Vitaly Bianchi. Stories for children about nature

Vitaly Valentinovich Bianki (1894 — 1959) – Russian writer author of numerous children's books.

It is best to start a child's first acquaintance with the natural world with the help of the works of Vitaly Bianchi. The author managed to describe the inhabitants of forests, fields, rivers and lakes in a very detailed and fascinating way. After reading his stories, children will begin to recognize the birds and animals that can be found both in the city park and in more natural habitats.

Thanks to the creativity of the talented author, kids can easily penetrate under the dense canopy of trees, where tits, kinglets, woodpeckers, crows and many other feathered creatures live. Each work of the writer is filled with details Everyday life all the inhabitants of the forest. After getting acquainted with the stories of V. Bianchi, the child will receive a large number of entertaining information about the world.

Read stories by Vitaliy Bianchi online

The author paid considerable attention to the habits of living beings and their places of residence. Kids will learn how difficult it is for tiny creatures to survive if a formidable hunter has settled nearby. They will also understand that mutual assistance is not only among people. Fascinating stories by Vitaliy Bianchi can be read on our website; they are designed for children of all ages.

Vitaliy Bianchi is a magician. Each of his stories is filled with magic. Do you want to look into the world of the forest, peep the secrets of nature, see miracles in simple things? Follow the writer. The stories of Vitaliy Bianchi are written in an easy and colorful language- you can easily imagine the situation. But behind a vivid description - the knowledge of a biologist and a naturalist. Gently and carefully, Bianchi encourages exploration of the surrounding world.

Bianca's stories read

For kids of all ages

Bianchi gave people about three hundred stories. He knew how to observe the world through the eyes of children. Thanks to this gift, young readers easily turn on the imagination while listening to his tales. Among its readers are the smallest children. For them - miniature humorous stories. In the basis - curious instructive adventures. A whole cycle of stories is united under the general title "My cunning little son." In the center of the stories is a restless boy who comprehends the secrets of nature while walking through the forest with his father.

Older children are interested in Bianchi's stories about animals. All of them are based on forest "journeys". As a child, Vitaly's parents took Vitaly to the village of Lebyazhye, where there was a forest nearby. Having taken his first steps in this country, he became her devoted admirer for life. My father taught me to take notes - to save observations. Over the years, they have become forest stories. "Mouse Peak", "Who sings about what" - in every thought about the importance of knowledge about nature.

Although it is believed that Bianchi's stories were written for children, the writer did not forget about adults either. In the preface to one of the publications, he addressed them specifically. “I tried to write in such a way that fairy tales would be interesting for adults as well. But now I realized that I worked for adults who kept a child in their souls. An experienced eye will discern accurate descriptions and facts in Bianchi's stories. He often traveled to scientific expeditions on Central Russia, North - so he had something to say.

fairy tales

Bianchi has works that he called unusually: fairy tales, non-tales. There are no fairies, self-collected tablecloths and sorceresses in them. But there are even more miracles in them. The writer introduces the usual bully-sparrow in such a way that readers are only surprised: the bird is not easy. These stories of Bianca are a pleasure to read. He rethinks fairy tales. Instead of a kolobok, a hedgehog rolls along the path - a prickly barrel.

He wrote Bianchi's short and long stories. But they are all united by love for nature. This animal writer created a whole trend in literature that continues to develop. Readers answered him in the same way - in the coastal strip of the Gulf of Finland they created the natural landscape "Polyana Bianki".

From the autumn rains, water spilled into the dam.

Wild ducks came in the evenings. Melnikov's daughter Anyutka loved to listen to them splashing and fiddling in the dark.

The miller often went hunting in the evenings.

It was very boring for Anyutka to sit alone in the hut.

She went out to the dam, called: “Uh-huh, ugh!” - and threw bread crumbs into the water.

Only the ducks did not swim towards her. They were afraid of Anyutka and flew away from the dam, whistling their wings.

This upset Anna.

Birds don't like me, she thought. "They don't believe me."

Anyutka herself was very fond of birds. The miller kept neither chickens nor ducks. Anyutka wanted to tame at least some wild bird.

One late autumn evening the miller returned from hunting. He put the gun in a corner and dropped the sack from his shoulders.

Anyutka rushed to sort out the game.

The big bag was filled with shot ducks of various breeds. Anyutka knew how to distinguish them all by their size and by the shining mirrors on their wings.

In the bag were large mallard ducks with violet-blue mirrors. There were small teals with green mirrors and cracklings with gray ones.

Anyutka took them out of the bag one by one, counted them, and laid them out on the bench.

How much did you count? - asked the miller, taking up the stew.

Fourteen, - said Anyutka. - Yes, there seems to be another one!

Anyutka put her hand into the sack and pulled out the last duck. The bird suddenly escaped from her hands and quickly hobbled under the bench, dragging its broken wing.

Live! - exclaimed Anyutka.

Give it here, said the miller. - I'll break her neck.

Tyatenka, give me the duck, - Anyutka asked.

What is she to you? the miller was surprised.

And I will heal her.

Yes, it's wild! She won't live with you.

Anyutka stuck: give it back, give it back, - and begged the duck.

The mallard began to live in a dam. Anyutka tied her by the leg to a bush. If a duck wants, it swims in the water; if it wants, it will come ashore. And Anyutka bandaged her sore wing with a clean cloth.

Winter has come. At night, the water began to tighten with ice. wild ducks no longer flew to the dam: they flew south.

Anyutka mallard began to yearn and freeze under a bush.

Anyutka took her into the hut. The rag, with which Anyutka tied the duck's wing, stuck to the bone and remained so. And on the left wing of the mallard there was now not a blue mirror with a purple tint, but a white rag. So Anyutka named her duck: White Mirror.

The White Mirror was no longer shy about Anyutka. She allowed the girl to stroke her and pick her up, went to the call and took food directly from her hands. Anna was very pleased. She was not bored now when her father left the house.

In the spring, as soon as the ice on the river melted, wild ducks flew in.

Anyutka again tied the White Mirror to a long rope and let it into the dam. White Mirror began to pluck the rope with her beak, screamed and rushed to fly away with wild ducks.

Anyutka felt sorry for her. But it was a pity to part with her. However, Anyutka reasoned as follows: “Why keep her by force? Her wing has healed, spring, she wants to bring the children out. If he remembers me, he will return.”

And released the White Mirror on all four sides. And she said to her father:

You, as you beat the ducks, vigilantly look, if a white rag does not flash on the wing. Don't shoot the White Mirror!

The miller only threw up his hands:

Well mistress! She destroys her own economy. And I thought: I’ll go to the city, I’ll buy a drake, - Anyutka’s duck will bring us children.

Annie was confused.

You didn't tell me anything about the drake. Why, maybe the White Mirror won't make it in the wild, so it's still going back.

You are a fool, you are a fool, Anyutka! Where has it been seen that a wild bird tossed and turned back into captivity? No matter how you feed the wolf, he keeps looking into the forest. Now your duck will fall into the hawk's claws - and remember your name!

The heat came quickly. The river overflowed, flooded the bushes on the shore. Water poured further, flooded the forest.

The ducks had a bad time that year: it's time to rush, and the earth is all in the water there is nowhere to build nests.

But Anyutka is having fun: there is a boat - swim wherever you want.

