Shamanism - the main religion of the indigenous northern peoples - claims that stones, rocks, and taiga have a soul. Here, with good luck in the hunt, they sincerely thank the local spirits, including the Master.
The Master has many names: Burkhan for the Buryats, Bayanai for the Yakuts, Going for the Russian hunters of northern Transbaikalia … The Master needs a little: a kind word, respect for nature and observance of the laws of the taiga.
One spring in Yakutia, a local partner seriously expressed displeasure with the fact that I was a bear, absolutely unnecessary for me at that time, and did not shoot at the meeting: they say, you cannot refuse the gifts of the local god.
Indeed, life later threw in many examples of how the Master punishes and thanks.
***
Fall. Entry into the taiga. The fisherman brought food and equipment to his winter hut on a panyag, had supper and went to bed. After the difficult passage he slept soundly. I woke up from the fact that someone grabbed him by the shoulder, shook him several times and said loudly:
- Get up! You are burning!
Promotional video:
Waking up from his sleep, the hunter saw that there were no strangers in the hut, but it was very light, despite the deep night. This light was from a fire: a fire started between the ceiling and the roof from a tin chimney.
Probably, forest debris got there in the off-season, and when the stove was flooded, it caught fire. The hunter managed to extinguish the fire. He was convinced that the Master had saved him.
I also had to deal with manifestations of the Master's will. On that day, the otter was caught unexpectedly easily. It was pure luck: she herself ran across the river ice.
In the evening in the winter quarters, when I had supper and degreased the otter skin, a thirty-liter tank, which was standing there steadily, fell to the floor with a crash from the stove, in which the snow was melting.
The key was frozen to the bottom, it was necessary to extract water from the snow for household needs. Still not understanding why the tank had jumped off the stove, I filled it again with snow and put it back on the stove. Ten minutes later he flew off the stove again.
When the next portion of snow in the tank was put on the stove, a very strong table collapsed. The dishes rattled, the fallen kerosene lamp went out and the last lamp glass shattered loudly.
But the losses turned out to be insignificant: a piece of the lamp glass broke off in the upper part of the tube, and the teapot turned over on the sack with the last sugar.
It finally dawned on me that everything unusual this evening was happening because I hadn't thanked the Boss for luck. He urgently corrected the mistake, treated him to fire, promising to be more careful in the future.
turizm.ngs.ru
There were other cases in which the Boss helped me save my life. I had to while away the January night by the fire on an old fire. It was not possible to get the wounded moose during the day, spent the night on its trail - since there is enough firewood for burning.
Of all the designs of long-playing bonfires, the best one is, if you ignite a dry vortex from the butt, it can burn for several days.
I settled down on a soft spruce tree near a suitable inversion, making a bed of perches and a single-walled hut. It got warmer at night, it started snowing. In a dream, the Boss came to me. He was in the form of a large peasant of the Slavic type, with a broad gray beard, in gray cloth clothes.
Here is our dialogue:
- What are you, guy, are you lying down here?
- I’m sleeping - don’t you see?
- You can't spend the night here! Get out of here!
When I woke up, I drank another mug of tea and settled back on my side more comfortably. The dream did not take seriously. You never know what will dream, but did not want to wander on a dark night from the equipped place. But as soon as he fell asleep, the man swam out of the darkness again.
- Are you still here? Get out of here!
- Where to go?
- Wherever you want! You can't spend the night here!
The peasant's tone was serious, commanding. Simultaneously with his departure, I woke up, already knowing that I had to wander from this place. A suitable inversion was found less than a hundred meters away. While he was flaring up, I dragged my whole camp to him.
The snowfall changed to a blizzard, but slept in a new place perfectly, no one drove away. At dawn, getting ready to leave, I decided to visit the original place of spending the night: what if I forgot what?
When I approached the place from which they drove me out, I received a powerful emotional shock, experienced a real shock. A huge sushina lay across my couch …
***
In one of the seasons in Northern Transbaikalia, the Boss (there he was called Podya) quarreled with my partner, who did not believe in the power of the third reality. In hunting management work, the survey of land is often perfectly combined with fishing.
Vitaly and I did not have working dogs at that time, and we chose a place for autumn in an unsuitable place for hunting with huskies: narrow river valleys, steep slopes, rocks and endless thickets of dwarf cedar.
But there is a lot of sable. Our winter quarters stood on the arrow, at the confluence with the main river of the tributary. Vitaly began to set traps on the main one, I lay a path along the inflow.
Taiga greeted us well: they immediately caught the elk and caught the fish. Vitaly managed to catch five sables. But then he lost his beloved knife and Pode verbally expressed his displeasure about this.
I advised him not to regret the loss: what if the Boss really needed the knife? Let him take it, then give it away with sables. Or maybe return it if you ask him to respectfully. But Vitaly objected that he did not believe in this garbage, he would find the knife and catch the sable himself.
Then mysticism began. The knife was never found, and Vitaly's luck was over. I started catching sables in my third dozen, and he got stuck on the first five. The traps are the same, the baits are the same, but I catch, but he does not.
In the evening, when another pair of sable were hung up to thaw, I asked Vitaly for a cologne. First, he cleaned the fur from lumps of resin with it, and then splashed it from the bubble into the stove, saying:
- But, like all locals, he uses it!
Vitaly was outraged. Say, this bastard stole a knife from him and interferes with catching sables, and I still play off cologne for him. The next day, checking the traps convinced Vitaly that local spirits should be respected.
Two wolverines passed from the headwaters of our rivers in one day, each river has its own. The taiga robber took off three sables from Vitaly, and tore the bait from all the other perches with traps. My wolverine approached each trap, but did not touch anything.
This is the first time in my life that I have encountered such an atypical behavior. In the evening, when discussing what had happened, Vitaly admitted that the taiga owner must be respected. He himself asked for forgiveness from Podi and treated him to a quality fire, including cologne. Sable was immediately caught
***
Father Baikal also hides many secrets. For example, Cape Ryty on Lake Baikal is known as an anomalous zone where UFOs fly in herds, equipment and devices fail.
True, my friend, who has lived on the cordon near Rytym for twenty years, has never encountered anomalies that are almost always observed by rare visitors.
In his opinion, the probability of seeing a UFO here is directly proportional to the volume of alcohol consumed. But he himself believes in local spirits and even has material confirmation of his faith. When he settled in the cordon, which was an empty log house, he complained aloud about the lack of a good table.
The next day, on business past Ryty, he was walking on a motorboat and saw a solid wooden table, which the storm not only threw ashore, but also put on its legs. This table is still successfully performing its functions at the cordon.
And at the end of October 2014, a friend of mine, who did not hide his disbelief in local spirits, was walking in the fall on a large inflatable motorboat with a proven Japanese outboard motor past Cape Ryty. The weather was fine, the sea was calm.
There were two in the boat, both considered themselves seasoned. Just opposite the mouth of the Rytovsky gorge, a reliable Japanese engine stalled. Then, instantly, a flurry flew in - such that the tops of the waves tore off.
The boat was carried along Baikal for three days and on the fourth to the opposite bank, to the rocks of the Holy Nose, it was nailed. During this time, materialists-atheists believed in local spirits and learned to pray to them. We were saved. Later I told this friend that the Baikal Burkhan probably still needs it. There were no objections.
Those who go to the taiga have the right to choose whether to believe in this third reality or not. But everyone is obliged to observe an unwritten set of rules that imply respect for nature and mutual assistance.
Victor Stepanenko