Tales of an entomologist. About adventures and travel

And how to divide hunting grounds and continents?

Sign the convention on the type of children of Lieutenant Schmidt, dividing it into zones of influence, only extrapolate it to the whole world

There are also reverse situations. One colleague has a unique piece of material that he can't (no time, I guess?) describe since the early 90's. We cannot even quote it in our phylogenetic works, although we have seen it.

Another colleague hasn't been able to get his work published for many years. Back in the early 2000s, he showed boxes with new genera and species... That's why I don't deal with this group (subfamily), although there is some material.

You would not poison the soul, colleague...

There are also reverse situations. One colleague has a unique piece of material that he can't (no time, I guess?) describe since the early 90's. We cannot even quote it in our phylogenetic works, although we have seen it.

Another colleague hasn't been able to get his work published for many years. Back in the early 2000s, he showed boxes with new genera and species... That's why I don't deal with this group (subfamily), although there is some material.

This is what the French like to do, according to my observations.

are they doing this on purpose?

They're just loose-lipped comrades, just like the Belgians. de Gaulle was right to talk about running a country that produces 200 varieties of cheese. For them, drinking a bottle of good sauternes is more pleasant than describing a new family. Hedonists. And in some ways I understand them.

Let's talk about funny and positive things from the life of entomologists! For example there was a story:

A story about the Soviet army ("school of life") in which I happened to serve in 1985-87. By the way, in our company of 120 people, 47 nationalities of the former USSR served.

Imagine a short, stocky, red-faced, and very loud-mouthed senior ensign who had served every conceivable term of service in the army. His numerous armbands for years of service, with an incredible saddle on his uniform cap and an unflinching expression on his face, gave odds to all admirals and generals of those times. Long-term and CONSCIENTIOUS service in the army (not to be confused with the movie crooked art. Ensign Shmatko!) undoubtedly made him an original and a letter-eater (in a good sense of the word!). He had one (out of MANY!!!) shitty habit (or rather a proverb/expletive) like the company foreman - for example, he came to the company's location an hour before rising (at five in the morning) and checked the entire barracks, while loudly scolding the duty officer and the day staff with strong words, for any violations of order in the barracks that he detected. At the same time, he calls all violators of the wings not otherwise than a pid.... ny! In the beginning, it hurt the ears of yesterday's students of institutes, then they got used to it and even tried to catch the ensign on obvious inconsistencies in his phrases... For example, imagine-July, terrible heat, even at night everyone sweats and sleeps on the bed under a sheet soaked in the washbasin. Well, how not to feed the soldiers bromine, they are young and healthy in the morning there is a boner, clearly visible under the sheet of the poor soldier sleeping on his back... This is how our ensign always goes and covers the outfit for mistakes in the service in his own peculiar vocabulary:
"Pi....Why do you have steers on the runway?.. Duty officer why are your pi..... ny doing nothing ... " And so on and so forth.. And then he saw a poor soldier yearning for the amorous joys of a citizen...
"Here's pi....him! He also has a hard drive!!?"
Since everyone was already waking up with his screams and crawling out of their beds to the toilet for a smoke, etc. Then these words made an indelible impression-who woke up, fell with laughter, who was asleep, woke up...
But, this is still what, the most unforgettable impression on us was made by his favorite comparison in one weighty instructive case, after which this word fell out of his LONG-TERM vocabulary and even without the moralizing conversations of our fathers of officers...
It was winter, the evening check of the company, 100 people of the available composition is in two rows on the runway. The senior ensign stands in front of the formation and reads out the book of evening checks... Ivanov-I, Petrov-I, Prikhodko-I, Bikmurzaev-I, Abdrkhmanov-I, well, and so on... All this has long been old tired, well, on the one hand, the line, the talk and laughter, the ensign there... As soon as it reaches the left flank, on the right there is cackling, teasing and neighing...
The ensign was sick to death of this, he stood in front of the uneasily quiet formation "in frunt" waiting for the inevitable demolition, closed the book, and in a voice that did not bode well uttered a sacramental phrase that literally killed us on the spot:
- "When the book of evening verifications is read out, the names of Heroes of the Soviet Union are read out!!!"
In our department, there was a sergeant who was a joker and a slob, and without hesitation, he said quietly but clearly:
- "Comrade senior ensign, we have no heroes of the Soviet Union in our company! Pid....We HAVE THEM!"
The effect was indescribable-the floor of the company literally fell into a "precipitate", the ensign turned pale, blushed - fished out the sergeant by the button and marched with him to the office for a conversation...
Yes, there were times when we saw so much in our two years of service...

