In an effort to express the depth of his obsession, Pikunov cited a
Russian proverb usually reserved for wolves: “No matter how much you
feed him, he keeps looking at the forest.” Nonetheless, it would be ten
years before Pikunov laid eyes on a tiger. When he finally did it was on a
riverbank, by flashlight. “His eyes were fiery—greenish white,” Pikunov
recalled. “He was huge, but not aggressive at all. He just stood there, his
eyes on fire the whole time.”
One of Pikunov’s responsibilities was to gather census data on game
animals, a task most easily accomplished in winter when the tracks are
easy to follow and count. Of course, tigers and leopards were following
these tracks, too, and this is how Pikunov discovered what would become
a lifelong fascination. Starting in 1977, he began tracking tigers cross-
country over extended periods in order to determine how many kills they
were making—crucial information for agencies trying to manage habitat,
game species, and hunters. “Whenever I do field work, I always have a
gun on me,” Pikunov explained. “It makes me feel more secure,
psychologically. But I have a subconscious feeling that if I have not hurt
a tiger, he will not be aggressive toward me.” Once, Pikunov tracked a
single tiger continuously for six weeks, literally sleeping in its tracks,
just as Kaplanov had done forty years earlier. “Even when I was on tiger
tracks all the time,” he explained, “and scavenging meat from their kills,
none of those tigers demonstrated aggressive behavior toward me.”
Today, even after a serious heart attack, Pikunov still has surprisingly
powerful hands—and opinions to match. Among his colleagues, he elicits
no neutral feelings, but his chin-first demeanor softens when he recalls
the man he knew as “Vanya” Dunkai. Pikunov speaks of him with the
same respect and affection Arseniev did of Dersu, and for many of the
same reasons. Over the course of thirty years, the two men spent many
months together in the taiga, tracking big game, and Pikunov paid close
attention. To this day, tayozhniks typically go into the winter forest with
very basic equipment consisting of felt-soled, wool-lined boots, woolen
pants, jacket, and mittens. Incidentals are carried in a floppy canvas
rucksack; if they know they’ll be packing something heavy, like meat,
they might mount it on a bentwood maple pack frame, Udeghe-style.
ron
(Ron)
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