A memoir of love and nature in the Russian countryside. "...[Williams'] life reads a bit like Laura Ingalls Wilder's 'Little House in the Big Woods' written in Cyrillic." -- LancasterOnline.com, May 3, 2008 "...a consuming read...well worth reading and whets the appetite of those of us who have failed to venture out..." -- PASSPORT Moscow, June 2008 "...draws you in and doesn't let go...only way to better understand Russian provincial life would be moving there oneself." -- Russian Life, March/April 2008 "...provides a look into a very different place. This is a very satisfying memoir on many levels." -- Bookviews.com, April, 2008 "...writ[ten] on a very personal level. You get a taste of the culture...and the fascinating nature reserve and inhabitants." -- Rainboreviews.com, April 2008 "...written in a delightfully meandering way and includes photos of villiage life...Williams easily pulls us into her world." -- Shelf Awareness, March 7, 2008 "I turned to the first chapter-and stayed until the end...I couldn't resist wanting more." -- Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, February 2, 2008 "...beautifully written by a first-time author whose powers of observation bring to life the Russian countryside and its people." --The Denver Post, October 17, 2008 Heartwarming and heartbreaking at times too, 'The Storks' Nest' by Laura Lynn Williams will make you yearn for the great outdoors. You'll learn so much about Russia and the natural beauty that is rarely promoted. You'll also learn about a woman who followed her heart and became something more than just herself. --Chick with Books Blog, "Memoir Monday" Laura Lynne Williams and Igor Shpilenok met in Russia and connected over a shared interest in nature and the environment. Williams grew up in Colorado, and earned a bachelor's degree in international environmental policy from Cornell University and a master's degree in conservation biology from the Yale School of Forestry and Environmental Studies. Shpilenok is recognized as a world-class photographer, especially having won an award in the 2006 BBC Wildlife Nature Photography Competition. He is also a member of an elite group of photographers committed to nature conservation-the International League of Conservation Photographers. Today, Williams and Shpilenok live in the remote Russian village of Chukhrai, whose population swelled to 21 in 2004. The Stork's Nest Life and Love in the Russian Countryside By Laura Lynne Williams, Igor Shpilenok Fulcrum Publishing Copyright © 2008 Laura Lynne Williams All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-55591-629-9 CHAPTER 1 For Igor Spring THE ARRIVAL of spring to our tiny Russian village of Chukhrai — population nineteen — means that soon the rutted, ice-covered forest road that connects us to the outside world will become passable. Slowly, the villagers emerge from hibernation. All winter I had observed subtle signs of their existence. Wispy columns of smoke rising from the chimneys of their two-room log cabins. Runner tracks in the snow left from early morning forays in a horse-drawn sleigh to gather firewood. An old man covered from head to toe in torn, dirty, yet warm wadded clothing, sitting on an overturned pail in the middle of the frozen river, his fishing line disappearing into a hole in the ice. Surrounded on three sides by a strict nature reserve, our village is virtually inaccessible. A narrow forest road leads from the fourth side to civilization. I set out with Igor on an expedition down this road to stock up on supplies, with axe, chain saw, winch, crowbar, and rubber boots in the back of our sturdy Russian UAZ army jeep. It is perhaps the only modern invention other than electricity and television to reach this village. Our neighbors, mostly elderly women widowed half a century earlier, wave us to a stop. I write down their orders. Sacks of rye flour to bake bread. Sugar to preserve berries and make samogon (moonshine). Carrot, cucumber, and dill seeds to sow. Chicks to raise for fresh eggs and poultry. All that remains of the village store are a few bricks and chunks of mortar. My neighbor Olga Ivanovna asks to accompany us so she can pick out a piglet to fatten up for pork and salo (salted pig fat, without which it is said no Russian can survive the winter). We pick her up, helping her into the backseat. Although she is seventy-seven years old, I consider her a close friend. She can brew herbal remedies and break a curse. Her stories of growing up in Chukhrai fascinate me, and I enjoy my frequent visits to her house. We venture down the six-mile lifeline to the next village of Smelizh. Gripping the steering wheel, Igor drives the jeep like an ice cleaver through large, still-frozen potholes in the road. Olga Ivanovna holds on to the passenger seat behind where I am sitting. I hold on to a handle on the dashboard. We brace ourselves for each jolt. The UAZ jeep has earned the national nickname of kozyol (billy goat) for the way it