Burnt Lands and Sad Ends

Forty days have passed since my last post and it was ever so difficult to write this one.

Forty mourning days of attempts to dress feelings in words. My father's letter describing the events that took place was also in an unusual telegraphic style. I believe that was his way to move on, look forward to what comes next and try and keep it all matter-of-fact so that I also deal with it easier.

After all haven't we all spent the last 6 months in anticipation and preparation for the new season?

Apart from looking forward to the research camp being all set and seeing the first recordings of Boldy and his family I was also curious to see how my new tent will perform in strong winds and rain. Such frightful storms, accompanied by blinding lightnings and thunder literally shaking the ground underneath, tend to happen several times during each field season. My tent was North Face with the promising name Stormbreak. Here's Bucky supervising a test-pitch:

My father had a good look at it with its top cover on and declared it 'not-looking-too-flimsy'.

The day for departure was supposed to be 24 May. A few days before the date, a friend of my father from the village phoned with some bad news. At the very place where my father’s tent had been pitched for decades, there stood a solid hut. Moreover, the intruders had brought a bulldozer and cut a rough car-track right down where the birthing-den of the jackal family used to be and along the path from den to bait-site. That particular path was very important for my father’s research as along it he registered numerous instances of family members carrying food to the Mother while she was nursing the cubs. The photo also showed that the ‘square’ in front of my father’s tent was considerably enlarged, possibly in view of parking several cars there:

In this new and rather distressing situation the family decided that the place had been seriously compromised so the research season had to be cancelled. A new place for future studies was to be found but that could only be in the summer of next year. The plan was that the coming summer of ’25 would be dedicated to discovering a new place. The idea was that the way the spot at Km 727 was discovered in 1974 would be tried again. Which meant canoeing downriver from as far up as possible until a promising place was found.

In June, news was published in the regional newspaper of another destructive event: a conflagration (https://www.24chasa.bg/bulgaria/article/20774854). This time, the entire industrial vineyard from the fishing port to the last houses of the village – some 280 dekars of land – burned down. Police investigation is underway, the likely version being of a man-made fire. Results of the investigation have not been announced to date.

And thus came the end of my father’s long-standing association with Boldy’s family and our life-long and much loved place to be surrounded by beautiful nature. We wanted to give back to this nature by spreading the word about its brilliant and complex inhabitants The Golden Jackals, their neighbours and their lands.

Empathy often comes by means of knowing and understanding. Let us hope that a new place will be found and a new relationship will be established there: far from bulldozers and man-made forest fires.