The enormous extent and diversified conditions of the various localities
of this empire would naturally suggest a variety of sport in hunting and
shooting, including perhaps something characteristic. In the use of dogs
of the chase especially is this suggestion borne out by the facts, and
it has been said that in no other country has the systematic working
together of fox-hounds and greyhounds been successfully carried out.
Unfortunately, this sort of hunting is not now so general as prior to
the emancipation of the serfs in 1861. A modest kennel for such sport
consists of six to ten fox-hounds and four to six pairs of barzois,[1]
and naturally demands considerable attention. Moreover, to use it
requires the presence of at least one man with the fox-hounds and one
man for each pair or each three greyhounds. To have a sufficient number
of good huntsmen at his service was formerly a much less expensive
luxury to a proprietor than now, and to this fact is due the decline of
the combined kennel in Russia.
[1] Barzoi--long-haired greyhound, wolf-hound, Russian greyhound.
This hunt is more or less practised throughout the entire extent of the
Russian Empire. In the south, where the soil is not boggy, it is far
better sport than in Northern Russia, where there are such enormous
stretches of marshy woods and tundra. Curiously enough, nearly all the
game of these northern latitudes, including moose, wolves, hares, and
nearly all kinds of grouse and other birds, seem to be found in the
marshiest places--those almost impracticable to mounted hunters.
Though the distances covered in hunting, and also in making neighborly
visits in Russia, are vast, often recalling our own broad Western life,
yet in few other respects are any similarities to be traced. This is
especially true of Russia north of the Moscow parallel; for in the south
the steppes have much in common with the prairies, though more
extensive, and the semi-nomadic Cossacks, in their mounted
peregrinations and in their pastoral life, have many traits in common
with real Americans. Nor is it true of the Caucasus, where it would seem
that the Creator, dissatisfied with the excess of the great plain,[2]
extending from the Finnish Gulf to the Black Sea, resolved to establish
a counterpoise, and so heaved up the gigantic Caucasus. There too are to
be found fine hunting and shooting, which merit description and which
offer good sport to mountain amateurs.
[2] The Waldeir hills, extending east and west half-way between St.
Petersburg and Moscow, are the only exception.
The annual hunt in the fall of 1893 in the governments of Tver and
Yaroslav, with the Gatchino kennels, will give a good idea of the
special sport of which I have spoken. It is imperative that these hounds
go to the hunt once a year for about a month, although for the most part
without their owner. The master of the hunt and his assistant, with
three or four guests, and oftentimes the proprietors of the lands where
the hounds happen to hunt, usually constitute the party. The hunt
changes locality nearly every year, but rarely does it go further from
home than on this occasion, about 450 versts from Gatchino. As a rule it
is not difficult to obtain from proprietors permission to hunt upon
their estates, and this is somewhat surprising to one who has seen the
freedom with which the fences are torn down and left unrepaired. It is
true that they are not of the strongest and best type, and that peasant
labor is still very cheap; yet such concessions to sport would rarely be
made in America.
It was at Gatchino, on the 10th day of September, that the hunting train
was loaded with men, horses, dogs, provisions and wagons. The hunt
called for twenty-two cars in all, including one second-class passenger
car, in one end of which four of us made ourselves comfortable, while in
the other end servants found places. The weather was cold and rainy,
and, as our train traveled as a freight, we had two nights before us. It
was truly a picturesque and rare sight to see a train of twenty-two cars
loaded with the _personnel_, material and live stock of a huge kennel.
The fox-hounds, seventy in number, were driven down in perfect, close
order by the beaters to the cracks of the Russian hunting whip and
installed in their car, which barely offered them sufficient
accommodation. The greyhounds, three sorts, sixty-seven in number, were
brought down on leashes by threes, fours or fives, and loaded in two
cars. Sixty saddle and draft horses, with saddles, wagons and hunting
paraphernalia, were also loaded. Finally the forty-four gray and green
uniformed huntsmen, beaters, drivers and ourselves were ready, and the
motley train moved away amid the uttered and unuttered benedictions of
the families and relatives of the parting hunt.
Our first destination was Peschalkino, in the government of Tver, near
the River Leet, a tributary of the Volga, not far from the site of the
first considerable check of the Mongolian advance about 1230. I mention
this fact in passing to give some idea of the _terrain_, because I think
that it is evident to anyone who has visited this region that the
difficulty of provisioning and of transportation in these marshes must
have offered a greater obstacle to an invading army than did the then
defenders of their country.
