. The lips were cracked and bleeding. Fatigue and lack of food took their toll. Even a healthy young man cannot survive two days on a berry and two mushrooms. And here are the old women who have been walking and walking through the swamp all this time. Nastya looked at the baskets. She waved her hand and stepped over them. She barely got up anyway. He only had enough strength to bend down and pick up a stick from the ground. I leaned on it, and it became easier to stand. She looked for another staff. For a friend. And when she found it, she picked it up too. Gave it to Maria.

Take it. And why didn’t we guess before? It will be easier to walk this way.

I didn’t want to leave the dry island of land. But there was nothing to be done, and they set off again. Thus began the third day of their swamp life.

Step, another step, again a step. Nothing, they seem to have separated. They abandoned the baskets, did not carry any weights, only dragged themselves. Your bodies. However, this was now given with great difficulty. A hundred meters - a stop. Another hundred - and another stop. After a couple of hours of such walking, the old women’s steps became shorter and shorter, and the stops became longer. More than once one or the other stumbled, clinging with their feet to tree trunks, branches and swamp hummocks. They fell. They lay for a long time, feeling the cold swamp water burning their bodies. Having rested, they began to grab with their hands the trunks of the pine trees growing nearby. They pulled their bodies up. At first they knelt down, then, peeling their palms and fingers until they bled, they rose to their full height. For a while they just stood there and walked and walked again.

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

The sun went down, and Grandma Masha, having fallen again, could not rise again. She lay there, quietly moaning and crying, knowing full well that her chances of getting out of this damn swamp to the house were less and less. Nastya sat next to her friend and persuaded her to stand up, pulling her by the sleeve of her jacket. She tried to lift her out of the water with her shaking, weak old woman’s hands. It turned out bad. Masha fell and fell into the swamp. Her handkerchief had long been lost, and the gray strands of disheveled hair, smeared with swamp mud and stuck with small branches of trees and moss, presented a terrible sight.

Mashenka! Well, what are you doing? Get up, honey. Let's try again to get through. Maybe we'll find a way out. Path! At least let's get to dry ground. We won't survive the night here. - Nastya picked the cranberries growing around and tried to feed her friend. She tried to chew the cold red berries as best she could. It didn’t work, and the old woman began to swallow them whole. She did not feel the sour cranberry taste. And when she got tired, she put her face in the water and drank. Sip by sip. Having quenched her thirst, Maria rolled over onto her back. She closed her eyes.

Having suffered, Nastya sat down next to her on a hummock. She leaned her back against a pine trunk. It seemed to her that the fatigue that had accumulated in her body over these days, the fatigue, had gone away. I didn’t feel hungry, I felt light, just a little dizzy. I didn’t want to do anything, I didn’t want to move. First, a bright sun appeared before her eyes, then a blue sky, a village, a house, a blooming garden, the face of her long-dead husband, the faces of her children now living in the city, grandchildren and... then came one continuous black spot...

It got dark outside. This night turned out to be colder than all the previous ones. The stars were twinkling in the sky. The women, one of whom was lying and the second was sitting next to her, no longer moved. And when the frost intensified in the morning, and the bright autumn sun illuminated the frost-white moss cover of the swamp, it became clear that they would not rise again. Their clothes and faces were white and sparkled in the bright sunlight. Only a few blood-red cranberries, squeezed between the fingers of one of them, remained unfrozen, because they still retained the warmth of her body.

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

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

We've been friends all our lives, we went to pick berries together and they can lie down together...

Curriculum Vitae

Valery Petrovich Kuzenkov was born in 1961 in the city of Losino-Petrovsky, Moscow region. He is one of those rare lucky ones who felt his true calling in life as early as preschool (!) age, when he first fired his father’s gun. Since childhood, Valerka went hunting with his relatives and was so passionate about this activity that he could convincingly convince his uncle any day to give him, a green boy, a gun to hunt. Apparently, there was something special in the nephew’s arguments that his loved one could not refuse him.

At the age of 12, the teenager realized that his hobby should become a profession and decided to study to become a game warden. But where can you get such a specialty? Valera diligently wrote a letter to All-Union Television asking him to recommend the right educational institution.

