Tales of an entomologist. About adventures and travel

I had a classmate-Stas.An extraordinary person.Short stature-purposeful, head working.During my life, I changed 20 specialties from a trolleybus driver to a computer designer,and I managed to work in the police, I collected postage stamps,coins-I made original packages of newspapers and magazines at the polygraph factory.He was fond of history.He was interested in butterflies.Led the Saratov program on TV "Nezatridevyat zemly".He went to the 10th grade of school for preparatory courses at the university for admission to the history department.In the summer, an expedition of archaeologists went to dig mounds in the region from UNI-he is with them.
They dug mounds for half the summer-first they remove the earth with a bulldozer-then with shovels-then with sticks-then with a toothbrush-the work is exhausting in the heat and interesting.They dug several mounds for half the summer-only bones-skeletons were found and a rotted leather horse harness, a pair of swords-a mustache.Break in work-all teachers and workers went to Saratov for 2 days.Stas and the girl stayed at the camp to guard the tents.To do nefig-send the mound started further to stir up.
They stirred up-two skeletons in gold products for 1400 gr. Two days later, teachers arrived and the whole crowd-Stas lays out one and a half kilos of Scythian gold.The Hermitage is now being restored.

I would convict teachers of years on 7.

And not only teachers - it's called predatory excavations.

Roman and Zlopastnyi Brandashmyg what did you try them for first,and then shoot them?And who was first placed under the tribunal?A classmate of mine with a freshman(he wasn't one yet) or teachers?The main thing-for what?

I congratulate ALL Men on the Holiday today!!!

Thank you for your congratulations.
You should be judged for leaving a schoolboy at the excavation site alone with a first-year student. Just for that alone, not even for the dig. I can imagine how our teachers leave the Arctic, leaving all the property for 2 people. This is criminal negligence. Even without the fact of these agitations

From the point of view of science, it is usually the burial site that is of value, and the golden "tsatskis" are more striking to journalists and other public. Therefore, the destruction of the burial site in order to effectively demonstrate the pulled tsatskis cannot be called anything other than a crime.

Naturally, the main fault lies not with the "boy and girl", but with the head of the expedition, who did not explain the basic things and did not take measures to preserve the monument.

PS. My father is an archaeologist, I was not yet a year old when I was taken on the first expedition. I've seen a lot of excavations and the topic is not a stranger to me.

In general, the looting of the national treasure now, when every idiot can buy a mine detector and go unselfishly to dig what he wants and where he wants, has acquired terrible proportions. Hence the somewhat painful reaction.

Gundorov - don't be offended!

I have a friend. This is a wonderful person. His will and intelligence make me imitate him. One of the most talented biologists in Siberia is Sergey Vladimirovich Smirnov. He has been practicing botany for 5 years. He swears at her, curses her, but leads her on. For his responsibility is also a well-known fact. A person who has traveled to China, Mongolia, Siberia, equatorial Africa, Japan-sits with students for a month a year. Doctor of Science, head of the laboratory of genetic analysis - he has never been a trolleybus driver...
And after the internship, we get an article in the university newspaper where Smirnov is criticized for how he conducted the internship - well, we also have a lot of them, with dashes instead of surnames... And snakes, there are mosquitoes, and thorns... And Smirnov leads the girls in high heels up the mountain, someone falls, someone dies. a terrible story.
Then, on the forum of students of our AltGU, we saw a recording of one lady from St. Petersburg, who was on this trip. She wrote
- Until now, we will continue to have unrest in education as long as there are such Sergey Vladimirovichs there.
We laughed... Smirnov was offended.
This refers to the question of how students perceive teachers. In general, the opportunities that the student now sees in front of him are about 10 times steeper than those that were before. You need a brain and capabilities.
By the way, Smirnov would never have left 2 students with the camp. He wouldn't even be able to think about it.
-

From the point of view of science, it is usually the burial site that is of value, and the golden "tsatskis" are more striking to journalists and other public. Therefore, the destruction of the burial site in order to effectively demonstrate the pulled tsatskis cannot be called anything other than a crime.

And who is now worried about something other than gold tsatsek... to our horror

And Smirnov leads the girls in high heels up the mountain, someone falls, someone dies. a terrible story.