It's a good story. But where is entomology? Why wasn't a hornet stuck in the boot of an uncultured ensign?

From entomological adventures in the army, I only remember - pediculosis... There was a lot of laughter when the floor of the company was shaved from top to bottom! At the same time, a couple of detachments from the disbanded unit in Siberia were sent to our unit (this is how hard it was necessary to be razdol... so that the unit is disbanded??). So they were all lice-ridden. they are quarantined - and their clothes are sent to a camping "vshigonyalku", a kind of" samovar " on wheels . After that, they were nicknamed "chewed" - all their parades became as if their herd of cows chewed. Yes, in the storevoy part, the duties of the" entomologist " are borne by the doctor of the part...

And I personally had good relations with senior ensign Zuikov (almost a fellow countryman, from Saratov). Yes, I forgot to say that I served (nep'verite) in the Bashkir State Nature Reserve!

This post was edited by Penzyak - 03.05.2010 10: 20

The case was last summer.
I must say that I like to wander through the forest and taiga alone. Of course, it's also good and fun to be with my friends and comrades, but for some reason nature always remains in the background for me in this case. And I want to admire the scenery, "merge" so to speak with nature... So, recently I returned from a hike from the Sayan Mountains, there is such a place called Aradan. I also went to one of them-I learned the route from my comrades - so I went to the mountains. By the way, there are quite a lot of bears in those places and they often approach tourists, so the whole trip was quite stressful for me, even though I didn't meet anyone.
I didn't have a gun with me. In general, it was more likely not a rest, but a kind of test, or something .

So, I decided to really just relax for a couple of days in nature, catch butterflies, and of course no bears - in the vicinity of Krasnoyarsk. I mapped out a route, took a net and a gas lamp (the first time I took it, I decided to try it out at night), got on an electric train - and in an hour's drive I was already in the forest. It's about 20 kilometers to go to the place I need, so I figured it out-I go every day, find a place for a tent and a fire, and catch the light in the evening, and in the morning already daytime.
Well, so I went slowly, on the way I caught sometimes and it was already late in the evening. I'm not far from my destination. I must say the place is beautiful! Near the Bazaiha river, no people, the nearest town is 20 km away-a paradise for relaxing in the forest!
I'm coming-footprints on the road!!! Bearish! Rested from the bears, damn it... And I can't go back - I'm already tired, and it's evening, too. And the Stubendorfs are great flying right under your nose. I stood for a while, thought - whatever, took out a net and began to catch it( although in one place it's running out). Caught - then what? I'll have to spend the night (and I'm still looking deep into the forest). I found a narrow spot near the river, threw my things over, half-swam myself - I think, if anything, suddenly the bear doesn't want to go into the water
In short, I put up a tent, built a fire... I had dinner-I burned the remains of food in the fire, suddenly the bear will come to the smell! I lit a lamp for butterflies-who's there, what butterflies! Half the night the fire burned, in the darkness looked closely. Moreover, there was fog, no one but bats flew. I went to bed , and I lay there and thought: "the bear doesn't really go out at night, mostly comes in the morning, about 5 o'clock..." And fell asleep...
In the morning, somehow refreshed, emboldened - especially so many interesting things flying around! I've had enough of everything back then - I think I've had enough of this vacation.