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

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

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

Interview

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

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

Several troubled recent decades have led to the fact that animals were hunted completely uncontrollably. The natural process of reproduction was disrupted. And population restoration needs to be done as quickly as possible, at a serious state level. Otherwise it's a disaster. Instead of the Red Book with a list of endangered animal species, we will have to publish a Black Book with descriptions and photographs of those animals and birds that will never again please us with their beauty.

Are things really that bad? After all, thousands of licenses to shoot animals are issued to hunters every year?

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

Last year, little Latvia shot 12,000 European deer. Russia has issued 9,000 permits for the entire country! Moreover, these “hoofed” permits included European deer, wapiti and deer. But they managed to shoot only 5,000! The conclusion is simple: there are simply no living creatures!

Well, one last sad touch, please. My friends this winter carried out a census of the animal in the Nenets Okrug. They flew about 10,000 km by plane. And what did they count there? In the vast territory, they counted 26 moose, one wolf and, to great joy, found a group of reindeer, about 100 heads. Imagine, 100 heads for the entire Nenets Okrug! Sad joy!

Yes, there are fewer and fewer animals. There were about a million saiga in Kalmykia, two to three thousand remained. We ask local officials why this is so, and you won’t believe it, they seriously answer that the number of saiga antelopes has fallen due to solar flares! Ooh! As they say, either stand or fall!

Of course, the Department of Game Management (DOH) bravo reports on the increase in the number of animals. But such “growth” occurs only on paper due to falsification of credentials. This is happening all over the country in order to get more permits to hunt elk, deer, wild boars, bears and other animals. For example, DOH prepared documents for the government, where they wrote that the number of musk deer increased by 47.9%, elk by 15.5%, and bighorn sheep by 27.9% (I’m calling this from memory, I could be wrong, but the order is clear). But these are stupid numbers.

What to do?

And how to correct the situation?

(Laughs). Now there are really two inevitable, like paying taxes, purely Russian questions: Who is to blame and What to do? Here's what you need to do.

Firstly, to protect the animal world, it is urgent to create a unified state hunting inspection and subordinate it directly to the Administration of the President of Russia. This is a guarantee of a quick solution to emerging current issues and cutting off all kinds of “thieves” and ordinary crooks.

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

But we must remember that the “devil” is always in the details. I'm talking about regulatory documentation, local by-laws. Often it is this “gag” that brings confusion to any, even well-prepared law. For example, today the Hunting Rules are written in such abstruse language that it is not easy to understand them even for a specialist with a higher education, let alone for elderly residents of the outback. You can not do it this way. Any document that has the status of mandatory execution must be written in Russian and understandable to anyone without a “Russian-Russian” dictionary.

Thirdly, we need to deal with the public hunting movement. We have vast territories assigned to various hunting societies in which people belong, but few people work with them. And we need to have a powerful public hunting movement. A union that will lobby for the interests of hunters and help the state resolve issues with wildlife.

Fourth, restore order in environmental protection zones, the so-called protected areas. This is 10-13% of the entire area of ​​the Russian Federation. We need to return them to the function for which they were created. Now people come there to take a steam bath, take a “chest” and, attention, sometimes even hunt with the aim of “regulating the number of wild animals”! And the Law on Specially Protected Areas allows hunting on their territory! This is nonsense!

Fifthly, we must give jobs to people living in the Far North and Far East. There have always been procurement factories in small villages. We need to recreate the crafts. As long as our people live in Kamchatka, it will be Russian. As soon as our people leave there, non-our people will immediately come there. To prevent this from happening, we need a state program to recreate hunting.

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

Relative happiness

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

These are groups of predators. Brown bear, wolf, fox, raccoon dog, American mink, etc. But even here, not everything is simple.

