Dmitry Narkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak is a wonderful Russian writer. When reminded of the name of the writer, his novels stand before us - "Privalovsky millions", "Mountain nest", "Bread", "Gold", "Three ends" , deeply and truthfully revealing the life of the Ural workers and peasants, the cruel exploitation of their labor by the owners of factories and mines. We also recall the wonderful "Ural Tales", in which the majestic nature of the Urals and Siberia, first revealed to readers by Mamin-Sibiryak, came to life.

Famous Mamin-Sibiryak and creativity for children. On the bookshelves children's libraries among the best books of Russian classical literature there are also volumes of his works.

Works and books by Mamin-Sibiryak for children

Yes, Mamin-Sibiryak loved to write for children. He called children's book"a living thread that leads out of the children's room and connects with the rest of the world." “A children's book,” he wrote, “is a spring sunbeam that makes the dormant forces of the soul awaken and causes the seeds thrown on this fertile soil to grow. The book is for the child a window into the world, irresistibly beckoning to itself with the light of real knowledge and real science.

Their works for children the writer gave to the most advanced magazines of that time: "Children's Reading", later renamed "Young Russia", "Spring", "Voskhod", "Nature and People", in which such writers as A. Serafimovich, K. Stanyukovich were published , A. Chekhov and later M. Gorky.

The younger children loved his poetic "Alyonushka's Tales" . Animals and plants are also spiritualized in other fairy tales: "Grey Neck", "Green War", "Forest Fairy Tale", "Fireflies" . This artistic technique gives Mamin-Sibiryak an opportunity to give children valuable information about the life of an animal in an entertaining story and flora and uncover important moral and moral issues. Addressed to the youngest readers, these fairy tales evoke the activity of children's perception and expand the life outlook of the child.

In the writer's stories "Spit", "In learning" and "In a stone well" describes the fate of teenagers who are "learned" in handicraft workshops. The image of the twelve-year-old Proshka is especially memorable - the “spit” in the lapidary workshop. For 14 hours a day, idle in the darkest corner of the workshop, at the grinder, he turns a heavy wheel. He is sick and dying of tuberculosis. “The boy was dying at his wheel from emery dust, bad food and overwork, and yet he continued to work. And how many children die in this way in different workshops, both boys and girls! - the author exclaims indignantly. “And all this so that the rich can wear jewelry created at the cost of human life.”

In many of the stories of Mamin-Sibiryak, included in children's reading, the fate of people from the people is traced: shepherds - tamers of wild steppe horses (story "Makarka"), bogatyrs-rafters (stories "Balaburda" and "Freeman Vaska" ), mine workers ( "On a warm mountain", "Grandfather's gold" ). The author's attention is paid to showing the "robbers", that is, those rebels who unsuccessfully opposed the manufacturers, breeders and their minions.

Old hunters and forest watchmen are warmly depicted in children's stories. They live far from the villages in camps and zaimka, their only friends are animals and birds tamed by them. Connoisseurs of nature, they not only love it, but also protect it from aimless destruction. Such is the ninety-year-old Taras from the story "Adopted", and the rich village watchman from the story "The rich man and Eremka" , and Yeleska's lonely "Wintering on Studenaya" , and the forest watchman Sokhach, the hero of the story "Crimson Mountains" , and old Emelya from the story "Emelya the hunter".

All these heroes have common, deeply related features: love for nature, complete disinterestedness and resolute condemnation of the greed and selfishness of the owners.

The writer was deeply concerned about the education of children and youth. Sharply criticizing the way education was organized in the schools and gymnasiums of tsarist Russia, he protested against class restrictions in education and demanded broad public education. With great love, he depicts students, female students, teachers, doctors, scientists, inventors and other representatives of the intelligentsia, selflessly and selflessly working for the people.

The indignation of the writer was also caused by the organization of education in theological schools and seminaries. Having experienced all the savagery of the Yekaterinburg theological school - the bursa, where he was taken as a twelve-year-old child, he demanded the complete abolition of "this false system of education", saying that it brought "more harm to us than any European war."

A series of essays under the general title "From the Distant Past" - this is not only a vivid reproduction of the disgusting mores of the Bursa, but also a characteristic of the entire vicious pedagogy of bourgeois society.

Back in 1912, the Bolshevik Pravda gave a high assessment to the work of Mamin-Sibiryak, foreseeing the time when his works would receive well-deserved recognition from the broad masses of readers of the liberated socialist Motherland. The newspaper wrote: “A new reader and a new critic are being born, who will respectfully put your name to the place you deserve in the history of the Russian public.”

Medvedko

- Sir, do you want to take a bear cub? — offered me my coachman Andrey.

- And where he?

- Yes, the neighbors. The familiar hunters gave them. Such a glorious bear cub, only three weeks old. Funny animal, in a word.

- Why do the neighbors give, if he is nice?

— Who knows. I saw a bear cub: no more than a mitten. And so funny passes.

I lived in the Urals, in a county town. The apartment was big. Why not take the teddy bear? In fact, the animal is funny. Let him live, and then we'll see what to do with him.

No sooner said than done. Andrei went to the neighbors and half an hour later brought a tiny bear cub, which really was no larger than his mitten, with the difference that this living mitten walked so funny on its four legs and even more amusingly goggled such cute blue eyes.

A whole crowd of street children came for the bear cub, so the gate had to be closed. Once in the rooms, the bear cub was not in the least embarrassed, but, on the contrary, felt very free, as if he had come home. He calmly examined everything, walked around the walls, sniffed everything, tried something with his black paw and, it seems, found that everything was in order.

My high school students brought him milk, rolls, crackers. The little bear took everything for granted and, sitting in a corner on his hind legs, prepared to have a bite. He did everything with extraordinary comic gravity.

- Medvedko, do you want some milk?

- Medvedko, here are crackers.

- Medvedko!

While all this fuss was going on, my hunting dog, an old red setter, quietly entered the room.

The dog immediately sensed the presence of some unknown animal, stretched out, bristled, and before we had time to look back, she had already made a stand over the little guest. It was necessary to see the picture: the bear cub hid in a corner, sat down on its hind legs and looked at the slowly approaching dog with such angry little eyes.

The dog was old, experienced, and therefore she did not rush at once, but for a long time looked with surprise at her big eyes at an uninvited guest - she considered these rooms her own, and then suddenly an unknown beast climbed in, sat in a corner and looked at her as if nothing had happened.

I saw the setter begin to tremble with excitement and I prepared to grab it. If only he had thrown himself at the little bear cub! But it turned out something completely different, which no one expected. The dog looked at me as if asking for permission, and moved forward with slow, calculated steps. Only half an arshin was left before the bear cub, but the dog did not dare to take the last step, but only stretched out even more and strongly drew in the air: it wanted, out of dog habit, to first sniff the unknown enemy.

But just at this critical moment, the little guest swung and instantly hit the dog with his right paw right in the face. The blow was probably very strong, because the dog jumped back and squealed.

- Well done Medvedko! The high school students approved. “So small and not afraid of anything ...

The dog was embarrassed and quietly disappeared into the kitchen.

The little bear calmly ate milk and a bun, and then climbed onto my lap, curled up in a ball and purred like a kitten.

- Oh, how cute he is! repeated the schoolboys with one voice. “We will leave him to live with us ... He is so small and cannot do anything.

“Well, let him live,” I agreed, admiring the hushed animal.

And how could you not love it! He purred so sweetly, licked my hands so trustingly with his black tongue, and ended up falling asleep in my arms like a small child.

The bear cub settled in with me and for the whole day amused the audience, both large and small. He tumbled so amusingly, wanted to see everything and climbed everywhere. He was especially interested in the doors. He hobbles, launches his paw and begins to open. If the door did not open, he became amusingly angry, grumbled, and began to gnaw at the wood with his teeth, sharp as white carnations.

I was struck by the extraordinary mobility of this little bumpkin and his strength. During that day, he walked around the whole house, and it seems that there was no such thing that he would not examine, sniff and lick.

The night has come. I left the teddy bear in my room. He curled up on the carpet and immediately fell asleep.

After making sure that he calmed down, I put out the lamp and also got ready for bed. A quarter of an hour had not passed before I began to fall asleep, but at the most interesting moment my sleep was disturbed: the bear cub was attached to the door to the dining room and stubbornly wanted to open it. I dragged him out once and put him back in his old place. Less than half an hour later, the same story repeated itself. I had to get up and put down the stubborn beast a second time. Half an hour later - the same ... Finally I got tired of it, and I wanted to sleep. I opened the office door and let the bear cub into the dining room. All outside doors and windows were locked, so there was nothing to worry about.

But I couldn't sleep this time either. The little bear climbed into the sideboard and clattered the plates. I had to get up and pull him out of the buffet, and the bear cub got terribly angry, grumbled, began to turn his head and tried to bite my hand. I took him by the collar and carried him into the living room. This fuss began to bother me, and the next day I had to get up early. However, I soon fell asleep, forgetting about the little guest.

Maybe an hour passed when a terrible noise in the drawing-room made me jump up. At first I could not figure out what had happened, and only then everything became clear: the bear cub had quarreled with the dog, which was sleeping in its usual place in the hallway.

- What a beast! Andrey, the coachman, was surprised, separating the combatants.

Where are we going to take him now? I thought aloud. He won't let anyone sleep all night.

“And to the emnazists,” Andrey advised. “They really respect him. Well, let them sleep again.

The bear cub was placed in the room of the schoolboys, who were very pleased with the little lodger.

It was already two in the morning when the whole house was quiet.

I was very glad that I got rid of the restless guest and could sleep. But an hour had not passed before everyone jumped up from the terrible noise in the room of the schoolboys. Something incredible was happening there... When I ran into this room and lit a match, everything was explained.

In the middle of the room stood a desk covered with oilcloth. The bear cub reached the oilcloth on the leg of the table, grabbed it with his teeth, rested his paws on the leg and began to drag what was urine. He dragged and dragged until he pulled off the whole oilcloth, along with it - a lamp, two inkwells, a decanter of water, and in general everything that was laid out on the table. As a result - a broken lamp, a broken decanter, ink spilled on the floor, and the culprit of the whole scandal climbed into the farthest corner; only one eye glittered from there, like two embers.

They tried to take him, but he desperately defended himself and even managed to bite one schoolboy.

“What are we going to do with this robber!” I pleaded. - It's all you, Andrey, is to blame.

- What have I done, sir? the coachman justified himself. - I only said about the bear cub, but you took it. And the emnazists even highly approved of him.

In a word, the teddy bear did not let him sleep all night.

The next day brought new challenges. It was a summer affair, the doors were left unlocked, and he crept into the yard unnoticed, where he frightened the cow terribly. It ended up that the bear cub caught the chicken and crushed it. There was a whole riot. The cook was especially indignant, pitying the chicken. She attacked the coachman, and it almost came to a fight.

The next night, in order to avoid misunderstandings, the restless guest was locked in a closet, where there was nothing but a chest of flour. Imagine the indignation of the cook when the next morning she found the bear cub in the chest: he opened the heavy lid and slept in the most peaceful way right in the flour. The upset cook even burst into tears and began to demand payment.

“There is no life from a filthy beast,” she explained. “Now you can’t go near the cow, the chickens must be locked up ... throw away the flour ... No, please, gentleman, calculation.

Frankly, I was very sorry that I took the bear cub, and was very glad when a friend was found who took him.

“Have mercy, what a cute animal! he admired. - Children will be happy. For them, this is a real holiday. Right, how cute.

“Yes, honey…” I agreed.

We all breathed more freely when we finally got rid of this cute beast and when the whole house came back to its former order. But our happiness did not last long, because my friend returned the bear cub the very next day. The cute beast has played tricks in the new place even more than mine. He climbed into the carriage, laid down by a young horse, growled. The horse, of course, rushed headlong and broke the carriage. We tried to return the bear cub to the first place, from where my coachman brought it, but they flatly refused to accept it.

"What are we going to do with him?" I pleaded, turning to the coachman. I'm even willing to pay just to get rid of it.

Fortunately for us, there was some hunter who took it with pleasure.

adopted

Rainy summer day. I like to wander through the forest in such weather, especially when there is a warm corner ahead where you can dry and warm yourself. And besides, the summer rain is warm. In the city in such weather - mud, and in the forest the earth greedily absorbs moisture, and you walk on a slightly damp carpet from last year's fallen leaves and crumbled pine and spruce needles. The trees are covered in raindrops that rain down on you with every move. And when the sun comes out after such a rain, the forest turns green so brightly and burns with diamond sparks all over. Something festive and joyful is all around you, and you feel like a welcome, dear guest at this holiday.

It was on such a rainy day that I approached the Light Lake, to the familiar watchman on the fishing saime Taras. The rain has already thinned.

Gaps appeared on one side of the sky, a little more - and the hot summer sun will appear. Forest path made sharp turn, and I came out on a sloping cape, which jutted out into the lake with a wide tongue. Actually, here was not the lake itself, but a wide channel between two lakes, and the saima stumbled in a bend on the low bank, where fishing boats huddled in the creek. The channel between the lakes was formed thanks to a large wooded island, spread out in a green hat opposite the saima.

My appearance on the cape evoked the watchful call of the dog Taras - she always barked at strangers in a special way, abruptly and sharply, as if angrily asking: "Who is coming?" I love such simple little dogs for their extraordinary intelligence and faithful service...

From a distance, the fishing hut looked like a large boat turned upside down - it was an old wooden roof that had grown overgrown with cheerful green grass. A thick growth of willow-herb, sage and “bear pipes” rose around the hut, so that a person approaching the hut could see one head. Such dense grass grew only along the shores of the lake, because there was enough moisture and the soil was oily.

When I was already quite close to the hut, a motley dog ​​flew out of the grass head over heels at me and burst into desperate barking.

- Sobolko, stop it ... Didn't you recognize it?