We passed our time most agreeably in playing vint[3] and talking of
hunting incidents along the route. Many interesting things were told
about the habits of wolves and other game, and, as they were vouched for
by two thorough gentlemen and superb sportsmen, and were verified as far
as a month's experience in the field would permit, I feel authorized to
cite them as facts.
[3] Vint--game of cards resembling whist, boaston and _preference_.
The bear has been called in folk-lore the moujik's brother, and it must
be conceded that there are outward points of resemblance, especially
when each is clad in winter attire; moreover the moujik, when all is
snow and ice, fast approximates the hibernating qualities of the bear.
One strong point of difference is the accentuated segregative character
of the former, who always live in long cabin villages.[4]
[4] The bear is caricatured in Russian publications as a humorous,
light-hearted, joking creature, conversing and making common sport
with the golden-hearted moujik, his so-called brother.
But it is rather of the wolf's habits and domestic economy that I wish
to speak--of him who has always been the dreaded and accursed enemy of
the Russian peasant. In the question of government the wolf follows very
closely the system of the country, which is pre-eminently
patriarchal--the fundamental principle of the _mir_. A family of wolves
may vary in number from six to twenty, and contain two to four
generations, usually two or three, yet there is always one chief and one
wife--in other words, never more than one female with young ones. When
larger packs have been seen together it was probably the temporary
marshaling of their forces for some desperate raid or the preliminaries
of an anarchistic strike. The choruses of wolves and the special
training of the young for them are interesting characteristics. Upon
these choruses depends the decision of the hunter whether or not to make
his final attack upon the stronghold of the wolves; by them he can tell
with great precision the number in the family and the ages of the
different members. They are to wolf-hunters what tracks are to moose- and
bear-hunters--they serve to locate the game. When the family is at home
they occur with great regularity at twilight, midnight and dawn.
In camp near Billings, Montana, in the fall of 1882, we heard nightly
about 12 o'clock the howling of a small pack of coyotes; but we supposed
that it was simply a "howling protest" against the railway train,
passing our camp at midnight, that had just reached that part of the
world. Possibly our coyotes have also howling choruses at regular
intervals, like the Russian wolves.
There was such a fascination in listening to the wolves that we went out
several times solely for that purpose. The weirdness of the sound and
the desolateness of the surroundings produced peculiar sensations upon
the listener. To an enthusiastic lover of sport and nature these
pleasurable sensations might be well compared with the effect of the
Niebelungen songs upon an ardent Wagnerite. The old professional
huntsmen could tell just what members of the family and how many were
howling; they scarcely disagreed upon these points.
These old hunters pretended to interpret the noisy assemblies of the
wolves as regards content or discontent, satisfaction or
dissatisfaction.
Owing to the difficulty of securing wolves under most favorable
circumstances, especially old ones, it would be considered folly to make
a drive if the matinal howl had not been heard. But to make a successful
drive in a large marshy forest many beaters must be employed, and, as
they are gathered from far and near, considerable time is necessary to
collect them; therefore it is almost essential to know that the wolves
were "at home" at midnight as well as dawn.
While in the vicinity of a certain wolf family whose habitat was an
enormous marshy wood, entirely impossible to mounted men, we were
compelled to await for forty-eight hours the return of the old ones,
father and mother. At times during this wait only the young ones, at
other times the young and the intermediate ones, would sing. Not hearing
the old ones, we inferred they were absent, and so they were--off on a
raid, during which they killed two peasant horses ten miles from their
stronghold. It was supposed that the wolves of intermediate age also
made excursions during this time, as indicated by the howlings, but not
to such great distances as the old ones. It was perfectly apparent, as
we listened one evening, that the old ones had placed the young ones
about a verst away and were making them answer independently. This
seemed too human for wolves.
After one day and two nights of travel we arrived at the little station
of Peschalkino, on the Bologoe-Rybinsk Railway, not far from the
frontier between the two governments, Tver and Yaroslav, where we were
met by two officers of the guard, a Yellow Cuirassier and a
Preobiajensky, on leave of absence on their estates (Koy), sixteen
versts from the rail. They were brothers-in-law and keen sportsmen, who
became members of our party and who indicated the best localities for
game on their property, as well as on the adjoining estates.
