Twenty-seventh day of the expedition. Hunting for Chubuka. Bayanai is not favorable.
The valley here is narrow, closed by mountains on the side where the sun sets and rises. So, today the sun appeared from behind the mountain only at half past six. It was not easy to force myself to get up after yesterday's horse ride. But still I went to the ice dam, hoping to get some morning footage. Surprisingly, this ice dam, which is small compared to Ulakhan-Taryn, even surpasses the first one in the thickness of its ice layers. Maximum up to 3.5-4 meters. However, the light today was trivial and the shooting, accordingly, was the same. Is it possible to show a couple of duty personnel?
Here I stand under the ice canopy and look up at it.
Alik wasn’t going to get up so early, and after the shooting I also decided to take a nap for an hour. Well, then the sun rose so high that it became impossible to stay in the tent. It's like being in a greenhouse. Around ten o'clock, Alik, who loves to sleep, crawled out of the tent. Morning tea. And then we saddle the horses and finally go hunting. I ask Alik how far away the salt lick is. He waves his hand towards the mountains on the other side of the valley and says that it’s not far at all. But in reality it turned out to be not so close. We had to climb quite high, although on horseback. In a certain place, near a stream, in a shady place, they tied the horses, and they themselves went on foot even higher. You can't go further on horseback, it's too steep, and you might scare away potential prey.
Alik harnesses the horses.
This is where we left them.
Then we go on foot.
From here you can clearly see a fragment of the local ice, and in the background is Ulakhan-Taryn. The third day of heat and haze again filled the entire space.
We didn’t find any sheep on the salt lick, and we sat like sheep in a secluded place for a good two or three hours, waiting for the prey to appear and end up in our hands. There is a very steep, almost vertical wall made of black sandstone, with a white coating on it. This is the same salt minerals, so necessary for wild animals, for which bighorn sheep - Chubuku - come here. Only these animals have access to salt licks for almost vertical wall, dotted with sheep trails. Alik says that after the shot, the surviving sheep run vertically up this wall. These are rock climbers.
We look through binoculars.
There is no one. It's a shame.
We left that salt lick with no salty slurp. But our hunting epic did not end there. Alik thought about it and suggested going to another salt lick, which is located quite far away, in the upper reaches of the Buguyunda, the same right tributary that we passed yesterday. There was also a hut almost at the mouth. We go to the tent, drink tea and leave for Buguiunda.
We go back to the tent.
Now we did not go back down to the mouth, but went straight through the watershed into the valley of this tributary. There is some kind of path here. Alik knows her. And then we climbed quite high along the Buguiunda, to its upper reaches, where the forest no longer grows. We set up a tent in a suitable place and walked higher to the salt lick. Here are exactly the same black sandstones, with a white coating of salts on the left side of the stream. But even here Bayanai was not favorable to us. There are no sheep. Apparently we didn't feed the fire well. Okay, let's spend the night here. Maybe you'll get lucky in the morning.
Alik goes on reconnaissance. On the left on the wall that same white coating is clearly visible.
At first it seemed strange to me that there were no real hunters in the area. These are enviable places. A remote corner of Udmurtia. The fields of a small collective farm are broken up by copses along the logs, and are also adjacent to a large forest, stretching for tens of kilometers right up to the Kama River in the upper reaches.
On a small river there are ponds and mills two kilometers away. There is no need for a hunter to beat his legs while traveling for kilometers across the land. Here's some different game nearby. I've been working here recently. To my questions about hunters, there is only one answer: “Antipa the bugbear lives in Denisenki.” The name is not pronounced without the word bugbear. There are two or three other young men, but they consider hunting to be fun and therefore wander around with a gun several times a year. And Antipas and his son are fed by the forest. I met a hunter at a store in a neighboring village, but there was no chance to talk.
Stories about the exploits of Antipas the bearcutter, about residents’ encounters with bears, and their pranks excited the young soul and set them up for a dangerous hunt. In the fall, lovers of oat milk trampled the entire school field, sown for horse feed, without even having to clean it up.
Looking for oats
The following autumn, having settled into a new place, I and my single-barreled gun headed to Denisenki to look for oats near the forest and bear exits there. The desired field turned out to be right outside the village and stretched far along the forest, as if it was deliberately sown for the animals.
As soon as I started walking along the edge, traces of bear robbery immediately appeared. The edge of the field was heavily trampled in many places, bunches of oats, sucked and torn off by teeth, stuck out here and there, the footprints imprinted on the ground were larger than my size forty-three boot. Walking along the edge of the forest, I found a storehouse. This turned out to be helpful. Dusk had already settled on the field, I felt a little uneasy, afraid, and I walked home across the field.
The next day it didn't work. As soon as Saturday's work was over, I was already on oats. He crossed the field, took three steps to the spruce tree and climbed up it to the storage shed. Everything was done conveniently. Between two spruce trees there are two perches for sitting, under the feet there is also a perch for support and two at the top in front and behind, so as to lean on and not fall. The front one also served as a support for the gun. This entire structure is almost above the oats with good review. The tops of the fir trees are closed by a tent and could save from the autumn rain.
