supposed to save you at times like this. Those who have done serious
tiger time—scientists and hunters—describe the tiger’s roar not as a
sound so much as a full-body experience. Sober, disciplined biologists
have sworn they felt the earth shake. One Russian hunter, taken by
surprise, recalled thinking a dam had burst somewhere. In short, the
tiger’s roar exists in the same sonic realm as a natural catastrophe; it is
one of those sounds that give meaning and substance to “the fear of God.”
The Udeghe, Yuri Pionka, described the roar of that tiger in the clearing
as soul-rending. The literal translation from Russian is “soul-tearing-
apart.” “I have heard tigers in the forest,” he said, “but I never heard
anything like that. It was vicious; terrifying.”
What happened next transpired in less than three seconds. First, the
tiger was nowhere to be seen, and then he was in the air and flying. What
the tiger’s fangs do to the flesh its eyes do to the psyche, and this tiger’s
eyes were fixed on Trush: he was the target and, as far as the tiger was
concerned, he was as good as dead. Having launched from ten yards
away, the tiger was closing at the speed of flight, his roar rumbling
through Trush’s chest and skull like an avalanche. In spite of this, Trush
managed to put his rifle to his shoulder, and the clearing disappeared,
along with the forest behind it. All that remained in his consciousness
was the black wand of his gun barrel, at the end of which was a ravening
blur of yellow eyes and gleaming teeth that were growing in size by the
nanosecond. Trush was squeezing the trigger, which seemed a futile
gesture in the face of such ferocious intent—that barbed sledge of a paw,
raised now for the death blow.
The scenario was identical: the open field; the alert, armed man; the
tiger who is seen only when he chooses to be seen, erupting, apparently,
from the earth itself—from nowhere at all—leaving no time and no
possibility of escape. Trush was going to die exactly as Markov and
Pochepnya had. This was no folktale; nonetheless, only something heroic,
shamanic, magical could alter the outcome. Trush’s semiautomatic
loaded with proven tiger killers was not enough. Trush was a praying
man, and only God could save him now.
But in that clearing, there was only Yuri Pionka and Vladimir Shibnev.
ron
(Ron)
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