Sobolko stopped in thought, but, apparently, did not yet believe in the old acquaintance. He carefully approached, sniffed at my hunting boots, and only after this ceremony wagged his tail guiltily. Say, it's my fault, I made a mistake, but still I have to guard the hut.

The hut was empty. The owner was not there, that is, he probably went to the lake to inspect some kind of fishing tackle. Around the hut, everything spoke of the presence of a living person: a lightly smoking fire, an armful of freshly chopped firewood, a net drying on stakes, an ax stuck in a stump of a tree. Through the half-open door of the saima, Taras's entire household could be seen: a gun on the wall, several pots on the stove, a chest under the bench, hanging tackle. The hut was quite spacious, because in winter, during fishing, a whole artel of workers was placed in it. In the summer the old man lived alone. In spite of any weather, every day he hotly heated the Russian stove and slept on the floorboards. This love of warmth was explained by the respectable age of Taras: he was about ninety years old. I say "about" because Taras himself forgot when he was born. “Even before the French,” as he explained, that is, before the French invasion of Russia in 1812.

Taking off my soaked jacket and unfolding the hunting armor along the wall, I began to build a fire. Sobolko hovered around me, anticipating some kind of life. A light flared up merrily, blowing up a blue plume of smoke. The rain has already passed. Broken clouds rushed across the sky, dropping occasional drops. Here and there the sky was blue. And then the sun appeared, the hot July sun, under the rays of which the wet grass seemed to smoke. The water in the lake was quiet, quiet, as it happens only after rain. There was a smell of fresh grass, sage, the resinous scent of a nearby pine forest. In general, it’s good, as soon as it can be good in such a remote forest corner. To the right, where the channel ended, the expanse of Svetloye Lake turned blue, and mountains rose beyond the jagged border. Wonderful corner! And not without reason old Taras lived here for forty years. Somewhere in the city he would not have lived even half, because in the city you cannot buy such clean air for any money, and most importantly, this calmness that enveloped here. It's good on the Syme!.. A bright light is merrily burning; the hot sun begins to bake, it hurts the eyes to look at the sparkling distance of the wonderful lake. So I would sit here and, it seems, would not part with a wonderful forest freedom. The thought of the city flashes through my head like a bad dream.

While waiting for the old man, I attached a copper camping kettle of water to a long stick and hung it over the fire. The water was already beginning to boil, but the old man was still gone.

- Where would he go? I thought aloud. - Tackles are inspected in the morning, and now it's noon ... Maybe he went to see if anyone was catching fish without asking ... Sobolko, where did your master go?

The smart dog only wagged its fluffy tail, licked its lips and squealed impatiently. In appearance, Sobolko belonged to the type of so-called "fishing" dogs. Small in stature, with a sharp muzzle, erect ears and a tail bent up, he, perhaps, resembled an ordinary mongrel, with the difference that the mongrel would not have found a squirrel in the forest, would not have been able to “bark” a capercaillie, track down a deer - in a word, a real hunting dog, man's best friend. It is necessary to see such a dog in the forest in order to fully appreciate all its advantages.

When this "man's best friend" squealed with joy, I realized that he saw the owner. Indeed, in the flow black dot a fishing boat appeared, rounding the island. That was Taras... He swam, standing on his feet, and deftly

he worked with one oar - real fishermen all swim like that on their one-tree boats, called, not without reason, "gas chambers". When he swam closer, I noticed, to my surprise, a swan swimming in front of the boat.

- Go home, you bastard! - grumbled the old man, urging the beautifully swimming bird. "Go, go... I'll give you one - God knows where to go... Go home, reveler!"

The swan beautifully swam up to the sim, went ashore, shook himself and, waddling heavily on his crooked black legs, headed for the hut.

Old Taras was tall, with a thick gray beard and stern, large gray eyes. He walked barefoot and without a hat all summer. It is remarkable that all his teeth were intact and the hair on his head was preserved. His tanned, broad face was furrowed with deep wrinkles. In hot weather, he walked in one shirt made of peasant blue canvas.

— Hello, Taras!

— Hello, barin!

- Where does God come from?

“But he swam after the Foster, after the swan ... Everything here was spinning in the canal, and then suddenly he disappeared ... Well, I’m after him now. Went to the lake - no; swam through the backwaters - no; and he swims behind the island.

- Where did you get it, the swan?

- And God sent, yes! .. Here the hunters from the masters ran into; well, they shot the swan with the swan, but this one remained. Crawled into the reeds and sits. He doesn’t know how to fly, so he hid like a child. Of course, I set nets near the reeds, and I caught him. One will disappear, the hawk will be eaten, because there is still no real meaning in it. He remained an orphan. So I brought it and keep it. And he, too, got used to it ... Now, soon it will be a month, how we live together. In the morning at dawn it will rise, swim in the canal, feed, and then go home. Knows when I get up and waits to be fed. A smart bird, in a word, knows its own order.

The old man spoke with unusual love, as if close person. The swan hobbled to the very hut and, obviously, was waiting for some kind of handout.

“He will fly away from you, grandfather ...” I remarked.

Why would he fly? And it’s good here: full, water all around ...

— And in winter?

- He will spend the winter with me in the hut. Enough space, and Sobolko and I have more fun. Once a hunter wandered into my saima, saw a swan and said the same way: “It will fly away if you don’t cut its wings.” But how can you mutilate the bird of God? Let her live as she was instructed by the Lord... A man is instructed one thing, and a bird another... I don't understand why the gentlemen shot the swans. After all, they won’t eat, and so, for mischief ...

The swan understood the old man's words exactly and looked at him with his intelligent eyes.

- And how is he with Sobolok? I asked.

“At first I was afraid, but then I got used to it. Now the swan takes another piece from Sobolko. The dog will growl at him, and his swan will growl with his wing. It's funny to look at them from the side. And then they will go for a walk together: a swan on the water, and Sobolko along the shore. The dog tried to swim after him, well, but the craft is not right: he almost drowned. And as the swan swims away, Sobolko is looking for him. He sits on the bank and howls ... They say, I'm bored, the dog, without you, my dear friend. So here we are, the three of us.

I loved the old man very much. He spoke very well and knew a lot. There are such good, smart old people. Many summer nights had to spend on the sim, and every time you learn something new. Taras used to be a hunter and knew places around fifty miles away, knew every custom of a forest bird and a forest animal; but now he could not go far and knew one of his fish. It is easier to swim in a boat than to walk with a gun through the forest, and especially through the mountains. Now Taras had a gun only for old times' sake, just in case a wolf ran in. In winter, the wolves looked at the saima and had long been sharpening their teeth on Sobolok. Only Sobolko was cunning and did not give in to the wolves.

I stayed on sim for the whole day. In the evening we went fishing and set up nets for the night. Svetloe Lake is good, and it is not for nothing that it is called Svetly Lake - the water in it is completely transparent, so that you sail in a boat and see the entire bottom at a depth of several sazhens. You can see colorful pebbles, and yellow river sand, and algae, you can see how the fish walks in a “fleece”, that is, a herd. There are hundreds of such mountain lakes in the Urals, and all of them are distinguished by their extraordinary beauty. Svetloye Lake differed from others in that it adjoined the mountains only on one side, and on the other it went “to the steppe”, where blessed Bashkiria began. The most free places lay around Svetloye Lake, and a brisk mountain river came out of it, spilling over the steppe for a whole thousand miles. The lake was up to twenty versts long and about nine versts wide. The depth reached fifteen sazhens in some places... A group of wooded islands gave it a special beauty. One such island moved away to the very middle of the lake and was called Goloday, because, having got on it in bad weather, the fishermen more than once went hungry for several days.

Taras had lived on Svetloye for forty years. Once he had his own family and home, and now he lived as a bean. The children died, his wife also died, and Taras remained hopelessly on Svetloye for whole years.

- Aren't you bored, grandpa? I asked as we were returning from fishing. - It's terribly lonely in the forest ...

— One? The master will say the same ... I live here as a prince. I have everything ... And every bird, and fish, and grass. Of course, they do not know how to speak, but I understand everything. The heart rejoices another time to look at God's creature... Everyone has his own order and his own mind. Do you think the fish swims in the water in vain or the bird flies through the forest? No, they care no less than ours ... Avon, look, the swan is waiting for us with Sobolko. Ah, the prosecutor!

The old man was terribly pleased with his Foster, and in the end all conversations came down to him.

“A proud, real royal bird,” he explained. - Beckon him with food and don’t let him, another time he won’t go. It also has its own character, even though it's a bird... With Sobolok, he also holds himself very proudly. Just a little, now with a wing, or even with a nose. It is known that the dog will want to misbehave another time, he strives to catch his tail with his teeth, and the swan in his face ... This is also not a toy to grab by the tail.

I spent the night and in the morning the next day I was going to leave.

“Come back in the fall,” the old man says in parting. “Then we’ll shoot the fish with a spear ... Well, we’ll shoot the hazel grouses. Autumn hazel grouse is fat.

“Okay, grandpa, I’ll come sometime.

When I was leaving, the old man brought me back:

“Look, sir, how the swan played with Sobolok ...

Indeed, it was worth admiring the original painting. The swan stood with wings spread, and Sobolko attacked him with a screech and bark. The clever bird stretched out its neck and hissed at the dog, as geese do. Old Taras laughed heartily at this scene like a child.

The next time I got to Svetloye Lake was in late autumn, when the first snow fell. The forest was still good. Somewhere on the birches there was still a yellow leaf. The spruce and pines seemed greener than in summer. Dry autumn grass peeked out from under the snow like a yellow brush. Dead silence reigned all around, as if nature, weary of summer's vigorous work, was now resting. The bright lake seemed larger, because there was no coastal greenery. The clear water darkened, and a heavy autumn wave beat noisily against the shore...

Taras's hut stood in the same place, but seemed taller, because the tall grass surrounding it had disappeared. The same Sobolko jumped out to meet me. Now he recognized me and wagged his tail affectionately from a distance. Taras was at home. He repaired a net for winter fishing.

- Hello, old man! ..

— Hello, barin!

- Well, how are you?

- Yes, nothing ... In the autumn, by the first snow, I fell ill a little. My legs hurt... By bad weather, it always happens to me.

The old man really looked tired. He seemed now so decrepit and pathetic. However, this happened, as it turned out, not at all from the disease. We talked over tea, and the old man told his grief.

Do you remember, sir, the swan?

- Adopted?

- He is the best ... Ah, the bird was good! .. But again Sobolko and I were left alone ... Yes, the Foster was gone.

Did the hunters kill you?

- No, he left ... That's how insulting it is to me,

sir!.. It seems that I didn’t look after him, didn’t I hang around! He swims on the lake - I click on him, he swims up. Learned bird. And I'm quite used to it... yes! On the migration, a flock of swans descended to Svetloye Lake. Well, they rest, feed, swim, and I admire. Let the bird of God gather with strength: it’s not a close place to fly ... Well, then sin came out. At first, my Foster kept away from other swans: he would swim up to them, and back. They cackle in their own way, call him, and he goes home ... Say, I have my own house. So they had it for three days. All, then, are talking in their own way, like a bird. Well, then, I see, my Adoptive yearned ... It's all the same how a person yearns. It will go ashore, stand on one leg and start screaming. Why, how plaintively it screams ... It will make me sad, and Sobolko, the fool, howls like a wolf. It is known, a free bird, the blood has affected ...

The old man paused and sighed heavily.

“So what, grandpa?”

- Oh, and don't ask... I locked him in a hut for the whole day, and then he pestered him. He will stand on one foot at the very door and stand until you drive him out of his place. Only now he won’t say in human language: “Let me go, grandfather, to my comrades. They will fly to the warm side, but what am I going to do with you here in the winter? Oh you think the challenge! Let it go - it will fly away after the herd and disappear ...

- Why will it disappear?

- But how? .. They grew up in freedom. They, the young ones, were taught by their father and mother to fly. After all, you think about how their swans will grow up - their father and mother will first take them to the water, and then they will begin to teach them to fly. Gradually they teach: more and more. I have seen with my own eyes how young people are taught to fly. First, they teach alone, then in small flocks, and then they crowd into one big herd. It looks like a soldier is being drilled ... Well, my Adopted One grew up alone and, honestly, did not fly anywhere. Floats on the lake - that's all crafts. Where can he fly? It will be exhausted, fall behind the herd and disappear ... Unaccustomed to a long flight.

The old man fell silent again.

“But I had to let go,” he said sadly. - All the same, I think if I keep him for the winter, he will get bored and wither away. The bird is so special. Well, he released it. My Foster stuck to the herd, swam with him for a day, and in the evening he returned home. So two days sailed. Also, although a bird, it’s hard to part with your home. It was he who swam to say goodbye, master ... For the last time he sailed from the shore that way for twenty fathoms, stopped and how, my brother, you will shout in your own way. They say: "Thank you for the bread, for the salt! .." Only I saw him. Sobolko and I were left alone again. At first, we were both very sad. I’ll ask him: “Sobolko, where is our Foster?” And Sobolko howl now ... So, he regrets. And now to the shore, and now to look for a dear friend ... I kept dreaming at night that the Fledgling was rinsing around the shore and flapping its wings. I'll go out - there's no one ... That's what happened, master.

• Abba. Feature article. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• Averko. (Robbers. Essays I.). SS-1958, Volume 9.
• Autobiography. Memories. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Autobiographical note. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Ak-Bozat. Story. Stories and fairy tales for children. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Alyonushka's fairy tales. Stories and fairy tales for children. SS-1958, Volume 10.

B

• Baimagan. Legends. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Balaburda. Story.
• Head. From stories about dead children. Ural Stories, SS-1958, Volume 1
• Untitled. (1894) Novel
• White gold.
• Wart.
• The rich man and Eremka. Story. Stories and fairy tales for children. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Fighters. Essays on spring rafting on the Chusovaya river. Ural stories.
• Disease From the distant past. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Brothers Gordeev. Tale. (1891) Stories and novels 1893-1897, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• Stormy stream. (On the street.)

