Bear or perch?
Sergey Samborsky

© Sergey Samborsky, 2025

ISBN 978-5-0068-0982-6

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Bear or perch?

– Hello, San, hi. Will you be home from Thursday to Saturday? No plans? Mikhail was silent for a minute, listening to the person on the other end of the line. – Yes, I want to come and go fishing with you in Orlovka… I understood, I’ll take gasoline in two cans. – After finishing the conversation, he hung up the phone. He pushed the phone away, adjusted the twisted wire and went outside.

On this day, Mikhail prepared everything necessary for fishing. I did not forget about the gasoline cans. They had to travel by barge to the distant villages of Druzhny and Tsentralny along the Siberian river. Six hours against the current up the Keti. For this reason, Mikhail also took warm clothes, even in summer there is no other way on the river. And tomorrow morning, he and Alexander and his son Denis will go upstream on the Orlovka River in a motorboat. While the barge was moving at its leisurely pace, Mikhail had a lot to think about. The dashing nineties have recently passed. And in the early noughties, there was still tension with work in their area, and it was difficult with wages. And Mikhail decided to go fishing overnight to catch more fish and smoke it. Maybe you can sell something, you see, and there will be money. The river where Mikhail went is still famous for its good perches. And at that time, there were plenty of them there. The vast territories of the taiga with deep rivers and lakes with a small population contribute to the rapid renewal of fish stocks. And hot smoked perches are very popular. Anyone who has tried this dish at least once will never forget its taste. The next morning, everything was packed. Kazanka boat, engine, gasoline, gear, sleeping bags and personal belongings.

– San, did you take the tent?

– No, we’ll sleep on the campfire.

– You mean like on a bonfire? Mikhail did not understand.

«You’ll see,» Sanya replied, not forgetting to put his double-barreled shotgun with cartridges in the boat. Teenager Denis got into the boat first, the men pushed it onto the water, let the Gray pass and, sitting down themselves, began to row with oars. The gray, sticking out his tongue, began to breathe rapidly, turning his head in different directions, every now and then intending to lick his young master’s face. Jerking the starter, he started the engine and, waving to his wife Svetlana, Alexander confidently steered his Kazanka upstream. There are three days and three nights of living in the taiga ahead, far away even from the civilization that the village of Tsentralny, lost among the swamps, represented. With a population of about three thousand people, Central was the only last stronghold of civilization in these places. Fishermen went to the remote taiga, to the habitats of bears and deer. And they needed to get to the first campsite and set up camp before the evening.

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