the interpersonal level, as opposed to the communal or the cosmic. Often,
it will take the form of a tiger. So closely are these two beings associated
that, in Primorye today, “Amba” serves as a synonym for tiger, even
among those who have no awareness of its other meaning.* For some
reason, probably because of its intactness, the area surrounding the
Panchelaza supports an unusually high density of tigers. It was within this
waterbound enclave, just west of the Amba River, that Markov had placed
his hunting barracks with Ivan Dunkai’s blessing.
At the time, Dunkai was living in a cabin of his own about four miles
to the southeast, at the boggy, braided confluence of the Amba and the
Bikin. After his second wife died, Dunkai left his home in Krasny Yar
and gave himself over to the taiga almost full time, much as Dersu had
done after losing his family to smallpox. Because his hunting territory
was far more than one man needed (one local Russian waggishly
compared it to France), Dunkai shared it with his sons, one of whom—
Mikhail—had a cabin right on the Amba, northeast of Markov. Neither
Mikhail nor his brother, Vasily, who hunted further east, seemed to have
a problem with Markov’s presence in their father’s hunting territory. As
they saw it, Markov was just another tayozhnik trying to make a living;
by their estimation, he was normalny—a regular guy, nothing out of the
ordinary.
The details of their arrangement—if there were any beyond a request
and a nod—were known only to Dunkai and Markov. They were both
easygoing, personable men who knew and loved the taiga and were
engaged in similar pursuits. They were also good friends: when Markov
was first getting to know the Panchelaza, Dunkai had allowed Markov to
stay with him for weeks at a time. Theirs was a close but casual
friendship: if one needed a cup of tea, the loan of some supplies, or a
place to stay for a while, the other would oblige. Like most forest
encounters, their meetings were spontaneous affairs: there was no need to
call ahead, nor was there the means to. For Ivan Dunkai, Markov was a
familiar presence in the forest the same way the local tigers were:
occasionally, he would run into him; more often, he would just take note