Anyutka swam into the forest. I saw an old hollow tree in the forest. She hit the oar on the trunk, and from the hollow of the crack duck - shast! - and right on the water at the boat itself. Turned sideways. Anyutka looks - and does not believe her eyes: there is a white rag on the wing! Even if it's dirty, it's still noticeable.

Wow, wow! Anyutka screams. - White Mirror!

A duck from her. Splashing in the water, as if knocked down.

Anyutka follows her on the boat. Chased, chased - she got out of the forest. Then the White Mirror rose on its wings alive, healthy - and back into the forest.

“You are cunning! Anyuka thinks. “Yes, you won’t fool me: after all, it’s you who take me away from the nest!”

Came back, found an old tree.

She looked into the hollow, and there, on the bottom, were twelve oblong greenish eggs.

"Look smart! Anyuka thinks. “After all, this is where I guessed to arrange a nest so that there would not be enough water!”

Anyutka returned home, told her father that she had seen the White Mirror in the forest, but she was silent about the hollow. I was afraid that the miller would ruin the nest.

Soon the water subsided.

Anyutka noticed that the White Mirror flies to the river at noon to feed. It is warm at this hour, and the eggs in the nest do not get cold.

In order not to frighten the bird in the nest for nothing, Anyutka ran first to the river. She already knew where White Mirror liked to feed in the reeds. He makes sure that the duck is here, and runs into the forest to look - have the ducklings hatched in the hollow?

Once Anyutka has just spotted the White Mirror on the water, - suddenly a large gray hawk rushes through the air - and straight at the duck.

Anyutka cried out, but it was too late: the hawk dug its claws into the back of the White Mirror.

"My duck is gone!" Anyuka thinks.

And the White Mirror dived under the water and dragged the hawk behind her.

The hawk plunged head first. He sees - it's bad: he can't cope with a duck under water. He unclenched his claws and flew away.

Anyutka gasped:

Well smart! What a clever girl! Escaped from the hawk's claws!

A few more days have passed.

Anyutka ran to the river - there is no White Mirror!

Hid in the bushes, got patience - waiting.

Finally a duck flies out of the forest; she has a yellow lump in her paws. Went down to the water.

Anyutka looks: next to the White Mirror, a fluffy yellow duck swims.

"The ducklings are out! Anyutka rejoiced. “Now the White Mirror will drag everyone from the hollow to the river!”

So it is: the duck got up and flew into the forest for another chick.

Anyutka is still sitting under a bush, waiting for what will happen next.

A crow flew out of the forest. It flies, looks around, - where would you find something for lunch?

I noticed a duckling near the shore - an arrow to him. One time! - with a beak on the head, killed, tore into pieces and ate.

Anyutka was dumbfounded - and she would not guess to shout. The crow went back into the forest and hid in a tree.

And the White Mirror flies with the second duckling.

She lowered him into the river, looking for the first one, grunting - calling. Nowhere!

She swam, swam, searched all the reeds, - she found only fluff. She rose on her wings and rushed into the forest.

"Ah, stupid! Anyuka thinks. “Again, a crow will fly in, your duckling will be torn apart.”

Before she had time to think, she looked: the duck gave a circle, flew up from behind the bushes back to the river, darted into the reeds - and hid there.

A minute later a crow flies out of the forest - and straight to the duckling.

Nose bump! - and let's tear.

Then the White Mirror jumped out of the reeds, flew into the crow like a kite, grabbed it by the throat and dragged it under the water.

The birds swirled, splashed their wings on the water - only splashes fly in all directions!

Anyutka jumped out from under the bush, looking: the White Mirror flies into the forest, and the dead crow lies on the water.

Anyutka did not leave the river for a long time that day. I saw how the White Mirror dragged the other ten ducklings into the reeds.

Anyutka calmed down:

“Now,” he thinks, “I’m not afraid for the White Mirror: she knows how to stand up for herself, and she won’t let her children be offended.”

The month of August has come.

In the morning, hunters fired on the river: the hunt for ducks began.

All day Anyutka could not find a place for herself: “Well, how will the hunters kill the White Mirror?”

With darkness, they stopped firing.

Anyutka climbed into the hayloft to sleep.

Who is there? - the miller shouts from the hut.

Hunters! - answer.

What do you want?

Let me spend the night in the hayloft!

Stay overnight, perhaps. Yes, look, no matter how you put fire in the hay!

Fear not, non-smokers!

The barn doors creaked, and the hunters climbed into the hay.

Anyutka huddled in a corner, listening herself.

Well beaten! says one hunter. - How many do you have?

Six pieces, - answers the other. - All slippers.

I have eight. One was the uterus almost knocked. The dog found a brood. The uterus rose, I looked: something seemed to be white on her wing, like a rag. The mouth gaped, and missed. Two young dogs crushed from this brood. Aida in the morning again to that place: we will kill the uterus - all our slippers will be!

Okay, let's go.

Anyutka lies in the hay, neither alive nor dead. Thinks:

"And there is! The hunters found the White Mirror with ducklings. How to be?

Anyutka decided not to sleep at night, but to run to the river as soon as it was light, - not to let the hunters kill the White Mirror.

Half the night tossed and turned, driving sleep from myself.

And in the morning she herself did not notice how she fell asleep.

He wakes up, and they are firing on the river.

My White Mirror is no more! The hunters killed you!

He goes to the river, sees nothing in front of him: tears cover the light. She reached the dam, she thinks:

“This is where my duck swam. Why did I let her go?"

She looked at the water, and the White Mirror floats on the water and leads eight ducks behind it.

Anyutka: "Uh, uh, uh!"

And the White Mirror: “Waak! Waak! - and straight to her.

Hunters are firing on the river. A duck with ducklings swims near the mill. Anyutka crumbles bread, throws it into the water.

And so the White Mirror remained to live with Anyutka in the dam. She understood, it is clear that Anyutka will not let her be offended.

Then the chicks grew up, learned to fly, scattered all over the river.

Then the White Mirror flew away from the dam.

And the next year, she just brought out yellow ducklings, now she brought them to the dam - and to Anyutka.

Now all the hunters around the White Mirror know, do not touch it and call it Anyutka Duck.

water horse

On a wide, wide Siberian river, an old man chose nets full of fish. His grandson helped him.

So they filled the boat with fish, cast their nets again and swam to the shore. The old man rows, the grandson rules, he looks ahead. And he sees - a snag is swimming towards him, not a snag, like a stump, and on it are two large, like an eagle's, stone wings. Floats and snorts loudly...

The grandson was frightened and says:

Grandpa, oh grandpa! There is something terrible floating and snorting...

The old man turned around, put his hand to his eyes like a visor, looked, looked and said:

This animal is swimming.

The grandson was even more frightened:

Row, grandfather, faster. Let's run away from him.

And the grandfather does not want, says:

This is a land beast, in the water it will not do anything to us. Now, I'm going to tie it up.

And drove the boat across the beast.

Closer and closer, - the grandson can already see: this is not a stump, but a large hook-nosed head, on it mugs are wide, like wings. Head of an old Elk Elk. He is taller than a horse and strong, terribly, stronger than a bear.

The grandson was even more frightened. He grabbed a pole-spear from the bottom of the boat, holds it out to his grandfather:

Take, grandpa, a poke, beat the beast harder.