Peschalkino boasts a painted country tavern of two stories, the upper of
which, with side entrance, we occupied, using our own beds and bed
linen, table and table linen, cooking and kitchen utensils; in fact, it
was a hotel where we engaged the walled-in space and the brick cooking
stove. As to the huntsmen and the dogs, they were quartered in the
adjacent unpainted log-house peasant village--just such villages as are
seen all over Russia, in which a mud road, with plenty of mud, comprises
all there is of streets and avenues. After having arranged our temporary
domicile, and having carefully examined horses and dogs to see how they
had endured the journey, we made ready to accept a dinner invitation at
the country place of our new members. Horses were put to the brake,
called by the Russians _Amerikanka_ (American), and we set out for a
drive of sixteen versts over a mud road to enjoy the well-known Slav
hospitality so deeply engrafted in the Ponamaroff family.
I said road, but in reality it scarcely merits the name, as it is
neither fenced nor limited in width other than by the sweet will of the
traveler. Special mention is made of this road because its counterparts
exist all over the empire. It is the usual road, and not the exception,
which is worse, as many persons have ample reasons for knowing. This
condition is easily explained by the scarcity of stone, the inherent
disregard of comfort, the poverty of the peasants, the absence of a
yeoman class, and the great expense that would be entailed upon the
landed proprietors, who live at enormous distances from each other. The
country in these and many other governments has been civilized many
generations, but so unfinished and primitive does it all seem that it
recalls many localities of our West, where civilization appeared but
yesterday, and where to-morrow it will be well in advance of these
provinces. The hand-flail, the wooden plow-share, the log cabin with
stable under the same roof, could have been seen here in the twelfth
century as they are at present. Thanks to the Moscow factories, the gala
attire of the peasant of to-day may possibly surpass in brilliancy of
color that of his remote ancestry, which was clad entirely from the home
loom. With the exception of the white brick churches, whose tall green
and white spires in the distance appear at intervals of eight to ten
versts, and of occasional painted window casings, there is nothing to
indicate that the colorings of time and nature are not preferable to
those of art. The predominating features of the landscape are the
windmills and the evenness of the grain-producing country, dotted here
and there by clumps of woods, called islands. The churches, too, are
conspicuous by their number, size, and beauty of architecture;
school-houses, by their absence. Prior to 1861 there must have been a
veritable mania here for church-building. The large and beautiful church
at Koy, as well as two other pretentious brick ones, were constructed on
his estates by the grandfather of our host.
Arrived at Koy, we found a splendid country place, with brick buildings,
beautiful gardens, several hot-houses and other luxuries, all of which
appeared the more impressive by contrast. The reception and hospitality
accorded us at Koy--where we were highly entertained with singing,
dancing and cards until midnight--was as bounteous as the darkness and
rainfall which awaited us on the sixteen versts' drive over roadless
roads back to our quarter bivouac at Peschalkino.
The following morning marked the beginning of our hunting. About 10
o'clock all was in readiness. Every hunter[5] had been provided with a
leash, a knife and a whip; and, naturally, every huntsman with the two
latter. In order to increase the number of posts, some of the huntsmen
were also charged with leashes of greyhounds. I shall in the future use
the word greyhound to describe all the sight hounds, in
contradistinction to fox-hound; it includes barzois (Russian
greyhounds), greyhounds (English) and crosses between the two. The
barzois numbered about 75 per cent. of all the greyhounds, and were for
the most part somewhat less speedy than the real greyhounds, but better
adapted for wolf-hunting. They also have greater skill in taking hold,
and this, even in hare coursing, sometimes gives them advantage over
faster dogs. One of the most interesting features of the coursing was
the matching of Russian and English greyhounds. The leash system used in
the field offers practically the same fairness as is shown by dogs at
regular coursing matches. The leash is a black narrow leather thong
about fifteen feet long, with a loop at one end that passes over the
right shoulder and under the left arm. The long thong with a slit at the
end, forming the hand loop, is, when not in use, folded up like a lariat
or a driving rein, and is stuck under the knife belt. To use it, the end
is put through the loop-ring collars, which the greyhounds continually
wear, and is then held fast in the left hand until ready to slip the
hounds. Where the country is at all brushy, three dogs are the practical
limit of one leash, still for the most part only two are employed. It is
surprising to see how quickly the dogs learn the leash with mounted
huntsmen; two or three days are sufficient to teach them to remain at
the side of the horse and at a safe distance from his feet. Upon seeing
this use of the leash with two dogs each, I was curious to know why it
should be so; why it would not be more exciting to see half a dozen or
more hounds in hot pursuit racing against each other and having a common
goal, just as it is more exciting to see a horse race with a numerous
entry than merely with two competitors. This could have been remedied,
so I thought, by having horsemen go in pairs, or having several dogs
when possible on one leash. Practice showed the wisdom of the methods
actually employed. In the first place, it is fairer for the game; in the
second, it saves the dogs; and finally, it allows a greater territory to
be hunted over with the same number of dogs.