AT

• In the swamp. From the notes of a hunter. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• In the whirlpool of passions. Roman (under the pseudonym E. Tomsky)
• In the backwoods. Story. Stories and fairy tales for children. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• In the mountains. Essay from the Ural life. Stories and essays 1881 -1884.
• In a stone well. Story.
• In stones. From a trip along the Chusovaya River. SS-1958, Volume 1
• Last time. Tale. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• In teaching. Story.
• "In thin souls ..." Story, Ural stories, SS-1958, Volume 1
• Vanka's name day. Alyonushka's fairy tales.
• Faithful slave. Tale. Ural stories.
• Spit. Stories and fairy tales for children. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Wizard. Story.
• Spring thunderstorms.
• Free man Yashka. Ural stories.
• "We all eat bread..." From life in the Urals. SS-1958, Volume 1
• Meeting.

G

• Chief Barin. Story. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Silly Oksya. Sketch. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• Talker. Feature article. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Mountain nest. (1884) Novel, SS-1958, Volume 1
• Thunderstorm. From hunting stories. Ural stories, SS-1958, Volume 3.

D

• Two wills.
• Grandfather Semyon Stepanych. From the distant past. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Dispatch. Story. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• Children's shadows.
• Wild happiness. Novel. (1884, original name "Vein").
• Good old time. Tale. Ural stories, SS-1958, Volume 4.
• Road. From the distant past. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Dear guests. Sketch. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• childhood friends. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Bad friend.

E

• Emelya the hunter. Stories and fairy tales for children. SS-1958, Volume 10.

AND

• Vein. (1884, original title of the novel "Wild Happiness").

W

• Atrocity. Summer sketches. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Green war.
• Green mountains. From the distant past. Memories
• Winter hut on Studenaya. Stories and fairy tales for children. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Gold. Novel.
• Gold miners. Household chronicle in 4 acts. SS-1958, Volume 6.
• Golden fever.
• Golden night. From stories about gold. Stories and essays 1881 -1884.
• Scrofula. Essays on mining life. Ural stories.

And

• From the distant past. Memories. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• From the Ural antiquity. Story. Ural stories, SS-1958, Volume 4.
• Selected letters (59). SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Iyi. Holiday fantasy. Stories 1902-1907 SS-1958, Volume 9.
• Birthday boy.
• Influenza. Monologue. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• The story of one sawyer. Story. From the distant past. SS-1958, Volume 10.

To

• Execution of Fortunka. Story. From the distant past. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Kisey lady.
• Treasure. Story. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Combination. Story. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• End of the first part. From the distant past. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Book. From the distant past. Memories
• Picture book. From the distant past. Memories
• The breadwinner (From life at the Ural factories)
• Godson. Etude. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Grainy. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 6.

L

• Swan Khantygaya. Legends. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Legends (3). SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Forest. Psychological study. Ural stories, SS-1958, Volume 4.
• Forest fairy tale.
• Flight. From stories about the life of the Siberian fugitives. Ural stories, SS-1958, Volume 3.

M

• Mme Quist, Blix & Co. Feature article. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Mayan. Legends. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Maxim Benelyavdov. (1883) Tale.
• Raspberry Mountains. Story.
• Medvedko.
• Mizgir. Story. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Million.
• Morok. Feature article. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Mumma. Story. Stories 1902-1907 SS-1958, Volume 9.

H

• On the pass. From autumn motives. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• On the river Chusovaya
• On a way. (From the stories of an old hunter)
• At the edge of Asia. Essays from a provincial life. SS-1958, Volume 1
• On number six. Stories and novels 1893-1897, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• On the shihan. From a hunter's notebook. Ural stories, SS-1958, Volume 3.
• Nata. From summer stories. Stories and novels 1893-1897, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• Out of business. Story. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Don't specify. Story. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Newbie. From the distant past. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Overnight. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Night. Sketch. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 6.

O

• About the book. From the distant past. Memories
• Werewolf. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• General favorite of the public.
• Mischievous. Story. Ural stories.
• Near node.
• Osip Ivanovich.
• From the Urals to Moscow.
• There will be no answer. Story. Stories 1902-1907 SS-1958, Volume 9.
• Poison. Essay, Ural stories, SS-1958, Volume 3.
• Sliced ​​slice. Memories. From the distant past. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Badass eyebrows. Tale

P

• Falling stars.
• Pan Kopatchinskiy. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• First students. Story. Ural stories, SS-1958, Volume 4.
• The translator at the mines. Story. Ural stories, SS-1958, Volume 4.
• Letters (selected) (59). SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Pier mountain. Tale. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• At a cheap price. Chapter from a novel. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• On a new path.
• Under the house.
• Underground.
• Snowdrop. Feature article. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Correction of Dr. Osokin. Ural stories, SS-1958, Volume 4.
• Simply. Story. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• Time to sleep. Alyonushka's fairy tales.
• Last marks. (Robbers. Essays III.). SS-1958, Volume 9.
• Last branch. From Old Believer motifs. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Postoiko. Story. Stories and fairy tales for children. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Privalovsky millions. A novel in 5 parts.
• Foster. From the stories of an old hunter. Stories and fairy tales for children. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Mining boy. Story. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Parable about Milk, oatmeal Kashka and gray cat Murka. Alyonushka's fairy tales.
• Criminals.
• Seeing. From the distant past. SS-1958, Volume 10.

R

• Robber and criminal. (Robbers. Essays IV.). SS-1958, Volume 9.
• Robbers. Essays. SS-1958, Volume 9.
• Early shoots.
• Stories and fairy tales for children (10) . SS-1958, Volume 10.
• parental blood. Feature article. Ural stories, SS-1958, Volume 4.

FROM

• From hunger.
• Savka. (Robbers. Essays II.). SS-1958, Volume 9.
• Nugget. Story. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• Family joy. Story. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Seventh trumpet. Sketch. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• Gray neck. Stories and fairy tales for children. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Sisters. Sketch from the life of the Middle Urals. SS-1958, Volume 1
• Siberian eagles. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• A fairy tale about how the last Fly lived. Alyonushka's fairy tales.
• Tale about Sparrow Vorobeich, Ruff Ershovich and cheerful chimney sweep Yasha. Alyonushka's fairy tales.
• The tale about Komar Komarovich has a long nose and the shaggy Misha has a short tail. Alyonushka's fairy tales.
• Tale of the brave Hare - long ears, slanting eyes, short tail. Alyonushka's fairy tales.
• A fairy tale about Voronushka - a black little head and a yellow bird Canary. Alyonushka's fairy tales.
• The story about the goat. Alyonushka's fairy tales.
• Sokrat Ivanovich. Chapter from the novel "Iron Hunger". Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Prospectors. Story.
• Old people don't remember. Story. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Old sparrow. Story. Stories and fairy tales for children. SS-1958, Volume 10.
• Old devil. Story. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.

T

• A mysterious stranger. Feature article. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• Three ends. Ural chronicle.

At

• Surprised man. Feature article. Siberian stories, SS-1958, Volume 5.
• Smarter than everyone. Story. Alyonushka's fairy tales.
• Stubborn goat.

X

• Predatory bird. Story. Stories and novels 1893-1897, SS-1958, Volume 6.
• Bread. Novel.

H

• Traits from the life of Pepko. Novel

The article is devoted to the popular fairy tale writer - D.N. Mamin-Siberian. You will learn biographical information about the author, a list of his works, and also get acquainted with interesting annotations that reveal the essence of some fairy tales.

Dmitry Mamin-Sibiryak. Biography. Childhood and youth

Dmitry Mamin was born on November 6, 1852. His father Narkis was a priest. Dima's mother paid much attention to the upbringing of Dima. When he grew up, his parents sent him to a school where the children of the workers of the Visimo-Shaitan plant studied.

Dad really wanted his son to follow in his footsteps. At first, everything went as Narkis had planned. He entered the theological seminary in Perm and studied there for a whole year as a student. However, the boy realized that he did not want to devote his whole life to the cause of the priest, and therefore decided to leave the seminary. The father was extremely dissatisfied with the behavior of his son and did not share his decision. The tense situation in the family forced Dmitry to leave home. He decided to go to St. Petersburg.

Trip to St. Petersburg

Here he wanders around the medical facilities. During the year he trained as a veterinarian, after which he moved to the medical department. Then he entered St. Petersburg University at the Faculty of Natural Sciences, after which he began to practice law.

As a result of six years of "walking" in different faculties, he never received a single diploma. During this period of time, he realizes that with all his heart he wants to become a writer.

From under his pen, the first work is born, which is called "Secrets of the Dark Forest". Already in this work one can see his creative potential and outstanding talent. But not all of his works immediately became masterpieces. His novel "In the whirlpool of passions", which was published in a small circulation magazine under the pseudonym E. Tomsky, was criticized to the nines.

Homecoming

At the age of 25, he returns to his homeland and writes new compositions under the pseudonym Sibiryak, so as not to be associated with the loser E. Tomsky.

In 1890, his divorce from his first wife followed. He marries the actress M. Abramova. Together with his new wife, Dmitry Narkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak moves to St. Petersburg. Their happy marriage did not last long. The woman died immediately after the birth of her daughter. The girl was named Alyonushka. It was thanks to his beloved daughter that Mamin-Sibiryak opened up to readers as a charming storyteller.

It is important to note such interesting fact: some of the works of Mamin-Sibiryak were published under the pseudonyms Onik and Bash-Kurt. He died at the age of sixty.

List of works by Mamin-Sibiryak

• "Alyonushka's Tales".
• "Balaburda".
• "Spit".
• "In the stone well".
• "Wizard".
• "In the mountains".
• "In teaching".
• "Emelya the hunter".
• "Green War".
• Series "From the distant past" ("The Road", "The Execution of Fortunka", "Illness", "The Story of a Sawyer", "Beginner", "Book").
• Legends: "Baimagan", "Maya", "Khantygay's Swan".
• "Forest fairy tale".
• "Medvedko".
• "On a way".
• "About node".
• "Fathers".
• "First Correspondence".
• "Hold on."
• "Underground".
• "Acceptant".
• "Siberian stories" ("Abba", "Depeche", "Dear guests").
• Fairy tales and stories for children: "Akbozat", "The rich man and Eremka", "In the wilderness", "Wintering on Studenaya".
• "Grey neck".
• "Stubborn goat".
• "Old Sparrow".
• "The Tale of the Glorious King Peas".

Annotations to the fairy tales of Mamin-Sibiryak

A real talented storyteller is Mamin-Sibiryak. Fairy tales of this author are very popular with children and adults. They feel soulfulness and special penetration. They were created for the beloved daughter, whose mother died in childbirth.

Dmitry Narkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak did not write many children's fairy tales. One of them is "Gray Neck". The little duck damaged its wing and could not fly away with its flock to warmer climes, but did not despair. On the example of this fairy tale, a child can be explained what courage and compassion are. Even the little Gray Neck was not afraid to be left alone in the cold winter when she was in danger. The duck believed that spring would come and everything would be fine. In addition to this fairy tale, the collection contains playful parables and stories written in a simple "childish" language, they will be of interest even to the smallest.

Fairy tale Gray Neck

The first autumn cold, from which the grass turned yellow, caused all the birds to be very alarmed. Everyone began to prepare for the long journey, and everyone had such a serious, preoccupied look. Yes, it is not easy to fly over a space of several thousand miles. How many poor birds would be exhausted along the way, how many would die from various accidents - in general, there was something to seriously think about.

A serious big bird, like swans, geese and ducks, was going on the road with an important look, realizing all the difficulty of the upcoming feat; and most of all, little birds made noise, fussed and fussed, like sandpipers, phalaropes, dunlins, blackies, plovers. They had long gathered in flocks and moved from one bank to another over the shallows and swamps with such speed, as if someone had thrown a handful of peas. The little birds had such a big job.

And where is this little thing in a hurry! grumbled the old Drake, who did not like to disturb himself. We'll all leave in due time. I don't see what there is to worry about.

You have always been a lazy person, so it’s unpleasant for you to look at other people’s troubles, ”explained his wife, the old Duck.

Was I lazy? You're just being unfair to me, nothing more. Maybe I care more than everyone else, but I just don’t show it. There is little sense in this if I run from morning to night along the coast, shouting, disturbing others, annoying everyone.

The duck was generally not entirely happy with her husband, and now she was completely angry:

Look at the others, you lazybones! There are our neighbors, geese or swans - it's nice to look at them. They live soul to soul. I suppose a swan or a goose will not leave its nest and is always ahead of the brood. Yes, yes ... But you don’t care about children. You only think about yourself to fill your goiter. Lazy, in a word. It's disgusting to even look at you!

Do not grumble, old woman! After all, I'm not saying that you have such an unpleasant character. Everyone has their shortcomings. It's not my fault that the goose is a stupid bird and therefore nurses its brood. In general, my rule is not to interfere in other people's affairs. Well, why? Let everyone live in their own way.

Drake loved serious reasoning, and somehow it turned out that it was he, Drake, who was always right, always smart and always better than anyone. The duck had long been accustomed to this, and now she was worried on a very special occasion.

What kind of father are you? she pounced on her husband. - Fathers take care of children, and you - at least the grass does not grow!

Are you talking about Gray Sheik? What can I do if she can't fly? I am not guilty.

Gray Sheika they called their crippled daughter, whose wing had been broken back in the spring, when the Fox crept up to the brood and grabbed the duckling. The Old Duck boldly rushed at the enemy and repulsed the duckling, but one wing turned out to be broken.

