case of danger
October is the middle of autumn. Below goes the frozen autumn sun above the ground. The faded herbs dry up, the yellow leaf is showered. Quiet and empty is done in the bare, brightened forest. Gloomy, gray clouds are increasingly clouding the sky. It starts to drizzle light rain, often the first matinees. Hunter’s calendar for October 2017 notes that the fur-bearing animal molts are nearing its end, and flocks of migratory birds are rushing south. Fading nature, the air breathes cold. Trees dropped foliage, covered the ground with a crimson carpet. The grass is beaten by the first frost and cold rain. Continue reading
Passion for hunting was imparted to me by elder brother Vasily. Even as a kid, he often took me with him to the sea, to the mountains for kekliks, or to the sands for hares. Hares there live in the desert sands and at the foot of the rocky mountains. I remember both my first keklik, and the first hare, and the first kashkaldak (coot), I will devote to this bird a separate article. Unlike the middle belt hunters, Caspian hunters respect kashkaldak.
The village in which I was born and raised is in Azerbaijan, south of Baku, on the Caspian Sea, formerly it was called Duvanna, then renamed Gobustan, meaning “land of ravines and gorges” in translation. Nearby in the mountains is the Gobustan Reserve, which is known for its rock art, which has been preserved here since the Mesolithic period. Continue reading