In 1978, we organized an amateur expedition to Sergushkin Island - a long one, about 13 kilometers, stretched along the northern coast of the Angara. Ancient sites have already been found here and, apparently, there should have been burials here. It was a poor amateur expedition, a kind of partisan detachment of science. One young specialist, two students, five students from vocational schools: great scientific power!
In the lower part of the island there was a rift, that is, a place where the channel became narrower and shallower and the water roared over the stones. This is not a waterfall, not even a threshold … a shivera is a shivera. From the shivera there was just a magical view, especially at sunset. Gold and pink water was crushed on stones, the sun was setting and could not sit behind the steep slopes of the root bank. Only the movement of the water on the rift shook the pine paws: not a breeze. Not the slightest movement of air throughout the sunset. And beauty. A rare beauty even for a summer Angara.
We often went to the Shivera during these quiet sunset hours: just to be alone, sit, watch the sunset. To get to the rift, it was necessary to walk three kilometers through a rare pine forest and through a burnt place. Even if the sun went down, it was light until two in the morning … And from three in the morning it became light again.
Large animals lived on the island, it was wise to take a gun with you. If a man leaves the camp with a gun, a hunting dog, Swan, will immediately follow him. Lebed could not allow someone with a gun to go into the forest without him, even if he does not shoot and hunt ?! Waving its tail, Lebed ran along the hummock, through the pine woodlands; it was especially reliable with him: we knew that the Swan can stop both the bear and the elk.
That day everything was as usual: Lebed and I reached the rift; after I washed my face burning from mosquitoes with cold water, we sat there for a while. Rather, Swan ran, smelled stones and then barked loudly at someone in the bushes.
It was I who sat on the stones, looking at the sunset from one side of the sky, at the moon with stars in the transparent crown of the other. He sat and marveled at the miracle of the North, where the sun and the moon in the sky can be seen at the same time. We went back somewhere at half past midnight. We walked about a kilometer when Lebed suddenly behaved strangely.
A huge animal husky suddenly stopped rooted to the spot, and the wool on the back of the Swan's neck stood on end. Quietly, growling insinuatingly, Lebed walked with a strange gait, as if along something where he did not want to go. He walked about five meters and backed up straight to me, sat down near my leg.
- What is there, Swan ?!
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The dog raised a terrible face, streaked with terrible scars, towards me; dark horror splashed in his eyes, involuntarily transmitted to man. Immediately the dog stared at the empty area between the pines again - to where it came running from.
From the first minute that Swan got worried, I immediately decided that it was a bear. He pulled the weapon off his shoulder, removed the safety catch.
From a distance of five meters, a charge of 12-gauge buckshot knocks down a small tree, and then buckshot disperses in a "glass" with a diameter of thirty centimeters. Each buckshot is, in fact, a small bullet. Now two deaths were frozen in my hands, inside empty iron sticks, I could send them to a beast or a person with one movement of my hand.
But there was no one to shoot at. It was not dark at all - northern twilight, bright and without shadows. The area is visible throughout the open woodland, two hundred meters in each direction. Pine trunks, burnt along the bottom, brush undergrowth - two-three-year-old pines climbing through a black layer of burnt moss on the ground.
In all directions and behind too - not the slightest movement anywhere. I took a step forward, and immediately Lebed, whimpering softly, moved, but not in front, not next to, but behind me. The whole body of the huge dog was tense, like a string, on the muzzle there was some kind of insane and at the same time pathetic expression; the beast walked as if it were dancing. I realized that the dog is ready at any second for a battle for life and death, and besides, he is terribly afraid. But with whom to fight ?! Whom to be afraid of ?! Nobody anywhere, nothing. Dead silence, drowsy peace of the forest on a bright July night.
So I crossed some kind of invisible, but understandable border for Lebed, the dog growled pitifully, whined. I take a step back, and the Swan presses against my feet; I can feel him shaking finely, finely. Like this - bending down, squeezing the gun, constantly bumping into the dog, I gradually begin to understand which piece of land Swan is afraid of. It turns out that the dog does not want to go into such a circle with a diameter of forty or fifty meters. The eyes are mad, frightened, all hair on end, all muscles tense.
At least kill, there is nothing in this circle. Nothing and nobody. The same pines, the same new undergrowth pines, the same bumps and moss. Everything is perfectly visible, no movement anywhere. Someone long lies drowned in moss ?! No, a log. Is something moving ?! No, it is Swan and I that are moving, moving and from different points we see the same bushes.
The nerves are more and more at the limit, the fear of the dog infects more and more.