You've brought back some very pleasant memories. Summer practice in vertebrate zoology. Our curator was a hunter and practiced "not childishly": long routes, etc., etc. Some of our fools managed to dress up as you know where, I don't remember about the heels, but the skirts were much higher than the knee (to the delight of mosquitoes ). I remember when we went to see the wolf spots, the moaning girls stretched out for at least a kilometer. And I ran up and down the columns and sympathetically told newly invented horror stories about wolves to the laggards.

sorry for the frivolous continuation of a serious topic!

This is a serious continuation... Read with pleasure.

2 Zlopastnyi Brandashmyg: Leonid, you won't believe it, but such peculiar girls come across me at every summer practice that I conduct. At first they walk along the road and sing songs - and then they turn sour. There is also a special kind of them - called the girl with oddities. In one of the groups I had such a thing-I went on excursions in a wide skirt up to my feet (this looked especially good when crossing a swampy stream) and did not let anyone kill an ixodid tick, defending its right to life.

During perestroika, as students from the institute, we lived in a camp far from Saratov in the Novo-Burasovsky district-houses for 8 people, we collected potatoes from morning to night.The dining room was full of food.The main course was space semolina porridge.Space-on the water-stuck to the plate-you turn the plate over, and the porridge hangs and does not smack on the table-it does not stick off.Potatoes were boiled in a bucket with a boiling pot in the evenings for the whole fraternity-vodka was then given on cards at the place of registration.But in the village we found moonshine.There was no fucking money, so the vodka was first heated with a boiling pot so that a couple of bubbles would be enough for 15 people-warm,tasteless-but it gives you a better ride. I caught 2 pieces of prozerpin brazhnikov there then-a rarity.

There is also a special kind of them - called the girl with oddities. In one of the groups I had such a thing-I went on excursions in a wide skirt up to my feet (this looked especially good when crossing a swampy stream) and did not let anyone kill an ixodid tick, defending its right to life.

Exactly! And such girls also like to talk about karma, celebat, Blavatsky, Muldashev and other chupacabras.

In general, it seems to me that the problem of stubbornness with which young ladies-students do not want to listen to advice on equipment, is more than painful for fellow Slavs associated with this mysterious and ancient process like photosynthesis-field practice. All right in the city to sparkle with secondary sexual characteristics, so they take them to hell on the horns, in the reserve, where the closest thing to humanoids is a mooing drunken huntsman, and go through the thorn-gullies in heels in mini-skirts, and on the head instead of a hat cosmetics. And after half a kilometer, "headaches", "ulcers" and the most-most-most universal disease in terms of excuses called "I have these very ones"begin. I remember how one teacher, who was unanimously recognized as" sad and cute "by the" flower garden " who came out on a tour, looked at his heels and bare legs in resignation, and then, remaining sad, led everyone into a thicket of thistles, immediately after that ceasing to be cute in the eyes of the ladies.

Damn, to collect a bunch of clothes that are twice the size and weight of the owner, and when it suddenly gets cold, to freeze because "there is nothing to wear", I do not know how. What is in these bundles-bags-handbags, Allah does not know.

I ask the dear ladies who have read this opus not to take what is written at their own expense, because we all understand that those about whom I "poured out as much as possible" will never read this.

Something like memories came flooding back...

In addition to well-known forms of life, such representatives of regional fauna (and maybe flora, the devil will sort them out)also play an important role in field practice for students like a LOCAL.
Usually, local residents are clearly divided into two ecological and trophic groups according to the level of threat to students (although mixed populations are often found, the decisive factor here is usually the availability of alcoholic beverages).

The first group consists of locals who pose a sexual danger to female students. Such people usually hang around the camp, make friends and interfere with sleep at night. Often they get together in small herds, and then they pose a threat to everyone up to the teachers. The decisive role is played not even by the hormonal imbalance of these creatures, but by the presence of a motorized vehicle (moped, motorcycle, tinted VAZ, and ALWAYS with a radio and without a silencer). It's really bad when these Australopithecines are 30-40 years old, and they have already been digested. At night in the forest, the police rarely come across for some reason. The main thing here is not to lose sight of the girls, otherwise, due to either age-related self-confidence, or atrophy of the sense of self-preservation, they firmly believe that they will finish flirting and go home when they want, without catching up that such tricks do not work with drunk miners-fishermen-Red Guards.

