The silent guards of Altai

In front of me, the extraordinary beauty of a Volokoyka female with blue-black eyes, with the grace of Monica Bellucci and the gaze of Sophia Loren. These are insanely beautiful eyes in the rim of fluffy semi -entered eyelashes. After a minute, this grace will wallow on the ground in dust clubs, calling another female to the battle, which dared to offend her cub. Oksana Mamlina - about the dent of the Altai Mountains.

Finding fellow travelers, I plunge into a small but very cozy little car and go for distant lands in the kingdom of blue lakes, mountain serpentines, tourist bases, silent mountains and rivers. Mandatory pie with egg and greens in the canes, ritual passage of the Maiminsky post of the traffic police.

Cherga is the territory of the dental reserve founded in the SB RAS in 1982. They brought a precious breed in the amount of eleven pieces (eight females and three male) from the Priko-Terrass Reserve (Serpukhov), separated them with an area of ​​more than 3.5 thousand hectares and released the bison freely, "" breed and multiply, and inhabit the earth. " By the way, they cope with this to this day: the reserve has more than forty -eight goals. Yes, in general, and not in quantity, the goal was selection work and an increase in the number of livestock.

In 1982, Vladimir Alekseevich Popov, a permanent dentum, came to the cherga along with a group of specialists. At our meeting, he told how miraculously they saved the dental nursery in the nineties, when there were not enough feed, there was nothing to pay salaries to employees from among whom he was left alone. There was no money on the hedge, the old ones were repaired, which it was not worth it to break through the horn. Nevertheless, they managed to keep the number of livestock and defend their business. In general, it seems that it is necessary to introduce a special day dedicated not to the loud victories of the Russians over the Tatars, for example, but the quiet victory of our patient people in the very nineties, when they did not know what would happen tomorrow, and whether it was destined to survive tomorrow.

According to Popov, the bison are unarmed animals. It seems that they have grown more than one generation in the softer, it seems, too. Although the bread from the hand is licking. Only then you need to quickly remove your hand, they can and pry a horn. Once a horse, driving a cart with hay along the fence along the territory of the nursery, threw one of the bison. The latter calmly walked away, but, according to Popov, it was evident in the eyes that he remembered. Alekseich Konyuch recommended not to take a horse anymore in a detour, you never know. But he, either forgetting, or not taking the situation seriously, went once again on a horse to transport this hay. The horse was instantly raised to the horns.

Relations in the herd are reminiscent of human, but not humane-aesthetic, but those that were there, in the nineties. Strong survive and help each other, the weak leave alone, or they are simply clogged with horns and hooves. In the herd of Matriarchy: the senior female rules, the males are expelled from the herd, having reached sexually mature, young females remain with their mothers forever, males only come to the herd, and so form groups of four to five individuals and graze nearby. If any of the dummies gives birth, then the female the Love goes away with her far from the herd and protects them with the calf until both are getting stronger and can move on their own. I must say that this is happening quite quickly, after two hours the calf can already follow his mother.

We do the first detour on the UAZ, ahead of the day of work, bison still in the wild, in the mountains, and are in no hurry to go down to the feeders. Wild, unarmed and not having enemies in nature, except for one - a person with weapons.

Bison are the peers of the mammoth. They were exterminated mainly due to strong three-centimeter skins, which were used as building material for the dwellings of an ancient person. The meat is hard, fibrous, this is almost unsuitable for food. But in the days of wars, revolutions, it was also a starvation. Forest deforestation also did not contribute to the growth of the population, and in 1928, when the world livestock totaled forty -eight individuals, the World Cadars Society was created. The remaining animals were placed in Belovezhskaya Pushch, having hope to restore the form. Eight females gave offspring, today in the world there are 4.5 thousand heads. And they are all relatives, and the blood -embarking affects the endurance and vitality of the species.

The Uazik dives on bumps, the camera is ready, and in front of me of the extraordinary beauty of a Volokoyka female with blue-black eyes, with the grace of Monica Bellucci and the gaze of Sophia Loren. These are insanely beautiful eyes in the rim of fluffy semi -entered eyelashes. After a minute, this grace will wallow on the ground in dust clubs, calling another female to the battle, which dared to offend her cub. The whole herd will surround them, and the baby will be at a loss to run near the mother. She will drive the offender away from the child, and there she will once again set her a cow. And now there is a lonely, defeated lady, under a ton of weight, licking the crushed face and shaking disheveled hair in repr. Everything is like people.

While we go down to the stream, I see a male bent, an old one, with a wounded neck. There was an unequal battle. As Alexander said, my guide along the territory of the nursery, the old male went far from the herd, apparently to live on his lonely slope by the stream. His eyes are such as deep old people and babies: do not understand what is happening around. It goes, staggering, to a stream ringing, cold. The skin on the neck hangs, the ear is torn.

The horses are saddle in the morning of the next day. Yesterday the bad weather stopped. Kostya’s groom at the subparagus swears, on a horse. Merin has parted - not to fasten the belts. The last time I drove at the age of six, it was a village grandfather's horse. I even knew how to famously manage him: to spur, stop, turn. And the saddle was not always with me, and flew into the river from the horse. But it was at the age of six. And the hands remembered. The Altaian-Konuh only helped to sit in the saddle and at times grabbed the rope when, as it seemed to me, the horse from the mountain decided to go out vertically, and the magnificent panorama of the Altai mountains opened under me. The camera at this time was in her teeth, and she, honestly, shot.

The harsh Kostya in the mountains was amused - a free man, he is crowded in his official house. But we have to go back, there we will find a rich lamb soup. There is no hook on the hedge, the oil flowed in the car - everything needs to be dealt with. We go back and meet a bison about twenty meters. From the giant, the pair clubs are felled. Not far from the fence “UAZ”, in which Sasha brought tourists to look at free animals. A little more, I think, and tourists will observe the chase of the bull behind two crazy horses. Kostya commands: climb through the grill, and I will quickly lead the horses! The bull turned around and looks in our direction, a two -meter fence overcame as quickly as possible, unexpectedly, I would even say. The bull watched as I climbed. Kostya, along with horses, disappeared into the air, and we are a company of four and Sasha’s conductor, we had a little admire the powerful animal from behind the pale fence and sat down in a shaking and hard car.

For twenty minutes, the bumps seemed to me in comparison with a two -hour marathon on a horse. The window "whistles", and I seem to drink clean air of the free mountains. Thoughts clarify and go in order. Behind is not a dull nursery, even behind the result of a quiet daily human feat, when the impossible becomes real, incredible - everyday, unarmed and wild - controlled, fed and protected. The flying hook is repaired, hay is swept into the stack by winter, the road to the nursery is paved, and I observe how majestic, proud animals live their wild life, grow cubs, love each other, are born and die. How the snow sparkles on dense, dark wool, how the meadow blooms, on which spring love reigns and a new life arises. How this new life drinks mother's milk and scratches funny little horns about wood. And people silently and meekly protect this beauty, this life, this primacy every day. Some of them even asked not to call their names, considered that doing their job modestly was their duty. I do not call.

Oksana Mamlin