Hunting with a gun and a dog is beautiful in itself, but even if you are not a hunter, but just love nature, you cannot but envy our brother. What a pleasure to leave home from spring to dawn! Stars are blinking in the dark gray sky, a moist breeze comes in a light wave, you hear an unclear whisper of the night. But now the edge of the sky grows red, birds wake up, the air brightens. Already golden streaks stretched across the sky, the predawn wind blew - and the crimson sun quietly pops up. The weather will be nice. How freely the chest breathes, how a man grows stronger, seized by the breath of spring!
And who, besides the hunter, experienced how gratifying it is to wander through the bushes on a July summer morning. You spread a bush wet from dew, and you are surrounded by the warm smell of night. Still fresh, but the proximity of heat is already felt. The sun is higher. It has already become hot. Through dense bushes of hazel, you descend into a ravine, where a source lurks under the very cliff. You got drunk and remain in the shade, breathe odorous dampness. Suddenly a wind rises. The sun is still shining around, but lightning flashes faintly on the horizon. A cloud covers the vault with a dark sleeve, and you hide in a hay shed. How fresh the air after a thunderstorm, how it smells like mushrooms and wild strawberries!
But then the dawn swept over the fire half the sky, the sun sets.Along with dew, a crimson shine falls on the glades, long shadows ran from the trees and bushes. The sun has set, the sky is turning blue, the air is filled with mist. Time to go home.
And then you’ll lay running shakes and go to the forest for hazel grouse. It is fun to make your way along a narrow path, between two walls of high rye. Forest meets with shadow and silence. You drive along the green path further and further. The forest stalls, drowsily and quietly around. And how good this forest is in late autumn, when the autumn smell spreads in the soft air. All life unfolds in front of a man, like a scroll, and nothing hinders him - there is no sun, no wind, no noise.
And the autumn, clear, frosty morning in the morning, when the sun no longer warms, the small aspen grove all sparkles, and the birch stands all golden, like a fabulous tree. Summer foggy days are also good, when the surroundings are inexpressibly quiet. And on a winter day, walk through the snowdrifts, breathe in the frosty sharp air and squint from the dazzling sparkling of soft snow. And the first spring days, when everything glistens and melts around, through the heavy steam of thawed snow it already smells of warmed earth and larks are singing on the thawed places.
However - it's time to end. In the spring it is easy to leave, in the spring and happy pulls into the distance ...