The old man did not take a poke-spear. I took two ropes.

He threw one on the right horn of the beast, the other on the left horn; tied the beast to the boat.

The beast snorted terribly, shook its head, and its eyes were filled with blood. But he can’t do anything: his legs dangle in the water, they don’t reach the bottom. He has nothing to lean on - and he cannot break the ropes. The beast swims and drags the boat along.

You see, - says the old man, - here we have a horse. He takes us to the shore. And if I had killed the beast with a prickle, you and I would have had to drag it to the house, pushing ourselves out of strength.

And it is true: the beast is heavy, heavier than the boat with the old man and grandson and all their fish.

The beast snorts, swims - rushes to the shore. And the old man controls him with ropes, like reins: he pulls on one - the beast turns to the right, for the other - the beast turns to the left. And the grandson is no longer afraid of the beast, he is only glad that they have such a horse in a harness.

They rode like this, an old man with his grandson rode, - now the shore is close, and on the shore one can see their hut.

Well, - says the old man, - let's have a drink now, granddaughters. It's time to kill the beast. He was a horse to us, now he will be meat - moose.

And the grandson asks:

Wait, grandfather - let it ride again. We don't ride horses like this every day.

Still passed. The old man again raises the poke-spear. The grandson asks him again:

Do not hit, grandfather, you will have time. Today we will have a hearty dinner of elk meat. And before dinner, we will ride a water horse to our heart's content.

And the shore is already here - at hand.

It's time, - says the old man, - have fun.

And raises a spear-polyuk. The grandson holds on to the pole, does not allow the beast to be stabbed:

Well, let's go for a little more ride!

Then suddenly the beast got its feet to the bottom. A powerful neck, a back with a hump, steep sides rose from the water at once. The old Elk stood up in all his heroic height, put his feet on the sand, jerked ...

Both ropes snapped. Boat on stones in a big way - fuck. The old man and grandson came to their senses waist-deep in water.

Only chips are floating around.

And there is no boat. And there are no fish. And the moose ran into the forest.

Eyes and ears

Inkvoy the Beaver lived on a winding forest river. The Beaver's hut is good: he sawed the trees himself, he dragged them into the water, he himself folded the walls and the roof.

Beaver has a good fur coat: it is warm in winter, and it is warm in the water, and the wind does not blow.

Beaver's ears are good: a fish splashes its tail in the river, a leaf falls in the forest, they hear everything.

But Beaver's eyes sprung up: weak eyes. The Beaver is blind, and cannot see for a hundred short beaver steps.

And in the neighbors of the Beaver, on a bright forest lake, lived Khottyn-Swan. He was handsome and proud, he did not want to be friends with anyone, he even greeted him reluctantly. He will raise his white neck, look at his neighbor from a height - they bow to him, he will slightly nod in response.

It happened once, the Inkvoy-Beaver works on the bank of the river, he works: he saws aspens with his teeth. Saw around to half, the wind will fly in and knock down the aspen. Inkvoy-Beaver saws it into logs and drags log after log to the river. He puts it on his back, holds a log with one paw, just like a person walks, only there is no pipe in his teeth.

Suddenly he sees that he is swimming along the Khottyn-Swan River, very close. Inkvoy-Beaver stopped, threw off the log from his shoulder and politely said:

Oozya-uzya!

Hello, that means.

The swan lifted his proud neck, slightly nodded his head in response and said:

You saw me up close! I noticed you from the very turn of the river. You'll be lost with those eyes.

And he began to taunt Inquay-Beaver:

You, mole rat, the hunters will catch with their bare hands and put in their pockets.

Inkvoy-Beaver listened, listened and says:

No doubt, you see you are better than me. But do you hear a quiet splash over there, behind the third turn of the river?

Hottyn-Swan listened and said:

You think there is no splash. Quiet in the forest.

Inkvoy Beaver waited, waited, and asked again:

Do you hear the splash now?

Where? - asks Hottyn-Swan.

And behind the second turn of the river, on the second wasteland.

No, - says Hottyn-Swan, - I don’t hear anything. Everything is quiet in the forest.

Inquoi the Beaver waited. Again asks:

Do you hear?

And over the cape, on the near wasteland!

No, - says Hottyn-Swan, - I don’t hear anything. Quiet in the forest. You deliberately invent.

Then, says Inkvoy Beaver, goodbye. And let your eyes serve you as well as my ears serve me.

He dived into the water and disappeared.

But Hottyn the Swan raised his white neck and proudly looked around: he thought that his keen eyes would always notice danger in time, and he was not afraid of anything.

Then a light boat jumped out from behind the forest - aikhoi. In it sat the Hunter.

The hunter raised his gun - and before Hottyn-Swan had time to flap his wings, a shot rang out.

And the proud head of Hottyn-Swan fell into the water.

So the Khanty - the forest people - say: "In the forest, the first thing is the ears, the eyes are the second."

How the ant hurried home

Ant climbed a birch. He climbed to the top, looked down, and there, on the ground, his native anthill is barely visible.

The ant sat on a piece of paper and thinks: "I'll rest a little - and go down."

After all, the ants are strict: only the sun is setting, - everyone is running home. The sun will set - and the ants will close all the moves and exits - and sleep. And whoever is late, at least spend the night on the street.

The sun was already going down towards the forest.

An ant sits on a leaf and thinks: "It's okay, I'll be in time: it's faster to go down."

And the leaf was bad: yellow, dry. The wind blew and tore it off the branch.

A leaf rushes through the forest, across the river, through the village.

Ant flies on a leaf, sways - a little alive with fear. The wind brought the leaf to the meadow outside the village and threw it there. A leaf fell on a stone, Ant knocked his legs off.

He lies and thinks: “My little head is gone. I can't get home now. The place is flat. If I were healthy, I would have run right away, but the trouble is: my legs hurt. It's a shame, even bite the earth.

The Ant looks: the Caterpillar-Surveyor lies nearby. A worm is a worm, only in front - legs and behind - legs.

Ant says to Surveyor:

Surveyor, Surveyor, carry me home. My legs hurt.

And won't you bite?

I won't bite.

So sit down, I'll take you.

Ant climbed onto the Surveyor's back. He bent over in an arc, put his hind legs to the front, tail to his head. Then he suddenly stood up to his full height, and just like that he lay down on the ground with a stick. He measured on the ground how much he was tall, and again curled up in an arc. And so he went, and so he went to measure the earth.

The ant flies to the ground, then to the sky, then upside down, then up.

I can't anymore! - screams. - Stop! And then I bite!

The surveyor stopped, stretched out on the ground. Ant tears, barely caught his breath.

He looked around, sees: a meadow ahead, mowed grass lies on the meadow. And across the meadow the Spider-Haymaker walks: legs like stilts, between the legs the head sways.

Spider, Spider, take me home! My legs hurt.

Well, sit down, I'll give you a lift.

The Ant had to climb up the spider leg up to the knee, and from the knee down to go down to the Spider on the back: the knees of the Harvester stick out above the back.

The Spider began to rearrange his stilts - one leg here, the other there; all eight legs, like knitting needles, flashed in Ant's eyes. And the Spider does not go quickly, striking the ground with its belly. Ant is tired of such a ride. He almost bit the Spider. Yes, here, fortunately, they came out on a smooth path.