The second group is the local ones that pose a physical danger to students. Usually they do not approach the camp, and guard young rodents of scientific granite somewhere off to the side (usually near wells, on beaches, destroyed rural libraries and shops). These gentlemen are most often corny bored, and a light brawl with the city is an expected entertainment. The term "easy" can vary greatly depending on the time of day and geography. The advantage of such locals is that they are usually young in age, are afraid of adult teachers, and are usually not vindictive (although this is as luck would have it). The saddest encounter I've ever known with locals in our area ended with the urgent evacuation of the entire camp, and the most hilarious one is this:
I was once walking through the village as a first - year student, from the beach to the camp. A city student who didn't know the local customs passed by the local "beau monde", who was sitting spitting seeds on the doorstep of the store. The local student was called, he asked what was needed, and in response was sent to the great trigrammaton. The student was offended, ran to the camp shouting WAR! In the quiet room of the teachers, the entire male part of the camp was gathered, who took a chair leg, who took a mop, who tied a Rambo-style cloth around his head. At the head are two guards with batons. While we were getting ready, it was getting late. They came out like Crusaders to the holy land, only banners and torches were not enough. Someone started singing. We reached the battlefield, that "beau monde" is not there, but there is another one that looks the same. The negotiations in a nutshell were as follows:
"Where's so-and-so?"
"Gone.
"What about you?"
- Nothing.
"That's all.
They walked back in silence and through the darkness. But for the sake of justice, I must say that there were no more problems with the locals at that race.

On February 23, they remembered the best expedition years-student days in the USSR.And I'm going to turn 39 in March-a damn student.We went to the ratii-students-eh, turnips were beaten-hardening before expeditions for butterflies in hot spots, however.In principle,it is also a school of life-but a bad one.

The theme of entomologist's Tales.About the transmigration of souls.Vladimir Vysotsky sang - " who doesn't even believe in the devil to spite everyone."Let's try to imagine that our soul then transmigrates.The opportunity for each of us to move into an insect.Who would choose to become a species?Strange question?Why not?Let's kind of fool around?I probably would like to become Papilio alexanor.and you?If you suddenly get the chance.

Not otherwise, I will be a steppe fat man

Zygaenidae-hardly any of the men will probably be called.Bright, colorful, inactive-they sit on flowers-only attract attention, and if you eat it, you will get poisoned.

The topic of students ' field practice in zoology is inexhaustible and boundless!

And the female students in these stories, in general, are something...

I remember June, the heat, with one subgroup of biologists and chemists from Utrechka, taking field bags (with equipment) and "entomological" nets at the department, we barely got on a summer bus and rushed to Barkovka-the south-western part of the city, dachas, old trees of the Sura River, mixed forests and oak forests, meadows and long-abandoned fields overgrown with sagebrush... The blue of the sky and the whitecaps of the clouds - beauty and peace... From the outside, our company looks colorful - about a dozen people of students dressed very colorful, bright (with heels and without a headdress, I basically leave everyone in the department to wipe the dust of centuries) and minimally relieved-it's hot what can I do... And no matter how much I admonish them that they will be attacked by swarms of horseflies, and mosquitoes in the snow - everything is useless until they try it out for themselves...

