virtually unstoppable military truck that is often used in forest work. Its
tusks were massive, and the watchman figured the tiger had met its
match. Khomenko was intrigued and, despite the watchman’s
admonitions against going alone after a possibly wounded tiger, he
seemed determined to do so.
Khomenko was an experienced hunter—a professional—and, as such,
his interest was understandable. Fresh tiger tracks aren’t something you
see every day, and many have spent their entire lives in the taiga without
ever setting eyes on a live tiger. Maybe Khomenko was curious; maybe
he was very hungry, or maybe he thought he had just won the lottery.
Tigers go by several different names here, and one of them is Toyota—
because, during the 1990s, that is what you could buy with one. The risk,
of course, is great. The animal is deadly, and hunting one is a federal
offense, but that is the case with many black market commodities, and it
is safe to say Khomenko was desperate. One look at his rhombus of a
house was proof enough.
When Khomenko failed to return that evening, the watchman grew
concerned. The following morning, he and some loggers climbed onto a
bulldozer—there was no way they were going in there on foot—and went
looking for him. They found Khomenko about half a mile down the trail,
lying on his back in a peculiar position and veiled in a light dusting of
snow. They left him where he lay and called the police, who arrived the
next day. For those who know the language, the whole story was written
in the snow, and this was how it read:
Within a few hundred yards of the logging camp, Khomenko had come
upon the site of the battle reported by the watchman, only there was no
sign of the rogue boar. The only tracks were those of tigers. Most likely,
they had been fighting over territory. Khomenko had studied the scene,
found the two sets of exit tracks, and followed the bloody ones. Once
again, he didn’t have far to go. There is no way to know precisely what
happened next—if the tiger revealed its position somehow, or if
Khomenko spotted it first. In any case, Lev Khomenko saw or sensed the
tiger in time to take off his gloves and lay them neatly on the snow. With
his hands free for shooting, he turned toward the tiger’s hiding place,
ron
(Ron)
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