So at meetings at various levels they say that the number of brown bears has fallen and its shooting needs to be stopped. Where did they even get this from? On the contrary, there are many of this beast. Often, in search of food, bears without fear go to a person’s home. In my opinion, last summer, in one of the regional centers of the Magadan region, a shocking incident occurred when a bear in the center (!) of a populated area killed a man, and then ate him for two days! The most amazing thing is that they didn’t deal with it right away. The hunters could not shoot (they were forbidden to do so), the police with service pistols turned out to be unprepared. They called a special team from Magadan to kill the cannibal. That is, there wasn’t even a real game warden on site who could remove it!

And young game wardens, girls with beautiful hairstyles and brand new diplomas, quite seriously recommended that local residents boldly hit pots so that the bear gets scared and leaves! A sort of powerful squad of metal “informers”, armed with hunting nanopans. I would like to see these loud daredevils in front of the man-eating bear!

We have a lot of beaver. For quite a long time, hunting for him in the country was closed. Then the beaver became a licensed species. Today its population has grown greatly. And you can safely carry out shooting. The correctness of this step is also that it will be possible not only to make money from the sale of licenses, but also to partially preserve the birds. How?

For example, in the Baltics, spring bird hunting is completely prohibited, but amateur beaver hunting is allowed in the spring. What's the result? People can hunt, the number of animals is regulated, birds are preserved, and money is paid into the budget. Fine? Very! And we can do it! How much I talk about this, but things are still there!

About personnel

I can’t get this incident with a bear in the Magadan region out of my head... What about our industry personnel?

Sore point. The Institute of Game Hunters was destroyed. There are only pitiful crumbs left. There were three schools of game managers in the country: Irkutsk, Moscow (Balashikha), Kirov. Today there are more such schools, but who teaches there and how? In Yekaterinburg, for example, a livestock specialist by training reads. In Rostov, a former policeman and an engineer teach. What will they tell? There is an urgent need to restore and strengthen real schools. Invite experienced people, experienced game managers, to teach. There are few of them, but they exist.

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

About literature

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

(Thinks for a second, then smiles broadly). Listen, you are the first to tell me about this. But it’s true. There is probably no other “man with a gun” like him in the world! I will have to tell my children how lucky they are to have their father! (Laughs).

Frankly speaking, I sat down at the desk almost by accident. Once, my friend Mikhail Yashin, listening to my stories, complained that he was listening to these forest adventures (not only mine) alone. “You need to write,” he convinced me. -You understand how much Russian literature would have lost if Ivan Turgenev had not composed his famous “Notes of a Hunter.” And he recommended that I “put” descriptions of various hunting incidents on paper.

I thought that, indeed, my surname separated by a comma after Turgenev’s surname would look good among Russian writers-hunters (Valery Kuzenkov laughs) and... I listened to the advice. I published my first story in the magazine “Military Hunter”, and things took off.

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

Tyumen residents

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

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

Sometimes it can be deceptive that you can't do anything alone. Alone, yes, but together we are strong!

I wish there were more newspapers like yours. The more hunting publications and specialized television programs there are, the more correctly and powerfully our common Russian hunting industry will develop.

It is necessary to raise problems, discuss, and remove the annoying administrative paper “garbage.” Today you need to understand that when you go into the forest, you are going to your home, which you should take care of. We need to raise animals, otherwise we will soon see their images only in pre-revolutionary paintings.

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

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

Valery Kuzenkov was born in 1961 in the city of Losino-Petrovsky, Moscow region. Editor-in-chief of the magazine "Hunting", biologist, game specialist, from 1984 to 1991 - senior state hunting inspector in the Main Directorate of Hunting and Nature Reserves under the Council of Ministers of the RSFSR. Participated in the creation of standard rules for hunters, which were adopted in 1988 and worked until the collapse of the USSR. Author of the books “Bear’s Malice”, “About Hunters and Game Managers” and “People and Wolves”.

- In Germany and the Scandinavian countries, hunting is one of the priorities in government policy, but what about things in Russia?

In Russia, no one in the government or the Duma sees the benefits of hunting. Nobody wants to turn their face to nature conservation and hunting. I’ve been going to the State Duma and the presidential administration for seven years and I can’t prove to anyone that the hunting industry needs to be recreated. We have a lot of money going into sports and healthcare - this is great. But why isn’t money invested in nature conservation? After all, without this, citizens will not have health. Clean rivers, lots of animals and fish are the guarantee that we will get sick less and study better. But so far there is nothing.

