Spring song

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The sun left the southern hemisphere of our planet and its life-giving light bears North. Fields free of snow. Time to praise the arrival of shorebirds. And not only…
The forest beckons in the hunter’s smell of rotten leaf.

My friend Anatoly, an Amateur painter, did not approve of those who go to the open air with a hunting rifle. One day he shared his thoughts about his upcoming job, which requires thin pens and brushes. And I came to the memory of a story about the artist-naturalist, who could not authentically portray them extracted on the spring hunting amazing, with a long beak and brightly-coloured bird — a woodcock.

The picture failed artist after he had found the wing of one small bird feather that helped to portray the woodcock. This delicate, poetic connection with a hunting activity art craft vividly interested Anatolia.

“My friend, the hunter-lover, I’m not a murderer to destroy nature like you go and destroy the innocent game. Would have taken me once on a hunt to look at this mess,” asked my friend Anatoly. All said and done. We agreed to meet outside the city, you should have rubber boots, and the rest for me, I promised to a friend.
Anatoly arrived in the afternoon. We, after talking a bit at the table gathered in the forest. Anatoly brought the camera, hoping to photograph in flight forest of the Sandpiper. In such a serious matter come together. He took a backpack with supplies.

Hunting meadow greeted us with a resounding singing of birds, mainly thrushes. We are located at the edge on the wind-blown aspen protruding from the crown of large branches. The butt of the old rough wood gave us a chair and a table. The sun sank below, and the meadow was covered with a cool twilight. The blackbirds were silent, only occasionally feeding lonely cries. A single woodcock flew not. Apparently, this is wonderful with a breathtaking sunset evening woodcock ignored the arrival into the woods.

“Anatoly, Strelna on the newspaper, in the dash, let’s go to the side of the bed,” he said, as if apologizing for the bad hunt, the hunter-lover”.
Hung on a twig tree, on which sat a newspaper. Returned to the backpack. Anatoly then shot him in the newspaper. I went to see it. Anatoly looked at the holes in the paper, and his friend Mike because of the newspaper from the ground raises for a long beak of a woodcock. Anatoly asked in surprise: “Where did he come from?!” Michael says that woodcock, in all probability, flew behind a newspaper and was hit by a stray shot. Anatoly loudly protested that he was not a murderer! He could not kill the game! To which his friend replied calmly: “do Not throw away now, it happened again!” Anatoly was not appeased: “You said that they fly with voice and grunt like pigs. And no oink, hry was not!” What was the answer that woodcocks have the right to fly without a voice. “Anatoly, stand up a little, maybe even fly one bird to us for a snack is not enough”. He resignedly agreed and began to look in the opposite direction.

A shot rang out — a doublet, and I ran into the nearest Bush and came back with a woodcock in his hands.

It was quite dark due to dismal clouds. Night came on. Came in a pre-determined warm place overnight. Ability to prepare game hunting is valued at least a good shot. “Not the hunter, who shoots in the eye, and the one who is stretching the truth, but the correct narrative”. (Review from the Internet, for the painting “Hunters at rest”).
Bursting the oven, cooked a couple of woodcock shooting, cleaned the gun and Packed in a case. Not in flight, but the pictures of game done. Anatoly was put in his Hiking bag camera along with a wing from each woodcock, to show his friends.

Did not want to sleep. The TV was not turned on the radio. Set the table cooked poultry and other supplies.

…It took approximately two weeks. After work decided to visit a friend. In the kitchen a table was set. Anatoly had guests who were not surprised at my arrival.

Most I knew before.

— Mikhail, tell us the truth, ” said one of the guests, held in the hand the wing of the woodcock. — We don’t believe that Anatoly could shoot a hunting rifle. It seems that he made it up with this bird.

I did not play the hypocrite and tell it like it is. Told that put in a hunting backpack from the freezer earlier produced snipe. When Anatoly went to shot them with newspaper, pulled out of the backpack woodcock and pretended that lifted him from the ground with newspaper. Another time the shot was in the air, while Anatoly looked the other way…well, the hunt was successful. And the joke was passed approvingly with a smile.

Anatoly promised to do for me with a picture of Vasily Perov “Hunters at rest” a copy with a picture of my smiling face in the center of the picture.
To follow through on a promise he could not. The subframe I have fabricated. Together we are on a frame attached to the canvas, on which coal was moved Perov painting. Then Anatoly was working with oil paints. Unfortunately, severe illness put him in bed…

Nedopisan picture I took. I really wanted to get my father saw her. But he had gone to another world before, before I found the artist who finished the painting. The photos were taken and paintings that I gave to a close with the inscription on the back: “looking At you from time immemorial, smiling good Michael Klimontov”.
This picture hangs on the wall in my apartment. Grandchildren will know a familiar face on it: there’s a grandfather!

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