It is long past noon, the heat has begun to subside, we walk along the edge of the woods, past the old trees, catch insects, sit down in the shade, write down in field diaries, drink water and go again... As a rule, the first half of the day (while we go there...) laughter, shouting, running around - and when you go back, you start moaning, tired, "oh, someone bit me", etc. Among female students, there are almost always "odious personalities" - this is how it turned out now. The first course, accelerations, and one girl, as they say, "legs from the ears" and everything with her (probably not for nothing Katka in the old days sent beautiful and objectionable women to us in the link...) especially stood out among all (yes, you want a joke - you know who I once had a field practice-Maria Sittel TV presenter channel Russia 1). At first, she was briskly walking in front of the whole company, but soon she got tired (it's not a model business to wander around in the woods) and like that heron, she trailed after everyone with moans... Well, the next stop came, we settled down in the meadow, in the" shade "behind a fairly wide and" dense " willow bush... I stand facing the audience and my back to the bush, dictating something, everyone is writing, asking questions, hihi-haha, everything is as usual... The "fashion model" comes up and sits down with groans on the first bump that comes across, stretching out her chic legs in light, frivolous short pants, takes a notebook and pen out of the bag, writes, and from time to time throws me reproachful languid glances of her large and beautiful eyes... Some time passes and suddenly she makes a "doe jump" to the side with screams... Unrestrained laughter... I thought she was going to jump out of her pants - it turned out that she was sitting on an anthill! The laughter and silly advice of the guys was interrupted by screams and desperate attempts to get the ants out of their pants and blouses at the end... Taking pity, I send her to the" bushes " to choose aggressors. Calmed down, we write further. Suddenly I notice the guys ' eyes literally pop out of their sockets, and the girls just roll away laughing on the grass... I turn around and am speechless ...!!! The model did not hesitate a bit to settle down behind our bush and ... Japanese shadow theater was nothing compared to this!!! The setting sun was shining from the other side, and we could see everything from the shadowy side... Striptease, as they say here, lost in all respects to entomostreptease - the desperate attempts of a beauty to get rid of goosebumps...

This post was edited by Penzyak - 24.02.2010 15: 07

I found a story on one site:
A real story from the life of entomologists. The Deer Beetle is a handsome half-palm - sized beetle with a large horn (hence the name), a very rare and valuable collector's item. And here in the train, to the complete stupefaction of the surrounding audience, decent-looking guys are talking, they don't look like stoned drug addicts at all:
- Imagine, the deer have already flown...
"Caught it?"
"They're so high up in the oaks that they can't reach the net.
- I should have lured you to beer. Deer loves beer, horror! She puts her trunk in and sucks, baldets, just take it with her bare hands. I brought so many of them from the Volga River last year... And if they sit on the oaks - here, of course, you will catch figs...

The Deer Beetle is a handsome half-palm - sized beetle with a large horn (hence the name), a very rare and valuable collector's item.

Thank you. Really funny

At the end of June, in oak groves for half a day, a bucket of Lucanus cervus deer can be collected in the Saratov region.

I also have a lot to say about the reaction of train passengers to entomological blunders. I've long made it a point to lower my voice when talking about entomology in public.

Caught once with friends on the light of a Chinese kerosene scarecrow in the vicinity of the PTZ on the clearing. The lamp, however, because of the small supply of kerosene quickly died out. But in the minutes she was working, Timon's gynandromorph bumped into the sheet. He was taken, by common consent, by the eldest of us (who, by the way, is still not used to the term "gynandromorph" and always says "hermaphrodite"instead).

Time passed, there were many trips together with the same friend, and separately, and here we are once in an electric train, and he, while talking, just brag that he discovered a new population (in addition to the one that we both knew before) of the teleius pigeon in the vicinity of the PTZ. I ask-in what neighborhood? Yes, he says, in our clearing. Which one, I say?" there are a lot of these "our" clearings. It's all over me, at the top of my lungs: "Yes, in the clearing where the three of us caught the hermaphrodite that night." From the nearest benches, the speaker was looked at with some surprise.

By the way, that hermaphrodite was glorified on his website by our colleague, see the page:
http://sungaya.narod.ru/hete/not/pyr_tim.htm

This post was edited by A. J. Elez - 02.03.2010 16: 30

When I conducted field practice, the girls made it smarter: they came to the place "at the parade", then famously changed into rubber boots, camouflage jackets, etc., and "mini" bags with marathon were given to the boys as a burden "to pump up muscles")) Well, upon returning to the starting point, Cinderellas again turned into princesses.

When I conducted field practice, the girls made it smarter: they came to the place "at the parade", then famously changed into rubber boots, camouflage jackets, etc., and "mini" bags with marathon were given to the boys as a burden "to pump up muscles")) Well, upon returning to the starting point, the cinderellas turned into princesses again.

Try reading your story with the word "marathon" in its original meaning...