The Spider stopped.

Get down, he says. - There is the Ground beetle running, it is faster than me.

Tears Ant.

Beetle, Beetle, take me home! My legs hurt.

Sit down, I'll ride.

As soon as the Ant had time to climb on the back of the Beetle, she would start running! Her legs are as straight as a horse's.

A six-legged horse is running, running, not shaking, as if flying through the air.

In an instant they rushed to the potato field.

Now get off, says Ground Beetle. - Do not jump on potato ridges with my legs. Take another horse.

I had to get down.

Potato tops for Ants - a dense forest. Here and with healthy legs - run all day. And the sun is low.

Suddenly Ant hears, someone squeaks:

Well, Ant, climb on my back, let's jump.

The Ant turned around - the Flea Bug is standing nearby, it can be seen a little from the ground.

Yes, you are small! You can't lift me.

And you are big! Lie down, I say.

Somehow the Ant fit on the back of the Flea. Just put the legs on.

Well, get in.

Get in, hold on.

The little flea picked up his thick hind legs under him - and he has them like springs, folding - yes click! straightened them out. Look, he's sitting on the bed. Click! - another. Click! - on third.

So the whole garden snapped off to the very fence.

Ant asks:

Can you get over the fence?

I can't go through the fence: it's very high. You ask the Grasshopper: he can.

Grasshopper, Grasshopper, take me home! My legs hurt.

Sit on the back.

The Ant sat on the Grasshopper on the scruff of the neck.

The Grasshopper folded its long hind legs in half, then immediately straightened them and jumped high into the air, like a flea. But then, with a crack, the wings unfolded behind him, carried the Grasshopper over the fence and quietly lowered him to the ground.

Stop! - said the Grasshopper. - We've arrived.

The ant looks ahead, and there is a wide river: swim along it for a year - you won’t swim across.

And the sun is even lower.

Grasshopper says:

I can’t even jump across the river: it’s too wide. Wait, I'll call the Water Strider: there will be a carrier for you.

He crackled in his own way, looking - a boat on legs is running on the water.

I ran up. No, not a boat, but a Water Strider-Bug.

Water meter, Water meter, take me home! My legs hurt.

Okay, sit down, I'll move.

Village Ant. The water strider jumped up and walked across the water as if on dry land.

And the sun is very low.

Sweetie, hello! - asks Ant. - They won't let me go home.

You can do it better, - says Vodometer.

Yes, how to let it go! It pushes off, pushes off with its legs and rolls and slides on the water, as if on ice. I found myself alive on that shore.

Can't you land on the ground? - asks Ant.

It is difficult for me on the ground, my feet do not slip. Yes, and look: there is a forest ahead. Find yourself another horse.

The Ant looked ahead and sees: there is a high forest above the river, up to the sky. And the sun was already behind him. No, don't get Ant, go home!

Look, - says the Water strider, - here's a horse crawling for you.

The Ant sees: the May Khrushch crawls past - a heavy beetle, a clumsy beetle. How far can you go on such a horse?

Still, he obeyed the water meter.

Khrushch, Khrushch, take me home! My legs hurt.

And where did you live?

In an anthill behind the forest.

Far away... well, what to do with you? Sit down, I'll take you.

Ant climbed along the hard beetle side.

Sat, right?

And where did he sit?

On the back.

Eh, stupid! Get on your head.

The Ant climbed on the Beetle's head. And it’s good that he didn’t stay on his back: the Beetle broke his back in two, lifted two hard wings. The Beetle's wings are like two inverted troughs, and from under them other wings climb, unfold: thin, transparent, wider and longer than the upper ones.

The Beetle began to puff, pout: “Ugh! Phew! Phew!

It's like the engine is starting.

Uncle, - the Ant asks, - hurry up! Dear, live!

Beetle does not answer, only puffs: “Ugh! Phew! Phew!

Suddenly thin wings fluttered, earned. “Zhzhzh! Knock-knock-knock!..” Khrushch rose into the air. Like a cork, it was thrown up by the wind - above the forest.

The ant sees from above: the sun has already touched the edge of the earth.

As Khrushchev rushed off, the Ant even took his breath away.

“Zhzhzh! Knock-Knock!" - the Beetle rushes, drills the air like a bullet.

A forest flashed under him - and disappeared.

And here is a familiar birch, and an anthill under it.

Above the very top of the birch, Zhuk turned off the engine and - slap! - sat on a bough.

Uncle, dear! - Ant pleaded. - How about me downstairs? My legs hurt, I'll break my neck.

Folded beetle thin wings along the back. He covered it with hard troughs from above. The tips of thin wings were carefully removed under the trough.

thought and said:

And I don't know how to get downstairs. I won’t fly to the anthill: it’s very painful for you, ants, to bite. Get yourself, as you know.

Ant looked down, and there, under the very birch, his home.

He looked at the sun: the sun had already sunk into the earth up to his waist.

He looked around him: branches and leaves, leaves and branches.

Do not get the Ant home, even throw yourself upside down! Suddenly he sees: next to the leaf, the Leaf Roller Caterpillar is sitting, pulling a silk thread from itself, pulling and winding it on a knot.

Caterpillar, Caterpillar, take me home! The last minute left for me - they won’t let me go home to spend the night.

Leave me alone! You see, I'm doing business: I'm spinning yarn.

Everyone felt sorry for me, no one drove me, you are the first!

Ant could not resist, rushed at her and how he bites!

In fright, the Caterpillar folded its legs and somersaulted from the leaf - and flew down.

And the Ant is hanging on it - he grabbed it tightly. Only for a short time did they fall: something from above them - derg!

And they both swayed on a silk thread: the thread was wound around a knot.

The Ant is swinging on the Leaf Roller, as if on a swing. And the thread is getting longer, longer, longer: it winds out of the leaflet's belly, stretches, does not break. The ant with the Leaf Roller is lower, lower, lower.

And below, in the anthill, the ants are busy, in a hurry, the entrances and exits are closed.

All closed - one, the last, the entrance remained. Ant with Caterpillars somersault and home!

Here the sun has set.

Red hill

Chick was a young red-headed sparrow. When he was a year old from birth, he married Chirika and decided to live in his house.

Chick, - Chirika said in sparrow language, - Chick, where are we going to make a nest for ourselves? After all, all the hollows in our garden are already occupied.

Eka thing! - Chick answered, also, of course, in a sparrow way. - Well, let's kick the neighbors out of the house and fill their hollow.

He was very fond of fighting and was delighted with such an opportunity to show Chirika his prowess. And, before the timid Chirika had time to stop him, he fell off the branch and rushed to a large mountain ash with a hollow. There lived his neighbor, a young sparrow like Chick.

The owner was not near the house.

“I’ll climb into the hollow,” Chick decided, “and when the owner arrives, I’ll shout that he wants to take the house away from me. The old people will flock - and now we will ask the neighbor!

He completely forgot that the neighbor is married and his wife has been making a nest in a hollow for the fifth day.

As soon as Chick stuck his head into the hole, - rraz! Someone poked him hard on the nose. Chick squeaked and bounced off the hollow. And a neighbor was already rushing at him from behind.

With a cry they collided in the air, fell to the ground, grappled and rolled into the ditch.

