are: what has emerged since the collapse of the Soviet Union is a kind of
ersatz aristocracy, one that enjoys its noblesse sans oblige. “For such
men,” says Trush, “it is a matter of pride to shoot at a tiger or a bear,
regardless of whether the shot hits its mark. It is no difference to them
whether they injure a tiger or kill it. There are many such hunters, and
they shoot without thinking.”
This flagrant disregard for nature and the law can take surprising
forms: once, Trush intercepted a tank. It was a “civilian” model (no gun
turret), lined inside with oriental carpets, and filled with corporate
executives hunting like rajahs on a latter-day elephant. Needless to say,
the vehicle was illegal. Its occupants weren’t pleased to see Trush, or his
video camera, and they tried to intimidate him. “I filmed all this,”
explained Trush, “and it was aired on a national program. When these
men saw themselves on TV, they called me in for a dressing-down, and I
agreed to go. They said, ‘You are not afraid to meet with us?’ And I said
that I wasn’t. They threatened me. They said, ‘What are you doing? Don’t
you understand? This is not America or Germany; this is Russia: you
might get “lost” in the forest.’ Then they asked me for the videotape. I
said to them, ‘Guys, I’m only doing my job. The tape is in Vladivostok.
Go and talk to my supervisors.’ After that, they told me that I was
incorrigible and that it would be easier to kill me than to convince me.”
It was high praise—of a dangerous kind. Hiking through the forest one
day, not far from Markov’s cabin, Trush nodded toward a dead poplar
that had blown down, roots and all, leaving a large cavity behind. “This is
how you hide a body in the forest,” he explained. “Put it in a hole like
that and then cut the trunk off low, just above the roots. That way, you
can lift the stump back up.” Trush elevates his hound-dog brows, wags
his head, and shrugs. “No one will ever know.”
Trush has been threatened many times, and his attitude is: “A barking
dog doesn’t bite.” He knows how things are done in Russia, and that if
someone powerful wanted him killed there would be little he could do to
prevent it (in the taiga, the same is said to be true of a tiger when it has
set its sights on a victim). On his rounds in the Bikin valley, all of
Trush’s skills and weapons have served him well: he has been shot at and
ron
(Ron)
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