Crunch!!! Rustle!!! Someone big is coming from behind! Turning abruptly, I jump up to the tree trunk. The swan did not even take his ear, he looks all into the depths of an incomprehensible spot.
Phew … Nothing and nobody. A twig just cracked, a half-rotten branch fell off. There she is, gently swaying on the bush.
Then I make up my mind: if you can't cope with yourself, you can bring yourself to such a point that you won't be able to enter the forest later. Gritting my teeth, I go inside the damned "spot". And nothing happens. Silence, only I myself rustled the bushes, crushed the moss on the bumps.
The swan whines thinly, kicks finely, runs not after me, but along the perimeter of some circle, into which he dare not enter. The border of this mysterious zone becomes very visible, Lebed draws it very clearly.
I stand for a minute to calm down - well, I am inside … So what ?! I look carefully - no, there is nobody and nothing in the moss. There is not even a trace of someone big; the next few days, the large animal did not pass here. Moving to that log of the day. Yes, this is a half-rotten pine, burnt two or three years ago in a fire that engulfed this entire section of the forest.
I cross the "vicious circle", meeting with the Swan on the other side. The dog is wagging its tail, very happy, but still does not go into the circle. Once again I cross the "circle" and try to find everything, well, what is so unusual about it ?! Forest area and forest area. Only a few pines rise in the "enchanted space", I carefully examine their crowns. And there is nothing … Or "someone" walks along the trunk so that I do not see it?
But then Swan would have warned. In general, the Swan behaves in an extremely strange way: if there was something dangerous here, even very unusual, the dog would bark at everything large, moving, and hidden. The swan doesn't seem to see anything here to bark at. He is very tense and very afraid … But not like he is afraid of the beast.
I leave the "vicious circle"; all the same carefully, holding the gun, I move towards the camp. Judge me if you like - I try to stay away from dense thickets, from tall and thick trees, from gullies, fractures of the terrain.
It takes about a quarter of an hour to get to the camp, and the darkness is deepening, albeit very slowly. After half a kilometer, the Swan again begins to behave normally: he does not cling to his feet, terribly interfering with walking, he relaxed, his wool fell. It’s the darkest time when I arrive. The moon turns gold and silver, the stars pour in, it gets colder. The frost lies on the benches and on the oilcloth of the table. All went to bed for a long time, of course.
I sit down at the table, wiping the bench from frost, pouring almost cold tea. It’s not even about the drink itself: it’s important for me to perform ordinary, habitual actions performed a hundred times. Sit under an expedition tent at a table covered with oilcloth, pour tea into an iron mug, look at the camp, at the tents and at the trampled earth. I already really want to sleep.
Until now, I have no idea what scared Swan so much. I did not say anything to the members of the expedition: our relationship was not the same. But since then I have told this story to different people several times. Few simply shrugged their shoulders. Most of them assured that there was a bear lying there, but I didn’t notice it.
I do not believe in this at all, because it is impossible to “not notice” a bear lying down just like “not to notice” an atomic explosion. Unless the bear walked quietly, with a hunting step and left no tracks. But it would no longer be lying down, it would only be “the place the bear passed through”.
By the way, the Swan would have immediately discovered both the hidden and the hunting bear. After all, the Swan is not just a big country dog. The swan is a hunting husky; animal dog, on account of which several bears. The swan not only was not afraid of animals, he attacked them, chased them. He knew how to detain the beast, not let him go until the owner could come up and shoot for sure.
One great theorist on this matter discussed for a long time about the cosmodromes of space aliens. He assured that such a cosmodrome is hidden underground, it is still not visible … At least, it is not visible to people like me and like you, dear readers.
In 1982, I learned that not far away, in the upper reaches of the Kova River, there are several "filthy places." They are also called "bad places" and "bewitched" - differently. Each enchanted place is a circle of bare earth, a bald patch in the grass and moss. Animals that wander into such places die - both domestic and wild.
Dogs do not go to such places, they are afraid of them. For people, such places do not seem to be dangerous … but who knows? It seems that a person near these bald patches is uncomfortable … But who, I wonder, will become "comfortable" near several cow and deer carcasses that have been rotting for several weeks ?!
What I have encountered does not look much like a bald patch. Maybe the "filthy place" was just beginning to form there? But I have never been to this place again and have never heard any unusual stories about Sergushkin Island. So this assumption is purely speculative, just an attempt to somehow explain your adventure.
Andrey Burovsky, historian, archaeologist, writer, candidate of historical sciences, doctor of philosophical sciences