Chick fought well, and his neighbor was already having a hard time. But at the noise of the fight, old sparrows flocked from all over the garden. They immediately figured out who was right and who was wrong, and gave Chick such a kick that he did not remember how he escaped from them.

Chick came to himself in some bushes, where he had never happened to be before. All his bones ached.

Next to him sat a frightened Chirika.

Chick! she said so sadly that he would surely burst into tears, if only sparrows could cry. - Chick, now we will never return to our native garden! Where will we take the children now?

Chick himself understood that he could no longer catch the eye of the old sparrows: they would beat him to death. Still, he did not want to show Chirika that he was a coward. He straightened his disheveled feathers with his beak, caught his breath a little and said nonchalantly:

Eka thing! Let's find another place, even better.

And they went wherever they look - to look for a new place to live.

As soon as they flew out of the bushes, they found themselves on the banks of a cheerful blue river. Behind the river rose a high, high mountain of red clay and sand. Under the very top of the cliff, there were many holes and minks. Jackdaws and red kestrel falcons sat in pairs near the large holes; from small burrows now and then swift shore swallows flew out. A whole flock of them hovered over the cliff in a light cloud.

Look how fun they are! Chirik said. - Let's make ourselves a nest on Red Hill.

Chick looked warily at the falcons and jackdaws. He thought: “It’s good for the coasters: they dig their own minks in the sand. Should I beat someone else's nest?" And again, all the bones ached at once.

No, - he said, - I don't like it here: such a noise, you can just go deaf.

Chick and Chirika sat down on the roof of the barn. Chick immediately noticed that there were no sparrows or swallows.

That's where life is! he said happily to Chirika. - Look how many grains and crumbs are scattered around the yard. We'll be alone here and won't let anyone in.

Chsh! - Chirika hissed. - Look, what a monster there, on the porch.

And it's true: a fat Red Cat was sleeping on the porch.

Eka thing! Chick said bravely. What will he do to us? Look, that's how I do it now!..

He flew off the roof and rushed at the Cat so quickly that Chirika even screamed.

But Chick deftly picked up a piece of bread from under the Cat's nose and - once again! was on the roof again.

The cat did not even move, only opened one eye and looked sharply at the bully.

Did you see? Chick boasted. - And you're afraid!

Chirika did not argue with him, and both began to look for a convenient place for the nest.

They chose a wide gap under the roof of the barn. Here they began to drag first straw, then horsehair, down and feathers.

Less than a week later, Chirika laid the first egg in the nest - a small one, all in pinkish-brown mottled. Chick was so happy for him that he even composed a song in honor of his wife and himself:

Chirik, Chik-chik,

Chirik, Chik-chik,

Chiki-chiki-chiki-chiki,

Chicky, Chick, Chick!

This song meant absolutely nothing, but it was so convenient to sing it, jumping over the fence.

When there were six testicles in the nest. Chirika sat down to hatch them.

Chick flew off to collect worms and flies for her, because now she had to be fed delicate food. He hesitated a little, and Chirika wanted to see where he was.

As soon as she stuck her nose out of the crack, a red paw with outstretched claws reached out from the roof behind her. Chirika rushed - and left a whole bunch of feathers in the cat's claws. A little more - and her song would be sung.

The cat followed her with his eyes, put his paw into the crack and pulled out the whole nest at once, a whole wad of straw, feathers and fluff. In vain Chirika shouted, in vain Chick, who arrived in time, boldly rushed at the Cat - no one came to their aid. The red-haired robber calmly ate all six of their precious testicles. The wind picked up an empty light nest and threw it from the roof to the ground.

On the same day, the sparrows left the barn forever and moved to a grove, away from the Red Cat.

In the grove they were soon lucky enough to find a free hollow. They again began to carry straw and worked for a whole week, building a nest.

In their neighbors lived the thick-billed and dapper Goldfinch with the Goldfinch, the motley Flycatcher with the Flycatcher. Each couple had their own house, there was enough food for everyone, but Chick had already managed to fight with the neighbors - just to show them how brave and strong he was.

Only Finch turned out to be stronger than him and patted the bully well. Then Chick became more careful. He no longer got into a fight, but only puffed up his feathers and chirped cockily when one of the neighbors flew by. For this, the neighbors were not angry with him: they themselves loved to boast to others of their strength and prowess.

They lived peacefully until disaster struck.

Hurry, hurry! shouted Chick to Chirike. - Do you hear: Finch zapinka danger!

And the truth is: someone terrible was approaching them. After the Finch, the Goldfinch cried, and then the Motley Flycatcher. Mukholov lived just four trees from the sparrows. If he saw the enemy, it means that the enemy was very close.

Chirika flew out of the hollow and sat on a branch next to Chick. Neighbors warned them of the danger, and they prepared to meet it face to face.

Fluffy red hair flashed in the bushes, and their fierce enemy - the Cat - came out into the open. He saw that the neighbors had already betrayed him to the sparrows and now he could not catch Chiriku in the nest. He got angry.

Suddenly the tip of his tail moved in the grass, his eyes narrowed: the cat saw a hollow. Well, even half a dozen sparrow eggs is a good breakfast. And the cat licked his lips. He climbed up a tree and put his paw into the hollow.

Chick and Chirika raised a cry throughout the grove. But even then no one came to their aid. The neighbors sat in their seats and shouted loudly in fear. Each couple feared for their home.

The cat caught the nest with its claws and pulled it out of the hollow.

But this time he came too early: there were no eggs in the nest, no matter how much he searched.

Then he left the nest and went down to earth himself. The sparrows followed him with a cry.

At the very bushes, the Cat stopped and turned to them with such an air as if he wanted to say:

“Wait, little ones, wait! You won't get away from me anywhere! Build a new nest for yourself wherever you want, breed chicks, and I will come and devour them, and you at the same time.

And he snorted so menacingly that Chirika shuddered in fear.

The cat left, and Chick and Chirika were left to grieve at the ruined nest. Finally Chirika said:

Chick, because in a few days I will definitely have a new testicle. Let's fly quickly, find a place for ourselves somewhere across the river. The Cat won't get us there.

She did not know that there was a bridge across the river and that the Cat often walked along this bridge. Chick didn't know that either.

Let's go, he agreed. And they flew.

Soon they found themselves under the very Red Hill.

Fly to us, fly to us! - Shouted to them the coast guards in their own, in the swallow language. - We have a friendly, cheerful life on Krasnaya Gorka.

Yes, - Chick shouted to them, - but you yourself will fight!

Why should we fight? - the coastguards answered. - We have enough midges over the river for everyone, we have a lot of empty minks on Krasnaya Gorka - choose any one.

And the kestrels? And the jackdaws? Chick didn't let up.

Kestrels catch grasshoppers and mice in the fields. They don't touch us. We are all in friendship.

And Chirika said:

We flew with you, Chick, we flew, but we did not see a more beautiful place than this. Let's live here.

Well, - Chick surrendered, - since they have free minks and no one will fight, you can try.

They flew up to the mountain, and it’s true: neither the kestrels touched them, nor the jackdaws.

They began to choose a mink to their liking: so that it was not very deep, and the entrance was wider. Found two of these side by side.

In one they built a nest and Chirik to incubate the village, in the other Chik spent the night.

At the coast, at the jackdaws, at the falcons - all of them have hatched chicks for a long time. Chirika alone sat patiently in her dark hole. Chick brought her food there from morning till night.

