Two in one: special purpose hunting bag
At first I was very doubtful. First, the weather was already quite warm, and small night frosts did not frighten, and secondly, I did not really want to carry any…

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Shooting of rifled weapons
Shooting of rifled weapons is an important element in preparing for hunting, and the result of the hunt itself will depend on its quality. Shooting a rifled weapon pursues the…

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Bow and crossbow: history of weapons
In the modern world, everyone can choose a hobby and sport according to their capabilities and wishes. As a result of the freedom of choice, there is now an increased…

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Meeting with a wild boar

I will make a reservation that I am not a hunter, so the story I told will not tell about the trophies I got. This happened in the distant eighties, when a trip to harvest agricultural products was commonplace for employees of many Soviet enterprises. So it was this time. At the beginning of September, half of the male staff of the Department-young designers-went to the Ryazan region for two weeks to harvest root crops, or as we used to say: “interfere with the collective farmers in harvesting.” I was working at a defense company at the time, under the code name MMZ “Experience”. I will reveal a military secret that even in those days was known to the entire population living near the Baumanskaya metro station. Under the modest name “Experience” lurked a formidable company that develops aircraft of the TU brand.

But back to the trip to farmland. The beginning of September was not happy with the good weather, the rains began to fall, and work in the fields turned into “hell’s torment” and mixing the muddy earth with rubber boots. A severe thunderstorm that passed the day before completely cut down the local power station. So there was a two-day break in potato harvesting. Most of the future luminaries of the aircraft industry indulged in drinking the drink “Autumn garden” – local gibberish, faintly reminiscent of port. Fortunately, the village where this product was sold was located nearby. In the first few minutes, people realized that this potion was made, most likely, from fallen leaves, since it resembled rotted leaves in color, and it is difficult to say by taste. I, who had tasted small amounts of this poison, decided to take a walk in the woods, the benefit of the old school, where we were placed, it was just a stone’s throw away. The forest was almost dry, so it was a pleasure to wander in it. I seemed to have a good sense of direction in the forest, so I fearlessly plunged into the thicket, contemplating the autumn withering of nature. I don’t know who has it, but I try to be as quiet as possible when Hiking in the woods. So it was this time, the wet soil muffling my movement. After an hour of walking, I came to a clearing lined with several oaks. A faint grunt caught my attention. On the opposite side of the clearing, several small tabby piglets were busy. I’d like a smart guy to get away with it. But no, I stayed to admire it. Less than a couple of minutes later, the parent appeared. The sight of which, to put it mildly, confused me. My first thought was to get out of here, but my feet were rooted to the ground. The boar’s legs were still in place, and she started toward me, grunting menacingly. I understood immediately how and where the adrenaline was released from. The first thing that came to mind was to climb the nearest tree. To my misfortune, it was an oak tree. I climbed it fast enough and high enough. The boar, meanwhile, realizing that the imaginary danger was over, called her Pets, and settled down under my oak tree and began to eat acorns, which were lying in great numbers under the tree. Her small herd of tabby was sitting next to her mother. I just had to wait for this insatiable womb to feed and roll off to another place. Sitting on the branches of an oak tree, though safe, is extremely uncomfortable. After about twenty minutes, everything that might have been numb went numb. It’s a good thing that at least the cigarettes and matches in my pocket didn’t fall out while I was climbing this oak tree. He lit a crumpled Pegasus, carefully puffing the smoke up. I sit and wait, another thirty minutes have passed. The pig, in my opinion, should have had enough, but the bastard continued to eat the fruit of the oak. Fortunately for me, a loud sound disturbed her. And she, accompanied by her piglets, darted into the thicket. I don’t remember how I got off, how I got to my “collective farmers”, but this is no longer essential. The main thing I remember and understand. I saw an animal in the forest, and if you are not hunting, either lie low or, more correctly, go as quickly as possible to pick up and say Hello.

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