[5] Hunter-gentleman, huntsman, man of the hunt--conventional terms.
There are two ways of hunting foxes and hares, and, with certain
variations, wolves also. These are, by beating and driving with
fox-hounds, and by open driving with greyhounds alone. In the first case
a particular wood (island) is selected, and the fox-hounds with their
mounted huntsmen are sent to drive it in a certain direction. The
various leashes of greyhounds (barzois alone if wolves be expected) are
posted on the opposite side, at the edge of the wood or in the field,
and are loosed the second the game has shown its intention of clearing
the open space expressly selected for the leash. The mounted beaters
with the fox-hounds approach the thick woods of evergreens, cottonwood,
birch and undergrowth, and wait on its outskirts until a bugle signal
informs them that all the greyhound posts are ready. The fox-hounds
recognize the signal, and would start immediately were they not
terrorized by the black _nagaika_--a product of a country that has from
remotest times preferred the knout[6] to the gallows, and so is skilled
in its manufacture and use. At the word _go_ from the chief beater the
seventy fox-hounds, which have been huddled up as closely as the
encircling beaters could make them, rush into the woods. In a few
minutes, sometimes seconds, the music begins--and what music! I really
think there are too many musicians, for the voices not being classified,
there is no individuality, but simply a prolonged howl. For my part, I
prefer fewer hounds, where the individual voices may be distinguished.
It seemed to be a needless use of so many good dogs, for half the number
would drive as well; but they were out for exercise and training, and
they must have it. Subsequently the pack was divided into two, but this
was not necessitated by fatigue of the hounds, for we hunted on
alternate days with greyhounds alone.
[6] Though not pertinent to the subject, I cannot refrain from
relating a curious comparison made to me by a very intelligent
Russian, aide-de-camp general of the late Emperor: "Just as the
scarcity of women in early American times caused them to be highly
appreciated and tenderly cared for, so the relative scarcity of men in
early Russia caused the Government to appreciate them and to preserve
them at all hazards. Logically follows the exalted position of woman
to-day in the United States and the absence of capital punishment in
Russia."
One could well believe that foxes might remain a long time in the woods,
even when pursued by such noise; but it seemed to me that the hares[7]
would have passed the line of posts more quickly than they did. At the
suitable moment, when the game was seen, the nearest leash was slipped,
and when they seemed to be on the point of losing another and sometimes
a third was slipped. The poor fox-hounds were not allowed to leave the
woods; the moment the game appeared in the open space they were driven
back by the stiff riders with their cruel whips. The true fox-hound
blood showed itself, and to succeed in beating some of them off the
trail, especially the young ones, required most rigorous action on the
part of all. This seemed to me a prostitution of the good qualities of a
race carefully bred for centuries, and, while realizing the necessity of
the practice for that variety of hunt, I could never look upon it with
complaisance.
[7] There are two varieties: the so-called white hare and the
so-called red hare. The former becomes white in winter, and weighs,
when full grown, ten pounds; the latter has a reddish gray coat which
does not change, and weighs about one and a half pounds less than the
other variety. The red hare frequents the fields less than does the
white. The foxes are the ordinary red ones.
It is just this sort of hunt[8] for which the barzoi has been specially
bred, and which has developed in him a tremendous spring; at the same
time it has given him less endurance than the English greyhound. It was
highly interesting to follow the hounds with the beaters; but, owing to
the thickness of the woods and the absence of trails, it was far from
being an easy task either for horse or rider. To remain at a post with a
leash of hounds was hardly active or exciting enough for me--except when
driving wolves--especially when the hounds could be followed, or when
the open hunt could be enjoyed. In the second case the hunters and
huntsmen with leashes form a line with intervals of 100 to 150 yards and
march for versts straight across the country, cracking the terrible
_nagaika_ and uttering peculiar exciting yells that would start game on
a parade ground. After a few days I flattered myself that I could
manage my leash fairly and slip them passably well. To two or three of
the party leashes were not intrusted, either because they did not desire
them or for their want of experience in general with dogs and horses. To
handle a leash well requires experience and considerable care. To
prevent tangling in the horse's legs, especially at the moment the game
is sighted, requires that the hounds be held well in hand, and that they
be not slipped until both have sighted the game. I much prefer the open
hunt to the post system. There is more action, and in fact more sport,
whether it happens that one or several leashes be slipped for the same
animal. When it is not possible to know whose dogs have taken the game,
it belongs to him who arrived first, providing that he has slipped his
leash.