I pass by the place where I saw the tracks, look closely... And instead of bearish - large horse only. Apparently tired yesterday I sat down and laughed at myself.. And then on the road, to the train and home...

Then my friends told me that the bear still goes out to those places, and they even hunt there. After all, the place where I saw the tracks, after all, I did not remember exactly - and the horse tracks went all over dogoga, all the way to the village...And I think now - there were bear tracks there, or I took horse tracks for them... Like this

This post was edited by Garricos - 05/22/2010 11: 31

V kontakte is a hotbed of viruses. Better for a more secure resources

For example???

For example, on your own host. If money is a pity - then on the free one.

Hello everyone!!!
I look, and the topic is alive.
I'll sober up and write a couple of short stories.

Sleeping in a tent in the mountains by the river-what a noise from the mountain river, but the noise is not from the car but from the mountain river-it calms down-it's good to sleep.I always slept in the mountains near noisy rivers class.I only woke up once in the rain.I slept in a sleeping bag in a tent in a ravine-and Cheto woke up in a dream from the fact that I was paddling through the water with my hands.It was raining last night,the river overflowed its banks-well, I was fucking washed away from the tent in a dream-a funny story.Neochen-because as produktyy washed away and it was cold at night-and voshche I then got high enough-almost neofigel in the tent to swim at night in sne

If you catch a cockroach, tie a marker to its ass, and then release it to the floor after drawing a circle of any diameter using Masha chalk, then the cockroach will probably fuck up.
Then, probably, he will think, here I am, damn it, maybe I angered the cockroach god. But it will not break, but will frantically search for a way out of the vicious circle, leaving behind the cockroach hieroglyphs written in marker.
Our route through Mongolia resembled a cockroach hieroglyph. And it was drawn by a cockroach that sniffed the chalk "Mashenka".
By the will of fate, the chief and the Mongol driver, we found ourselves in the vicinity of the village of Uliasutai in western Hangai. We spent the night on the picturesque river bank at an altitude of about eight hundred meters. The next morning we loaded into the long-suffering UAZ and climbed under the highest mountains. The altitude at which we camped is two-nine hundred.
In the context of the following narrative, these two figures are important: eight hundred and two nine hundred.
The next morning we set off for the mountains. A sharp ascent of about three hundred meters, then a long drag down the gorge and, here they are, pastures of butterfly caterpillars and their subsequent reincarnation-imagos.
Here we spent the whole day drawing our entomological hieroglyphs.
I returned to the camp barely alive, fell on the foam and refused dinner.
The next morning, the weather turned bad, a small, annoying rain began to fall, and my partner and I went fishing. Fortunately, the river was about two hundred meters below our camp. My task was to remove the fish from the spinner, carefully bale it on the head with a round, grippy pebble and put it in a bag.
I honestly try to catch the first fish I pull out with my hands, but I don't do it very well. My hands won't work. The fish slaps my cheeks with its tail, grinning cheekily, then breaks off the bait and dives with an impudent splash.
"Seryoga, what are you doing?" my partner asks me.
"Uh-uh, moo-oo - oo, we-s-s-s," I try to argue. My tongue, like my hands, doesn't listen to me either. Then I spend three more long days in the tent catching cartoons.
