New Silk Strategy’s translation from ria.ru:
The story reminded our translator of Zoshchenko, a comic short story writer who liked to poke fun at his contemporary Soviet authorities.
How the Russian wolves raided Finland. New Year's blog
Igor Romanovich, author of the blog Green Tea
New Year's Eve. The Russian-Finnish border. A pack of Russian wolves crosses the border at the river.
They amble around, occasionally meeting their Finnish colleagues.
The colleagues are sleek and fat. Everyone is wearing an electronic collar. It's Europe. No shooting or hunting allowed, and animal rights are protected.
The Russian wolves frown at the Finnish wolves in disapproval. They’ve eaten ...
Well tended Finnish farms. Pigs, chickens, geese.
Flying feathers, squealing pigs, snapping jaws of the hungry aliens.
The farmers look on sadly. They all have guns, but you cannot shoot. It's Europe, animal rights are protected. They just shout hopelessly, tolerantly shaking their fists: "Wolves, you are very bad!"
Finnish scientists sound the alarm. There are illegal wolves in the country! Without electronic collars, names or records. It's a mess. What if they're offended?
A group of Finnish zoologists and huntsmen hastily mounted on snowmobiles. Carbines with tranquilizer needles, wolf collars with GPS.
They walk around the forest by the lake, where the pack rests after lunch. They travel in a chain, so that none of them gets out of line.
The pack rises, bypasses the zoologists at the flanks and attacks them from the rear.
Growling, snapping jaws, piercing howls. Snatches at pants, shotguns, collars and abandoned snowmobiles; suddenly everything is faster in the cold.
Now what? The answer is obvious - call Russian zoologists. It’s their wolves, they know them better, so let them help.
Call to St. Petersburg, complaint.
They said they’d send a group of young talented scientists, but, unfortunately, not for free, since there is capitalism now and no more gifts from Lenin. The installation of a pack of collars with sensors will cost three hundred and thirty euros for each young scientist. And twenty cases of Finlandia vodka for wiping microscopes in the laboratories.
The Ural truck came, with a protective paint job. It disgorged tall laconic young zoologists in winter camouflage. Machine guns, machine pistols, night vision equipment. Finnish zoologists are concerned about bullets? You realize this is Europe.
The senior researcher checks the unloaded ammo and calms down – it’s tranquilizer darts. They will sleep like the dead. Restrained laughter of young scientists.
They load the bundles of collars onto the truck bed, blow cold breath into their sleeves, quietly confer. Go.
They returned in the morning. Tired, but satisfied. Report: the wolves are collared.
Finnish zoologists at monitors. There they are! Red dots move on the monitors. Hooray! Here's the pay, as agreed.
The visitors busy themselves loading the boxes, recounting the money, and the Ural disappears in a snow haze.
The observation of the new wolves during the first days thrills the Finnish scientists. The dots on the monitor move in a strictly defined algorithm. All day they go back and forth in a distinct chain, and in the evening they gather in a neat circle and do not move until morning.
Scientists began the study "Behavioral phenomena of Finnish wolves in the winter." The Nobel Prize is just around the corner.
The second night the Finnish zoologist Mika Mäkinen cannot sleep.
The strange habits of the wolves disquiet the inquisitive scientist.
In the evening he mounts a GPS radar system on his snowmobile and goes to the forest to the place where the red dots are clustered.
In his imagination he sees a wolf pack, gathered for a big pow-wow around Akella.
They turn toward Mika. "Greetings, young Finnish zoologist Mika!" Akella solemnly says, "Come join our pack! You will be the first Finnish Mowgli!"
Mika smiles dreamily and steps on the gas.
That's the place. Mika drives into a large clearing in the forest. Akella is not there, instead he sees a laconic structure of logs with a sign bar.
From inside comes the ringing of glasses and the cheerful singing of Finnish woodcutters. Timber trucks stand darkly around the structure.
Mika's jaw drops in surprise - at the bottom of each log truck flashes the familiar light of an electronic collar.
The Russian-Finnish border. Border post. Festive New Year's table.
The head of the outpost holds in his hand a glass of Finnish vodka.
"How are our wolves, Comrade Lieutenant?"
"They've already eaten and are resting in the enclosures, Comrade Major!" They’re showing a bit of frostbite.
- Good. And that frostbite is no problem! The border wolf must endure all hardships and deprivations of military service. What can we do if we don’t send dogs next year. By the way, how are our bears there?
"They are engaged in military and political training, Comrade Major!"
- Well. By February 23 we will send them to Norway. They also have vodka, euros and animal rights protection there. Happy New Year, comrades
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