Notes of a Non-Hunter: Into the Wild Without Killing

I am against sport and recreational hunting. Against the extermination of animals, especially during the sixth mass extinction of species on the planet. What kind of "sporting killings" can we even discuss while calling ourselves Homo sapiens?

Groups of men grab rifles, head to private hunting grounds, and, equipped with thermal imaging devices, dressed in expensive gear, using drones, snowmobiles, or even "helicopter hunting," begin simply gunning down animals.

And this kind of "sport" is justified by anything and everything, from the need to "regulate animal populations" to "purely our traditions."

This is what I want to discuss today.

Recently, I’ve been hearing more and more from hunters who dislike my view on "sport hunting," saying things like, "Many Russian classic writers were hunters and even wrote books about it; it’s actually our tradition."

Such books do exist.

Aksakov's Notes of a Hunter in the Orenburg Province.

Turgenev's A Sportsman’s Sketches.

Probably the most famous literary works in the conditional genre of "hunting notes." I’m not sure if that’s an actual genre, or if it is recognized by literary scholars.

Sergey Timofeyevich Aksakov published a book titled "Notes on Fishing" in 1847. The book titled "Notes of a Rifle Hunter in the Orenburg Province" was published slightly later, in 1852.

"A Sportsman’s Sketches" — a cycle of essays by Ivan Sergeyevich Turgenev, was published from 1847 to 1851 in the journal "Sovremennik." It was later released as a separate edition in 1852. Back then, in the 18th century, these works became popular and made their authors some of the most famous Russian writers. Which is good and right! Personally, I have read and reread these books.

One question: we are now very, very far from the 18th century reality in which these books were written! And I can only view the remarkable books of these excellent Russian authors as purely historical works. It saddens me that they are cited to justify the industry of paid hunting today.

For several years now, the idea of writing a book with the conditional title "Notes of a Non-Hunter" has been haunting me. To tell the story of how I roamed the vast expanses of the Russian Taiga without a rifle. Without the goal of killing, without the goal of hunting anyone or anything. Oh! Another great title for this yet unwritten book could be: "Without Weapons: To the Beasts and Birds of the Russian Taiga with an Open Heart."

I think Ivan Turgenev or Sergey Aksakov today, in our time, would undoubtedly support me in writing just such a book! Without weapons. Without the thirst for killing. Without the thirst for profit or trophies. With an open heart and empty hands.

Imagine summer in the heart of the Russian Taiga — a place where dense tree canopies block the sunlight, leaving the space between the trunks in semi-darkness. Here, among the majestic pines and cedars, their roots intertwined in unknown depths, one can feel the elusive power hidden in nature. This is a world inhabited by forest creatures — from small noisy birds to majestic bears, from swift hares to cautious elk.

In this world, there is no need for rifles, as there is no need for the noise and rush of modern life. Here in the taiga, one can experience a deep unity with nature, hearing the trees whisper under gusts of wind and observing an ant colony carefully climbing a tree trunk. And how pleasant it is to realize that your presence in the forest has only momentarily stirred its inhabitants but has not disrupted the eternal flow of their existence.

In the silence of these woods comes the understanding of simple but important truths. Truths about how hunting rifles, forged long ago, should rust away and return their metal to the natural cycle. To become soil for trees, which in turn become homes for diverse wildlife. Just as a small blade of grass bends under fluffy snow, bowing under its weight only to straighten again with the arrival of spring — so must we humans return the tools of death we’ve created to the eternal cycle of Life.

In reality, writing the book "Notes of a Non-Hunter" has already become not only a creative challenge but also my personal mission. A desire to show that kindness and compassion can greatly enrich the inner world of someone capable of renouncing the role of a hunter to become just an observer. Especially now, in the 21st century, it is essential not to take, but to protect and preserve.

I dare to think that Sergey Aksakov and Ivan Turgenev, if they were witnesses of our time, would approve of this initiative. After all, the deep love for nature that filled their works completely aligns with the modern ideals of harmonious coexistence with the environment. These are the experiences that contribute not so much to physical acquisition as to a spiritual hunger for new impressions and discoveries.

The Russian Taiga — it is at the heart of Russia. Nature itself, with its boundless spaces, rich history, and culture, laid in our hearts the spiritual foundation that asserts that love for one’s homeland begins precisely with love for its nature. Preserving this nature is the true work of all who are ready to take the path of responsible interaction with the world around. Preserving nature is love for the homeland.

In Turgenev and Aksakov’s texts, there is another era in which man sought to assert his dominance over nature. Today, as descendants of these great writers, we can and must choose a different path — the path of mutual understanding.

This is my dream. My goal is to reflect in words all the joy of remaining a NON-hunter among the living world of Russian nature. To be an explorer. An observer. A healer of the wounds of the Russian Taiga.

In the modern world, the value of calm contemplation of nature is becoming increasingly evident. This approach opens up numerous perspectives previously overlooked. By abandoning weapons, we take on a new challenge — to become part of an ecosystem in which every creature matters. And only in this way and at that moment can we make the next step — to manage this ecosystem, becoming the nervous system of the Earth, its mind. To take a step toward the Noosphere age, following the iron and murderous age.

The authors of the hunting notes from three centuries ago lived in a different reality, where hunting was not only a means of survival but also a demonstration of bravery. Today, their legacy can inspire us to approach nature differently. In the 21st century, humanity is armed with completely different tools — knowledge and compassion, which allow us to preserve and enhance natural wealth. This, too, is a profoundly Russian idea of spiritual warfare, a spiritual path!

My thoughts lead me to write a book that will attempt to show the beauty and harmony revealed to those who choose the path of the non-hunter. Imagine a path leading you through the forest, where every rustle and every moving leaf becomes a storyteller of forest tales. Here, nature holds an eternal tea party, where the scent of resin mingles with the aroma of damp earth, and birdsong gives the morning air the music of life. Without gunshots. Without the stench of gunpowder. Without corpses as the journey's outcome.

My book will be about these moments. About encounters with forest inhabitants, where a squirrel, forgetting caution, approaches within arm’s reach. Or when a nimble young deer, hidden in the thick greenery, watches you from the unseen side of its forest kingdom. An entirely different experience — to live through not the bloody feast of a successful hunt but peaceful coexistence, where you understand that the natural world offers you its friendship.

Humanity has walked the path of destruction and conquest for too long. It’s time to reorient toward preservation and understanding. Observing forest dwellers, you realize that each of them, every tiny life, lends the forest its uniqueness. We owe these creatures, and the most sincere tribute we can give them is unbounded admiration and the protection of their home.

Once, Turgenev and Aksakov gave us the opportunity to look at the natural world anew through the prism of their hunting experiences. But the time has come when the legacy of great authors must be rewritten through our new perspectives and values, directed at protection rather than conquest or killing.

© PAVEL PASHKOV