This post was edited by Papaver - 02.03.2010 22: 06

Hmm, well, not everything is so bad in our ped
Although... If we take into account that the rector's order prohibits tobacco smoking on the territory of the educational institution, then...
(Stray strangers who see this ad react the same way as Papaver)

Hmm, well, not everything is so bad in our ped
Although... If we take into account that the rector's order prohibits tobacco smoking on the territory of the educational institution, then...
(Stray strangers who see this ad react in the same way as Papaver )

Hmm, I thought our Lestech was the only one..e (expelled from the institute for smoking in the territory). I associated this fact with the fire, but here...Yes, business..

No, our rector is an idealist
Type-takes care of your health

No, our rector is an idealist
Type-about health cares

He... I may also be an idealist, but I was extremely surprised when I visited the "native penates". At first I didn't even understand what was going on

There is nothing so terrible in the wish that young people smoke less at least during their stay at the university. And then I remember how young people came to couples who were stoned with "weed". Such people, of course, will not be affected by any bans on pain of not only deductions, but even the death penalty: they generally do not care about anything and everyone. Only this personally causes me not laughter, but sadness. And I also like it when biology and environmental teachers smoke during recess, and then they come for a couple and, exhaling all this smell on the students, talk about the fragility of living things, about the problems of humanity, etc.

P. S. I think the moderator will delete the last offline messages on this topic.

This post was edited by Violet Tricolor-03.03.2010 04: 21

Topic-entomologist's tales-I tell you about more serious experiences from butterfly hunting expeditions.It was once.
I got into an avalanche a little bit in the mountains with a rockfall - - - - cool-ass-somersault- - - you don't understand where the top is-where the bottom is and snow blows in the barrel, on the head-you can fuck.You lose a little consciousness after about ten somersaults under the snow and ten blows to the head(my helmet was crumpled and there was half a ton of snow behind the collar).Impressions!!!!!!!!!!Orgasm-better than in Hawaii.How did the rocks and ice not blow my head off then?Figs knows her-I didn't even have a concussion-I did a normal somersault-I just broke my finger.If you can't describe it, you can't put it into words.A very brutal, heavy blow-tons of snow and rocks-you fly like a feather.Like, an elephant can't probably hit like that.I still took off then after the first impact of the mass of snow-I flew 10 meters-then I started to roll in the snow-it's heavy-snow-I was lucky then-just a finger.And his face was covered in abrasions-ice, stones scratched.I couldn't dig myself out-it was heavy-I was buried under the snow-I can't move my legs,my hands in a normal way-I could push the snow around my face a little under the snow to breathe.Then from the warm breath-around the face the ice in the snow began to form-the air does not pass through the ice-I began to suffocate-and the snow was 3 meters on top of me-you can barely breathe with your lungs-it's hard.The men poked me from above with their probes-they poked me with luck-I strained my stomach-I pushed the probe back with my stomach.The men at the top felt it.Lucky-found-managed-to-dig up-choked already.I was helpless then-I couldn't move-Khan thought I was worse off than in Afghanistan.A snow avalanche is a terrible thing-I can't tell you how strong the impact was and how I was tumbling in the snow-I probably lost consciousness in places.

There is nothing so terrible in the wish that young people smoke less at least during their stay at the university. And then I remember how young people came to couples who were stoned with "weed". Such people, of course, will not be affected by any bans on pain of not only deductions, but even the death penalty: they generally do not care about anything and everyone. Only this personally causes me not laughter, but sadness. And I also like it when biology and environmental teachers smoke during recess, and then they come for a couple and, exhaling all this smell on the students, talk about the fragility of living things, about the problems of humanity, etc.

P. S. I think the moderator will delete the last offline messages on this topic.

Of course, it is very good when the rector takes care of the students ' morals, and I personally have nothing against it. I just got used to being more patient with human weaknesses (read passions), and it's more effective than a ban (not always, because I don't care). But I'm not competent in organizing a large institute, so maybe it's better that way.

I don't remember where it came from - "a smart commander doesn't give deliberately impossible orders." I'm talking about the smoking ban.

I don't smoke myself (and I've never smoked), but I don't approve of obvious excesses, such as total bans.

