I want to tell you about the extraordinary natural source, a spring, which I saw this summer in Kantemirovsky district of the Voronezh region, having been there on the hunt for a marmot. But let’s all in order.
On marmot-bobac in those places hunt Rosen early in the morning or in the evening, just before sunset, when the oppressive daytime heat gives way to the cool of the evening. At this time, babaki are most active, they leave burrows-butane, feed, put things in order in your household, and communicate with neighbors-neighbors loud irisvista. The baibak local hunters called the steppe marmot. It is a large, up to 10 kg rodents of the squirrel family, which are widely spread colonies in the hilly forest-steppe of the South region.
Hunt them in different ways. In Kalmykia, for example, hunting is built on the curiosity of the Groundhog. Hunter throws the sheep skin with head and horns, and ducks under the whimsical “shamanic” dancing is slowly coming for a good shot to come out of the burrows of the curious animals. From the USA came to us varminting — precision shooting woodchucks at a maximum distance. Local hunters, not having a rifle, hunt in a particular way. Slowly, they approach, as far as possible, to the colony of marmots, lie under the canopy, masking them into the surrounding landscape, and patiently waiting for the release of animals from burrows. Caution and patience is more than compensated by a precise shot from Grabovogo guns and produced a trophy. In the same way they hunt them natural hunters — the wolf and the Fox. We hunted with and shot them from a distance of 250-500 meters from a carbine caliber .223 Rem. Just shoot them in the head, or strong on a wound, they go into their deep burrows, where they die.
Forest-steppe is a transitional climatic zone from forest to steppe, so it alternates large areas of steppe and lesser forest vegetation. The slopes of the high rolling hills crossed by deep ravines-beams. Herbs alternated with thick and thorny thickets of acacia, shady groves and fields planted with wheat, sunflower, soy, buckwheat. Under high thickets of acacia trees you can see the hives from which fly with a low rumble bee. Rare in our band is filled with birds singing countryside. Dry hot wind, tart-smelling grass, overwhelmed, drunk and dizzy. From above, from the chalk hills, are surochiy colony and, as outlined with the compass, edge obedennyj their fields. They particularly like the young shoots of sunflower. And to feed and stockpiling supplies for the long winter hibernation, one Groundhog require about an acre of grass land in a year (!).
Returning after a morning of hunting, when the sun began to burn mercilessly, we stopped at various interesting spots of the region. Huntsman showed the trough for the pigs, salt licks and towers, built of old tires, temporarily vacant campsites in scenic places, where we rested in the shade of the trees, a clever ambush for the wolves. We visited two of the natural spring from the ground in a densely overgrown hollows. The water in these sources is pure, transparent and cold to the aching teeth. Through the pipe it leaves the slope of the land and forms a small Creek with small transparent fish, whence runs a dozen meters and completely dissolves in the parched earth.
One day after a hunt, the huntsman slyly looked and drove higher and higher into the hills, without explaining the ultimate goal. Thumb track were then in the chalk slopes of white which dazzled the eye, the gray dusty hillsides, where for us it was a long thick plume of dust. We went to an open area of the top of the mountain, overgrown at the edges of a lush green shrub. The road here was cut off. Leaving the car, I took a couple of steps and was struck by the grandeur of the panorama that opened eyes. With a bird’s eye clearly seen in both close and distant hamlets and villages. Green strokes was made to the oases of peasant households. A little to the side could be seen a rural churchyard. Goats are bright and green dots were slowly moving on the adjacent slopes. In the vast emerald meadows grazed red-white cows. Bright green fields to the horizon lost its contours in a hot hot haze.
Ranger touched my sleeve, bringing out of his stupor. Slyly grinning, he drew me a barely noticeable trail into the bushes. And there in a small gully, gently murmuring and shimmering from under the stone hit the key with a sparkling crystal water! How could she on bearing subterranean formations to rise to the top of a large hill and find the exit in this picturesque relief? Source this was not a man that gave her a wild beauty. Bending down, I scooped up a hand of water and slowly SIPS drunk, tasting. Fresh, icy, sweet it at once quenched their thirst. It was the most delicious spring water that I had the opportunity to try in their wanderings. I began to ask huntsman about the spring. How long has he been there? Who found, when? All the questions the huntsman replied vaguely. How many locals and old-timers could remember, this spring was pleased with the unusual taste of the water. And in the very cold the key is not froze and gave water. I knew that this beautiful place will firmly remain in my memory for a lifetime, but removed the camera and captures the surrounding landscape and a spring.
With great reluctance I left this wonderful place. Had to go back to the hunting base and collect things. I was waiting for the road home. I was sure I would return for sure. After a year or two, but will definitely return to this hospitable land and rises again on spring mountain. Again okinu look endless countryside, breathe the entire breast air dry sagebrush steppe and greed will press their lips to this fabulous source.