[8] In Northern Russia, owing to the extensive forest, brush and marsh
lands, every effort was made to utilize the small open spaces or
clearings for the greyhounds, and this was the usual way of hunting;
while in Southern Russia, where steppes predominate, the open
hunt--_chasse a courre_--prevailed. This explains why the Crimean
barzoi also has more endurance than the now recognized type from the
north.
So much for the foxes and hares, but the more interesting hunting of
wolves remains. Few people except wolf-hunters--and they are reluctant
to admit it--know how rarely old wolves are caught with hounds. All
admit the danger of taking an old one either by a dagger thrust or alive
from under[9] barzois, however good they be. There is always a
possibility that the dogs may loosen their hold or be thrown off just at
the critical moment. But the greatest difficulty consists in the
inability of the hounds to hold the wolf even when they have overtaken
him. When it is remembered that a full-grown wolf is nearly twice as
heavy as the average barzoi, and that pound for pound he is stronger, it
is clear that to overtake and hold him requires great speed and grit on
the part of a pair of hounds.
[9] This is the Russian phrasing, and correctly describes the idea.
A famous kennel,[10] which two years since caught forty-six wolves by
the combined system of hunting, took in that number but one old
wolf--that is, three years or more old. The same kennel last year caught
twenty-six without having a single old one in the number. We likewise
failed to include in our captures a single old wolf. I mention these
facts to correct the false impression that exists with us concerning the
barzois, as evidenced by the great disappointment when two years since a
pair, in one of the Western States, failed to kill outright a full-grown
timber wolf. At the field trials on wolves, which take place twice a
year at Colomiaghi, near Petersburg, immediately after the regular
field trials on hares, I have seen as many as five leashes slipped
before an old wolf could be taken, and then it was done only with the
greatest difficulty. In fact, as much skill depends upon the _borzatnik_
(huntsman) as the dogs. Almost the very second the dogs take hold he
simply falls from his horse upon the wolf and endeavors to thrust the
unbreakable handle of his _nagaika_ between the jaws of the animal; he
then wraps the lash around the wolf's nose and head. If the hounds are
able to hold even a few seconds, the skilled _borzatnik_ has had
sufficient time, but there is danger even to the best. I saw an
experienced man get a thumb terribly lacerated while muzzling a wolf,
yet he succeeded, and in an incredibly short time. On another occasion,
even before the brace of hounds had taken firm neck or ear holds, I saw
a bold devil of a huntsman swing from his horse and in a twinkling lie
prone upon an old wolf's head. How this man, whose pluck I shall always
admire, was able to muzzle the brute without injury to himself, and with
inefficient support from his hounds, it is not easy to understand,
though I was within a few yards of the struggle. Such skill comes from
long experience, indifference to pain and, of course, pride in his
profession.
[10] That of the Grand Duke Nicolas Nicolaievitch.
Having hunted foxes and hares, and having been shooting as often as the
environs of Peschalkino and our time allowed, we changed our base to a
village twenty-two versts distant over the border in the government of
Yaroslav. It was a village like all others of this grain and flax
district, where the live stock and poultry shared the same roof with
their owners. A family of eleven wolves had been located about three
versts from it by a pair of huntsmen sent some days in advance; this
explained our arrival. In making this change, I do not now recall that
we saw a single house other than those of the peasant villages and the
churches. I fancy that in the course of time these peasants may have
more enlightenment, a greater ownership in the land, and may possibly
form a yeoman class. At the present the change, slow as it is, seems to
point in that direction. With their limited possessions, they are happy
and devoted subjects. The total of the interior decorations of every
house consists of icons, of cheap colored pictures of the imperial
family and of samovars. In our lodgings, the house of the village
_starost_, the three icons consumed a great part of the wall surface,
and were burdened with decorations of various colored papers. No one has
ever touched upon peasant life in Russia without mentioning the enormous
brick stove (_lezanka_[11]); and having on various hunts profited by
them, I mean to say a word in behalf of their advantages. Even as early
as the middle of September the cold continuous rains cause the gentle
warmth of the _lezanka_ to be cordially appreciated. On it and in its
vicinity all temperatures may be found. Its top offers a fine place for
keeping guns, ammunition and various articles free from moisture, and
for drying boots;[12] while the horizontal abutments constitute benches
well adapted to thawing out a chilled marrow, or a sleeping place for
those that like that sort of thing. A generous space is also allowed for
cooking purposes. In point of architecture there is nothing that can be
claimed for it but stability; excepting the interior upper surface of
the oven, there is not a single curve to break its right lines. It
harmonizes with the surroundings, and in a word answers all the
requirements of the owner as well as of the hunter, who always
preserves a warm remembrance of it.