Hmm, I thought our Lestech was the only one..e (expelled from the institute for smoking in the territory). I associated this fact with the fire, but here...Yes, business..

Of course, it is very good when the rector takes care of the students ' morals, and I personally have nothing against it.

I don't remember where it came from - "a smart commander doesn't give deliberately impossible orders." I'm talking about the smoking ban.

In my opinion, smoking and morality are quite compatible. And as for the exclusion from an educational institution for smoking, and even on the territory-this is illegal. Those excluded (if they already exist) just need to file a complaint with the prosecutor's office, or better yet, immediately with the court. I'm sure the rector will be combed.

You say...
I remembered how at the summer field practice on b. / p. animals (in the first year, this situation occurs traditionally!) the students 'broadcast ended "unexpectedly". The most urgent question arose-how to starve insects!?? It was necessary to see these experiments of inquisitive young minds. As a rule, boys start putting insects in a bag and blowing tobacco smoke into it, and girls try to drown everyone... At the same time, there is a very lively discussion-who has poor animals will "drop" six legs faster-and who exactly will run to the village store for gingerbread or beer... As the saying goes, "the circus left, but the clowns stayed." And don't scold them - everything repeats almost every year... In such cases, I try to joke - " You should still try them with a rubber hammer...""Does it help!??""Yes! Only here you need to be careful that when you return the rest of the mind is not knocked out of the experimenter!"

This post was edited by Penzyak - 24.06.2010 15: 46

Pictures:

Return_of_expedition.JPG — (3.73 mb)

We were catching butterflies once... at a rural cemetery. I love cemeteries as an entomologist. There are always so many different butterflies. After all, a variety of flowers are planted in cemeteries, which attract butterflies. For example, in the village of Karamken (Magadan region), a friend gloomily informed me that she was at my mother's grave, and suddenly a very large and very black butterfly fluttered up from the fence. She'd never seen anything like it. It must have been a sign from above, and a very bad one... There was no face on the familiar map. I screamed: "It's Magdalena!!!" and rushed to the cemetery. And caught it! Black Magdalena! A huge rarity (for several years of expeditions never caught). And then another one. And more! So I jumped over fences and monuments until I broke the net on someone's cross. The Magdalens descended to the cemetery from the surrounding cliffs. The cemetery was full of other darkies, too. Anyway, I darned the net and stayed in the cemetery for a week. Then one grandmother said to me: "Blasphemer! It's not good to run through the graves with shouts of joy... " I was confused and decided that I really had enough...

Then one grandmother said to me: "Blasphemer! It's not good to run through the graves with shouts of joy... " I was confused and decided that I really had enough...

Whitefish whoops over tombstones and fences...

Sorry how I imagined this scene

We were catching butterflies once... at a rural cemetery. I love cemeteries as an entomologist. There are always so many different butterflies. After all, a variety of flowers are planted in cemeteries, which attract butterflies. For example, in the village of Karamken (Magadan region), a friend gloomily informed me that she was at my mother's grave, and suddenly a very large and very black butterfly fluttered up from the fence. She'd never seen anything like it. It must have been a sign from above, and a very bad one... There was no face on the familiar map. I screamed: "It's Magdalena!!!" and rushed to the cemetery. And caught it! Black Magdalena! A huge rarity (for several years of expeditions never caught). And then another one. And more! So I jumped over fences and monuments until I broke the net on someone's cross. The Magdalens descended to the cemetery from the surrounding cliffs. The cemetery was full of other darkies, too. Anyway, I darned the net and stayed in the cemetery for a week. Then one grandmother said to me: "Blasphemer! It's not good to run through the graves with shouts of joy... " I was confused and decided that I really had enough...

Yes, I also had the idea to catch (ground beetles) in cemeteries, because, basically, they are all very old and "caught" a lot of what was happening to the surrounding territories... steppes, plowing, planting and growth of forest belts, monocultures, pesticides, etc.... Having a variety of microconditions, cemeteries can be quite good reserves of species that have not survived the "anthropogenic pressure" in the surrounding territories.
.. but they still don't raise their hands...

Another story...