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

-Who came up with such a scheme?

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

- What about our hunting industry?

But we don’t have any hunting grounds. In the USSR there was a branch of the national economy, but today there is none. In some regions there are separate private farms, where everyone does what they want. The authorities are now developing a strategy; they will again write an unreadable text of 500 pages. But there are actually only four main tasks.

- Can you briefly describe them?

Certainly. Firstly: for protection it is necessary to create a unified state hunting inspection. Now the Ministry of Natural Resources and the Ministry of Agriculture is engaged in hunting on a residual basis.

Secondly: we need to deal with the hunting movement. We have vast territories assigned to the Hunting and Fishing Union, people are members of it, no one works with them, property is being sold off, and theft is rampant. Chairmen do nothing but receive a salary. And the union must be powerful, lobby the interests of hunters and help the state in resolving issues with wildlife.

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

Fourth: we must give jobs to people living in the Far North and Far East. There have always been procurement factories in small villages. We need to recreate the crafts. As long as our people live in Kamchatka, it will be Russian. As soon as our people leave there, non-our people will immediately come there. It’s clear how this will turn out. To prevent this from happening, we need a state program to recreate hunting.

- You mentioned fisheries, what will people do there?

Get fur, fish, wild berries, engage in fur farming. This is an important factor for people to stay where they are, not become an alcoholic and not dream of leaving.

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

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

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

- How to change the situation?

The state should come here and fix everything, it won’t require a lot of money. One bridge to Russky Island cost so much, and in the end it was immediately washed away by the rain! And to make a life here you need less money.

- In addition to government intervention, we will need game managers, are we currently training specialists?

In the Duma, at a meeting chaired by Mr. Pekhtin, I proposed opening a department of game management at the Far Eastern University. We will train specialists, harvesters, the guys will be able to undergo internships and work in special new trading posts, we will train specialists in cellular animal farming. An entire national program could be implemented at the university. There are no specialists. But there are 150 thousand police officers who have been laid off. It would be possible to organize advanced training courses for them and send them to work in the regions as inspectors. I told the deputies all this, but in more detail. Pekhtin started shouting at me in response: “We know what is happening in the Far East, what are you saying here? He was performing! The chairman of the “Rosokhotrybolovsoyuz Association”, Eduard Bendersky, is doing this for us.” My words outraged Pekhtin, because Bendersky is his friend.

In the Russian Federation, game wardens are trained in Irkutsk, Kirov, and other cities, in more than 100 technical schools and schools. But the question is: who gives the lectures? In Yekaterinburg, for example, a livestock specialist by training reads. In Rostov, a former policeman and an engineer teach. What will they tell? Even in Kirov, where there has always been a serious school, they graduate specialists at the level of huntsmen. And they can’t find a job, and whoever finds one gets a salary of four or seven thousand rubles.

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

There are fewer and fewer animals. There were about a million saiga in Kalmykia, two to three thousand remain. Officials say saiga numbers have fallen due to solar flares. I think this is nonsense, the saiga was killed by poachers.

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

Growth occurs only on paper through falsification of credentials. This is happening all over the country in order to get more permits to hunt elk, deer, wild boar, bears, etc. For example, DOH prepared documents for the government, where they wrote that the number of musk deer (a small artiodactyl deer-like animal - RP) increased by 47.9%, elk by 15.5%, and bighorn sheep by 27.9%. I'm naming from memory, I could be wrong.

- What's the catch here?

The thing is that the number of musk deer in Russia was not taken into account at all. Everyone crushes the musk deer because its belly buttons sell well to China. They crush with loops, and they, as you understand, are not particularly selective, so on average three females are caught per male, and they are thrown away, because only males have the necessary navels. The number of bighorn sheep could not grow by 27%, because their census must be carried out by foot or by air, and such a census was not carried out anywhere, with the exception of the Kronotsky Nature Reserve. We do not have any state animal monitoring system, there is no federal statistics center. We name numbers according to the principle: who knows what. For example, according to the latest laws that exist in the country, a user can say “I have two hundred wild boars,” but he does not have to prove anything. The state, in turn, cannot control this in any way. In the USSR, the number of animals was controlled by the state, but why? Because all wild animals are the state hunting fund.

