No sportsman passing a winter in Russia should leave the country without trying his hand at bear shooting.
It is not necessary to go great distances from St. Petersburg to satisfy every desire, as plenty of bears are to be found in the enormous forests which still cover innumerable square miles in the immediate neighbourhood of the principal lines of railway. Moreover, to simplify matters for residents and foreigners alike, information concerning the whereabouts of bears is being constantly brought to St. Petersburg during the season, either by letter, or more often by estate agents or by the head-men of villages, who come up to the capital for the purpose.
Personal interviews are to be preferred, at which all the necessary arrangements can be entered into, prices fixed, contracts for beaters and sledges made, and a plan of campaign drawn out and agreed upon. The countrymen accustomed to this business not unfrequently exhibit considerable intelligence when an amount of organisation and generalship is required which would much interest and amuse our keepers and stalkers at home. Old hands always make payment by results the basis of their contracts, for disappointments are frequent, no doubt unavoidably so in some cases, though very often the unconscious sportsman is made to wade through the whole business of the chasse, everyone present, barring his innocent self, knowing full well that Mr. Bear nyett doma—i.e. is not at home.
Russians are beginning to fear that foreigners will soon spoil their sport, as foreigners usually do, by paying too much per pood for their bears, too much per diem for their conveyances, too much for their lodgings, and too much na tchai (tea money) at the close of the proceedings; but, under the direction of gentlemen who can speak the language fluently, who understand the people and their peculiarities, and who are thoroughly ‘posted’ in the whole business, one cannot go far wrong. After six days’ continuous sledging, we bagged four bears out of six promised, a fair average considering the market value of promises. For this sport we paid at the rate of ten roubles per pood, lodging, beaters and na tchai included, so that our bill only came to 60l., which I do not think excessive, considering we covered over 400 versts, or about 260 miles. There is no doubt that the man you contract with makes a fine profit over the sledges, but I believe the money paid out is fairly divided among the beaters, and averages about 25 copecks a head, equivalent to 6½d. in English money.
Finding your bear depends mainly on the strict sobriety and untiring vigilance of the men employed as watchers during December and January.
As soon as the first snow has fallen, the villagers turn out in search of tracks, and when the animal’s winter quarters have been approximately discovered, a circle is marked out, within which, unless fresh tracks indicate a move, the bear is certain to be enclosed. This is called ‘ringing.’
Bears, unless wantonly disturbed, will scarcely ever move when they have once comfortably established themselves, though cases are on record where they have been known to sally forth with extraordinary caution in search of food; but as a rule they remain at home, content with the nourishment said to be derived from sucking their own paws. This being so, it is remarkable to find bears still in excellent condition after many weeks of somnolent starvation.
Should the watcher get drunk, as is not unfrequently the case in Russia as in other countries, and let the bear escape unperceived, or should he develop a desire to rival Ananias or Ah-Sin—a practice not altogether peculiar to the Russian peasant either—then the sportsman’s lot is not a happy one.
A very favourable opportunity of securing several bears at no great distance from St. Petersburg having presented itself to me at the beginning of March 1889, I gratefully accepted an invitation to join an expedition into the province of Novgorod, organised by Count Alexander Münster, son of the distinguished Ambassador of that name so well known to us from his long residence in England.
Our third ‘gun’ was M. Constantine Dumba, First Secretary to the Austrian Embassy, whose agreeable companionship added considerably to the pleasure of the trip.