[11] _Lezanka_ means something used for lying on.
[12] Hot oats poured into the boots were also used for drying them.
The wolves were located in a large marshy wood and, from information of
the scouts based on the midnight and dawn choruses, they were reported
"at home." Accordingly we prepared for our visit with the greatest
precautions. When within a verst of the proposed curved line upon which
we were to take our stands with barzois, all dismounted and proceeded
through the marsh on foot, making as little noise as possible. The
silence was occasionally broken by the efforts of the barzois to slip
themselves after a cur belonging to one of the peasant beaters, that
insisted upon seeing the sport at the most aggravating distance for a
sight hound. It was finally decided to slip one good barzoi that, it was
supposed, could send the vexatious animal to another hunting ground; but
the cur, fortunately for himself, suddenly disappeared and did not show
himself again.
After wading a mile in the marshy bog, we were at the beginning of the
line of combat--if there was to be any. The posts along this line had
been indicated by the chief huntsman by blazing the small pine trees or
by hanging a heap of moss on them. The nine posts were established in
silence along the arc of a circle at distances from each other of about
150 yards. My post was number four from the beginning. In rear of it and
of the adjoining numbers a strong high cord fence was put up, because it
was supposed that near this part of the line the old wolves would pass,
and that the barzois might not be able to stop them. The existence of
such fencing material as part of the outfit of a wolf-hunter is strong
evidence of his estimate of a wolf's strength--it speaks pages. The
fence was concealed as much as possible, so that the wolf with barzois
at his heels might not see it. The huntsmen stationed there to welcome
him on his arrival were provided with fork-ended poles, intended to hold
him by the neck to the ground until he was gagged and muzzled, or until
he had received a fatal dagger thrust.
While we were forming the ambuscade--defensive line--the regular
beaters, with 200 peasant men and women, and the fox-hounds, were
forming the attack.
Everything seemed favorable except the incessant cold rain and wind. In
our zeal to guard the usual crossings of the wolves, we ignored the
direction of the wind, which the wolves, however, cleverly profited by.
It could not have been very long after the hounds were let go before
they fell upon the entire family of wolves, which they at once
separated. The shouts and screams of the peasants, mingled with the
noises of the several packs of hounds, held us in excited attention. Now
and then this or that part of the pack would approach the line, and,
returning, pass out of hearing in the extensive woods. The game had
approached within scenting distance, and, in spite of the howling in the
rear, had returned to depart by the right or left flank of the beaters.
As the barking of the hounds came near the line, the holders of the
barzois, momentarily hoping to see a wolf or wolves, waited in almost
breathless expectancy. Each one was prepared with a knife to rush upon
an old wolf to support his pair; but unfortunately only two wolves came
to our line, and they were not two years old. They were taken at the
extreme left flank, so far away that I could not even see the killing. I
was disappointed, and felt that a great mistake had been made in not
paying sufficient attention to the direction of the wind. Where is the
hunter who has not had his full share of disappointments when all
prospects seemed favorable? As often happens, it was the persons
occupying the least favorable places who had bagged the game. They said
that in one case the barzois had held the wolf splendidly until the
fatal thrust; but that in the other case it had been necessary to slip a
second pair before it could be taken. These young wolves were
considerably larger than old coyotes.
[Illustration: FOXHOUNDS OF THE IMPERIAL KENNELS.]
So great was the forest hunted that for nearly two hours we had occupied
our posts listening to the spasmodic trailing of the hounds and the
yelling of the peasants. Finally all the beaters and peasants reached
our line, and the drive was over, with only two wolves taken from the
family of eleven. Shivering with cold and thoroughly drenched, we
returned in haste to shelter and dry clothes.
