siberian hunter

On the banks of the Yeseni River in Siberia, Russia, there is a small village called Bahatiya. There are more than 300 villagers in the village, and they have lived here for generations. There are only four months in a year, when the sun shines directly on the northern hemisphere, the Yesenyi River can unload the heavy snow shell, reveal his gentle undulating chest, and warm the deep ice layer into the original appearance of a big river. Spring and summer in Siberia, and only then, ships can reach Bahatia, the rest of the time, the whole village is isolated from the world, no computers, no mobile phones, no modern society features, but they have the largest area of ​​conifers in the world Forests and the most extensive ice fields. Among the more than 300 villagers, only a few are still following the original hunting skills. They are true hunters, the masters of the Yeseni, the roots of Siberia.

Gennady is one of those hunters. He started hunting in 1970 when he was only 20 years old. The companions who came with him could not bear this kind of life and gave up quickly. In the end, he was the only one left to persevere until now. He said they were not as admirable as the Lonely Heroes, just struggling to live. He is still making hunting traps the way his grandfather taught him, a centuries-old tradition. He can tell by the texture of a tree which tree makes the perfect ski, saying "You can take away a person's health and wealth and everything else, but you can't take away his craftsmanship." He hammered Wedge, while comprehending the truth he got from his life, the trunk of the tree split exactly in the direction of the wedge. He acquires knowledge entirely from experience, and at this moment, he is not like a hunter, he is composed and skilled, he is Tolstoy of Siberia.

The majestic Yesenyi River runs through Siberia and flows into the Arctic Ocean with the pride of the Russian nation. Most of the time he is land, he is food, he is the embodiment of beauty, he is warm and indifferent, as if God sprinkled a bottle of vodka on the northern tip of Russia, and imprisoned his madness with cold. The Yesenyi River separates the entire village from the outside world, while at the same time bringing them abundant food. There are plump barracuda and cod, which hunters will catch in the Yesenyi River in autumn for winter reserves. With food for the hounds, the Yesenyi River solidifies into a hard ice sheet in winter, paving the snow-covered roads for hunters entering the taiga.

In spring, the Yeseni River was wrapped in ice floes and began to flow slowly. The hunters packed their bags and left their families. They took their hunting dogs and drove their boats to the distant coniferous forest. They find their own territory in their respective routes according to convention, and in the next few months, they will build their own hunting houses in the distant Siberian taiga, make traps, and wait for their prey to take the bait. The family stood by the river to kiss them goodbye, see them off, and hope for their safe return. Everyone took a sip of vodka, and the spirits entered the intestines, trying to resist the long cold and loneliness.

Every hunter will have at least one hunting dog. A hunter without a hunting dog is not a real hunter. The hunting dog plays a pivotal role in hunting, but in many cases, the hunting dog will destroy the well-designed traps of the hunter because of its stubborn nature. A good hunter must not only have the eyesight to identify a good dog, but also a set of strict dog training essentials. Gennady said that many hunters will hit dogs because of mistakes. He believes that this does not fundamentally deter these naturally happy animals. If you want to truly tame a hunting dog, you must also set a trap for the hunting dog and let him know. It's not good to be in a trap, and you won't make the same mistakes again in the future.

Gennady had many hunting dogs, but the longest lived to be ten years old. The rest died in their prime. What impressed him most was a bitch named Smoky. When the bear attacked the village, the bitch bravely stepped forward to fight the bear. Gennady heard the barking of Smoky, and gradually disappeared. Hearing the sound, he ran out with a shotgun, killing the bear before it could pounce on him. And smoky lay there, with her internal organs exposed and dying, he squatted beside her and picked her up with his hands, and soon, her head tilted down and she stopped panting. It was an experience that Gennady still describes as sad.

Hunters are often a man, a dog and a gun, "completely free, no rules, no taxes, no government, no laws, no bureaucracy, no telephones, no radios, just with their own values ​​and "Code of Conduct" traverses the taiga. They hunted, repaired the barracks, and went on and on, but they were very satisfied, and the hunter Mikhail said: "You see things going smoothly, step by step, giving you a sense of work being done, not that you are doing, but that you become "I came here with a feeling of a dream come true, of being able to do your job while enjoying the view, and that's why everybody's a hunter."

The sky is slightly clearer, and the Yeseni River is slowly flowing into the long winter again. Many times, hunters will sit on the river bank and make a fire, drinking a cup of hot tea facing the beautiful scenery of Siberia, and hunting dogs wandering around obediently. They are as lonely as nature. They live out their true self in loneliness, and appreciate the purity of the world in loneliness.

In this documentary "Happy People" by German director Werner Herzog, a picture of Russian Siberia is perfectly displayed. I saw in the film a possibility of life, primitive and simple, and even easy to feel happy because of its simplicity. Hunting for reserve, reserve for survival, that is the source and purpose of everything, is to live. Just as Thoreau could only realize the true meaning of life when he was in Walden, when a person just lives himself, he lives very thoroughly and cleanly. They are not greedy, they do not compare, they just change with the seasons and move with the days. They are not held hostage by time, and they do not feel that the years are wasted. They enjoy the harvest of every moment.

In the northern tip of the Eurasian continent, these pure crowds, without political disturbances, work worries, and family pressures, build a fire, dance and sing happily on New Year's Eve, they are drunk Sip vodka and wander through the taiga of Siberia.

This is even enviable. When we are immersed in the neural pleasure brought by the electronic age, when we express our extraordinaryness with indifference, when we are arrogantly chasing in the materialistic world, such happiness has been far away. We are too far away.