Two weeks passed. The red cat did not show up. The sparrows have already forgotten about him.

Chick was looking forward to the chicks. Every time he brought a worm or a fly to Chirika, he asked her:

Do they fart?

No, they don't knock.

Will they be soon?

Soon, soon, - Chirika answered patiently.

One morning, Chirika called him from the mink:

Fly quickly: one knocked! Chick immediately rushed to the nest. Then he heard how, in one egg, a chick poked a little audibly into the shell with a weak beak. Chirika carefully helped him: she broke the shell in different places.

A few minutes passed, and the chick emerged from the egg - tiny, naked, blind. On a thin, thin neck dangled a large naked head.

Yes, he is funny! Chick was surprised.

Not funny at all! Chirika was offended. - A very pretty chick. And you have nothing to do here, take the shells here and throw them somewhere far away from the nest.

While Chick was carrying the shells, the second chick hatched and the third began to tap.

It was then that the alarm on Red Hill began.

From their mink, the sparrows heard the swallows suddenly scream piercingly.

Chick jumped out and immediately returned with the news that the Red Cat was climbing the cliff.

He saw me! Chick shouted. - He will be here now and will pull us out together with the chicks. Hurry, hurry, let's fly away from here!

No, - Chirika answered sadly. - I will not fly anywhere from my little chicks. Let it be what will be.

And no matter how much Chick called, she did not budge.

Then Chick flew out of the hole and began, like a madman, to throw himself at the Cat. And the Cat climbed and climbed the cliff. Swallows hovered over him in a cloud, screaming jackdaws and pu-strings flew to their rescue.

The cat quickly climbed up and grabbed the edge of the mink with its paw. Now all he had to do was stick his other paw behind the nest and pull it out along with Chirika, chicks and eggs.

But at that moment one kestrel pecked at his tail, another at his head, and two jackdaws struck him in the back.

The cat hissed in pain, turned around and wanted to grab the birds with his front paws. But the birds dodged, and he rolled head over heels down. He had nothing to cling to: the sand poured along with him, and the further, the sooner, the farther, the sooner ...

The birds could no longer see where the Cat was: only a cloud of red dust rushed from the cliff. Plop! - and the cloud stopped over the water. When it dissipated, the birds saw a wet cat's head in the middle of the river, and Chick kept up behind and pecked at the back of the Cat's head.

The cat swam across the river and got to the shore. Chick didn't leave him behind. The cat was so frightened that he did not dare to grab him, lifted his wet tail and galloped home.

Since then, the Red Cat has never been seen on the Red Hill.

Chirika calmly brought out six chicks, and a little later, six more, and all of them remained to live in free swallow nests.

And Chick stopped bullying the neighbors and made good friends with the swallows.

Who sings what?

Do you hear what kind of music rattles in the forest? Listening to her, one might think that all animals, birds and insects were born singers and musicians.

Maybe that's the way it is: after all, everyone loves music, and everyone wants to sing. But not everyone has a voice.

“Kva-ah-ah-ah-ah! ..” - air went out of them in one breath.

A stork from the village heard them. Rejoiced:

Whole choir! I'll have something to eat!

And flew to the lake for breakfast. Arrived and sat on the beach. He sat down and thought: “Am I really worse than a frog? They sing without a voice. Let me try."

He raised his long beak, rattled, crackled one half of it against the other, now quieter, now louder, now less often, then more often: a wooden ratchet crackles, and nothing more! I got so excited that I forgot about my breakfast.

And in the reeds Bittern stood on one leg, listened and thought: “I am a voiceless heron! Why, and the Stork - not songbird, but what song is he playing.

And she came up with: “Let me play on the water!”

She put her beak into the lake, took it full of water, and how she blew into her beak! A loud rumble went across the lake:

"Prumb-boo-boo-boom! .." - like a bull bellowed.

"That's the song! - thought the Woodpecker, hearing Bittern from the forest. “I will find a tool: why is a tree not a drum, but why is my nose not a stick?”

He rested his tail, leaned back, swung his head - how he would peck a branch with his nose!

Just like a drum roll.

A beetle with a long mustache crawled out from under the bark.

He twisted, twisted his head, his stiff neck creaked, a thin, thin squeak was heard.

The barbel squeaks, but it's all in vain; no one hears his squeak. He worked his neck - but he himself is pleased with his song.

And below, under a tree, a Bumblebee crawled out of the nest and flew to sing in the meadow.

It circles around the flower in the meadow, buzzing with veiny hard wings, as if a string is buzzing.

The song of the bumblebee awakened the green locust in the grass.

The Locust began to tune the violins. She has violins on her wings, and instead of bows, she has long hind legs with her knees back. There are notches on the wings, and hooks on the legs.

The Locust rubs itself with its legs on the sides, the chirp touches the chains with notches.

There are many locusts in the meadow: a whole string orchestra.

“Oh,” thinks the long-nosed Snipe under a bump, “I need to sing too! Just what? My throat is not good, my nose is not good, my neck is not good, my wings are not good, my paws are not good... Eh! I wasn’t there - I’ll fly, I won’t be silent, I’ll scream with something!

Jumped out from under the bumps, soared, flew under the very clouds. The tail opened like a fan, straightened its wings, turned over with its nose to the ground and rushed down, turning from side to side, like a plank thrown from a height. It cuts the air with its head, and in the tail it has thin, narrow feathers sorted out by the wind.

And it is heard from the ground: as if in the heights a lamb sang, bleated.

And this is Bekas.

Guess what he's singing?

Tail!

Bathing cubs

Our familiar hunter was walking along the bank of a forest river and suddenly heard a loud crackling of branches. He got scared and climbed a tree.

A large brown bear and two funny bear cubs came ashore from the thicket. The bear grabbed one cub with her teeth by the collar and let's dip into the river.

The little bear squealed and floundered, but the mother did not let him out until she rinsed him well in the water.

Another cub was frightened of a cold bath and started to run away into the forest.

His mother caught up with him, gave him slaps, and then - into the water, like the first.

Once again on the ground, both cubs were very pleased with the bath: the day was hot, and they were very hot in thick shaggy coats. The water refreshed them well. After bathing, the bears again hid in the forest, and the hunter got down from the tree and went home.

Fox and mouse

- Mouse, Mouse, why is your nose dirty?

Digging the earth.

Why did you dig the earth?

Made a mink.

Why did you make a mink?

To hide from you, Fox.

Mouse, Mouse, I'll lie in wait for you!

And I have a bedroom in a mink.

If you want to eat - get out!

And I have a pantry in a mink.

Mouse, Mouse, but I'll tear your mink.

And I'm away from you - and that was it!

Masters without an ax

They asked me a riddle: "Without hands, without an ax, a hut was built." What's happened?

Turns out it's a bird's nest.

I looked, right! Here is a magpie's nest: as if from logs, everything is made of branches, the floor is smeared with clay, covered with straw, in the middle is the entrance; branch roof. Why not a hut? And she never held a magpie ax in her paws.

Strongly then I took pity on the bird: it is difficult, oh how difficult, go, for them, miserable, to build their dwellings without hands, without an ax! I began to think: how to be here, how to help their grief?

You can't put your hands on them.

But an ax ... You can get an ax for them.

I took out an ax and ran into the garden.