The following morning we set out on our return to Peschalkino, mounted,
with the barzois, while the fox-hounds were driven along the road. We
marched straight across the country in a very thin skirmish line,
regardless of fences, which were broken down and left to the owners to
be repaired. By the time we had reached our destination, we had enjoyed
some good sport and had taken several hares. The following morning the
master of the imperial hunt, who had been kept at his estates near
Moscow by illness in his family, arrived, fetching with him his horses
and a number of his own hounds. We continued our hunting a number of
days longer in that vicinity, both with and without fox-hounds, with
varying success. Every day or two we also indulged in shooting for
ptarmigan, black cocks, partridges, woodcocks and two kinds of
snipe--all of which prefer the most fatiguing marshes.
One day our scouts arrived from Philipovo, twenty-six versts off, to
report that another family of wolves, numbering about sixteen, had been
located. The _Amerikanka_ was sent in advance to Orodinatovo, whither we
went by rail at a very early hour. This same rainy and cold autumnal
landscape would be intolerable were it not brightened here and there by
the red shirts and brilliant headkerchiefs of the peasants, the noise of
the flail on the dirt-floor sheds and the ever-alluring attractions of
the hunt.
During this short railway journey, and on the ride to Philipovo, I could
not restrain certain reflections upon the life of the people and of the
proprietors of this country. It seemed on this morning that three
conditions were necessary to render a permanent habitation here
endurable: neighbors, roads and a change of latitude; of the first two
there are almost none, of latitude there is far too much. To be born in
a country excuses its defects, and that alone is sufficient to account
for the continuance of people under even worse conditions than those of
these governments. It is true that the soil here does not produce fruit
and vegetables like the Crimean coast, and that it does not, like the
black belt, "laugh with a harvest when tickled with a hoe"; yet it
produces, under the present system of cultivation, rye and flax
sufficient to feed, clothe and pay taxes. What more could a peasant
desire? With these provided his happiness is secured; how can he be
called poor? Without questioning this defense, which has been made many
times in his behalf, I would simply say that he is not poor as long as a
famine or plague of some sort does not arrive--and then proceed with our
journey.
From Orodinatovo to Philipovo is only ten versts, but over roads still
less worthy of the name than the others already traveled. The
_Amerikanka_ was drawn by four horses abreast. The road in places
follows the River Leet, on which Philipovo is situated. We had expected
to proceed immediately to hunt the wolves, and nearly 300 peasant men
and women had been engaged to aid the fox-hounds as beaters. They had
been assembled from far and near, and were congregated in the only
street of Philipovo, in front of our future quarters, to await our
arrival. What a motley assembly, what brilliancy of coloring! All were
armed with sticks, and carried bags or cloths containing their rations
of rye bread swung from the shoulders, or around the neck and over the
back. How many pairs of boots were hung over the shoulders? Was it
really the custom to wear boots on the shoulders? In any case it was _de
rigueur_ that each one show that he or she possessed such a luxury as a
good pair of high top boots; but it was not a luxury to be abused or
recklessly worn out. Their system of foot-gear has its advantages in
that the same pair may be used by several members of a family, male and
female alike.
It was not a pleasure for us to hear that the wolves had been at home at
twilight and midnight, but were not there at dawn; much less comforting
was this news to those peasants living at great distances who had no
place near to pass the night. The same information was imparted the
following day and the day following, until it began to appear doubtful
whether we could longer delay in order to try for this very migratory
pack.
Our chances of killing old wolves depended largely upon this drive, for
it was doubtful whether we would make an attack upon the third family,
two days distant from our quarters. Every possible precaution was taken
to make it a success. I was, however, impressed with the fact that the
most experienced members of the hunting party were the least sanguine
about the old wolves.
Some one remarked that my hunting knife, with a six-inch blade, was
rather short, and asked if I meant to try and take an old wolf. My reply
was in the affirmative, for my intentions at that stage were to try
anything in the form of a wolf. At this moment one of the land
proprietors, who had joined our party, offered to exchange knives with
me, saying that he had not the slightest intention of attacking a wolf
older than two years, and that my knife was sufficient for that. I
accepted his offer.