It was still a long time to wait for Toptygin to come out to the oats, and in order not to get bored, I whistled a couple of times with a hazel grouse. There was no need to wait. So the two of them went out to the field on the right and hobbled under the storage shed, then climbed into the oats and began to peck at the grain crumbled by the bears. It was interesting to watch, but when I was distracted for a while, I lost them. But I saw a koscha flying across the field. I thought that he would knock me off the perch, but the bird sat down next to me on a spruce tree about five meters away. The two of them sat like that. I look out from behind the spruce trunk and see that he is sitting calmly. Well, I don’t think the animal can smell it either.
Meeting with a lynx
Suddenly, in the silence of the evening, a conversation was heard. These were two men hanging around the remains of the stack, smoking and talking. I recognized Antipas and his son. So, they came to guard the bear. But why are they making noise? At this time, with my peripheral vision I noticed some movement to the right. A lynx came out from under the fir trees to the edge of the field. Then, following in the footsteps of the hazel grouse, she came under the storage shed and at the place where I walked from the field to the spruce tree, she stopped, turned her head and, looking at the men, froze, becoming a statue. She stood like that for several minutes, spotted, tall on her legs, taller than oats. Of course, I saw the hunters clearly, and they were milling around there, talking.
I had been holding the lynx at gunpoint for a long time, it was three or four meters away, and I was deciding whether to shoot or not to shoot. If I catch a lynx, then fame awaits me among the residents, and a bonus from the state (at that time bonuses were paid for fox, wolf, lynx, bear, as for predators). On the other hand, after the shot, the bear hunt would be over. Antipa didn’t want to interfere, besides, her hands were already shaking from prolonged tension and excitement, and the fly was jumping against the background of the beast’s head. Finally, having satisfied her curiosity, the forest beauty headed into the thicket, scratching the tree that sheltered the scythe with her claws along the way. He ran off into the thickets.
Relieved decision taken, I began to look at the hunters. Soon Antipas settled down behind the penny, and his son went out to the edge of the forest and began cutting down a pole. Then he cleared it of branches, put it on his shoulder and walked, humming something under his breath, along the edge of the forest to the village. This is how he deceived the bear. Soon I noticed him sneaking through the oats to my father’s hiding place.
A little more time passed, the sun hid behind the forest. Despite the anticipation of the beast, time passed quickly. Darkness hastily began to take away space from the day. Now I can barely make out the bushes on the opposite side of the field, then the outlines of Antipa’s hiding spot blurred, and the front sight of the gun is no longer visible against the background of the oats. If an animal comes out, you will have to aim at the barrel. But no one entered the field. The bear came, I heard footsteps in the edge of the forest, and cracked a twig. Yes, right behind his back he noisily turned over the dead wood. It became completely dark. Voices were heard from the remains of the stack:
- Didn't come today. Nothing. It will come out another time. A match was struck, the cigarette light flared, and the conversation began to fade away.
Evening conversation
Going hunting, I planned to sit in the storage shed all night, but after such noise I decided to catch up with the hunters. It turned out to be difficult to get off the storage shed. A bear was walking nearby, and it was so dark it was almost impossible to poke out an eye. After hesitating for a while, he jumped off the lower branches of the spruce tree and rushed into the oats. I was ready to catch up with the hunters in one fell swoop, but I realized in time that in the dark they could mistake me for a bear, and then the consequences would be sad. So I quietly walked after them.
The village is small. There are ten houses. She snuggled up to the spoon with the fontanelle. Everyone was already asleep, even the dogs. In the midst of complete darkness, in one house I saw light on the glass from a lamp. And he headed there. The layout of the houses in the villages is the same; you can easily enter the open entryway, feel for the door handle, and knock. The doors were also unlocked, and I stepped through the threshold. Antipas and his son sat at the table and looked at the uninvited guest.
- Who did this difficult one bring? Ah-ah-ah, teacher.
And he called me by my first name and patronymic.
“Put the gun in the corner and sit down to dinner with us.”
On the table there was a glass milk jar with stewed meat and a large cup with pickled picans (angelica). That's all. After drinking a large mug of stewed meat, they began to eat picans. They were delicious, but I didn’t like them - they were kind of bland and saltless.
-Where did you come from here at night? - asked Antipas.
“And I was guarding the bear with you.”
- A-ah-ah, were you sitting in the storage shed?
The bear didn't come out today. I smelled something. Well, it will come out tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. Just come.
- Antipas, is it true that you killed more than forty bears? - I’m interested.
- And that’s true.
- But the fortieth, they say, is fatal.
These are all fairy tales. The first one can also become fatal if you don’t know the habits and do everything without a head, carelessly. Treat him without respect.
We drank more tomlenki.
“Last autumn the bears spoiled all the oats,” Antipas’ son spoke. “My father and I set up loops on two paths near the field. At night, a bear roared in the forest. At dawn we were there. Two bear cubs got caught in the loops. And the bear, running all night from one to the other, trampled the whole road. Well, we took the cubs out onto the field. I stayed to guard, and my father went to get the horse. I’m sitting, so I’m waiting, and the bear came to the edge of the forest and let’s roar and run. She organized such a concert, it was simply terrible. Didn't go on the field. I didn’t expose myself to a gun.
