Hunter Stories

The shortages in the supply of ammunition were bearable until the early 1960s of the twentieth century. Everyone was forced to homemade production.
The lucky guy was the one who managed to buy a can of "gunpowder", primers and some finer shots for fowl in the "Jedności Łowiecka" store. Hare pellets appeared in sufficient quantity just before the start of the hunting season for grays. Hunters respected every cartridge, especially on hare hunts.
In those days, most of the hares had to be weaned to the collection points, from where the foreign trade center was sold to "rotten capitalists" for "hard currency". The purchase prices were high, so most of the hunters did their job without being murdered because the money earned in this way was enough to pay annual membership fees and buy ammunition. They had worse, but they did not hit.

Already in the 1960s, one of the hunters was invited to hunt to the perimeter of his school friend who was in this area of ​​the forester. He received a boar, a hind and a calf from him. He took a week's vacation and went on the first hunt in the wild, on a game bigger than a deer or a hare. He sat in the forest without a break, but without effects. He saw wild boars and deer, but they were too far away for shots from shotguns, and he did not have permission for a rifle because he was not a selector.

They say that the apple falls close to the apple tree, that the character of the child is shaped by the parents, and the disposition is provided by genes. This can only be assessed after years, when the perspective is bigger and wider horizon. When I look back and start to remember my parents, I see a lot of similarities. Is it only a sentiment, longing, or an unconscious need to look for them, I still do not know. One thing is certain, however, that I have inherited my passion for hunting from my father and I was condemned to it. In the end, hunting, the male domain, is the activity that man has been dealing with since the beginning of his existence.

The day began with a trip at dawn. In the morning you can see many animals that later hide in front of the scorching sun. I have to admit that I have a lot of luck. While I am watching a grazing herd of impala, two gnu are running fast enough. We pass a few buffalo watching us carefully, but there are also representatives of the local birds. What a great happiness to be able to see all these animals in their natural environment.

Outside the window, cold and fluff and spring and May in the heart. This, almost a laud statement, made me put some thoughts of this season on the paper. Of course, much could be said and written about spring, even about how nature wakes up from winter sleep, about animals, where a breath of warm air announces the approaching end of fasting. Soon nature mother will leave her forest pantry. This spring atmosphere, which guests in my heart tuned me to memories of a certain species of animals. In May 2011, 20 years have passed, when for the first time I went to the Canadian forest to face him. From that time on, our paths crossed many times.