Many experienced hunters will agree with the fact that memories about the first shots and the first of the trophies won at the beginning of “hunting career”, a special warmth warm their soul, forcing it to take in the nostalgia for the irretrievably bygone Golden days of carefree youth.
What is so dear to us these memories? Yeah, I guess the fact that they are fabulous Firebird transport us to a world so distant carefree childhood and romantic youth, in the world of dreams and hopes where everything was mysterious, harmonious and rainbow!
Most likely, the first hunting trophies and those dear to us that they first! At the time hunting the maturity of each of the extracted trophy is the next, but the one produced in “the dawn misty youth”, at all times cemented the notion of “first”! And all the good things that first came into our lives, in Golden letters is entered in the register of the most revered values in life!
My memories of first hunting trophy take me to that distant time when I, as a teenager of twelve years old, from the gun of the father in flight produced a turtledove. The first independent shot at the game, first blood trophy, first hunting the congratulation of the father “with the field!” — is not present the components of the hunting happiness?! Then my jubilation knew no bounds!
However, you should remember one case from my hunting background, earlier, when I, a nine year old boy, with a slingshot got out the muddy hen — pogonia, the bright representative of bog-meadow game.
Quite a large boggy meadow, shimmering in the wind, green waves sedges, beautiful carpet spread out in the valley behind the village gardens. A small rivulet ditch, overgrown with reed and cattail banks, flowed through him. In addition, a small shallow-water pools ringed with rust puddles alternated tightening the duckweed bakagami. Moorhens, swamp hens, snipes found shelter in these places. Often in addition to them, there were also many grey herons and Mallard ducks teals.
As a child I loved spending time in that meadow. How nice it was to sit under a shady willow, and, while observing the feathered inhabitants of the marsh-meadow, with gusto, to dream about guns, dogs, future and rich hunting trophies. With full confidence we can say that in these meadows forever remain part of my childhood and my youth hunting!
Once a fine August evening, I being at his post of duty” under the spreading fur, willow, counted a total of about a dozen of pogonia coming out to fatten on the shallow section of the meadows. Such abundance of game, led me into raptures! Fatten the birds were not far from me, at a distance of steady shot from a slingshot, that’s why this circumstance gave me the idea to try my luck to get just one of them as a hunting trophy. Obsessed with this idea I vigorously began to translate plans into reality.
Five dawns, five stunning beauty summer sunrises and sunsets I met in the meadow, but my overbearing, unfortunately, was not successful. The game was, however, not all was smooth I shooting. Most likely, the reason for this was my excitement. It’s one thing to shoot at different targets, and quite another — the real game! Released from a slingshot ball bearing went with the chickens, forcing them to escape quickly among meadow vegetation, but since shooting a slingshot was conducted quietly, the frightened birds was the minimum time and soon reappeared on the reach.
Came the next (sixth) a quiet evening by the August dawn. When the sun hovered over the horizon, Plyos appeared first Pagonis. Shot with a slingshot on him, a sharp slap of the ball on the water next to paganism, and sound a bird in the blink of an eye disappeared in the dense sedge. This was repeated several times, and in all cases birds unharmed hiding in the green meadows. But the sun has gone on the deserved rest, the land began to fall the evening twilight.
With great speed swept aside a pair of teals distracted me from hunting. After seeing the greedy look the solution in the thickening twilight of the swift-winged birds, I glanced at have already begun to darken the river and saw the silhouette of another marsh hen. Pulling the rubber of the slingshot, I fired. What happened next, I didn’t realise! He heard some clapping, Plyos went circles, brightening the twilight water, and in the middle of these circles fluttering dark spot… it took some time to came up with a guess — got it! And at the same time some unknown force threw me off the ground, and I’m straight, by the shortest route rushed for his first prey. Taking the precious gift of Diana in hand, I have difficulty believing in a miracle, the idol stood in the middle of ples.
Plenty of admiring paganism, I, in the absence of the yet feels, carefully hung it with a cord out of the Keda, to a trousers belt, removed the slingshot in his pocket and, taking wet shoes, a familiar path barefoot went home. However, after a few steps, I broke down and out sprinted in the direction of the yellow lights native shelter, hold the free hand expensive trophy.