I listened to the storytellers, and the experience brought me to sleep...
“And a lynx came to my storage shed,” I remembered.
“Why didn’t you shoot?” asked Antipas.
“I didn’t want to ruin your hunt.”
- Oh, you fool! This happens once in a lifetime. I would have shot that hare too.
He sighed, groaned, and reproached me: a bonus and so much delicious meat!
Then he stated:
“I’ll wake you up early in the morning.” On the way home you will meet someone and come with loot.
I slept on the floor, restlessly. I dreamed of a bear. He went out onto the field, sat down and crawled forward on the legs, grabbing bunches of oats with his paws and sucking on them, leaving a large hole in the oats behind him. I aimed at him, but the gun was jumping in my hands. And the bear looked at me and grinned, as if mocking me.
Alexander Chubukov
(pictured first on the left) found himself at the center of an environmental scandal that erupted in Yakutia.
Local greens have obtained photographs of him hunting bighorn sheep. This Yakut subspecies - Chubuku - is included in the Red Book of Russia.
Not only is the Chubuku an endangered species, there are only 400 - 500 of them in Yakutia, but officials led by Ilya Mikhalchuk shot them when all hunting periods were closed! During this period, females bear offspring, game manager Joseph Fedorov told TD. - Throughout the civilized world this is considered real barbarity!
Nature defenders officially reported to law enforcement agencies about the fact of an official hunt, seeking to initiate a criminal case for poaching. The Yakut prosecutor's office sent a refusal, but environmentalists intend to continue the fight against the destroyers of nature.
Ilya Mikhalchuk, in the past, before becoming governor, was the mayor of Yakutsk, and often took Moscow guests from high-ranking officials hunting, said Joseph Fedorov. - Verkhoyansk and Kobyai districts are favorite places for VIP hunters.
Chubuku
In the hard-to-reach areas of the Verkhoyansk Range live the handsome, steep-horned Chubuku. The larger the animal and the more powerful its horns, the more prestigious the prey in the ratings of VIP hunters. The tactics of poaching are such that it can be considered simply murder. VIP shooters land in the mountains, and a helicopter drives the chibuka from the hollows to the ambush.
But for VIP hunters the law is not written: sometimes they don’t even disembark from a helicopter and shoot animals from above, right from the side,” Joseph Fedorov is indignant. - This is not hunting, but robbery! Especially when endangered species of animals, including pregnant females, are shot...
Chubuku has been officially considered an endangered species since the last century. Scientists are doing everything to save these beautiful animals. The Russian Academy of Agricultural Sciences is working to preserve the genetic resources of bighorn sheep; budget money and foreign grants are being spent on it. And poaching officials kill off the herd in one hunt. Doctor of Biological Sciences, Scientific Secretary of the Department of Animal Science of the Academies of Agricultural Sciences Vugar Bagirov associates the disappearance of the Chubuku with the human factor.
The officials had a nice rest on the hunt
Just a few minutes ago these handsome bighorn sheep - Chubuku - were alive
Mikhalchuk during a helicopter flight, he is on the far left
Vera Vasilyeva
Secretary of the Yakut branch of EdRa Everstov with rams listed in the Red Book
Federal officials fly to the republic, they are received on a grand scale, a free helicopter delivers servants of the people to the hunting site at our expense, several comfortable bases have been built, a three-story mansion with a church and a heliport
That same year in September I was on a business trip in Moscow. Grabtsevich, who oversaw the oil industry, called me and demanded that I organize a hunt for a friend. I couldn't refuse. I know that they flew to the area of the Dyanishki River (Kobyaisky ulus), but I don’t know who they were hunting. It is clear that this was not a stroll, especially since Grabtsevich demanded a helicopter specifically for hunting. I also don’t know whether they had a license. Why was the security officer invited to the hunt? By the fire over a cup of tea while hunting in the taiga, it is easier to establish friendly relations and create a file on him. As they say, kill two birds with one stone. Such voluntary-compulsory orders arrived quite often. Usually payment was made through Sakhatransneftegaz (ex-head Igor Kornev - author) or Yakol (Yakomin). But there were also “charity” trips.
For now, we left the name of the comrade from the Internal Affairs behind the scenes, having decided to begin by backing up the words of the people’s deputy with additional documents. Perhaps this story will be continued along with this topic. [...]
Chubuku bighorn sheep. Bighorn.
Description. Height at withers 90-100 cm (36-39 inches), length 120-200 cm, weight 80-150 kg (180-230 lbs). The horns are homonymous, the right horn grows in the form of a right-handed spiral, and the left one grows in a left-handed spiral, forming a compressed curl of relatively small diameter, quite powerful and completely smooth.
The total number in Yakutia is 400-500 animals. In the Red Book, Chubuku has the status of a specially protected species, endangered.