It’s even scary to think how we will leave the Gray Neck here alone, ”the Duck repeated with tears. - Everyone will fly away, and she will be left alone. Yes, all alone. We will fly south, into the warmth, and she, poor thing, will freeze here. After all, she is our daughter, and how I love her, my Gray Neck! You know, old man, I'll stay with her to spend the winter here together.

What about other children?

Those are healthy, they can manage without me.

Drake always tried to hush up the conversation when it came to Gray Sheik. Of course, he also loved her, but why worry yourself in vain? Well, it will stay, well, it will freeze - it's a pity, of course, but still there's nothing to be done. Finally, you need to think about other children. The wife is always worried, but you need to take things seriously. The drake felt sorry for his wife, but did not fully understand her maternal grief. It would have been better if then the Fox had completely eaten the Gray Neck - after all, she must die in the winter anyway.

The old Duck, in view of the impending parting, treated her crippled daughter with redoubled tenderness. The poor thing did not yet know what separation and loneliness were, and looked at the preparations of others for the journey with the curiosity of a beginner. True, she sometimes became envious that her brothers and sisters were getting ready for departure so cheerfully that they would again be somewhere, far, far away, where there was no winter.

Are you coming back in the spring? Gray Sheika asked her mother.

Yes, yes, come back, my dear. And we will live together again.

To console Gray Sheika, who was beginning to think, her mother told her several similar cases when ducks stayed for the winter. She was personally acquainted with two such couples.

Somehow, dear, you'll get through, - the old Duck reassured. - First you get bored, and then you get used to it. If it were possible to transfer you to a warm spring, which does not freeze even in winter, it would be absolutely fine. It's not far from here. However, what is there to say in vain, we still can’t take you there!

I will think of you all the time. - I'll keep thinking: where are you, what are you doing, are you having fun? It won't matter, it's like I'm with you.

The Old Duck needed to muster all his strength so as not to betray his despair. She tried to appear cheerful and cried quietly from everyone. Oh, how sorry she was for dear, poor Gray Sheika. Now she hardly noticed the other children and paid no attention to them, and it seemed to her that she did not even love them at all.

And how quickly time flew by. There had already been a number of cold matinees, and the birches had turned yellow from the frost and the aspens had turned red. The water in the river darkened, and the river itself seemed larger, because the banks were bare, - the coastal growth was quickly losing foliage. The cold autumn wind tore off the withered leaves and carried them away. The sky was often covered with heavy autumn clouds, dropping small fall rain. In general, there was little good, and that day they were already rushing past a flock of migratory birds. The swamp birds set off first, because the swamps were already beginning to freeze. The waterfowl stayed the longest. Gray Sheika was most upset by the flight of the cranes, because they were so plaintively cooing, as if calling her with them. For the first time, her heart sank from some secret foreboding, and for a long time she followed with her eyes the flock of cranes flying away in the sky.

How good they must be, Gray Sheika thought.

Swans, geese and ducks also began to prepare for departure. Separate nests joined in large flocks. Old and seasoned birds taught the young. Every morning these young people made long walks with a cheerful cry to strengthen their wings for a long flight. Clever leaders first trained individual parties, and then all together. How much was the cry, young fun and joy. One Gray Neck could not take part in these walks and admired them only from afar. What to do, I had to put up with my fate. But how she swam, how she dived! Water was everything to her.

We need to go ... it's time! - said the old leaders. - What can we expect here?

And time flew by, quickly flew by. The fateful day has come. The whole flock huddled together in one living heap on the river. It was early autumn morning when the water was still covered in thick fog. A duck joint has gone astray from three hundred pieces. Only the quacking of the chief leaders could be heard. The Old Duck did not sleep all night - it was the last night she spent with Gray Sheika.

You stay near the bank where the little key runs into the river, - she advised. The water won't freeze there all winter.

Gray Sheika stayed away from the joint like a stranger. Yes, everyone was so busy with the general departure that no one paid attention to her. The old Duck's heart ached as he looked at poor Gray Neck. Several times she decided to herself that she would stay; but how can you stay when there are other children and you have to fly with the joint?

Well, touch! - loudly commanded the main leader, and the flock rose at once up.

Gray Sheika remained alone on the river and for a long time followed the flying school with her eyes. At first, everyone flew in one living bunch, and then they stretched out into a regular triangle and disappeared.

Am I all alone? thought Gray Neck, bursting into tears. - It would be better if then the Fox ate me.

The river, on which the Gray Neck remained, rolled merrily in the mountains covered with dense forest. The place was deaf, and no habitation around. In the mornings, the water near the coast began to freeze, and in the afternoon, thin as glass, the ice melted.

Will the whole river freeze? thought Gray Sheika with horror.

She was bored alone, and she kept thinking about her brothers and sisters who had flown away. Where are they now? Did you arrive safely? Do they remember her? There was enough time to think about everything. She also knew loneliness. The river was empty, and life was preserved only in the forest, where hazel grouse whistled, squirrels and hares jumped.

Once, out of boredom, Gray Sheika climbed into the forest and was terribly frightened when a Hare flew head over heels from under a bush.

Oh, how you scared me, stupid! - said the Hare, calming down a little. - The soul has gone to the heels ... And why are you hustling around here? After all, the ducks have already flown away.

I can't fly: The fox bit my wing when I was very young.

This is Lisa for me! There is no worse animal. She has been getting to me for a long time. You beware of her, especially when the river is covered with ice. Just grabs.

They got to know each other. The hare was as defenseless as the Gray Sheika, and saved his life by constant flight.

If I had wings like a bird, then I would not be afraid of anyone in the world! Even though you don’t have wings, you know how to swim, otherwise you’ll take it and dive into the water, ”he said. “And I am constantly trembling with fear. I have enemies all around. In the summer you can still hide somewhere, but in the winter you can see everything.

Soon the first snow fell, and the river still did not succumb to the cold. One day, the mountain river, which was seething during the day, calmed down, and the cold quietly crept up to it, firmly hugged the proud, recalcitrant beauty and covered her as if with mirror glass. Gray Sheika was in despair, because only the very middle of the river did not freeze, where a wide polynya formed. There was no more than fifteen sazhens of free space where one could swim. The chagrin of the Gray Neck reached the last degree when the Fox appeared on the shore - it was the same Fox that broke her wing.

Ah, hello old friend! - the Fox said affectionately, stopping on the shore. - Haven't seen you in a while. Congratulations on winter.

Please go away, I don’t want to talk to you at all, - Gray Sheika answered.

This is for my kindness! You are good, nothing to say! And yet, they say a lot about me too much. They themselves will do something, and then they will blame me. Goodbye!

When the Fox was gone, the Hare limped over and said:

Beware, Gray Sheika: she will come again.

And the Gray Neck also began to be afraid, as the Hare was afraid. The poor woman could not even admire the miracles that were happening around her. The real winter has come. The ground was covered with a snow-white carpet. Not a single dark spot remained. Even bare birches, willows and mountain ash were covered with hoarfrost, like silvery fluff. And firs have become even more important. They stood covered with snow, as if wearing an expensive warm coat. Yes, wonderful, it was good all around; and poor Gray Neck knew only one thing, that this beauty was not for her, and she trembled at the mere thought that her polynya was about to freeze over and she would have nowhere to go. The fox really came a few days later, sat down on the shore and spoke again:

I missed you, duck. Come out here; If you don't want it, I'll come to you myself. I'm not arrogant.

And the Fox began to crawl carefully over the ice to the very hole. Gray Sheika's heart skipped a beat. But the Fox could not get close to the water itself, because the ice there was still very thin. She put her head on her front paws, licked her lips and said:

What a stupid duck you are. Get out on the ice! And yet, goodbye! I'm in a hurry about my business.

The fox began to come every day - to see if the polynya had frozen. The cold weather has taken its toll. From the large polynya there was only one window a sazhen in size. The ice was strong, and the Fox sat on the very edge. Poor Gray Sheika dived into the water with fear, and the Fox sat and laughed angrily at her:

Nothing, dive in, but I'll eat you anyway. Come out better yourself.

The hare saw from the shore what the Fox was doing, and was indignant with all his hare heart:

Oh, what a shameless Lisa. What an unfortunate Gray Neck! Fox will eat it.

In all likelihood, the Fox would have eaten the Gray Neck when the polynya would have completely frozen, but it happened differently. The hare saw everything with his own squinting eyes.

It was in the morning. The hare jumped out of his lair to feed and play with other hares. The frost was healthy, and the hares were warming themselves, beating paws on paws. Even though it's cold, it's still fun.

Brothers, beware! someone shouted.

Indeed, the danger was on the nose. At the edge of the forest stood a hunched old hunter, who crept up on skis completely silently and looked out for a hare to shoot.

Eh, the old woman will have a warm coat, - he thought, choosing the largest hare.

He even took aim with a gun, but the hares noticed him and rushed into the forest like crazy.

Ah, fools! - the old man got angry. - Here I am. They don’t understand, stupid, that an old woman can’t be without a fur coat. Don't freeze her. And you will not deceive Akintich, no matter how much you run. Akintic will be smarter. And the old woman punished Akintichu: "Look, old man, don't come without a fur coat!" And you sigh.

The old man was rather exhausted, cursed the crafty hares and sat down on the river bank to rest.

Oh, old woman, old woman, our fur coat ran away! he thought aloud. - Well, I'll rest and go look for another.

The old man is sitting, grieving, and then, looking, the Fox is crawling along the river - it is crawling like a cat.

That's the thing! - the old man was delighted. - To the old woman's coat, the collar crawls by itself. It can be seen that she wanted to drink, or maybe she even decided to catch fish.

The fox really crawled up to the very hole in which the Gray Neck swam, and lay down on the ice. The old man's eyes did not see well and because of the fox they did not notice the duck.

It is necessary to shoot her so as not to spoil the collar, - the old man thought, aiming at the Fox. - And that's how the old woman will scold if the collar turns out to be in holes. You also need your own skill everywhere, but without tackle and a bug you won’t kill.

The old man took aim for a long time, choosing a place in the future collar. Finally a shot rang out. Through the smoke from the shot, the hunter saw something rush on the ice - and rushed with all his might to the hole; on the way he fell twice, and when he reached the hole, he only shrugged his hands, - the collar was gone, and only the frightened Gray Neck was swimming in the hole.

That's the thing! the old man gasped, throwing up his hands. - For the first time I see how the Fox turned into a duck. Well, the beast is cunning.

Grandfather, the Fox ran away, - Gray Sheika explained.

Run away? Here you are, old woman, and a collar for a fur coat. What am I going to do now, huh? Well, the sin is out. And you, stupid, why are you swimming here?

And I, grandfather, could not fly away with the others. I have one broken wing.

Ah, stupid, stupid. Why, you'll freeze here or the Fox will eat you! Yes.

The old man thought and thought, shook his head and decided:

And here's what we'll do with you: I'll take you to my granddaughters. Here's something they'll be happy about. And in the spring you will give the old woman testicles and hatch the ducklings. Is that what I say? That's it, stupid.

The old man got the Gray Neck out of the hole and put it in his bosom.

And I won’t say anything to the old woman, ”he thought, heading home. - Let her fur coat with a collar still take a walk in the forest. The main thing: granddaughters will be delighted.

Hares saw it all and laughed merrily. Nothing, the old woman will not freeze on the stove even without a fur coat.

Parable about Milk, oatmeal and gray cat Murka

As you wish, and it was amazing! And the most amazing thing was that it was repeated every day. Yes, as soon as they put a pot of milk and an earthenware saucepan with oatmeal on the stove in the kitchen, it will begin.

At first they stand as if nothing, and then the conversation begins:

I am Milk...

And I'm an oatmeal!

At first, the conversation goes quietly, in a whisper, and then Kashka and Molochko begin to gradually get excited.

I am Milk!

And I'm an oatmeal!

The porridge was covered with a clay lid on top, and she grumbled in her pan like an old woman. And when she began to get angry, a bubble would float up at the top, burst and say:

But I'm still oatmeal ... pum!

This boasting seemed terribly insulting to Milky. Tell me, please, what an unseen thing - some kind of oatmeal! The milk began to get excited, rose foam and tried to get out of its pot.

A little the cook overlooks, looks - Milk and poured onto the hot stove.

Ah, this is my milk! the cook complained every time. - Just a little overlooked - it will run away.

What should I do if I have such a short temper! Milk justified. “I am not happy when I am angry. And then Kashka constantly boasts: “I am Kashka, I am Kashka, I am Kashka ...” He sits in his saucepan and grumbles; well, I'm angry.

Things sometimes came to the point that even Kashka would run away from the saucepan, despite her lid - she would crawl onto the stove, and she would repeat everything herself:

And I am Kashka! Kashka! Porridge ... shhh!

the hostess and the cat in the kitchen It is true that this did not happen often, but it did happen, and the cook repeated again and again in despair:

This Kashka is for me! .. And that she can’t sit in a saucepan is simply amazing!

The cook was generally quite agitated. Yes, and there were enough different reasons for such excitement ... For example, what was one cat Murka worth! Note that it was a very beautiful cat and the cook loved him very much. Every morning began with Murka tagging along behind the cook and meowing in such a plaintive voice that, it seems, a stone heart could not stand it.

What an insatiable womb! the cook wondered, driving the cat away. How many cookies did you eat yesterday?

Well, that was yesterday! - Murka was surprised in turn. - And today I want to eat again ... Meow! ..

Catch mice and eat, you lazybones.

Yes, it’s good to say this, but I would try to catch at least one mouse myself, - Murka justified himself. “However, I seem to be trying hard enough… For example, last week, who caught a mouse?” And from whom I have a scratch all over my nose? That's what a rat was caught, and she grabbed my nose herself ... After all, it's only easy to say: catch mice!

The parable of milk, oatmeal and the gray cat Murka (fairy tales)

Having eaten the liver, Murka sat down somewhere by the stove, where it was warmer, closed his eyes and dozed sweetly.

