And a couple of years ago, in the middle of autumn, I went to the forest to hunt a bird. I thought about which hazel grouse or capercaillie to shoot. I took with me only Gray, my dog. We go through the forest, and all around is quiet, no luck for game. The gray-haired squirrel barks, rushes around the pine - and the squirrel, of course, at least something. I see - lingonberries are overgrown. I took off the bow, decided to pick up a little, not to go home empty-handed ... And I hear - Greyback began to bark in some other way, evil, ferociously. And closer and closer, from the back comes. I think - really raised someone? I get up on my feet, turn around - and ten steps away from me are Urs-three-year-olds! It can be seen that Greyback drove him out of the raspberry bush and, as he was accustomed - to the hunter, to me, the beast, the game! And that I have nothing to shoot game with, because I still have to run to the bow - the dog does not understand this!I'm petrified - I'm standing like a pillar, with my back to the tree. And the Ursus just walked past me, it’s clear that Greyback, with his barking, bothered him notably, but did not annoy him. Lucky so lucky - consider yourself born again. And the dog, as if silent, comes up to me, tilts his head to one side and looks with interest, as if asking: “Master, why didn’t you shoot the beast? Look, what a game! I specially brought you.The gray was a nice dog, fearless. I didn’t train him on Ursa, he just smelled the clubfoot and drove him away. I heard that only one out of a thousand dogs without training will take Ursa alone. The rest of them will run away from him.... Hidden story objects: - 1 Hunting bikes |