Night Modern man is basically a materialist…

Night Modern man is basically a materialist, He is curious, all the fondling hands, measure with a ruler and examines it in all colors of the visible spectrum In space — flew in the Mariana trench — dived, the Kola superdeep — drilled, wanted the axis to stick to as on the globe, but the money ran out, wherever was found a confirmation of materialism Is, say, the atom, and this is the flu virus, and this fat and liver materialist Lies in bed in her own , where the square footage is measured, humidity is known, the area of the priest consecrated just in case, and listens in the of night noises Is that the wardrobe creaked, shrinks to see, is tile shot — unstuck it — the Wallpaper is cracking And this cat down the hall is, although the cat is never in the was not, and the steps heard And still children are cast-iron balls rolled across the concrete floor in the above the Balls fall with a thud and rolled against a non-existent , because he lives the materialistic on the last floor above it only the roof antennas and the relatively peaceful starry sky And helpful subconscious slips pictures inflammation of the brain, one brighter than the other And slept not a materialist, and what’s out of it for a materialist is in the in the concrete jungle, their native habitat of the person, what can we say about places where there is no power? Moved away from the city, put up a tent and very different sounds are represented in the range I, as a seasoned hunter, a biologist and a materialist and necevski in nature are divided into three categories: anthropogenic (cars, planes, Motorboats), biogenic (cries of night birds, the barking and howling of foxes and wolves, snuffling hedgehogs, the crackle of branches from the steps of a boar), and unclear we will focus on the latest And talk to you about visual and completely practical effects, which had to face, and explanations which I have not found an Effect first, act one the Beginning of April 2009 Venue — village Ivot, Shostka district, Sumy region Went there on spring hunting, even though it is closed, local gamekeepers turned a blind eye on violators, and hunters on valdshnepy traction at all for offenders not considered a Lot of beautiful and poetic written about deadlifts woodcock and all in vain time Itself is delightful — spring awakening of nature, flooding, thawed marshes in the midst of this grandeur, the hubbub and the cries of birds, which is a hormonal dope pushing out in a rash After Ivot, I turned to the right, on the road going through a meadow the Water is rolled away, the road itself is quite passable for my car got to the “until you”, left the car in a thicket of willows, next found a dry relatively flat hill, on which grew an old alder where I put up a tent, spread out sleeping bags and coremata, put a huge pile of dry brushwood, to have enough for the night, and a few knotty cramp I inhaled the fragrance of spring, every puddle is filled with , the trill of frogs and bass pounding bittern is Boiled tea, hung in the tent bivuachnyj lantern to the darkness to find a place and went to the overgrown swamp stand rod Hunter, not after wildshaping pull — not a hunter at all Is poetry at sunset spring day, when the crimson disk of the sun compacted into the fog, the air becomes heavy with moisture and scents, and you’re almost melted and went into the ground with vernal juices, both suddenly and slowly, but extremely important, due to the low pine with a characteristic “herkenham” woodcock emerges, It floats in the twilight sky, dangling his long beak, his silhouette is clearly visible against the background of the dawn was Not an exception and today’s pull I admire and shoot To the tent came in the dark, focusing on the light Pojavil a fire, cooked a simple porridge, the breast 40 grams twice and climbed into the sleeping-bag Gun and a flashlight in such cases, I always keep at hand the Fire crackles and casts a glow on the walls of the tent, in the sky, the noise of flocks of birds, which the lust and the instincts drive on the North, and the soul is easy and simple as it should be, I fell asleep the Reason for waking up was the silence and a sort of tickling in his ears As if he were a loud sound and suddenly stopped I opened my eyes, and listened — Yes, sort of quietly, and very suddenly I heard a howling That was not quite a howl, not like a wolf, but like a cry, rolling in the ultrasonic whistle, from which it appeared that feeling tickling in my ears the Howl was a close, long and powerful, with a rattling roar at the end during the return maneuver with my hand in the tent formed two ragged holes by two shots So quickly jump out of the sleeping bag and to simultaneously reload the gun I never had a chance And in response — silence No crunch from the steps of the departing of the beast (a beast?) no traces of blood in the light of a lantern, I found the rest of the night I spent at a fire, contrary to the tradition back to the alder I was sitting in socks, shoes left in the tent, was afraid to go near it, even with a gun, and to the car in a thick copse did not want to go and stay bright, shoving, not folding gear in the trunk and suddenly dumped so can shout, do not know to this day Effect first, act second a few years Later I met a retired military man, which of Shostka moved to the village Korotchenkove, it’s just across the river from the events described above Sergeevich, breaking away from the worries of a military man, avidly ogorodnika, fished and