See what you've been up to! the cook wondered. - And he closed his eyes, couch potato ... And keep giving him meat!

After all, I'm not a monk, so as not to eat meat, - Murka justified himself, opening only one eye. - Then, I like to eat fish too ... It's even very pleasant to eat a fish. I still can't say which is better: liver or fish. Out of courtesy, I eat both ... If I were a man, I would certainly be a fisherman or a peddler who brings us liver. I would feed all the cats in the world to the full, and I myself would always be full ...

The parable of milk, oatmeal and the gray cat Murka (fairy tales)

Having eaten, Murka liked to engage in various foreign objects for his own entertainment. Why, for example, not sit for two hours at the window, where a cage with a starling hung? It is very nice to see how a stupid bird jumps.

I know you, old rascal! shouts the Starling from above. - Don't look at me...

What if I want to meet you?

I know how you get to know each other ... Who recently ate a real, live sparrow? Wow, disgusting!

The parable of milk, oatmeal and the gray cat Murka (fairy tales) - Not at all nasty, - and even vice versa. Everyone loves me... Come to me, I'll tell you a fairy tale.

Oh, rogue ... Nothing to say, good storyteller! I saw you tell your tales to the fried chicken you stole from the kitchen. Good!

As you know, I'm talking for your own pleasure. As for the fried chicken, I actually ate it; but he wasn't good enough anyway.

By the way, every morning Murka sat by the heated stove and patiently listened to how Molochko and Kashka quarreled. He could not understand what was the matter, and only blinked.

I am Milk.

I am Kashka! Kashka-Kashka-kashshshsh ...

The parable of milk, oatmeal and the gray cat Murka (fairy tales)

No, I don't understand! I don’t understand anything at all,” said Murka. - Why are you angry? For example, if I keep repeating: I am a cat, I am a cat, cat, cat... Would anyone be offended?.. No, I don’t understand... However, I must confess that I prefer milk, especially when it doesn’t get angry.

Once Molochko and Kashka had a particularly heated quarrel; they quarreled to the point that they half poured onto the stove, and a terrible fumes rose up. The cook came running and only threw up her hands.

Well, what am I going to do now? she complained, pushing Milk and Kashka off the stove. - Can't turn back...

Leaving Molochko and Kashka aside, the cook went to the market for provisions. Murka immediately took advantage of this. He sat down next to Molochka, blew on him and said:

Please don't get angry, Milky...

Milk noticeably began to calm down. Murka walked around him, blew once more, straightened his mustache and said quite affectionately:

Here's the thing, gentlemen... It's not good to quarrel at all. Yes. Choose me as a justice of the peace, and I will immediately examine your case ...

The black cockroach, sitting in the crack, even choked with laughter: “That's the magistrate ... Ha ha! Ah, the old rogue, he can only come up with something! .. ”But Molochko and Kashka were glad that their quarrel would finally be sorted out. They themselves did not even know how to tell what was the matter and why they were arguing.

Okay, okay, I'll figure it out, - said the cat Murka. - I'm not going to lie... Well, let's start with Molochka.

He went around the pot of Milk several times, tried it with his paw, blew on Milk from above and began to lap.

The parable of milk, oatmeal and the gray cat Murka (fairy tales)

Fathers!.. Guards! shouted the Cockroach. - He dranks all the milk, but they will think of me!

When the cook returned from the market and ran out of milk, the pot was empty. Murka the cat was sleeping sweetly by the stove as if nothing had happened.

Oh, you wicked one! the cook scolded him, grabbing him by the ear. - Who drank milk, tell me?

No matter how painful it was, Murka pretended that he did not understand anything and could not speak. When they threw him out the door, he shook himself, licked his wrinkled fur, straightened his tail and said:

If I were a cook, then all the cats from morning to night would only do what they drank milk. However, I am not angry with my cook, because she does not understand this ...

Tale of Vanka's name day

Beat, drum, ta-ta! tra-ta-ta! Play, trumpets: tru-tu! tu-ru-ru! Let's get all the music here - today is Vanka's birthday! Dear guests, you are welcome. Hey, everybody get over here! Tra-ta-ta! Tru-ru-ru!

Vanka walks around in a red shirt and says:

Brothers, you are welcome. Treats - as much as you want. Soup from the freshest chips; cutlets from the best, purest sand; pies from multi-colored pieces of paper; what a tea! From the best boiled water. Welcome. Music, play!

Ta-ta! Tra-ta-ta! Tru-tu! Tu-ru-ru!

There was a full room of guests. The first to arrive was a pot-bellied wooden Top.

Learn. Learn. Where is the birthday boy? Learn. Learn. I love to have fun in good company.

There are two dolls. One - with blue eyes, Anya, her nose was a little damaged; the other with black eyes, Katya, she was missing one arm. They came decorously and took their place on the toy sofa.

Let's see what kind of treat Vanka has, - Anya noticed. - That's something to brag about. The music is not bad, and I doubt very much about the refreshments.

You, Anya, are always dissatisfied with something, - Katya reproached her.

And you are always ready to argue.

The dolls argued a little and were even ready to quarrel, but at that moment a strongly supported Clown hobbled on one leg and immediately reconciled them.

Everything will be fine, lady! Let's have great fun. Of course, I'm missing one leg, but Volchok is spinning on one leg. Hello Volchok.

Learn. Hello! Why is it that one of your eyes looks like it's been hit?

Trivia. I fell off the couch. It could be worse.

Oh, how bad it is. I sometimes from all over the run-up will hit the wall like that, right on my head!

Good thing your head is empty.

Still, it hurts. Learn. Try it yourself, you'll know.

The clown just clicked his brass cymbals. He was generally a frivolous man.

Petrushka came and brought with him a whole bunch of guests: his own wife, Matryona Ivanovna, the German doctor Karl Ivanovich and the big-nosed Gypsy; and the Gypsy brought a three-legged horse with him.

Well, Vanka, receive guests! - Petrushka spoke cheerfully, slapping his nose. - One is better than the other. One of my Matryona Ivanovna is worth something. She loves to drink tea with me, like a duck.

Let's find some tea, Pyotr Ivanovich," replied Vanka. - And we always welcome good guests. Sit down, Matryona Ivanovna! Karl Ivanovich, you are welcome.

The Bear and the Hare also came, the greyish grandmother's Goat with the Corydalis Duck, the Cockerel with the Wolf - Vanka found a place for everyone.

Alyonushkin's Slipper and Alyonushkin's Metelochka came last. They looked - all the places are occupied, and Metelochka said:

Nothing, I'll stand in the corner.

But Slipper said nothing and silently crawled under the sofa. It was a very venerable Slipper, though worn. He was a little embarrassed only by the hole that was on the nose itself. Well, nothing, no one will notice under the sofa.

Hey music! Vanka commanded.

Beat the drum: tra-ta! ta-ta! The trumpets began to play: tru-tu! And all the guests suddenly became so merry, so merry.

The holiday started off great. The drum beat by itself, the trumpets themselves played, the Top buzzed, the Clown rang his cymbals, and Petrushka squealed furiously. Ah, how fun it was!

Brothers, play! shouted Vanka, smoothing his flaxen curls.

Matryona Ivanovna, does your stomach hurt?

What are you, Karl Ivanovich? - offended Matryona Ivanovna. - Why do you think so?

Come on, show your tongue.

Stay away, please.

Until now, she had been lying quietly on the table, and when the doctor spoke about language, she could not resist and jumped off. After all, the doctor always examines Alyonushka's tongue with her help.

Oh no, you don't have to! squeaked Matryona Ivanovna, waving her arms in such a funny way, like a windmill.

Well, I do not impose my services, - Spoon was offended.

She even wanted to get angry, but at that time Volchok flew up to her, and they began to dance. The top buzzed, the spoon rang. Even Alyonushkin's Slipper could not resist, crawled out from under the sofa and whispered to Metelochka:

I love you very much, Metelochka.

Panicle closed her eyes sweetly and just sighed. She loved to be loved.

After all, she was always such a modest Panicle and never put on airs, as it sometimes happened with others. For example, Matryona Ivanovna or Anya and Katya - these cute dolls loved to laugh at other people's shortcomings: the Clown was missing one leg, Petrushka had a long nose, Karl Ivanovich had a bald head, the Gypsy looked like a firebrand, and the birthday boy Vanka got the most.

He is a little manish, - said Katya.

And, besides, a braggart, - Anya added.

Having fun, everyone sat down at the table, and a real feast began. Dinner passed like a real name day, although the matter was not without small misunderstandings. The bear almost ate Bunny instead of a cutlet by mistake; The top almost got into a fight with the Gypsy because of the Spoon - the latter wanted to steal it and already hid it in his pocket. Pyotr Ivanovich, a well-known bully, managed to quarrel with his wife and quarreled over trifles.

Matryona Ivanovna, calm down, - Karl Ivanovich persuaded her. - After all, Pyotr Ivanovich is kind. Maybe you have a headache? I have excellent powders with me.

Leave her, doctor, - said Petrushka. - This is such an impossible woman. However, I love her very much. Matryona Ivanovna, let's kiss.

Hooray! shouted Vanka. - It's much better than fighting. I can't stand it when people fight. Wow look.

But then something completely unexpected happened and so terrible that it’s even scary to say.

Beat the drum: tra-ta! ta-ta-ta! The trumpets were playing: ru-ru! ru-ru-ru! The Clown's cymbals rang, the Spoon laughed in a silver voice, the Top buzzed, and the amused Bunny shouted: bo-bo-bo! The Porcelain Dog barked loudly, the Rubber Cat meowed affectionately, and the Bear stamped his foot so hard that the floor shook. The greyest grandmother's goat turned out to be the most cheerful of all. First of all, he danced better than anyone, and then he shook his beard in such a funny way and roared in a raspy voice: mee!

Wait, how did all this happen? It is very difficult to tell everything in order, because of the participants in the incident, only Alyonushkin Bashmachok remembered the whole thing. He was prudent and managed to hide under the sofa in time.

Yes, so that's how it was. First, wooden cubes came to congratulate Vanka. No, not again. It didn't start at all. The cubes really came, but the black-eyed Katya was to blame. She, she, right! At the end of dinner, this pretty rogue whispered to Anya:

And what do you think, Anya, who is the most beautiful here.

It seems that the question is the simplest, but meanwhile Matryona Ivanovna was terribly offended and told Katya bluntly:

Why do you think that my Pyotr Ivanovich is a freak?

No one thinks this, Matryona Ivanovna, - Katya tried to justify herself, but it was already too late.

Of course, his nose is a little big, - continued Matryona Ivanovna. - But this is noticeable if you only look at Pyotr Ivanovich from the side. Then, he has a bad habit of squeaking terribly and fighting with everyone, but he is still a kind person. As for the mind.

The dolls argued with such passion that they attracted everyone's attention. First of all, of course, Petrushka intervened and squeaked:

That's right, Matryona Ivanovna. The most beautiful person here, of course, is me!

Here all the men are offended. Pardon me, such self-praise this Petrushka! It's disgusting to even listen to! The clown was not a master of speech and was offended in silence, but Dr. Karl Ivanovich said very loudly:

So we're all freaks? Congratulations gentlemen.

An uproar arose at once. The Gypsy shouted something in his own way, the Bear growled, the Wolf howled, the gray Goat shouted, the Top buzzed - in a word, everyone was completely offended.

Lord, stop! - Vanka persuaded everyone. - Do not pay attention to Pyotr Ivanovich. He just joked.

But it was all in vain. It was Karl Ivanitch who was chiefly agitated. He even banged his fist on the table and shouted:

Gentlemen, good treat, nothing to say! We were invited to visit only to be called freaks.

Gracious sovereigns and gracious sovereigns! - Vanka tried to shout down everyone. - If it comes to that, gentlemen, there is only one freak here - it's me. Are you satisfied now?

Then. Wait, how did this happen? Yes, yes, that's how it was. Karl Ivanovich got completely excited and began to approach Pyotr Ivanovich. He shook his finger at him and repeated:

If I were not an educated person, and if I did not know how to behave decently in decent society, I would tell you, Pyotr Ivanovich, that you are even quite a fool.

Knowing the pugnacious nature of Petrushka, Vanka wanted to stand between him and the doctor, but on the way he hit Petrushka's long nose with his fist. It seemed to Petrushka that it was not Vanka who hit him, but the doctor. What started here! Petrushka clung to the doctor; for no reason at all, the Gypsy, who was sitting on the side, began to beat the Clown, the Bear rushed at the Wolf with a growl, the Volchok beat the Goat with his empty head - in a word, a real scandal came out. The puppets squealed in thin voices, and all three fainted with fear.

Ah, I'm stupid! shouted Matryona Ivanovna, falling off the sofa.

Lord, what is this? yelled Vanka. - Lord, I'm a birthday boy. Gentlemen, this is finally impolite!

There was a real scuffle, so it was already difficult to make out who was beating whom. Vanka tried in vain to separate those who were fighting, and ended up by himself beginning to beat up everyone who turned under his arm, and since he was stronger than everyone else, the guests had a bad time.

Guard! Fathers. Oh guard! Petrushka yelled the loudest, trying to hit the doctor harder. - They killed Petrushka to death. Guard!

Only Slipper left the landfill, having managed to hide under the sofa in time. He even closed his eyes with fear, and at that time the Bunny hid behind him, also seeking salvation in flight.

Where are you going? - grumbled the Slipper.

Be quiet, otherwise they will hear, and both will get it, - Zaichik persuaded, looking out of the hole in the sock with a slanting eye. - Oh, what a robber this Petrushka is! He beats everyone and he himself yells with a good obscenity. Good guest, nothing to say. And I barely escaped the Wolf, ah! It's scary to even remember. And there the Duck lies upside down. They killed the poor thing.

Oh, how stupid you are, Bunny: all the dolls are lying in a swoon, well, the Duck, along with the others.

