The descendants of the dogs, once abandoned by their owners, have developed trusting relationships with the people who now guard the exclusion zone. Soon after Bogdan arrived in the 30-kilometer Chernobyl exclusion zone, he realized that his new job had an unexpected integral element: from the very first days of his service as a guard at the checkpoint, he was accompanied by a pack of local dogs. Now Bogdan (name changed) is working here for the second year and has met many dogs. Some have nicknames, some do not. Some come close to him and stay by his side, while others stay away from people and come when they feel like it. The guards feed the dogs, build them kennels, and sometimes even treat them. When a dog dies, they bury it.
All these dogs are descendants of animals whose owners were evacuated after the explosion of the fourth unit of the Chernobyl nuclear power plant in 1986. Tens of thousands of people were evacuated from Pripyat. They were not allowed to take their pets with them. To prevent the spread of radiation, Soviet soldiers simply shot abandoned animals. But some hid and survived. Thirty-five years later, hundreds of stray dogs roam the exclusion zone set up shortly after the disaster to prevent people from entering contaminated areas. No one knows for sure how many of these dogs are direct descendants of those abandoned here, and how many just wandered in from other areas. Either way, they are all now dogs of the Chernobyl zone. Their lives are full of dangers: radiation, wolf attacks, forest fires, starvation… On average, dogs here live only five years, according to the non-governmental organization Clean Futures Fund, which monitors the dogs in the zone and provides them with the necessary care – vaccination, sterilization, treatment and feeding.
Some of the dogs in the exclusion zone are descendants of animals abandoned by their owners to escape the radiation. The others are simply lost. We explain quickly, simply, and clearly what happened, why it matters, and what happens next. The number of episodes should remain the same. The end of the story: Promotional Podcasts It is a well-known fact that dogs live here. Some have even become local social media celebrities. Lucas Hixon, an American co-founder of the Clean Futures Fund who swapped his career as a scientist for animal welfare, offers those interested virtual tours of the exclusion zone, where dogs are the main characters. But not much is known about how the people who work here live side by side with the dogs. Jonathan Turnbull, a geography student at the University of Cambridge, decided to collect the stories of these people. “If you want to know more about these dogs,” he explains, “the best place to start is with the people who know them best – the guards.” The stories he hears are truly heartwarming. The relationships between people and animals in this desolate area help to understand much about the deep and ancient bond between humans and dogs. Some dogs were given names by the guards: there is Alpha (in honor of a certain type of radiation), there is Tarzan, known to tourists visiting the Chernobyl zone, who eagerly obeys commands. Tarzan lives near the partially dismantled “Duga” radar station (built during the Soviet era for early detection of intercontinental ballistic missile launches). And then there’s Sausage – a small, chubby dog who likes to warm up in winter on the heating pipes leading to the building where those involved in cleaning up the site of the worst nuclear accident in human history work. You can only enter the exclusion zone with a pass, and the guards at the checkpoint make sure that no violators enter the zone. They also report to the police any “stalkers” – those who try to visit the closed area illegally.
The guards recorded the everyday life of the dogs with disposable cameras (in the photo – a dog on the territory of the former Culture and Recreation Park in Pripyat). When Turnbull, who lives in Kiev, began visiting the zone regularly, he got to know Bogdan and other guards. At first, they were reluctant to talk, but a turning point came the day he offered to take part in the research. Turnbull’s idea was to hand out disposable cameras to security guards and ask them to take pictures of dogs – not just portraits, but everyday scenes. In return, the guards had one request: “Please bring food for the dogs!” And Turnbull did just that. The photographs taken by the guards eloquently show the relationship that has developed between them and the stray dogs of the area. In December last year, Turnbull published some photographs and interview material with the guards. Recently, at the request of BBC journalists, he spoke again with one of the guards, who asked that his real name not be used “so that his superiors would not punish him. So in our story he is Bogdan. When Bogdan patrols the zone looking for “stalkers,” he says, the dogs are happy to accompany him. They are always interested in whether he has brought food. Even if a dog gets distracted by something, like chasing an animal, it always comes back, he adds. The friendship here is mutual. According to Turnbull, the guards help the dogs remove ticks and vaccinate them against rabies. The constant presence of the dogs sometimes makes boring tasks of patrolling the area more interesting. At some border crossings, the guards have taken some animals into their care – feeding them, building shelters for them. Of course, not everything goes smoothly. One guard once told Turnbull, “We can’t vaccinate Ark, she bites. The translation of the given Russian text into English is “The other dog wouldn’t let anyone come near her. “You just had to put a bowl of food in front of her and walk away. She would wait for you to leave and then start eating,” the guard explained.
