From an old one. What’s a wedding without a fight?
Somehow, the end of winter and the entire first half of spring turned out to be generous with all sorts of bad events. There have been so many of them in recent years, and you don’t have to be Nostradamus or Vanga to foresee that all this stuff will snowball.
But for the past couple of months, the news has been hitting my head week after week. And I didn’t raise my hand to rummage through archive disks, picking up interesting photos… And the heartbreaking news repeatedly vetoed any attempts to write something funny and life-affirming about the Arctic and the animals that inhabit it, dear to my heart…
But spring, comrades, it is still spring in the Arctic! And even in the long-suffering post-Soviet space, where I happened to be born.
What am I talking about? But it’s coming to the middle of April, and at that time the Arctic ice, which threw off the shackles of the polar night, turned into an endless wedding palace for polar bears. I’m sad, but the animals are enjoying life and loving each other under the cold, but already bright spring sun. Bear weddings are in full swing!
The stern grooms have given up hunting seals and are trying to catch the scent of the bride in the frosty air. And if the applicant for the paw and heart has sensed an attractive fragrance, then he unmistakably takes a course in the right direction and can follow the smell for days and weeks until he overtakes and conquers the heart of a woolly beauty.
But reciprocity must be won! There are many suitors, the competition is high, and after fierce tournament fights, only one will remain. The one who forced his rivals to run shamefully with his paws and jaws. And then the battlefield miraculously turns into a wedding hall.
It is the wedding season that becomes a serious test for male polar bears. It’s only in the spring that they have to get into such bloody fights. Scars and scars on their muzzles multiply from year to year, and old males look like pirates decommissioned on the shore or veterans of the Napoleonic wars. Well, scars adorn men. I think they have something to remember during prolonged blizzards, when they rest behind a ridge of hummocks, sheltering from the hurricane wind…
So let’s drink a glass so that the battles are only on the love front! Well, for the second time, for the Day of Cosmonautics!
In the picture. I called this matured bear, which I met on Wrangel Island 34 years ago, a Carnauh. A ragged ear and a muzzle streaked with old scars were unequivocal evidence of the serious battles that Karnauh had suffered during his long life in the ice.
From an old one. Reflections on a steep slope
Yeah… something’s too cool.
I remember I was a bear cub, so no problem – kick on the ass and go! Go away-go away! And now it’s a little scary. There are some sharp boulders below. If you stumble at speed, it won’t seem enough… And the crust is frozen, slippery, even it’s difficult to catch on with claws.
On the run? No, I’ll do a somersault. And this bearded paparazzi is right there, aiming his camera. He will take off my somersault and disgrace me on social networks. Other bears will be ashamed to look into their eyes later. I’ll try it in small steps, carefully. You’ll see, it will pass.
And if I slip and flop, then I’ll take the fucking photographer down there, there’s enough room for maneuver. Maybe I won’t eat it, but I’ll bite the camera. And don’t forget to pull out the memory card. I’ll chew and spit it out. I’d rather swallow it for reliability. Well, God be with you!
Ermine as an image of January me
Cape Schmidt, September 2023
Over the decades of my life and work in Chukotka, I have repeatedly encountered ermines, but I have never taken a single satisfactory picture.
The animal does not sit still, prowls back and forth with creeping jumps at superluminal speed, from time to time simply dissolving into thin air before our eyes. He disappears, of course, in crevices among rocks and behind tundra hummocks, but sometimes it seems that he knows how to use some kind of extra-spatial channels. Here he is. One time! And now he’s gone.
Two! and he appeared already a couple of dozen meters from the point of his disappearance. I don’t even have time to turn around to trace his route. It’s not like catching it in the viewfinder and pressing the shutter. It is extremely rare for a fidget to freeze for a split second to see something very important and useful for him. But this fraction of a second is simply not enough for a decent sharp shot. I have a bad reaction, I must admit…
So your humble servant in January became like an ermine, rushing around the cities and towns of Russia, appearing here and there for a few days, occasionally freezing for a short time at a laptop to prepare another report or presentation. And again – a report, a lecture, bureaucratic problems and work turnover. And the meetings of the New Year, then old friends, then Christmas and Old New Year, then new friends.
Well, as a cherry, there is a commotion with the repair and restoration of the fleet of shooting equipment. A pleasant commotion, I must say, which arose thanks to the financial help of you, my friends on social networks and not only on social networks. With a Little Help from My Friends, as the unforgettable Ringo Starr once sang, followed by Joe Cocker. However, I would replace “Little” with “Big”. By the way, it’s time to report to donors soon. And I will do it.
Well, in general, you understand why I disappeared from the radar for a month. I will try to restore the previous mode of appearance on the World Wide Web and publish posts more often.
Anatoly Kochnev