They fought, fought, fought for a long time, until Vanka kicked out all the guests, except for the dolls. Matryona Ivanovna had long been tired of lying in a swoon, she opened one eye and asked:

Lord, where am I? Doctor, look, am I alive?

Nobody answered her, and Matryona Ivanovna opened her other eye. The room was empty, and Vanka stood in the middle and looked around in surprise. Anya and Katya woke up and were also surprised.

There was something terrible here,” Katya said. - Good birthday boy, nothing to say!

The dolls at once pounced on Vanka, who decidedly did not know what to answer him. And someone beat him, and he beat someone, but for what, about what - it is not known.

I really don’t know how it all happened,” he said, spreading his arms. - The main thing is that it's a shame: because I love them all. Definitely everyone.

And we know how, - Slipper and Bunny responded from under the sofa. - We've seen everything!

Yes, it's your fault! Matryona Ivanovna pounced on them. - Of course, you. They made porridge, and they themselves hid.

Yep, that's the thing! - Vanka was delighted. - Get out, thieves. You only visit guests to quarrel good people.

Slipper and Bunny barely had time to jump out the window.

Here I am, - Matryona Ivanovna threatened them with her fist. - Oh, what wretched people there are in the world! So the Duck will say the same thing.

Yes, yes, - Duck confirmed. - I saw with my own eyes how they hid under the sofa.

The duck always agreed with everyone.

We need to return the guests, - continued Katya. - We'll have more fun.

The guests returned willingly. Who had a black eye, who limped; Petrushka's long nose suffered the most.

Ah, robbers! - they all repeated in one voice, scolding Bunny and Slipper. - Who would have thought?

Oh, how tired I am! He beat off all his hands, ”Vanka complained. - Well, why remember the old. I'm not vindictive. Hey music!

The drum beat again: tra-ta! ta-ta-ta! The trumpets began to play: tru-tu! ru-ru-ru! And Petrushka furiously shouted:

Hooray, Vanka!

Fairy tale about how the last fly lived

What a fun summer it was! Ah, how fun! It is difficult even to tell everything in order. How many flies were there - thousands. Flying, buzzing, having fun. When the little Mushka was born, she spread her wings, she also became cheerful. So much fun, so much fun you can't tell. The most interesting thing was that in the morning they opened all the windows and doors to the terrace - in whatever you want, fly through that window.

What a good creature man is, little Mushka was surprised, flying from window to window. - It is for us that the windows are made, and they open them for us too. Very good, and most importantly - fun.

She flew out into the garden a thousand times, sat on the green grass, admired the blooming lilacs, the tender leaves of the blossoming linden and the flowers in the flower beds. The gardener, unknown to her until now, had already managed to take care of everything in advance. Oh, how kind he is, this gardener! Mushka had not yet been born, but he had already managed to cook everything, absolutely everything that little Mushka needed. This was all the more surprising because he himself did not know how to fly and sometimes even walked with great difficulty - he was swaying, and the gardener was mumbling something completely incomprehensible.

And where do these damned flies come from? grumbled the good gardener.

Probably, the poor fellow said this simply out of envy, because he himself could only dig ridges, plant flowers and water them, but he could not fly. Young Mushka deliberately hovered over the gardener's red nose and bored him terribly.

Then, people in general are so kind that everywhere they gave different pleasures to flies. For example, Alyonushka drank milk in the morning, ate a bun and then asked Aunt Olya for sugar - she did all this only to leave a few drops of spilled milk for the flies, and most importantly - crumbs of buns and sugar. Well, tell me, please, what could be tastier than such crumbs, especially when you fly all morning and get hungry? Then, the cook Pasha was even kinder than Alyonushka. Every morning she went to the market on purpose for the flies and brought amazingly tasty things: beef, sometimes fish, cream, butter - in general, the kindest woman in the whole house. She knew perfectly well what the flies needed, although she also did not know how to fly, like the gardener. A very good woman in general!

And Aunt Olya? Oh, this wonderful woman, it seems, specially lived only for flies. She used her own hands to open all the windows every morning to make it easier for the flies to fly, and when it rained or it was cold, she closed them so that the flies would not wet their wings and catch a cold. Then Aunt Olya noticed that the flies were very fond of sugar and berries, so she began to boil the berries in sugar every day. The flies now, of course, guessed why it was all being done, and out of gratitude they climbed right into the bowl of jam. Alyonushka was very fond of jam, but Aunt Olya gave her only one or two spoons, not wanting to offend the flies.

Since the flies could not eat everything at once, Aunt Olya put some of the jam in glass jars (so that they would not be eaten by mice, which are not supposed to have jam at all) and then served it every day to the flies when she drank tea.

Oh, how kind and good everyone is! - admired the young Mushka, flying from window to window. - Maybe it's even good that people can't fly. Then they would have turned into flies, big and gluttonous flies, and probably would have eaten everything themselves. Oh, how good it is to live in the world!

Well, people aren’t quite as kind as you think, ”observed the old Fly, who liked to grumble. - It just seems that way. Have you noticed the man everyone calls "daddy"?

Oh yeah. This is a very strange gentleman. You're quite right, good, good old Fly. Why does he smoke his pipe when he knows perfectly well that I can't stand tobacco smoke at all? I think he does this just to spite me. Then, resolutely does not want to do anything for the flies. I once tried the ink with which he always writes something like that, and almost died. This is finally outrageous! I saw with my own eyes how two such pretty, but completely inexperienced flies were drowning in his inkwell. It was a terrible picture when he pulled out one of them with a pen and planted a magnificent blot on the paper. Imagine, he did not blame himself for this, but us! Where's the justice?

I think that this dad is completely devoid of justice, although he has one merit, - answered the old, experienced Fly. - He drinks beer after dinner. It's not a bad habit! I confess, I also do not mind drinking beer, although I feel dizzy from it. What to do, bad habit!

And I also love beer, - the young Mushka admitted and even blushed a little. - It makes me so merry, so merry, although the next day my head hurts a little. But papa, perhaps, does not do anything for the flies because he does not eat jam himself, and puts sugar only in a glass of tea. In my opinion, nothing good can be expected from a person who does not eat jam. All he can do is smoke his pipe.

The flies generally knew all people very well, although they valued them in their own way.

The summer was hot, and every day there were more and more flies. They fell into the milk, climbed into the soup, into the inkwell, buzzed, spun and pestered everyone. But our little Mushka managed to become a real big fly and almost died several times. The first time she got stuck with her feet in the jam, so that she barely crawled out; another time, waking up, she ran into a lighted lamp and almost burned her wings; for the third time, she almost fell between the window sashes - in general, there were enough adventures.

What is it: there was no life from these flies! the cook complained. - Like crazy, they climb everywhere. You need to take them out.

Even our Fly began to find that there were too many flies, especially in the kitchen. In the evenings, the ceiling was covered with a living, moving grid. And when provisions were brought, the flies rushed at her in a live heap, pushed each other and quarreled terribly. Only the most brisk and strong got the best pieces, and the rest got leftovers. Pasha was right.

But then something terrible happened. One morning, Pasha, along with provisions, brought a pack of very tasty pieces of paper - that is, they became tasty when they were laid out on plates, sprinkled with fine sugar and doused with warm water.

Here's a great treat for flies! - said the cook Pasha, arranging the plates in the most prominent places.

The flies, even without Pasha, guessed that this was done for them, and in a cheerful crowd they pounced on the new dish. Our Fly also rushed to one plate, but she was pushed away rather rudely.

What are you pushing, gentlemen? - offended she. “Besides, I’m not so greedy as to take something from others. Finally, this is disrespectful.

Then something impossible happened. The greediest flies were the first to pay. At first they wandered around like drunks, and then completely fell down. The next morning, Pasha swept a whole large plate of dead flies. Only the most prudent remained alive, including our Fly.

We don't want papers! - everyone squeaked. - We do not want.

But the next day the same thing happened. Of the prudent flies, only the most prudent flies remained intact. But Pasha found that there were too many of these, the most prudent ones.

There is no life from them, she complained.

Then the gentleman, whose name was papa, brought three very beautiful glass caps, poured beer into them and put them on plates. Here the most prudent flies were caught. It turned out that these caps are just flycatchers. Flies flew to the smell of beer, fell into the cap and died there, because they did not know how to find a way out.

Now that's great! - Pasha approved; she turned out to be a completely heartless woman and rejoiced at someone else's misfortune.

What's so great about it, judge for yourself. If people had the same wings as flies, and if they put up flycatchers the size of a house, then they would come across in exactly the same way. Our Fly, taught by the bitter experience of even the most prudent flies, has ceased to trust people at all. They only seem to be kind, these people, but, in fact, they do nothing but deceive the gullible poor flies all their lives. Oh, this is the most cunning and evil animal, to tell the truth!

The flies have greatly diminished from all these troubles, and here is a new trouble. It turned out that the summer had passed, the rains had begun, a cold wind blew, and generally unpleasant weather had set in.

Has the summer gone? - the surviving flies were surprised. - Excuse me, when did it have time to pass? Finally, this is not fair. We didn’t have time to look back, but autumn is here.

It was worse than poisoned papers and glass flycatchers. From the coming bad weather, one could seek protection only from one's worst enemy, that is, the lord of man. Alas! Now the windows did not open for whole days, but only occasionally - the vents. Even the sun itself shone for sure only to deceive the gullible house flies. How would you like, for example, such a picture? Morning. The sun peeps so merrily through all the windows, as if inviting all the flies into the garden. You might think that summer is back again. And what - gullible flies fly out the window, but the sun only shines, not warms. They fly back - the window is closed. Many flies died in this way on cold autumn nights only because of their gullibility.

No, I don't believe it, said our Fly. - I don't believe in anything. If the sun is deceiving, then who and what can be trusted?

It is clear that with the onset of autumn, all the flies experienced the worst mood of the spirit. The character immediately deteriorated in almost everyone. There was no mention of the former joys. Everyone became so gloomy, lethargic and dissatisfied. Some got to the point where they even started biting, which was not the case before.

Our Mukha's character had deteriorated to such an extent that she did not recognize herself at all. Previously, for example, she felt sorry for other flies when they died, but now she thought only of herself. She was even ashamed to say aloud what she thought:

"Well, let them die - I'll get more."

Firstly, there are not so many real warm corners in which a real, decent fly can live in the winter, and secondly, they just got tired of other flies that climbed everywhere, snatched the best pieces from under their noses and generally behaved quite unceremoniously. It's time to rest.

These other flies accurately understood these evil thoughts and died by the hundreds. They didn't even die, but fell asleep for sure. Fewer and fewer of them were made every day, so that neither poisoned papers nor glass flytraps were needed at all. But this was not enough for our Fly: she wanted to be completely alone. Think how lovely - five rooms, and only one fly!

Such a happy day has come. Early in the morning our Fly woke up rather late. She had long been experiencing some kind of incomprehensible fatigue and preferred to sit motionless in her corner, under the stove. And then she felt that something extraordinary had happened. It was worth flying up to the window, as everything was explained at once. The first snow fell. The ground was covered with a bright white veil.

Ah, so that's what winter is like! she thought at once. - She is completely white, like a piece of good sugar.

Then the Fly noticed that all the other flies had completely disappeared. The poor things could not stand the first cold and fell asleep, to whom, where it happened. The fly would have taken pity on them at another time, but now it thought:

"That's great. Now I'm all alone! No one will eat my jam, my sugar, my babies. Oh, how good!"

She flew around all the rooms and once again made sure that she was completely alone. Now you could do whatever you wanted. And how good it is that the rooms are so warm! Winter is there, on the street, and the rooms are warm and cozy, especially when lamps and candles are lit in the evening. With the first lamp, however, there was a little trouble - the Fly ran into the fire again and almost burned out.

This is probably a winter trap for flies, she realized, rubbing her burned paws. - No, you won't fool me. Oh, I understand perfectly! Do you want to burn the last fly? And I don't want that at all. There is also a stove in the kitchen - don't I understand that this is also a fly trap!

The last Fly was only happy for a few days, and then suddenly she became bored, so bored, so bored that it seemed impossible to tell. Of course, she was warm, she was full, and then, then she began to get bored. She flies, she flies, she rests, she eats, she flies again - and again she becomes more bored than before.

Ah, how bored I am! she squeaked in the most plaintive thin voice, flying from room to room. - If only there was one more fly, the worst, but still a fly.

No matter how the last Fly complained about her loneliness, no one wanted to understand her. Of course, this angered her even more, and she molested people like crazy. To whom it sits on the nose, to whom in the ear, otherwise it will begin to fly back and forth before your eyes. In a word, a real crazy.

Lord, how can you not want to understand that I am completely alone and that I am very bored? she squeaked to everyone. - You don’t even know how to fly, and therefore you don’t know what boredom is. If only someone could play with me. No, where are you? What could be more clumsy and clumsy than a person? The ugliest creature I've ever met.

The last Fly is tired of both the dog and the cat - absolutely everyone. Most of all, she was upset when Aunt Olya said:

Ah, the last fly. Please don't touch her. Let it live all winter.

What is it? This is a direct insult. It seems that they stopped counting her as a fly. "Let him live," - tell me what a favor you did! What if I'm bored? What if I don't want to live at all? I don't want to, and that's it."

The last Fly was so angry with everyone that even she herself became frightened. Flying, buzzing, squeaking. The Spider, who was sitting in the corner, finally took pity on her and said:

Dear Fly, come to me. What a beautiful web I have!

Thank you very much. Here's another friend! I know what your beautiful web is. Perhaps you were once a man, and now you only pretend to be a spider.

As you know, I wish you well.

Oh, how disgusting! This is called wishing well: to eat the last Fly!