Tenedius

In the last story, I mentioned that I like to catch butterflies in cemeteries. There are a lot of interesting insects because of the abundance of flowers, sweets and other biological material. Even more insects in landfills. I often go there, too, and once, on an expedition, I caught butterflies in a city dump near Yakutsk.
Mountains of garbage, plume of smoke, miasma from rotting food residues… They attracted legions of insects within a 30 km radius. An arthropod researcher would have to be escorted out of here: what a variety, and how much!.. The hum of flies rose above the roar of dump trucks hauling up more garbage. Their dragonfly eaters covered the sky like airplanes in a newsreel of the Great Patriotic War. Beetles were rushing out from under the bottles... Spiders and millipedes, gorging on gigacalories, were constantly fucking...
I was interested in butterflies. Landfills are home to some butterfly species that are rare in the wild. For example, tenedius, or in Russian tenedius – an external similarity of cabbage, but a terrible rarity. Tenedias are caught most often in landfills, where the forage plants of their caterpillars grow.
I walked slowly along the garbage mines, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tenedius ' silver. I was climbing… Rushing… Tenedius floated in a haze of smoke! The swing of a long net... more... more… It's taken! Tenedius was caught by me without diving!
Then I caught the other Tenedians. Males and females. I was happy. The terrible stench and the cloud of flies seemed to me now to be the harbingers of paradise. What do you know about the happiness of a collector who came 7,000 km away to climb a landfill in search of treasure and found it! I idolized this dump and its creators. Tenedius! Now I have tenedium in my collection!
The sky was overcast, the insects had landed, and it was time to go home. What if… I froze. I saw SOMETHING. I squeezed my eyes shut. I saw a new species of fauna just a few steps away. I saw A NEW LIFE FORM. Four-legged animals crawled through the piles of shit. They made guttural sounds. They looked like the ancestors from the pet museum, but they were scarier. They were people, but they were people of fantasy. They weren't bothered by the myriad mosquitoes and flies – their skin, unwashed by years, was bulletproof. Their pickled bodies were not afraid of the cold or the rain.
They were collecting bottles. They lit fires, boiled water in rusty troughs, and washed bottles. Once a day, a car would arrive and pick up the collection. They received bread and vodka in exchange for the bottles. They lived in "compartments" made out of pieces of garbage. They slept on piles of rags, warmed by rot. Fantastic, they built a "tent" for love dates, from scraps of tulle-it turns out that women also lived here (it was so difficult for me to recognize them), it turns out that romance lived here!
They froze when they saw me. They hadn't seen a human in months. A normal person couldn't come to this dump. Entomologists came once every hundred years. I was wearing colored shorts to attract butterflies, a white panama hat to protect me from the sun, a red T-shirt to repel a bear, and a green net for camouflage. Anyone in this place would be an alien to them. I was an alien to the power of 20.
They got scared and wanted to run. I felt uncomfortable. People were working. They had a working day. I smiled at them. I needed to explain something about what I was doing here. I took out the bag with the trophy and called them over. The bravest one timidly approached me. It reeked of landfill waste, but I decided to carry out the story to the end. I unwrapped the packet. On my arm lay my treasure, tenedius. I tried to explain to him that I was catching rare butterflies for my collection.
But he couldn't remember most of the words. He stared at me, startled. And then I only said one word. I pointed to the butterfly and said, " tenedius." He nodded toward the dump. He... understood. He realized that this butterfly is found in their landfill, and for some reason I hunt it here. Probably, he even saw this butterfly more than once, and remembered it.
He grinned. He was pleased. He was even a little proud. It turns out that this dump is not the last place in this world. It turns out that in his modest alma mater, too, there are diamonds. It turns out that not everything is so bad in this life, if aliens began to fly to him.
"Tenedius," I repeated, admiring the prize. My friend was beaming his toothless grin. I put the butterfly in a bag, bowed to the audience and went.
"Tenedius," I heard him say suddenly. I turned around. "Tenedius," my friend repeated slowly. There was a new meaning in his face. He realized something. He memorized a new word – for the first time in 30 years.
I've returned. I handed him my net. The net was already worn out, and I was going to buy a new one. He picked up the net carefully. He looked like a Neanderthal with an English stack. "You will be my assistant. I'll be back soon. We'll catch a lot of Tenedii, " I said softly, and walked away.