Look, the nightjar sits on the ground between the bumps. I to him:

Nightjar, nightjar, is it difficult for you to build a nest without hands, without an ax?

And I don't build nests! - says the nightjar. - Look where I'm hatching eggs.

A nightjar fluttered, - and under it there was a hole between the bumps. And in the hole are two beautiful marble testicles.

“Well,” I think to myself, “this doesn’t need a hand or an axe. Managed to get by without them."

Ran out to the river. Look, there, on the branches, on the bushes, the titmouse jumps, - with its thin nose it collects fluff from the willow.

What do you fluff, Remez? - I ask.

I’m making a nest out of it,” he says. - My nest is downy, soft, - like your mitten.

“Well,” I think to myself, “this ax is also useless - to collect fluff ...”

Ran to the house. Look, under the ridge, a killer whale is bustling - sculpting a nest. He crushes clay with his nose, picks it up on the river with his nose, carries it with his nose.

“Well, - I think, - and here my hatchet has nothing to do with it. And you don't have to show it."

He ran into the grove. Look, there is a nest on the song thrush tree. What a feast for the eyes, what a nest: outside everything is decorated with green moss, inside - like a cup is smooth.

How did you make your own nest? - I ask. - How did you do it so well inside?

He made it with his paws and his nose, - the song thrush answers. - Inside, I smeared everything with cement from wood dust with saliva from my own.

“Well, - I think, - again I didn’t get there. We must look for such birds that carpentry.

And I hear: “Tu-tuk-tuk-tuk! Knock-knock-knock-knock!” - from the forest.

I go there. And there is a woodpecker.

He sits on a birch and carpenters, makes a hollow for himself - to bring out children.

I to him:

Woodpecker, woodpecker, stop sticking your nose! It's been a long time, I've had a headache. Look what instrument I brought you: a real hatchet!

The woodpecker looked at the hatchet and said:

Thanks, but I don't need your tool. I’m good at carpentry anyway: I’m holding on with my paws, I’ll lean on my tail, I’ll bend in half, I’ll swing my head, I’ll knock my nose! Only chips fly and dust!

The woodpecker confused me: the birds, apparently, are all masters without an ax.

Then I saw an eagle's nest. A huge pile of thick boughs on the tallest pine tree in the forest.

“Here, I think, someone needs an ax: cut branches!”

I ran up to that pine tree, I shout:

Eagle, eagle! And I brought you an ax!

The eagle spread its wings and screams:

Thanks, boy! Throw your hatchet into the pile. I'll still pile knots on it - it will be a solid building, a good nest.

First hunt

Tired of the Puppy chasing chickens around the yard.

“I’ll go,” he thinks, “to hunt for wild animals and birds.”

He darted into the doorway and ran across the meadow.

Wild beasts, birds and insects saw him, and everyone thinks to himself.

Bittern thinks: "I will deceive him!"

The hoopoe thinks: “I will surprise him!”

Vertishaka thinks: "I'll scare him!"

The lizard thinks: "I'll wriggle out of him!"

Caterpillars, butterflies, grasshoppers think: “We will hide from him!”

"And I'll burn him!" thinks the Bombardier Beetle.

“We all know how to stand up for ourselves, each in his own way!” they think to themselves. And the Puppy has already run to the lake and sees: Bittern is standing by the reeds on one leg knee-deep in water.

“Now I’ll catch her!” - the Puppy thinks and is quite ready to jump on her back.

Bittern looked at him and stepped into the reeds.

The wind runs across the lake, the reeds sway. The reeds are swinging

back and forth, back and forth. In front of the Puppy's eyes, brown and brown stripes sway back and forth, back and forth.

And Bittern stands in the reeds, stretched out - thin, thin, and all painted in yellow and brown stripes. It stands, swings back and forth, back and forth.

The puppy bulged his eyes, looked, looked - he did not see Bittern in the bulrush. “Well, he thinks,” Bittern deceived me. don't jump into the empty reeds! I'll go and catch another bird." He ran out to the hillock, looks: Hoopoe is sitting on the ground, playing with a crest, he will unfold it, then he will fold it. “Now I’ll jump on him from a hillock!” Puppy thinks.

And the Hoopoe crouched to the ground, spread its wings, opened its tail, raised its beak up.

The Puppy looks: there is no bird, but a motley rag lies on the ground and a crooked needle sticks out of it. The puppy was surprised: “Where did the Hoopoe go? Did I take this motley rag for him? I’ll go and catch a little bird as soon as possible.” He ran up to the tree and sees: a small bird Vertisheyka is sitting on a branch.

He rushed to her, and Vertisheyka yurk into the hollow. “Aha! - Puppy thinks. Gotcha! He got up on his hind legs, looked into the hollow, and in the black hollow a black snake wriggled and hissed terribly. The Puppy staggered back, raised his fur on end - and fled.

And Vertisheyka hisses after him from the hollow, twists her head, a strip of black feathers snakes down her back like a snake.

“Ugh! scared how! He barely took his legs. I won't hunt birds anymore. I'd better go and catch the Lizard.

The lizard sat on a stone, closed its eyes, basking in the sun. Quietly, a Puppy crept up to her - jump! - and grabbed by the tail. And the Lizard twisted, left his tail in his teeth, she herself - under a stone! The tail in the puppy's teeth wriggles. Puppy snorted, threw his tail - and after her. Yes, where is it! The lizard has been sitting under a stone for a long time, growing a new tail for itself.

“Uh,” the Puppy thinks, “if the Lizard got out of me, then I’ll at least have some insects.” I looked around, and beetles run on the ground, grasshoppers jump in the grass, caterpillars crawl along the branches, butterflies fly through the air.

Puppy rushed to catch them, and suddenly - it became a circle, as in a mysterious picture, everyone is here, but no one is visible - everyone hid. Green grasshoppers hid in the green grass.

The caterpillars on the branches stretched out and froze - you can’t distinguish them from knots. Butterflies sat on trees, their wings folded - you can’t tell where the bark is, where the leaves are, where the butterflies are. One tiny Bombardier Beetle walks along the ground, does not hide anywhere. The Puppy caught up with him, wanted to grab him, and the Bombardier Beetle stopped, and as soon as it fired at him with a flying, caustic stream, it hit him right in the nose!

The Puppy squealed, tail tucked in, turned - yes across the meadow, yes into the gateway. He huddled in show jumping and was afraid to stick his nose out. And the animals, birds and insects - all again set to work.

snow book

They wandered, inherited the animals in the snow. You won't immediately understand what happened.

To the left, under a bush, a hare trail begins. From the hind legs, the track is elongated, long; from the front - round, small. A hare trail across the field. On one side of it is another track, a larger one; in the snow from the claws of the hole, a fox trace. And on the other side of the hare's footprint there is another footprint: also fox, only leading back.

The hare gave a circle around the field; fox too. Hare aside - fox behind him. Both tracks end in the middle of the field.

But aside - again a hare trail. It disappears, it goes on...

It goes, goes, goes - and suddenly it broke off - as if it had gone underground! And where it disappeared, the snow was crushed there, and it was as if someone had brushed their fingers on the sides.

Where did the fox go?

Where did the rabbit go?

Let's take a look at warehouses.

