Professional Documents
Culture Documents
wild
woods
xyxyxyxyxyxyxy
Poland
34
88
February 2012
February 2012
89
xyxyxyxyxyxyxy
90
Poland
February 2012
It has begun to
snow as we follow
the wolf tracks
big, fluffy, Narniaesque snowflakes
ABOVE A herd of red deer
running through a fresh
layer of snow on a
clearing in Romincka
Forest. Stags have been
hunted in these forests
since time immemorial
February 2012
91
xyxyxyxyxyxyxy
92
February 2012
Poland
the Kaiser as he approached for the hunt.
Its a very sad place, says historian Dr
Andreas Gautschi. Now, all that remains
is the forest and the birdsong.
A Swiss-born author, Dr Gautschi has
dedicated much of his life to researching the
history of Romincka, and he now lives with
his family in a village on the edge of the
forest. He shows me fading black-and-white
photographs of the Jagdschloss in its heyday
more than a century ago foreign dignitaries
posing in its banqueting hall, and German
aristocrats with twirly moustaches standing
triumphantly over fallen stags. In recent
times, Dr Gautschi has scoured the forest for
the Kaiser Stones monuments that mark
the sites of Wilhelms greatest kills and
heartily congratulate his majesty on his
huntsmanship. He tells me its likely that
there are more of these monuments waiting
to be found in the forest, lost in the
undergrowth and buried in moss. However,
few other locals share his interest in a
German emperor synonymous with
bloodshed in Poland. Kaiser Wilhelm was
not a good man, but he was a great hunter,
says Piotr Narloch. And good hunters are
part of the ecosystem of these forests, just
like all the other animals.
An insurance company executive
sporting a high-powered rifle and a
winning smile, Piotr is one of many
hunters from across Poland who visit
Romincka Forest. He and his camouflageclad companions spend cold nights in the
forest waiting for unsuspecting boar to trot
into their sights sheltering at Zytkiejmy
Lodge, a former East Prussian forestry
office with a pair of growling wolf heads
carved over the entrance.
Lunch here is served on a scale to
provide insulation ahead of cold winter
nights in the forest. Neatly arranged on the
table before us are steaming bowls of soup,
wild boar and venison sausages, stacks of
pancakes, slabs of cheese and an endless
heap of sauerkraut. Hunting isnt just
about killing or tracking animals, says
Piotr as he shovels sausages onto his plate.
I have two teenage daughters, so its good
shooting practice in case boys ever try to
sneak into my house.
Twilight sets in and snowflakes dissolve
on the windowsills of the lodge. Piotr and
his fellow hunters pass dishes around as
they exchange stories of their adventures
in the woods, recounting a tale of one
night when a wolf hijacked their hunt,
ambushing a wild boar before they could
shoot. Fortunately for the wolf, it enjoyed
diplomatic immunity hunting wolves
is no longer legal in these forests.
We slap our bellies contentedly, before
more dishes are brought in. I soon realise
that weve only eaten the first course.
February 2012
93
Poland
inclair Dunnett is a
Shakespeare-quoting Scottish
naturalist who has been
leading wildlife tours in
northeast Poland for nearly
30 years. Its natural to be
afraid of the woods at night,
he says. We humans are primates, and
primates arent designed to function after
sundown. Wolf, lynx and boar, on the other
hand, are all designed to work the graveyard
shift. After dark, you stand the best chance
of seeing these animals, and at night the
forest is at its rowdiest.
Sinclair drives me to a high seat a
raised shelter where hunters stake out
their prey, now often used by wildlife
enthusiasts who spend long nights peering
into the darkness through infra-red
binoculars. It looks like a garden shed
mounted precariously on six-metre-high
stilts, and the ladder wobbles as I climb. Up
here, human scent should go undetected by
the residents of the forest floor although
Sinclair mentions a German hunter who
spent a night on a high seat looking out
across an empty meadow, later glancing
behind to see a lynx waiting patiently at the
bottom of the ladder. Some people prefer
to get picked up before the night is out. Of
course, its not my place to ask them why,
Sinclair says, raising his eyebrows
cryptically, before climbing back into the
car and speeding back to the warmth of the
lodge. Gradually, a chorus of grunts, thuds,
snorts and belches can be heard from all
directions. Listening too closely can be
94
February 2012
Gradually, a chorus
of grunts, thuds,
snorts and belches
can be heard from
all directions
ABOVE, FROM LEFT
Scotsman Sinclair Dunnett
has been tracking animals
in this region of Poland
since the days of
Communism; a wild boar
foraging on the forest floor;
cooking on a campfire in
Romincka Forest