August of 2018. My wife and I go fishing for a few days to our precious places in the north of the Volgograd region.
At the tank at the entrance to the city of Serafimovich, I notice a wonderful thing in our places - Pagerick with red diplomatic numbers.

What a surprise was it when its inhabitants approached me when they saw our fishing ammunition.
Englishmen, he is a small employee in the embassy, his wife a philologist, when he returns to his homeland will somehow teach Russian. The boy is 6-7 years old.

They travel through the Russian depths in their holidays, are interested in fishing.
They are asked to take with them where they catch beautiful places.

I explain that we are going to the dust, where wolves are scared.
They laugh, the wife records the expression, they still connect with us.

By the time we arrived, we stood 120 meters away.
He spinning, small on the feed, his wife organizes a camp.
I caught the nerves, threw the donkeys on the predator.

It’s dark, my wife is in the car, I’m sitting all night, from time to time picking up the caught fish.

Suddenly, after two o’clock, I probably hear a whisper – an Englishman runs:
Neighbors, they send you shit!
Who has come?
The wolves!

And at this moment, I hear from them such a chilling laugh/chrip/rick that there is no doubt that it is clearly not dogs or enots.
The officers! From the weapon only a shooting electric shocker in the calculation of already completely drunk "pumpkins", but it has the power permitted purely...

I just wanted to tell him to lock up in the car, and there... a shot broke out. Then the second, third, and the palm grew almost into a canonade.
I scream, “Lie, they’re hunters, or they’ll hit!” - and we both fall to the ground, lie down, covering our heads with our hands, even when everything is relatively quiet.

The voice of a little boy (I translate): "Dad, my petards are over, will the wolves not come again?"

In short, what were the wolves there - we did not even hear a single bird until the morning, it seems, even worms on the far side of the road.
The snoring also stopped for a while, but then it normalized.
I have not seen the animals themselves, but the fish remembered them for a long time.

And also remembered the eyes of the rural saleswoman, who the next day, in the middle of the summer, sold a new year's children's fun to an adult unshaken uncle.
You like you, and I have a petard and a lighter now at fishing always in my pocket.