favored ideologically similar to him with the drifters So I was in Korotchenkove, chic Desnyansky swamps the Host was so kind that even gave me the Oise, and with a sweeping gesture indicated the direction where many ducks Free Desnianskyi grasslands, many wetlands, forests and rivers, And there breathe particularly well and intensively intensively I sedillos, when the Gums, just from Ivoti, I heard the familiar howl From its source I was separated by at least 6 kilometers of dry land, a river and a wall of reeds I was curious of estestvoznaniia and to delay the flight the Howl was repeated a Duration of 41 seconds, From the sweet beginning to the ultrasound end, with a characteristic roar vyakanem at the end of a tickling in his ears was gone, I counted Only 4 iterations with the sunset and Then I went Sergeyevich was already waiting and was cleaning the , his wife was busy at the oven Hastily asking about hunting, invited to the table After the second shot glasses, the person becomes blissful state when the people are especially nice, and the world is good, and I want to talk about — S. and what have you across the river howling? There was an awkward silence, suddenly I stopped chewing, and his wife straightened the stove and turned around — What howls, what to howl, it didn’t howling wolf probably Sergeevich awkwardly muttered, and the hand with the spoon showed the besiegers a gesture — And you heard, right? — his wife — Yes, thought of something, ‘ replied I went out to smoke, Osipov told about the next — three Years ago, there were Howls of passion as much soup itchy Thought the wolf was out there, in the winter oblasti wanted flags Not wolf leaves no Trace, so there! Howling here, about the trees, we oblazil, the pen did nothing, and the small little clue! Left, and it came from behind us from the same coppice howls howls But not always, inaudible a couple of months, but right now there again for Ivotnoj somewhere Chupacabra is, that Although the whole beast, and people like Thu-Thu… in the Fall the reeds devour, burn him to certova Matera! The second effect, the visual I have in the land of the lake, which I called “Home” It is close, ispravno the boat along and across, and smoothly, as a port whore there is always Ducks and a carp on the bait rushing durom and everything I came in 03 40 in August 2012, and calmly pumped the boat Waplist it was dark, so as not to disturb the bird before the morning dawn the Water is warm, the paddle silently cut through the black mirror Buried in the reeds and cutter, soon as the dawn brightens the sky from the sunrise, begins to creak marsh animals marsh birds and always squeaky quacking voice Carp jumping out of water sabouret tails in the bushes in shallow water in Some places begin to appear in the tails of the fog, and in the morning calm quietly evaporate no Wind, very light mist And then the peripheral vision of the left eye, I notice a whitish oblong clot of some special density Quietly turned his , No, not seem — here it, stands of Dense fog clot, in half of human growth, elongated, similar to skinny the bag is Well distinguishable from the dark cane I blinked, the figure Then left, in the absence of wind, the mist clot pretty quickly, crossed the lake (60 — 70 metres), turned to the right, paraded in front of me on the background of the opposite wall of reeds, and I kept the wall No sound, no rustling, nothing I smoked three cigarettes from one another, and decided that life is beautiful Being better than non-existence, and form in fact, is not so important the Effect of the third, applied I called because made in the truest sense of the word of the Year don’t (about 2004-2005) the month of September, towards the end, evening, dusk Stood the dawn, I work with the tacit intellectual Alexander and his parents, was returning home I then had a nice habit of hunting to walk, give yourself a break from the helm of Companions for the return were chosen depending on the accuracy of living in the city Here with Sasha and his father I was on my way our Road lay through a forest of Garbage Rubbish by the way there was not, but he looked somehow ruined, sleazy, deadwood tumbled down, the path in the rubble Unpleasant place And the feeling of crossing it was always unpleasant to me, We moved a few hundred yards from the entrance to the forest, and began From the right side, next to Sasha, below, someone put sakharkar, crawl on the forest floor, breaking the fallen branches Sasha shouted “Who’s there?” and turned on the lantern was empty, expectoration, and the rustle of fallen leaves poodal continued to Shoot at will not allow the criminal code, I also turned on the flashlight, looking for the source of this weird noise Once in we flew to the branches, clods, trash, the pieces of bark… and the Accuracy is amazing, none of the fired projectile is not in vain In the top tier of trees, something invisible jumped, snapping of twigs and the noise of the withered leaves That to say, we jumped out of the woods like cork Sanin dad — well, he runs faster than all Tsapelas we stood on the shore of lake Sanin dad smoked, and Sanya is also the first time when my father asked: — And what was it? Sashin the father philosophically replied: — I don’t know, I garbage yakas Lord materialists, waking up from a vague rustle in the darkness of night, hearing non-existent non-existent children in the apartment above start cast-iron balls, don’t you worry, it’s just some garbage that’s all


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