So, I honestly earned my gornyashka.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010 (Penza region, Neverskinsky district, Bikmurzino village, Kadada River floodplain).
Night fishing for butterflies in the light (DRL 125 V.). From the field diary...
"...I didn't notice how dark it got during the barbecue and conversations. Taking a duffel bag with equipment for night fishing, a couple of boxes and nets, I leave the camp and go to the light of the lamp and a white sheet flickering at the edge of the village... In a floodplain meadow, dozens of non-crunchy junebirds (A. solstitialis) buzz in the grass, stubbornly trying to get into my jacket collar for some reason... I use my flashlight to light my way around potholes and ditches. Coming closer to the fishing spot, I notice that a large butterfly is rushing around on the sheet among a whole swarm of mosquitoes, scoops, moths and micro - moths. My heart began to beat convulsively, I literally ran, threw the burden to the table and tried to catch a butterfly darting on the sheet with a net. I set it up, hold the net up to the light, and Oh-oh-Oh!!! Indian cry and genuine delight - in the net a large female bear mistress-P. matronula !!! I finally caught this rare species myself! Yes, the forest-steppe border is an interesting biotope! After pricking the butterfly with ammonia from an insulin syringe, I carefully place the specimen in a special plastic box for rare butterfly species. After taking a deep breath, I lay out boxes and equipment on the table, fill the stains with ethyl acetate, light a cigarette and immerse myself in the enchanting sounds of the night...
Here in the old willows on the riverbank, a couple of squirts have begun their endless roll call again, bats are pirouetting overhead, ground beetles are running under the sheets, a dog barked somewhere in the village, a campfire is visible in the camp... Oh, good...
Insects swirl around the lamp in a never - ending circle-today there are clearly fewer of them, the night is cool (yesterday it was clearly warmer and as I knew , I paid all the main attention to micro lepidoptera! Yes, in Eversmania there is a message about my discovery on the Shalkeev cordon of a new semi-desert firefly for the fauna of Russia... and this is only 17 km. north of this place). A new moon has appeared over Mount Shuro-Shiran (White Mountain), and myriads of stars twinkle in the sky... Chu, something rustled on the fence of koshara where I hung the sheet? Ugh, the family of local cats has come again. The cat, remembering my displeasure yesterday with her catching large butterflies near the sheet, went further to the border of light and shadow, dragging a small cat with her. A young and impudent cat like a real monkey fell off the fence, trying to jump to grab a linden hawk moth on the fly. Yesterday I would have reacted violently to this, but what to take from a stupid (but very fast!)person? a kitten!? If a single poke was enough for a cat , then no matter how much I admonished and drove it away, it still returned to the fairy-tale screen (with such delicious butterflies!). To get rid of the competitor, he began to catch large (but ordinary butterflies), tear off the wing (cats react only to live and fluttering butterflies!?) and throw to the insatiable hunter. He devoured the entomobile with avidity, eating straight from the wings, periodically sneezing from the cloud of scales, and devouring the treat with gusto... When the number of butterflies exceeded two dozen and its tummy was very rounded, I was afraid for the animal, stopped supplying it with game. But, he didn't leave!!! And as a gas station hunter continued to hunt! I wonder if I would catch here more often, what kind of animal can this predator grow into?
So that's how we caught butterflies: Me, the cat, squirts, bats and ground beetles..."