- Should the state take on this task?

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

- Is this the situation everywhere?

Yes. We have six hunting inspectors for the entire Kalmykia and two for the entire Yamalo-Nenets Autonomous Okrug. There is only one inspector in Evenkia. How will he carry out the necessary accounting? All calculations are estimates. No one knows exactly who lives here and how many animals there are in Russia.

- What is the production volume?

Let's take a wild boar. We issue permits for only 60 thousand per year for the whole of Russia. Germany shoots 700 thousand wild boars annually. Compare Russia and Germany. An even simpler example: Latvia issues permits for 30 thousand wild boars annually. Half of what Russia shoots! And Latvia has an area of ​​6 million hectares. Let's take Sweden - 100 thousand moose are shot there. Russia issues only 20 thousand permits. Here are the numbers for you. Let's take roe deer: Germany shoots 1 million 40 thousand roe deer a year. All of Russia issues 30 thousand permits from Vladivostok to Kaliningrad.

- Do poachers kill the rest of our animals?

What kind of poachers? They simply have nothing to take here, the hunters have killed all the animals, no one is breeding new ones, no one is monitoring their numbers. Latvia shot 7 thousand deer this year. Russia has issued 9 thousand permits throughout Russia! The permit included: red deer, wapiti (East Asian deer - RP) and deer (artiodactyl mammal from the deer family - RP). We managed to shoot only 5 thousand. If we had an abundance of animals, not five thousand permits would be issued, but 50 thousand.

- Is the situation reversible? Is there any way to restore the number of wild animals?

To some extent, although the processes have already begun to become irreversible. In Latvia in the 1990s, all wild animals were exterminated, leaving none left. And now they shoot more than Russia. They succeeded due to a normal working attitude towards the economy, working nature protection, and existing laws. They consider wildlife as their wealth and benefit from it. Only our hunt is in desolation.

- What kind of animals do we have a lot of? Are there any such animals?

We have a good number of beavers, they need to be hunted. We have no problems with hazel grouse, foxes, wolves, owls and some other species of animals. We have problems with ungulates, since this is the most widespread species for trophy hunting.

- They talk a lot about the deplorable state of affairs with tigers, do you know anything? How many do we have?

The numbers are known: 70-80 tigers are poached here every year and exported to China. We do not have any other shooting of tigers, because... tigers are listed in the Red Book. For the last ten years, we have been citing the same number year after year - about 470 heads. Don't tigers give birth?

-Who is responsible for this?

The Ministry of Natural Resources, of course, formerly the Ministry of Agriculture, they cover all this. Forums are being held, President Vladimir Putin spoke on this issue, grants are allocated for tiger conservation, but it is unknown where they go. Recently, the director of the Tiger Special Inspectorate, Viktor Gaponov, submitted his resignation because there was no money.

- Is it the same in fisheries?

Yes. The same situation. Two fish inspectors for the entire Vladimir region. There are almost no fish left in the rivers, and the fishing law has not yet been adopted. The fact that fishermen took part in protests did not change the situation. I advise you to watch the film “Happy People”, everything will become clear to you.

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

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

In addition, when you take a direct part in the writing of regulatory documents, for example, such as the Model Rules of Hunting in the RSFSR, on the basis of which the entire hunting population of the country begins to live, this also makes a person often think about whether he is right or wrong, since the hunting people asks the authors of the Rules: why and why they are being punished.

Years have passed, and now one even has to suffer from the knowledge acquired at that time. When I analyze the affairs of modern hunting managers and write articles about it, I get only one response from them: “Kuzenkov taught everyone, he is the most dissatisfied, everything is bad in his publications, he quarreled with everyone, he is a populist, etc. and so on.". It turns out that in the hunting world there is nothing good for Kuzenkov, but only bad.