Dogs often congregate near the checkpoint where guards are on duty. Dogs sometimes bark at strangers, but that’s their nature, says Bogdan. Once they understand that nothing is threatening them, they calm down and start wagging their tails. Sometimes it even looks like they are smiling, he adds. Visitors to the Chernobyl zone are usually advised not to touch dogs for fear that the animals may carry radioactive dust on their fur. It is impossible to trace where a dog has been or where it came from. Some areas of the exclusion zone are more contaminated than others. In addition to dogs, there are other animals in the area. In 2016, biologist Sara Webster, a participant in the U.S. government’s Wildlife Conservation Program, and her colleagues at the University of Georgia published a study describing how mammals – from wolves to wild boars to red foxes – have populated the exclusion zone.
The number of offerings should remain the same: Guards at the checkpoint feed stray dogs and claim that they help keep an eye on people who enter the area illegally (known as “stalkers”). The data from the camera traps showed that in the areas with higher levels of radioactive contamination, the number of animals was not significantly different from the safer areas. Moreover, as a subsequent study (2018) by Webster and colleagues showed, animals do not limit themselves to living within a specific zone: for example, a wolf with a GPS tracking beacon traveled 369 km along a long arc, ending its route in Russia. In theory, wolves, dogs, and other animals can carry radioactive contamination and pass genetic mutations to the next generation. “We know this is happening, but the extent of it is unknown to us,” Webster says. According to Turnbull, the guards don’t usually worry much about radiation, although they do occasionally use a dosimeter to check on a dog or two. “They seem to put themselves in the dog’s place. If the dog is alive and healthy, that means you are too,” says Gregor Larson, an archaeologist at the University of Oxford who studies the history of animal domestication.
In the dangerous, seemingly Chernobyl zone, dogs are reproducing quite successfully. In reality, however, it is quite possible that this is a false sense of security. “This is a unique place,” Turnbull points out. “You may not see the danger. You understand that it is always there, but at the same time, everything around you looks completely normal.” Despite the fact that dogs can pose a risk in terms of radioactivity, guards like Bogdan emphasize the benefits of having dogs. For example, Bogdan says he can tell by their barking what dogs are reacting to – a stranger, a car, or a wild animal. Such warning signals are useful, he says – and refers to dogs as his helpers.
Chernobyl dogs have become almost as much a symbol of the zone as the famous Ferris wheel in Pripyat Park. What is happening now in the exclusion zone is a reflection of the longstanding relationship between humans and dogs that has evolved over thousands of years, Larson points out. In many places on the planet, dogs are in a similar state – not completely domesticated, but not completely wild. In large cities and industrial areas, stray dogs roam in search of food. Under different circumstances, they could easily be domesticated. Chernobyl dogs also exist on the brink of domestication, but there is a difference, according to Webster. “The exclusion zone is different in that people have left here,” she says. “The only people who live here permanently are the security guards.” So the chances of a dog finding an owner here are very limited.
The sausage likes to warm up on the heating pipes. People outside the Chernobyl zone may be charmed by the local dogs, they may like their photos on social media, but for the guards it goes much deeper. Bogdan says he is often asked why dogs are allowed to live in the exclusion zone. “They bring us joy,” he replies to such questions. “For me personally, it’s a kind of symbol that even in a radioactive, post-apocalyptic world, life goes on.” It appears that you have not provided any Russian text for translation. Please provide the Russian text you would like to have translated into English. You can read the original article on the BBC Future website.