This post was edited by Penzyak - 22.06.2010 15: 44

Oh, it's a pity I was badly let down by the accomulators on the camera - some of the photos and videos with the cat did not work out... Here is a photo of a togsho copy of the bear in a straightened form.

This post was edited by Penzyak - 30.06.2010 11: 18

Pictures:

Penzenska_neverkinsky_Бикмурзино_июнь_2010.JPG — (1.61 mb)

Here are some surviving photos of that memorable night.

Pictures:

Night_love_2010_11111.jpg — (391.23к)


Nocturnal_2010_11111.jpg — (344.45к)


Predation_2010_111111.jpg — (234.2к)

Following the Eastern traditions, each person has his own path.
A person has just been born, just said the first "Wow!!!" to this world (like, " No fucking way, I'm here!"), and a road map and role-playing game has already been drawn for him, which he will play for the rest of his life. It can be the path of a warrior, a homeless person or a banker, or maybe a pearl or butterfly catcher, if you are lucky. So the person slaps along his path until he comes across a pebble with two dates on it.
I got the path of the pofigista and razdolbaya.
Somewhere in the middle of this journey, after returning to Ulaanbaatar after a two-month trip through the Mongolian Pampas, I was standing in a store with two equally overgrown dirty comrades and choosing vodka, which was supposed to form the basis of our evening menu. The choice was great. On the shelves were "Arhi" (vodka in Mongolian), " APU " (a distillery again from Mongolian) and yellow koumiss (beer in our style). A tipsy Mongol suggested that we try Ezen Guren vodka, Genghis Khan that is. Referring to the fact that our ancestors drank this vodka for three hundred years, we resolutely refused. After choosing drinks and snacks, we went to visit our Mongolian friend Od Bayar. Clean, shaved, and combed, we sat down at the table. They began to put Mongolian blinds in Russian mouths.
It was so good that I didn't even want to swear in obscenities.
My comrades immediately experienced a relapse of an old illness. From Latin, this disease translates as " The dependence of a reasonable person on the remote control of a TV set." The senseless switching from channel to channel began. There were a lot of channels, and I decided to organize them.
On Chinese channels, the Chinese cooked from everything that contained at least some organic matter. A variety of arthropods, mollusks, and chordates were used, not to mention the plant kingdom.
On the Mongolian canals, Mongols sang, beat tambourines, sometimes to each other, danced and rode horses.
On Russian channels, Russian cops drenched Russian bandits, and Russian bandits drenched Russian cops, and in the news it was reported that a plane crashed again and no one survived, that a drug dealer and an anti-drug dealer were caught, that a pedophile maniac was rampaging in the south of Moscow, and that a factory for the production of counterfeit vodka was closed.
In the end, I couldn't stand it and said: "I want to go back to the Mongolian Pampas."

Papis, cool!!I'll give up on Your writing style!!!

2
Taler After Thailand, I will post stories about you. Then we'll see.

Papis
Great-artistic, literary language with a description of the local exotics, naturally
described.And on various topics and about local traditions and about Russian television with serials about cops and bandits-all to the point.
I visited Mongolia once in 1995.Only near the border with Tuva.Exotics.

In the mountains there are very steep gorges-it takes a long time to go from one slope to another-first to go down to the bottom-then to the top along the opposite slope to climb.They invented a jetpack back in the USSR-quickly fly to the opposite slope.
With a rocket pack, I flew cool-everyone got burned out.I didn't feel like laughing-I was covered in bruises.
Rocket pack-the engine is small jet behind your back to fasten and fly for short distances
The first time I tested it-I read the instructions all night in the border detachment-I "talked"with the instructor(he
then got more than everyone else" (after I "flew".The maximum distance then-for the first time-turned out,which I overcame-250-300 meters.I dented my helmet(dent afigennaya was)-I lobeshnikom in a healthy pear drove in the nearest garden, already outside our airfield at the outpost-flew out of the thorn, fence and" nice " landed.A Tajik man from the vineyard came up and looked at me in a rumpled helmet and offered me milk(not wine) for some reason.Before landing, I experienced a lot of feelings during the flight-for the first time I felt like "a bird-not an eagle."The feelings ranged from euphoria and orgasm to horror.
There's a cool management done - backpack entot jet-Soviet production.The most important button on the belly is a healthy one, red and it says START.I pressed it and kotovasia rushed-and even the heat of 35 degrees-ento case in Rushan was on the river border with Afghanistan called Pyanj.I flew up about 4 meters above the ground and let's steer-there are levers on strings-you hold two rings in your hands-you pull the ropes.I took off, so let's soar under the clouds(at a height of 4 meters above the ground-euphoria-indescribable sensations.Out of delight, I pulled one string too hard and specifically hit the ground with my nose-it hurt tightly-and with fright, I started pulling the strings and pressing the buttons-I drove 50 meters on my belly on the ground-I beat off everything that was possible.And soared-indescribable feelings-soared above the ground.Blood drips from my broken nose to the ground-my black eye is swollen shut-I was happy-I mastered the technique then.
Very "necessary" thing in high-mountain hiking for butterflies.

Sergey, what do you use?

Stas knows-Igor Kryukov (my classmate) told him during the last expedition to the Saratov region.

Seryoga! I didn't smoke this stuff with you!))))))

