From North Pole to Equator: Studies of Wild Life and Scenes in Many Lands

by Alfred Edmund Brehm

It is far otherwise with the most precious of the furred beasts, the various species of marten. Their decrease is more lamented than that of all other beasts of the chase, but most of them are still regularly caught, if not everywhere, at any rate in certain parts of the forest region. Only the sable has in the last few decennia become really rare. Old huntsmen of the middle Ural remember having caught sable every winter in the vicinity of Tagilsk; nowadays, at this latitude of the mountain-land, only an occasional stray specimen is to be met with. A great forest fire in the central part of East Ural is said to have driven off the highly-prized and much-hunted creature. We hear the same story in the forest villages of the lower Ob, where the hunting of the sable is still pursued, and yields, for instance, at the Yelisaroff market, about a score of skins every winter.

In all the forests of West Siberia the pine-marten is notably more abundant than the sable. In the fairly extensive hunting-ground around the already-mentioned town of Tagilsk from thirty to eighty are still captured every winter. It is said that the pine-marten, much more than the sable, is associated with the squirrel, and that the two appear and disappear together. But the greedy marten is by no means content with making the beautiful squirrel its prey; indeed it kills every creature which it can master, and is an especially dangerous foe of black-cock and capercaillie. Even in summer a clever spring often enables him to capture the watchful bird; while in winter the habit the black game birds have of sleeping in holes in the snow greatly facilitates his stealthy operations. Sneaking almost noiselessly from branch to branch, he comes within springing distance of the buried bird, and springs on it from above, crushing down the snowy roof by the force of his bound, and seizing the sleeper by the neck before it has any chance to escape. The stone-marten also occurs everywhere in the mountain forests, but it is rarer than its relative. Polecat, ermine, and weasel are also widely distributed and locally very abundant; the mink is confined to the western side of the Ural, and is also absent from its tributaries, the Irtish and Ob, which harbour the otter in considerable numbers; the badger is hardly ever mentioned in West Siberia; and the universally distributed glutton is less thought of than any other of the martens, being hunted not so much for his skin as because of his thefts from the traps.

Fig. 24.—Sable and Hazel-grouse in a Siberian Forest.

Although the west of Siberia is regarded as altogether over-shot, the forest-folk prepare every year to hunt for sable and other martens. Some huntsmen undertake expeditions and explorations, which compare with those of the North American trappers. Of course, they do not confine their attention to martens, but are prepared to bag all kinds of game; the main objects of their quest, however, are martens and squirrels. According to the time of colour-change in the latter the huntsmen arrange their departure from the village home, for the change of colour in the squirrels is regarded as an indication of the approaching winter, whether it is to be early or late, severe or mild.

Armed and equipped as we have already described, the sable-hunters set out, after the first snowfall, in companies of three to five. Besides gun and ammunition each of them carries a sack on his back, snow-shoes and a hatchet on his shoulders, and a whip in his girdle. The sack contains the indispensable provisions:—bread, meal, bacon, and “brick-tea”,[36] also a few utensils, such as a pan, tea-kettle, drinking-vessel, spoons, and the like, and less frequently a flask of spirits. The whip is used to drive out the squirrels and to bring them into sight. Four to six dogs, which offend the eye of every German sportsman, join the company.

Guided by the sun, which, however, is often hidden for days, and by the known stars, the weather-beaten huntsmen traverse the inhospitable wilds, camping out at night, feeding themselves and their dogs on the flesh of the game they shoot, and sparing their small store of provisions as carefully as possible. The ungainly but clever and wide-awake dogs not only scent the tracks of game, but, spying unfailingly the martens or squirrels hidden on the trees, bark at them and keep them in sight till the huntsman is on the spot. He approaches with the imperturbable quietness of all forest sportsmen, rests his long musket carefully on a branch, or, if need be, on the fork fastened to the barrel, takes a slow aim, and fires. At the outset of the hunt, the squirrels and even the pine-martens are so much disturbed by the dogs that they allow the sportsman to approach to within a few yards; soon, however, they become wiser, and a sure and steady aim becomes difficult. If the huntsman gets this, and succeeds in sending a ball through the animal’s eye, then he is well-pleased, for not only has he secured an undamaged skin, but he can recover his precious leaden shot. As soon as he has got possession of his fallen booty he skins it, in the case of martens and squirrels forcing the viscera through the mouth opening. The skull is broken open to recover the shot, and skin and body, separated from one another, are consigned to the bag.

When squirrels are plentiful, the hunt is as profitable as it is entertaining. Everyone utilizes the short day to the utmost; one shot quickly follows another; and the pile of skins rapidly grows. Loading the gun is a tedious matter, but the skinning is done all the more quickly; and every huntsman faithfully does his utmost. Without resting, without eating, without even smoking, the huntsmen go forward while they may. As the dogs call, the comrades draw together or separate; the sharp report of their guns and the cheerful barking of the dogs is to them a stimulating entertainment. They count the shots, and welcome or envy their neighbours’ luck. But if the winter’s yield be a poor one, if the oft-repeated cracking of the whip calls forth no squirrel, if there be no tracks of sable or noble marten, of elk or reindeer to be seen, huntsmen and dogs trudge silently and moodily through the forest, and short commons put the finishing touch to their ill-humour.

When night comes on, our sportsmen have to think of preparing their beds. From under an old, thick, fallen tree each shovels out the snow, makes a trough the size of a man, and kindles a strong fire in it. One of them then clears the snow from a circular patch as nearly as possible in the middle of all the hollows, and under the shelter of thick firs or pines; another gathers fuel; a third heaps up in the clearing a still stronger fire, and a fourth prepares supper. So many squirrels have been shot that there is no lack of strong meat soup with which to give a relish to the porridge and bread. The sportsmen have their supper and go shares with the dogs, refresh themselves with tea and a pipe made of twisted paper and then, after the fashion of their kind, discuss the exploits and experiences of the day. Meantime the fire in each hole has melted the snow, dried up the moisture, caught hold of the old tree-trunk above, and thus thoroughly warmed the chamber. Carefully each sleepy hunter pushes the still glowing fragments of wood to one end of the hole, and into this, avoiding the side-wall of snow, he creeps, calling his dogs after him that they too may share the warm bed, and soon he is asleep. It is true that glowing sparks from the smouldering tree-trunk fall throughout the night alike on the hunter and his dogs, but a Siberian’s fur hunting-coat can stand as much as a Siberian dog’s skin; and it is evident that a log like this will give much more heat than a much larger free fire. It is to the hole what the stove is to the room; it alone makes it possible for the sportsman to camp out in the forest.

In the gray dawn the huntsmen arise refreshed, have breakfast, and go on their way. If they reach a good hunting-ground, which is visited every winter, they stay as long as they think fit. Here and there they find a log-hut built in previous years and still serviceable for shelter; in any case there are old and new fall-traps, which have to be put in order and visited every morning. This takes time, for the traps are often distributed over a wide range, and so it may be that the company stay a week or more in one part of the forest, and hunt it thoroughly, before they continue their wanderings.