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

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

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

5 years have passed, and hunters understand that, by and large, Federal Law No. 209 “On Hunting...” needs to be redone again for the benefit of the Russian hunting industry and all hunters in the country. The spot amendments being made to it now will not change the situation. Why don't they allow the whole law to be changed? For a simple and banal reason. While the people who wrote it continue to work in the Main Legal Directorate of the Administration of the President of the Russian Federation, they do not allow anything to be done. If a hundred or two amendments are made to the law, then the Presidential Administration may think about the competence of the person who worked on the law “On Hunting...”. Over his professionalism. I think that after this the person may be fired. So he prevents us from doing something good for the benefit of the state. Unfortunately, this is our country.

We are all being asked to work on amendments to the law. We get together and do it. Back in 2010, I personally sent a 14-page proposal to the Ministry of Natural Resources of the Russian Federation to amend the law. I even received a response from there signed by the Director of the Hunting Department A.E. Bersenev No. 15-47/6101 dated April 30, 2010, where he voiced: “Your proposals will be taken into account in the preparation of regulatory legal acts in order to implement the norms of the Federal Law of July 24, 2009 No. 209-FZ “On hunting and the conservation of hunting resources and on introducing amendments to certain legislative acts of the Russian Federation,” as well as improving the legislation of the Russian Federation in the field of study, use, reproduction and protection of fauna and their habitats.” What's the point?

I would like to ask why our amendments have not yet been taken into account and adopted, because the year is 2013, not 2010. This is four years of human life. It is easiest to say that these amendments are illiterately formulated, but then prove that this is so. Working groups gather in the Committee on Natural Resources, Environmental Management and Ecology. People hope for positivity and spend their personal time on this, taking it away from their main work. They don’t get money for this and once again they have that draft law “On Hunting...”, which I want to voice.

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

What is accepted? There is only one thing - industrial hunting control. Why? Yes, because it is necessary to carry out the instructions of the President of Russia - V.V. Putin. Nobody argues with this. The instructions of the Russian President must be carried out. The question is, how are they done? What is the quality of their performance? We all understand that this or that job can be done in different ways. For example, you can take and dig a well, spending a lot of time and money on it, but there may not be any water in it. The same thing happens with Federal Law No. 209 “On Hunting...”. The fact that poaching is sweeping the country is no secret to anyone.

All hunting media have long been talking and writing about the fact that there is no single effective service in the field of nature conservation in the state. This also reached the President of Russia - V.V. Putin. However, instead of constructive solutions, someone reports to him that by giving full-time employees of hunting users the right to draw up reports against violators of hunting rules, we will put an end to poaching lawlessness, and this is reflected in the law. Is it really possible that no one in the State Duma of the Russian Federation can understand that this is not the main thing in the matter of protecting the animal world of Russia? This is all complete nonsense! Who are we kidding? Only ourselves!

Industrial hunting control will not save us from the poaching that is sweeping the country. Another bluff and self-deception. We've already been through all this. This right was previously given to hunting users by the Chief Hunting Committee of the RSFSR, prescribing everything in the Model Hunting Rules, but now the decision must be made almost by the President of Russia - V.V. Putin. Does he have nothing better to do? Of course, if in the apparatus of the Russian Government there is a certain woman who keeps and loves greyhounds, and who does not want to be checked by game wardens in the hunting grounds, we will not go far.

Didn’t gamekeepers of public hunting organizations previously have the right to report violators of hunting rules to the regional state hunting authorities? So why didn't they do this? Based on the experience of my work as a senior state hunting inspector of the Main Hunting Authority of the RSFSR, I can assure everyone that the bulk of violations have always been identified by state hunting inspectors of the state hunting supervision service. This is the main essence of the problem of protecting the animal world. We will only be saved by the creation of a strong and unified state hunting supervision service.

We read the changes made to Federal Law No. 209 “On Hunting...”:

Article 34, paragraph 43) conducting a test of knowledge of the requirements necessary for a candidate for industrial hunting inspectors to carry out industrial hunting control, in the manner established by the federal executive body.