They quarreled a lot, and yet it was boring, so boring, so boring that you can’t tell. The fly was resolutely angry at everyone, tired and loudly declared:

If so, if you do not want to understand how bored I am, then I will sit in the corner all winter! There you are! Yes, I will sit and not come out for anything.

She even wept with grief, recalling the past summer fun. How many funny flies there were; And she still wanted to be completely alone. It was a fatal mistake.

Winter dragged on without end, and the last Fly began to think that there would be no more summer at all. She wanted to die, and she cried quietly. It is probably people who came up with winter, because they come up with absolutely everything that is harmful to flies. Or maybe it was Aunt Olya who hid the summer somewhere, the way she hides sugar and jam?

The last Fly was about to die of despair, when something quite special happened. She, as usual, was sitting in her corner and getting angry, when suddenly she heard: w-w-l! At first she did not believe her own ears, but thought that someone was deceiving her. And then. God, what was that! A real live fly, still quite young, flew past her. She just had time to be born and rejoiced.

Spring is starting! Spring! she buzzed.

How happy they were for each other! They hugged, kissed and even licked each other with their proboscises. Old Fly told for several days how badly she had spent the whole winter and how bored she was alone. The young Mushka only laughed in a thin voice and could not understand how boring it was.

Spring! Spring! she repeated.

When Aunt Olya ordered to set up all the winter frames and Alyonushka looked out the first open window, the last Fly immediately understood everything.

Now I know everything, - she buzzed, flying out the window, - we make the summer, flies.

Fairy tale time to sleep

One eye falls asleep at Alyonushka, the other ear falls asleep at Alyonushka.

Dad, are you there?

Here, baby.

You know what, dad. I want to be queen.

Alyonushka fell asleep and smiles in her sleep.

Ah, so many flowers! And they are all smiling too. They surrounded Alyonushka's bed, whispering and laughing in thin voices. Scarlet flowers, blue flowers, yellow flowers, blue, pink, red, white - as if a rainbow fell on the ground and scattered with living sparks, multi-colored - lights and cheerful children's eyes.

Alyonushka wants to be a queen! - the field bells rang merrily, swaying on thin green legs.

Oh, how funny she is! - whispered modest forget-me-nots.

Gentlemen, this matter needs to be seriously discussed, - the yellow Dandelion intervened provocatively. At least I didn't expect it.

What does it mean to be a queen? - asked the blue field Cornflower. - I grew up in the field and do not understand your city orders.

Very simply, - the pink Carnation intervened. It's so simple that it doesn't need to be explained. The queen is. It. Do you still understand nothing? Oh, how strange you are. The queen is when the flower is pink, like me. In other words: Alyonushka wants to be a carnation. Seems understandable?

Everyone laughed merrily. Only Roses were silent. They considered themselves offended. Who does not know that the queen of all flowers is one Rose, tender, fragrant, wonderful? And suddenly some Carnation calls herself a queen. It doesn't look like anything. Finally, Rose alone got angry, turned completely crimson, and said:

No, sorry, Alyonushka wants to be a rose. Yes! Rose is a queen because everyone loves her.

That's cute! Dandelion got angry. - And for whom, then, do you take me?

Dandelion, don't be angry, please, - the forest bells persuaded him. - It spoils the character and, moreover, ugly. Here we are - we are silent about the fact that Alyonushka wants to be a forest bell, because this is clear by itself.

There were many flowers, and they argued so funny. The wild flowers were so modest - like lilies of the valley, violets, forget-me-nots, bluebells, cornflowers, field carnations; and the flowers grown in greenhouses were a little pompous - roses, tulips, lilies, daffodils, levkoy, like rich children dressed up in a festive way. Alyonushka loved modest field flowers more, from which she made bouquets and wove wreaths. How wonderful they are!

Alyonushka loves us very much, the Violets whispered. - After all, we are the first in the spring. Only the snow melts - and here we are.

And so are we, said the Lilies of the Valley. We are also spring flowers. We are unpretentious and grow right in the forest.

And why are we to blame that it is cold for us to grow right in the field? - complained fragrant curly Levkoy and Hyacinths. - We are only guests here, and our homeland is far away, where it is so warm and there is no winter at all. Oh, how good it is there, and we are constantly yearning for our dear homeland. It's so cold up here in the north. Alyonushka also loves us, and even very much.

And it’s good with us, too, the wild flowers argued. - Of course, sometimes it is very cold, but it's great. And then, the cold kills our worst enemies, like worms, midges and various insects. If it wasn't for the cold, we'd be in trouble.

We also love the cold, - added the Roses.

Azalea and Camellia said the same. They all loved the cold when they picked up the color.

Here's what, gentlemen, let's talk about our homeland, - the white Narcissus suggested. - It is very interesting. Alyonushka will listen to us. Because she loves us too.

Everyone was talking at once. Roses with tears recalled the blessed valleys of Shiraz, Hyacinths - Palestine, Azaleas - America, Lilies - Egypt. Flowers came here from all over the world, and everyone had so much to say. Most flowers came from the south, where there is so much sun and no winter. How good it is! Yes, eternal summer! What huge trees grow there, what wonderful birds, how many beautiful butterflies that look like flying flowers, and flowers that look like butterflies.

We are only guests in the north, we are cold, - whispered all these southern plants.

Native wildflowers even took pity on them. Indeed, one must have great patience when a cold north wind blows, cold rain pours and snow falls. Suppose the spring snow melts soon, but still snow.

You have a huge shortcoming, - Vasilyok explained, having heard enough of these stories. - I do not argue, you, perhaps, are sometimes more beautiful than us, simple wildflowers - I readily admit this. Yes. In a word, you are our dear guests, and your main drawback is that you grow only for rich people, while we grow for everyone. We are much kinder. Here I am, for example - you will see me in the hands of every village child. How much joy I bring to all the poor children! You don’t need to pay money for me, but it’s only worth going out into the field. I grow with wheat, rye, oats.

Alyonushka listened to everything the flowers told her about and was surprised. She really wanted to see everything herself, all those amazing countries that were just being talked about.

If I were a swallow, I would immediately fly, - she said at last. Why don't I have wings? Oh, how good it is to be a bird!

Before she had finished speaking, a ladybug crawled up to her, a real ladybug, so red, with black spots, with a black head and such thin black antennae and thin black legs.

Alyonushka, let's fly! - Ladybug whispered, moving her antennae.

And I don't have wings, ladybug!

Get on me.

How can I sit down when you are small?

But look.

Alyonushka began to look and was surprised more and more. Ladybug spread its upper rigid wings and doubled in size, then spread thin, like cobwebs, lower wings and became even larger. She grew up before Alyonushka's eyes, until she turned into a big, big one, so big that Alyonushka could freely sit on her back, between the red wings. It was very convenient.

Are you okay, Alyonushka? - asked Ladybug.

Well, hold on tight now.

In the first moment when they flew, Alyonushka even closed her eyes from fear. It seemed to her that it was not she who was flying, but everything under her was flying - cities, forests, rivers, mountains. Then it began to seem to her that she had become so small, small, about the size of a pinhead, and, moreover, as light as a fluff from a dandelion. And the Ladybug flew quickly, quickly, so that only the air whistled between the wings.

Look what's down there, - Ladybug told her.

Alyonushka looked down and even clasped her little hands.

Ah, so many roses. Red, yellow, white, pink!

The ground was exactly covered with a living carpet of roses.

Let's go down to the ground, - she asked Ladybug.

They went down, and Alyonushka became big again, as she was before, and Ladybug became small.

Alyonushka ran for a long time across the pink field and picked up a huge bouquet of flowers. How beautiful they are, these roses; and their scent makes you dizzy. If all this pink field were moved there, to the north, where roses are only dear guests!

She again became big-big, and Alyonushka - small-small. They flew again.

How good it was all around! The sky was so blue, and the sea below was even bluer. They flew over a steep and rocky shore.

Are we going to fly across the sea? - Alyonushka asked.

Yes. Just sit still and hold on tight.

At first, Alyonushka was even scared, but then nothing. There is nothing left but sky and water. And the ships rushed across the sea like big birds with white wings. The little boats looked like flies. Oh, how beautiful, how good! And ahead you can already see the sea coast - low, yellow and sandy, the mouth of some huge river, some kind of completely white city, as if it was built of sugar. And then you could see the dead desert, where there were only pyramids. Ladybug landed on the bank of the river. Green papyri and lilies grew here, wonderful, tender lilies.

How good it is here with you, - Alyonushka spoke to them. - Do you not have winters?

What is winter? Lily was surprised.

Winter is when it snows.

What is snow?

The lilies even laughed. They thought the little northern girl was joking with them. It is true that every autumn huge flocks of birds flew here from the north and also talked about winter, but they themselves did not see it, but spoke from other people's words.

Alyonushka also did not believe that there was no winter. So, you don’t need a fur coat and felt boots?

I'm hot, she complained. - You know, ladybug, it's not even good when it's eternal summer.

Who is used to it, Alyonushka.

They flew to high mountains on the tops of which lay eternal snow. It wasn't that hot in here. Behind the mountains began impenetrable forests. It was dark under the canopy of trees, because the sunlight did not penetrate here through the dense tops of the trees. Monkeys jumped on the branches. And how many birds there were - green, red, yellow, blue. But most surprising were the flowers that grew right on the tree trunks. There were flowers of a completely fiery color, they were motley; there were flowers that looked like little birds and big butterflies - the whole forest seemed to be burning with multi-colored live lights.

These are orchids,” Ladybug explained.

It was impossible to walk here - everything was so intertwined. They flew on. Here a huge river spilled among the green banks. Ladybug landed right on top of a large white flower growing in the water. Alyonushka has never seen such large flowers.

It's a sacred flower," Ladybug explained. - It's called a lotus.

Alyonushka saw so much that she finally got tired. She wanted to go home: after all, home is better.

I love the snowball, - said Alyonushka. - It's not good without winter.

They flew off again, and the higher they climbed, the colder it got. Soon snow fields appeared below. Only one coniferous forest turned green. Alyonushka was terribly happy when she saw the first Christmas tree.

Christmas tree, Christmas tree! she called.

Hello Alyonushka! shouted the green Christmas tree to her from below.

It was a real Christmas Tree - Alyonushka immediately recognized her. Oh, what a sweet Christmas tree! Alyonushka bent down to tell her how cute she was, and suddenly flew down. Wow, how scary! She rolled over several times in the air and fell straight into the soft snow. With fear, Alyonushka closed her eyes and did not know whether she was alive or dead.

How did you get here, baby? someone asked her.

Alyonushka opened her eyes and saw a gray-haired, hunched-over old man. She recognized him immediately too. It was the same old man who brings Christmas trees, golden stars, boxes of bombs and the most amazing toys to smart children. Oh, he is so kind, this old man! He immediately took her in his arms, covered her with his fur coat and again asked:

How did you get here, little girl?

I traveled on a ladybug. Oh, how much I saw, grandfather!

Well well.

And I know you, grandfather! You bring Christmas trees to the kids.

Well well. And now I'm also arranging a Christmas tree.

He showed her a long pole that didn't look like a Christmas tree at all.

What kind of tree is this, grandfather? It's just a big stick.

But you'll see.

The old man carried Alyonushka to a small village, completely covered with snow. Only roofs and chimneys were exposed from under the snow. The village children were already waiting for the old man. They jumped and shouted:

Christmas tree! Christmas tree!

They came to the first hut. The old man took out an unthreshed sheaf of oats, tied it to the end of a pole, and raised the pole to the roof. Just then, small birds flew in from all sides, which do not fly away for the winter: sparrows, kuzki, oatmeal, - and began to peck at the grain.

This is our tree! they shouted.

Alyonushka suddenly became very cheerful. For the first time she saw how they arrange a Christmas tree for birds in winter.

Ah, how fun! Ah, what a good old man! One sparrow, who fussed the most, immediately recognized Alyonushka and shouted:

Yes, this is Alyonushka! I know her very well. She fed me crumbs more than once. Yes. And the other sparrows also recognized her and squealed terribly with joy. Another sparrow flew in, which turned out to be a terrible bully. He began to push everyone aside and snatch the best grains. It was the same sparrow that fought with the ruff.

Alyonushka recognized him.

Hello sparrows!

Oh, is that you, Alyonushka? Hello!

The bully sparrow jumped on one leg, winked slyly with one eye and said to the kind Christmas old man:

But she, Alyonushka, wants to be a queen. Yes, I heard myself just now how she said it.

Do you want to be queen, baby? asked the old man.

I really want it, grandpa!

Excellent. There is nothing simpler: every queen is a woman, and every woman is a queen. Now go home and tell that to all the other little girls.

Ladybug was glad to get out of here as soon as possible before some mischievous sparrow ate it. They flew home quickly, quickly. And there all the flowers are waiting for Alyonushka. They argued all the time about what a queen is.

Bye-bye-bye.

One eye at Alyonushka is sleeping, the other is looking; one ear of Alyonushka is sleeping, the other is listening. Everyone has now gathered near Alyonushka's bed: the brave Hare, and Medvedko, and the bully Rooster, and Sparrow, and Voronushka - a black little head, and Ruff Ershovich, and little, little Kozyavochka. Everything is here, everything is at Alyonushka.

Dad, I love everyone, Alyonushka whispers. - I also love black cockroaches, dad.

The other eye closed, the other ear fell asleep. And near Alyonushka's bed, spring grass is merrily green, flowers are smiling, there are many flowers: blue, pink, yellow, blue, red. A green birch leaned over the bed itself and whispers something so affectionately, affectionately. And the sun is shining, and the sand is turning yellow, and the blue sea wave is calling to Alyonushka.

Sleep, Alyonushka! Gain strength.

Bye-bye-bye.

Fairy tale smarter than everyone

The turkey woke up, as usual, earlier than the others, when it was still dark, woke his wife and said:

After all, I'm smarter than everyone? Yes?