Worth a bush. The bark has been stripped from it. Trampled under a bush, traced. Hare tracks. Here the hare was fattening: it gnawed the bark from the bush. It will stand on its hind legs, tear off a piece with its teeth, chew it, step over with its paws, and tear off another piece next to it. I ate and wanted to sleep. I went looking for a place to hide.

And here is a fox footprint, next to a hare footprint. It was like this: the hare went to sleep. An hour passes, another. The fox is walking through the field. Look, a hare footprint in the snow! Fox nose to the ground. I sniffed - the trail is fresh!

She ran after the trail.

The fox is cunning, and the hare is not simple: he knew how to confuse his trail. He galloped, galloped across the field, turned around, circled a large loop, crossed his own track - and to the side.

The trail is still even, unhurried: the hare walked calmly, he did not smell trouble behind him.

The fox ran, ran - he sees: there is a fresh track across the track. I didn’t realize that the hare made a loop.

Turned sideways - on a fresh trail; runs, runs - and became: the trail broke off! Where to now?

And the matter is simple: this is a new hare trick - a deuce.

The hare made a loop, crossed its trail, walked a little forward, and then turned around - and back along its trail.

Carefully walked - paw to paw.

The fox stood, stood - and back.

She came to the crossroads again.

Followed the whole loop.

She walks, walks, sees - the hare deceived her, the trail does not lead anywhere!

She snorted and went into the woods to do her business.

And it was like this: the hare made a deuce - went back along its trail.

He did not reach the loop - and waved through the snowdrift - to the side.

He jumped over a bush and lay down under a pile of brushwood.

Here he lay while the fox searched for him on the trail.

And when the fox is gone, how he will burst out from under the brushwood - and into the thicket!

Wide jumps - paws to paws: racing trail.

Rushing without looking back. Stump on the road. Hare past. And on the stump ... And on the stump sat a big owl.

I saw a hare, took off, and so it lays behind it. Caught and tsap in the back with all the claws!

The hare poked into the snow, and the owl settled down, beats its wings in the snow, tears it off the ground.

Where the hare fell, there the snow was crushed. Where the eagle owl flapped its wings, there are signs in the snow from feathers, as if from fingers.

Owl

An old man is sitting, drinking tea. He doesn’t drink empty - he whitens with milk. Owl flies by.

Hello, - says, - friend!

And the Old Man to her:

You, Owl, are a desperate head, ears up, hooked nose. You bury yourself from the sun, you shun people - what kind of friend am I to you?

Owl got angry.

All right, - says, - old! I won’t fly to your meadow at night, catch mice, - catch yourself.

And the old man:

Look, what a fright you thought! Run while you're whole.

The Owl flew away, climbed into the oak, does not fly anywhere from the hollow. The night has come. In an old man's meadow, mice in their holes whistle and call to each other:

Look, godfather, is the Owl flying - a desperate head, ears up, hooked nose?

Mouse Mouse in response:

Do not see the Owl, do not hear the Owl. Today we have expanse in the meadow, now we have freedom in the meadow.

Mice jumped out of holes, mice ran across the meadow.

And Owl from the hollow:

Ho-ho-ho, old man! Look, no matter how bad it happens: the mice, they say, went hunting.

And let them go, - says the Old Man. - Tea, mice are not wolves, heifers will not slaughter.

Mice roam the meadow, looking for bumblebee nests, digging the ground, catching bumblebees.

And Owl from the hollow:

Ho-ho-ho, old man! Look, no matter how worse it turns out: all your bumblebees have scattered.

And let them fly, - says the Old Man. - What's the use of them: no honey, no wax - only blisters.

There is a fodder clover in the meadow, hanging with its head to the ground, and the bumblebees are buzzing, flying away from the meadow, they don’t look at the clover, they don’t carry pollen from flower to flower.

And Owl from the hollow:

Ho-ho-ho, old man! Look, no matter how worse it turns out: you yourself would not have to transfer pollen from flower to flower.

And the wind will blow it away, - says the Old Man, and he scratches in the back of his head.

The wind is blowing across the meadow, the pollen is pouring to the ground. Pollen does not fall from flower to flower - clover will not be born in the meadow; This is not to the liking of the Old Man.

And Owl from the hollow:

Ho-ho-ho, old man! Your cow lows, asks for clover - grass, listen, without clover is like porridge without butter.

The old man is silent, says nothing.

The Cow was healthy from the clover, the Cow began to grow thin, she began to slow down her milk: she licks the swill, and the milk is thinner and thinner.

And Owl from the hollow:

Ho-ho-ho, old man! I told you: come to me to bow.

The old man scolds, but things are not going well. An owl sits in an oak tree, does not catch mice.

Mice roam the meadow, looking for bumblebee nests. Bumblebees walk in other people's meadows, but they don't even look at the old people's meadow. Clover will not be born in the meadow. A cow without clover is emaciated. The cow has little milk. So the old man had nothing to whiten tea.

There was nothing for the Old Man to whiten tea, - the Old Man went to the Owl to bow:

You, Owl-widow, help me out of trouble: there was nothing for me, the old one, to whiten tea.

And the Owl from the hollow with its eyes loop-loops, its knives are stupid-dumb.

That's it, - he says, - old. Friendly is not heavy, but at least drop it apart. Do you think it's easy for me without your mice?

The Owl forgave the Old Man, climbed out of the hollow, flew to the meadow to catch mice.

Mice with fear hid in holes.

Bumblebees buzzed over the meadow, began to fly from flower to flower.

Red clover began to pour in the meadow.

The cow went to the meadow to chew clover.

The cow has a lot of milk.

The Old Man began to whiten tea with milk, whiten tea - Praise the owl, invite him to visit, respect.

Sly fox and smart duck

Very. The sly Fox thinks: “The ducks have gathered to fly away. Let me go to the river - I'll get a duck! He crept up from behind a bush, he sees: however, a whole flock of ducks near the shore. One Duck stands under the very bush, sorting through the feathers in the wing with his paw. Fox grab her by the wing! With all her might, the Duck rushed. Left the feathers in the Fox's teeth. “Oh you! .. - Fox thinks. - It escaped like ... ”The flock was alarmed, rose on the wing and flew away. But this Duck remained: her wing is broken, her feathers are torn out. She hid in the reeds, away from the shore. Les left with nothing.

Winter. The sly Fox thinks: “The lake is frozen. Now the Duck is mine, it won’t get away from me: wherever it goes in the snow, it will trace it, I’ll find it on its trail. He came to the river, - that's right: paws with membranes left their mark on the snow near the shore. And the Duck itself sits under the same bush, all fluffed up. Here the key beats from under the ground, does not allow the ice to freeze, - a warm polynya, and steam comes from it. The Fox rushed to the Duck, and the Duck dived from him! - and went under the ice. “Oh you! .. - Fox thinks. “I drowned myself…” He left with nothing.

Spring. The sly Fox thinks: “The ice is melting on the river. I’ll go and eat a frozen duck.” He came, and the Duck swims under a bush - alive, healthy! She then dived under the ice and jumped out into the polynya - under the other shore: the spring also beat there. It stayed that way all winter. “Oh you! .. - Fox thinks. - Stop, now I'll throw myself into the water after you ... "- In vain, in vain, in vain! - quacked the Duck. Fluttered from the water and flew away. During the winter, her wing healed and new feathers grew.

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