Who will test the knowledge of production hunting inspectors? Modern regional state hunting structures? Now they themselves need to be taught and taught. After the last seven reorganizations and management of Russian hunting by the Ministry of Agriculture and the Ministry of Natural Resources of the Russian Federation, we have in the State Hunting Structures almost universal regional illiteracy in the field of hunting, game management and the protection of wildlife. There are no hunting specialists and no methodological normative documents for their training. There is no need to be ashamed that over the last 20 years the hunting industry in Russia has been moving towards this. The current situation needs to be corrected. Just imagine what kind of reports on poachers will be drawn up by a game warden who lives somewhere in the regional outback. I can say with complete confidence that 90% of such acts will simply not be accepted for production by the Ministry of Internal Affairs or the Prosecutor's Office.

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

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

Article 7. Industrial hunting inspectors have the right to:

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

Why only within the boundaries of the hunting area being inspected? What if poachers run across the border of the hunting area or kill the moose on the other side of the clearing, which is precisely the boundary of the ranger’s detour. What then? Does a production hunting inspector need to turn around and leave, since his ID in that territory has no legal force? This is equivalent to the fact that a policeman from Krasnodar walking around Moscow will pass by a man who is being hit on the head with a stick by hooligans on a Moscow street, since his ID is valid only within the boundaries of his station.

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

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

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

Kuzenkov Valery Petrovich is one of the most famous and authoritative experts in the field of hunting and game management in Russia. Valery Petrovich is the editor-in-chief of the popular magazine "Hunting", a member of the editorial board of the magazine "Hunter", the host of the TV show "Main Hunt" on the channel "Hunting and Fishing" and the TV show "About Hunting and Hunters with Valery Kuzenkov" on the channel "Hunter and Fisherman HD" .

Biography

V.P. was born. Kuzenkov was born on July 17, 1961 in the city of Losino-Petrovsky, Moscow Region, in the family of a hunter, and graduated from high school in the same city. Valery Petrovich determined his life path back in preschool age, having fired his father’s TOZ-BM gun for the first time. Since childhood, he went hunting with his relatives and was so passionate about this activity that he preferred to save money on school lunches in order to buy his uncle a bottle of wine and persuade him to let him hunt with a gun.

At about 12 years old, the young hunter decided that his beloved hobby would become his profession, and wanted to train as a game warden. Then Kuzenkov did not know where he could get such a specialty, and therefore sent a letter to television asking them to recommend an educational institution to him. In the response letter it was said that the universities that train to become game wardens are located in Kirov and Irkutsk. After graduating from school in 1978, Valery Petrovich went to Kirov and entered the Kirov Agricultural Institute, having passed a serious competitive selection. In 1980, he joined the Society of Hunters and Fishers (SOO MOOiR).

In 1984, V.P. Kuzenkov graduated from the institute, receiving a specialty as a game biologist. By assignment he was sent to Moscow to the apparatus of the Main Directorate of Hunting and Nature Reserves under the Council of Ministers of the RSFSR. There he worked until 1989, first as a state hunting inspector, then as a senior state hunting inspector, and took part in the creation of the “Model Hunting Rules in the RSFSR”, adopted in 1988 and which existed before the collapse of the USSR. From 1989 to 1995, Valery Petrovich was involved in the development of foreign hunting tourism in the large travel company Balchug. In 1995, he became the head of the hunting department of the Military Hunting Society of the Central Military District of the Moscow Region, and worked in this position until 2007.

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

Hobbies

In addition to hunting, Valery Petrovich enjoys fishing, photography, traveling and extreme tourism. He took part in numerous hunting expeditions in the Far East, Central Asian countries and foreign countries.

Honorary titles:

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

Honorary member of the Polish hunting safari club.

Honored worker of the hunting industry of the Association "Rosokhotrybolovsoyuz".

Honorary member of the Military Hunting Society.

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

Member of the Council of the Moscow regional branch of the Russian Geographical Society.

Awarded the badge “Honorary Worker of Nature Conservation of Russia.”

Books by Valery Kuzenkov