Igor didn't tell me anything . We drank it together ^^.

It is a shame to admit in front of everyone, but they drank, and in VERY LARGE QUANTITIES.

Come on. The number was LARGE only for Dan, and then only once . You tell me , aren't you going to join us in the swamp?" )

Igor.And why do you immediately justify yourself?

I didn't smoke shit!))))))
[/quote]

We are waiting for a bike about Den and a LARGE NUMBER!

Kryukov and RHOPALOCERA.COM (RHOPALOCERA -WE'VE KNOWN EACH OTHER SINCE THE NINETIES,BUT WE'VE NEVER MET IN PERSON-LET Stas VISIT ME at any time.
Igor Kryukov by the way is not a fan of alcohol very much-well pomelochi we with him in perestroika, as students sipped no more than 2-3 three-liter cans of draft Zhiguli or one bottle of Piano alcohol.We had a classmate-a good guy-Ataman-now the chief agronomist in the Volgograd region.Igor spent the night with Pivkovsky - - - Igor is a hospitable person.
Kryukov is a good man.

I'm ashamed to admit it in front of everyone, but they drank, and in VERY LARGE QUANTITIES.

he's lying a little.Igoryan has never been particularly drunk in his life

Igor Kryukov-you can't rock him for a serious expedition.
He sits in greenhouses-grows cucumbers - and promises me everything.Although I was on a very
serious expedition in my time in the Caucasus.He'd seen enough of it there, and endured enough of it.
Dombay=wild places-he will tell you himself.

Igor Kryukov-you can't rock him for a serious expedition.

I don't agree.

We are waiting for a bike about Den and a LARGE NUMBER!

Good... You asked for it

We arrived, therefore, in Saratov (for the second time in the summer, to see a deer beetle and catch Klimena), Igor hospitably drove us to shower and sleep (we drove all night), and by 4 o'clock we moved to his dacha. Tents, sleeping bags and other camping equipment, respectively, the entire trip turned out to be unpacked - they lived at Igor's dacha. It was hot, of course, but it was still a long way from what was happening right now...
About half past five we were already at the dacha. Accordingly, excellent local alcoholic products appeared on the table: various tinctures based on moonshine. Vodka, pepper, and cognac were waiting for their turn... During a good snack and intimate conversation, the bottles disappeared on the table with even rapidity. The moment came when it was decided to go on a night fishing trip. Getting into Igor's car, let's go. Of course, they decided that it was NOT ENOUGH (oh, this is the Russian "no matter how much vodka you take, you still have to run twice"), and on the way a short stop was made to get acquainted with the assortment in a local store. We liked the range, and several items were selected from it, which were distinguished by a delicate taste and high degree. With this reserve, we arrived at the fishing spot.
Denis, having a reduced muscle mass, drank on a par with everyone else. That's what killed him . By the second hour of fishing, he was wrapped up in a windbreaker (there were EXCEPTIONALLY many mosquitoes... under the lamp, do not lie, there was a layer of burnt mosquitoes and midges 7 centimeters thick, when we removed it - the same amount was poured in 10-15 minutes), Dan went into the darkness. After a while, I decided that the generator was starting to malfunction: the noise was too strange. But no, it was Dan who was snoring peacefully in the distance. Mosquitoes, not reaching his face, fell: intoxicated bloodsuckers tried to escape from the affected area with concentrated alcohol vapors. Denis's wife, Anna, was extremely surprised: it was the first time she had seen him so drunk . I must say that a lot of beetles flew (including racehorses), Anya selflessly collected insects, and Denis was very happy with her collections in the end: she caught something rare there.

Yes, well fished! It's a pity that everything burned down there 2 weeks ago. Nightmare dryness for the fourth year in a row and as a result - fires. Our dacha and the adjacent slope with the forest survived, because at the dacha, thanks to the reserves of Batin's moonshine, two fire trucks were on duty for a day and kept the fire on our front. Many Thanks to the men-firefighters!

Tinplate!