At a very early hour on this cold rainy autumnal morning we set out on
our way to the marshy haunts of the game. Our party had just been
reinforced by the arrival of the commander of the Empress's Chevalier
Guard regiment, an ardent sportsman, with his dogs. All the available
fox-hounds, sixty in number, were brought out, and the 300 peasants
counted off. The latter were keen, not only because a certain part of
them had sportsmanlike inclinations, but also because each one received
thirty copecks for participation in the drive. Besides this, they were
interested in the extermination of beasts that were living upon their
live stock.
The picture at the start was more than worthy of the results of the day,
and it remains fresh in my mind. The greater portion of the peasants
were taken in charge by the chief beater, with the hounds, while the
others followed along with us and the barzois. Silence was enforced upon
all. The line of posts was established as before, except that more care
was exercised. Each principal post, where three barzois were held on
leash, was strengthened by a man with a gun loaded with buckshot. The
latter had instructions not to fire upon a wolf younger than two years,
and not even upon an older one, until it was manifest that the barzois
and their holder were unequal to the task.
My post was a good one, and my three dogs were apparently keen for
anything. At the slightest noise they were ready to drag me off my feet
through the marsh. Thanks to the _nagaika_, I was able to keep them in
hand. One of the trio was well known for his grit in attacking wolves,
the second was considered fair, while the third, a most promising
two-year-old, was on his first wolf-hunt. Supported by these three dogs,
the long knife of the gentleman looking for young wolves and the yellow
cuirassier officer with his shotgun, I longed for some beast that would
give a struggle. The peasants accompanying us were posted out on each
flank of our line, extending it until the extremities must have been
separated by nearly two miles.
The signal was given, and hunters, peasants and hounds rushed into the
woods. Almost instantly we heard the screams and yells of the nearest
peasants, and in a short time the faint barking of the fox-hounds. As
the sounds became more audible, it was evident that the hounds had split
into three packs--conclusive that there were at least three wolves. My
chances were improving, and I was arranging my dogs most carefully, that
they might be slipped evenly. My knife, too, was within convenient
grasp, and the fox-hounds were pointing directly to me. Beastly luck! I
saw my neighbor, the hunter of young wolves, slip his barzois, and like
a flash they shot through the small pine trees, splashing as they went.
From my point of view they had fallen upon an animal that strongly
resembled one of themselves. In reality it was a yearling wolf, but he
was making it interesting for the barzois as well as for all who
witnessed the sight. The struggle did not last long, for soon two of the
barzois had fastened their long teeth in him--one at the base of the
ear, the other in the throat. Their holder hastened to the struggle,
about 100 yards from his post, and with my knife gave the wolf the _coup
de grace_. His dogs had first sighted the game, and therefore had the
priority of right to the chase. So long as the game was in no danger of
escaping no neighboring dogs should be slipped. His third barzoi, on
trial for qualifications as a wolf-hound, did not render the least aid.
Part of the fox-hounds were still running, and there was yet chance that
my excited dogs might have their turn. We waited impatiently until all
sounds had died away and until the beaters had reached our line, when
further indulgence of hope was useless. Besides the above, the
fox-hounds had caught and killed a yearling in the woods; and Colonel
Dietz had taken with his celebrated Malodiets, aided by another dog, a
two-year-old. What had become of the other wolves and where were most of
the hounds? Without waiting to solve these problems, we collected what
we could of our outfit and returned to Philipovo, leaving the task of
finding the dogs to the whippers-in. The whys and wherefores of the hunt
were thoroughly discussed at dinner, and it was agreed that most of the
wolves had passed to the rear between the beaters. It was found out that
the peasants, when a short distance in the woods, had through fear
formed into squads instead of going singly or in pairs. This did not,
however, diminish the disappointment at not taking at least one of the
old ones.
The result of this drive logically brought up the question of the best
way to drive game. In certain districts of Poland deer are driven from
the line of posts, and the same can be said of successful moose-hunts of
Northern Russia. Perhaps that way may also be better for wolves.
After careful consideration of the hunting situation, we were unanimous
in preferring hare and fox coursing with both fox-hounds and barzois, or
with the latter alone, at discretion, to the uncertainty of
wolf-hunting; so we decided to change our locality. Accordingly the
following day we proceeded in the _Amerikanka_ to the town of Koy,
twenty-five versts distant. We arrived about noon, and were quartered in
a vacant house in the large yard of Madam Ponamaroff. Our retinue of
huntsmen, dogs, horses, ambulance and wagons arrived an hour later.
There was no more wolf-hunting.
_Henry T. Allen._