The turkey, awake, coughed for a long time and then answered:

Ah, how smart. Heh heh! Who doesn't know this? Khe.

No, you speak directly: smarter than everyone? There are just enough smart birds, but the smartest of all is one, that's me.

Smarter than everyone. Khe. Everyone is smarter. Heh heh heh!

The turkey even got a little angry and added in such a tone that other birds could hear:

You know, I feel like I don't get enough respect. Yes, very little.

No, that's what it looks like to you. Heh heh! - the Turkey reassured him, starting to straighten the feathers that had strayed during the night. - Yes, it just seems. Birds are smarter than you and can not be invented. Heh heh heh!

And Gusak? Oh, I understand everything. Suppose he doesn’t say anything directly, but more and more everything is silent. But I feel that he silently disrespects me.

And don't pay any attention to him. Not worth it. Khe. Have you noticed that Gusak is stupid?

Who doesn't see this? It's written on his face: stupid gander, and nothing more. Yes. But Gusak is still nothing - how can you be angry with a stupid bird? And here is the Rooster, the simplest rooster. What did he shout about me on the third day? And how he shouted - all the neighbors heard. He seems to have called me even very stupid. Something like that in general.

Oh, how strange you are! - the Indian was surprised. "Don't you know why he screams at all?"

Well, why?

Heh heh heh. It's very simple and everyone knows it. You are a rooster, and he is a rooster, only he is a very, very simple rooster, the most ordinary rooster, and you are a real Indian, overseas rooster - so he screams with envy. Every bird wants to be an Indian rooster. Heh heh heh!

Well, it's hard, mother. Haha! See what you want! Some simple cockerel - and suddenly wants to become an Indian - no, brother, you're being naughty! He will never be an Indian.

The turkey was such a modest and kind bird and was constantly upset that the turkey was always quarreling with someone. And today, too, he didn’t have time to wake up, and he already thinks out with whom to start a quarrel or even a fight. In general, the most restless bird, although not evil. The turkey became a little offended when other birds began to make fun of the turkey and called him a talker, idler and wimp. Suppose they were partly right, but find a bird without flaws? That's what it is! There are no such birds, and it is even somehow more pleasant when you find even the smallest flaw in another bird.

The awakened birds poured out of the chicken coop into the yard, and a desperate hubbub immediately arose. The chickens were especially noisy. They ran around the yard, climbed to the kitchen window and shouted furiously:

Ah-where! Ah-where-where-where. We want to eat! The cook Matryona must have died and wants to starve us to death.

Gentlemen, have patience, ”Gusak, who was standing on one leg, remarked. - Look at me: I also want to eat, and I don’t scream like you. If I yelled at the top of my lungs. Like this. Go-go! Or like this: ho-ho-ho-ho!

The goose cackled so desperately that the cook Matryona immediately woke up.

It’s good for him to talk about patience, ”one Duck grumbled,“ what a throat, like a pipe. And then, if I had such a long neck and such a strong beak, then I would also preach patience. I myself would have eaten more than anyone else, but I would advise others to endure. We know this goose patience.

The Rooster supported the duck and shouted:

Yes, it's good for Husak to talk about patience. And who pulled my two best feathers out of my tail yesterday? It's even ignoble - to grab right by the tail. Suppose we quarreled a little, and I wanted to peck Gusak's head - I don't deny it, there was such an intention - but it's my fault, not my tail. Is that what I say gentlemen?

Hungry birds, like hungry people, became unjust precisely because they were hungry.

Out of pride, the turkey never rushed to feed with others, but patiently waited for Matryona to drive away another greedy bird and call him. So it was now. The turkey was walking aside, near the fence, and pretended to be looking for something among various rubbish.

Heh heh. Oh, how I want to eat! - complained Turkey, pacing behind her husband. - That's really Matryona threw oats. And, it seems, the remains of yesterday's porridge. Heh heh! Oh, how I love porridge! I think I would always eat one porridge, my whole life. I even sometimes see her at night in a dream.

The turkey loved to complain when she was hungry, and demanded that the turkey be sure to feel sorry for her. Among other birds, she looked like an old woman: she was always hunched over, coughing, walking with some kind of broken gait, as if her legs had been attached to her only yesterday.

Yes, it’s good to eat porridge, ”Turkey agreed with her. - But a smart bird never rushes to food. Is that what I say? If the owner does not feed me, I will die of hunger. So? And where will he find another such turkey?

There is nowhere else like it.

Here's something. And porridge, in fact, is nothing. Yes. It's not about porridge, but about Matryona. Is that what I say? There would be Matryona, but there will be porridge. Everything in the world depends on one Matryona - and oats, and porridge, and cereals, and crusts of bread.

Despite all this reasoning, the Turkey began to experience the pangs of hunger. Then he became completely sad when all the other birds had eaten, and Matryona did not come out to call him. What if she forgot about him? After all, this is a very bad thing.

But then something happened that made Turkey forget even about his own hunger. It began with the fact that one young hen, walking near the barn, suddenly shouted:

Ah-where!

All the other hens immediately picked up and yelled with a good obscenity: Oh, where! where where. And of course, the Rooster roared louder than all:

Carraul! Who's there?

The birds that came running to the cry saw a very unusual thing. Right next to the barn, in a hole, lay something gray, round, covered entirely with sharp needles.

Yes, this is a simple stone, - someone noticed.

He was moving, - Hen explained. - I also thought that the stone came up, and how it moves. Right! It seemed to me that he had eyes, but stones do not have eyes.

You never know what can seem like a stupid chicken out of fear, - said the Turkey-cock. - Maybe this. It.

Yes, it's a mushroom! shouted Husak. - I saw exactly the same mushrooms, only without needles.

Everyone laughed out loud at Gusak.

Rather, it looks like a hat, - someone tried to guess and was also ridiculed.

Does the cap have eyes, gentlemen?

There is nothing to talk about in vain, but you need to act, - the Rooster decided for everyone. - Hey, you thing with needles, tell me what kind of animal? I don't like to joke. Do you hear?

Since there was no answer, the Rooster considered himself insulted and rushed at the unknown offender. He tried to peck twice and stepped aside in embarrassment.

It. It's a huge burdock and nothing else," he explained. - Nothing tasty. Would anyone like to try?

Everyone chatted whatever came to mind. There was no end to conjecture and speculation. Silent one Turkey. Well, let others talk, and he will listen to other people's nonsense. The birds chirped for a long time, shouting and arguing, until someone shouted:

Gentlemen, why are we scratching our heads in vain when we have Turkey? He knows everything.

Of course I know, - said the Turkey, spreading his tail and puffing out his red gut on his nose.

And if you know, then tell us.

What if I don't want to? Yeah, I just don't want to.

Everyone began to beg Turkey.

After all, you are our smartest bird, Turkey! So tell me, dove. What should you say?

The turkey broke down for a long time and finally said:

Okay, I guess I'll say. Yes, I will. But first you tell me who do you think I am?

Who doesn't know that you are the smartest bird! - they all answered in unison. - So they say: smart as a turkey.

So you respect me?

We respect! We respect everything!

The turkey broke down a little more, then he fluffed up all over, puffed out his intestines, walked around the tricky beast three times and said:

It. Yes. Want to know what it is?

We want! Please don't linger, but tell me quickly.

This is someone crawling somewhere.

Everyone just wanted to laugh, when a giggle was heard, and a thin voice said:

This is the smartest bird ever! Hee hee.

A black muzzle with two black eyes appeared from under the needles, sniffed the air and said:

Hello gentlemen. But how did you not recognize this Hedgehog, Hedgehog-seryachka-muzhik? Oh, what a funny Turkey you have, excuse me, what is he like. How to say it more politely? Well, stupid Turkey.

Everyone became even scared after such an insult that the Hedgehog inflicted on the Turkey. Of course, Turkey said nonsense, that's true, but it does not follow from this that the Hedgehog has the right to insult him. Finally, it's just impolite to come into someone else's house and insult the owner. As you wish, but the Turkey is still an important, imposing bird and no match for some unfortunate Hedgehog.

All at once went over to Turkey's side, and a terrible uproar arose.

Probably, the Hedgehog considers us all stupid too! - Rooster shouted, flapping his wings.

He insulted us all!

If anyone is stupid, it is he, that is, the Hedgehog, ”Gusak declared, craning his neck. - I noticed it right away. Yes!

Can mushrooms be stupid? - answered Ezh.

Gentlemen, we are talking to him in vain! - Rooster shouted. He still won't understand. I think we're just wasting our time. Yes. If, for example, you, Gander, grab his bristles with your strong beak on one side, and Turkey and I cling to his bristles on the other, it will now be clear who is smarter. After all, you can’t hide your mind under stupid bristles.

Well, I agree, - said Husak. - It will be even better if I grab onto his bristles from behind, and you, Rooster, will peck him right in the face. So, gentlemen? Who is smarter, now it will be seen.

The turkey was silent all the time. At first, he was stunned by the impudence of the Hedgehog, and he could not find what to answer him. Then Turkey became angry, so angry that even he himself became a little scared. He wanted to rush at the rude man and tear him into small pieces, so that everyone could see this and once again be convinced of what a serious and strict bird the Turkey is. He even took a few steps towards the Hedgehog, pouted terribly and just wanted to rush, as everyone began to shout and scold the Hedgehog. The turkey stopped and patiently began to wait for how everything would end.

When the Rooster offered to drag the Hedgehog by the bristles in different directions, the Turkey stopped his zeal:

Allow me, gentlemen. Maybe we can arrange this whole thing peacefully. Yes. I think there is a little misunderstanding here. Leave it to me, gentlemen.

Well, we'll wait, - the Rooster reluctantly agreed, wanting to fight with the Hedgehog as soon as possible. “But nothing will come of it anyway.

And this is my business, - Turkey calmly replied. - Yes, listen to how I'm going to talk.

Everyone crowded around the Hedgehog and began to wait. The turkey walked around him, cleared his throat and said:

Listen, Mr. Ezh. Explain seriously. I don't like domestic troubles at all.

God, how smart he is, how smart! - thought Turkey, listening to her husband in mute delight.

First of all, pay attention to the fact that you are in a decent and well-mannered society, ”the Turkey continued. - It means something. Yes. Many consider it an honor to come to our yard, but - alas! - rarely anyone succeeds.

But this is so, between us, and the main thing is not in this.

The turkey stopped, paused for the sake of importance, and then continued:

Yes, that's the main thing. Did you really think that we had no idea about hedgehogs? I have no doubt that Gander, who mistook you for a mushroom, was joking, and Rooster too, and others. Isn't it, gentlemen?

Quite right, Turkey! - they all shouted at once so loudly that the Hedgehog hid his black muzzle.

Oh, how smart he is! - thought Turkey, beginning to guess what was the matter.

As you can see, Mr. Hedgehog, we all love to joke, - continued Turkey. - I'm not talking about myself. Yes. Why not joke? And, it seems to me, you, Mr. Ezh, also have a cheerful character.

Oh, you guessed it, - the Hedgehog admitted, again exposing his muzzle. - I have such a cheerful character that I can't even sleep at night. A lot of people can't stand it, and I'm bored of sleeping.

Well, you see. You will probably get along with our Rooster, who roars like crazy at night.

All of a sudden it became fun, as if everyone lacked the Hedgehog for the fullness of life. The turkey was triumphant that he had so deftly extricated himself from an awkward situation when the Hedgehog called him stupid and laughed right in his face.

By the way, Mr. Hedgehog, confess, - the Turkey-cock spoke, winking, - after all, you, of course, were joking when you called me just now. Yes. Well, stupid bird?

Of course he was joking! - Ezh assured. - I have such a cheerful character!

Yes, yes, I was sure of it. Have you heard gentlemen? - the Turkey asked everyone.

Heard. Who could doubt it!

The turkey leaned over to the very ear of the Hedgehog and whispered to him in secret:

So be it, I'll tell you a terrible secret. Yes. Only condition: do not tell anyone. True, I am a little ashamed to talk about myself, but what can you do if I am the smartest bird! It sometimes even embarrasses me a little, but you can’t hide an awl in a bag. Please don't tell anyone about this!

The Story of Adopter

Rainy summer day. I like to wander through the forest in such weather, especially when there is a warm corner ahead, where you can dry and warm yourself. And besides, the summer rain is warm. In the city in such weather - mud, and in the forest the earth greedily absorbs moisture, and you walk on a slightly damp carpet of last year's fallen leaves and crumbled pine and spruce needles. The trees are covered in raindrops that rain down on you with every move. And when the sun comes out after such a rain, the forest turns green so brightly and burns with diamond sparks all over. Something festive and joyful is all around you, and you feel like a welcome, dear guest at this holiday.

It was on such a rainy day that I approached the Light Lake, to the familiar watchman at the fishing saime (parking lot) Taras. The rain has already thinned. Gaps appeared on one side of the sky, a little more - and the hot summer sun will appear. The forest path made a sharp turn, and I came to a sloping cape, which jutted out into the lake with a wide tongue. Actually, here was not the lake itself, but a wide channel between two lakes, and the saima stumbled in a bend on the low bank, where fishing boats huddled in the creek. The channel between the lakes was formed thanks to a large wooded island, spread out in a green cap opposite the saima.

My appearance on the cape evoked the watchful call of the dog Taras - she always barked at strangers in a special way, abruptly and sharply, as if angrily asking: "Who is coming?" I love such simple little dogs for their extraordinary intelligence and faithful service.

From afar, the fishing hut looked like a large boat turned upside down - it was an old wooden roof hunched over, overgrown with cheerful green grass. Around the hut, a dense growth of willow-herb, sage and "bear pipes" rose, so that a person approaching the hut could see one head. Such dense grass grew only along the shores of the lake, because there was enough moisture and the soil was oily.

When I was already very close to the hut, a motley dog ​​flew head over heels out of the grass at me and burst into desperate barking.

Sobolko, stop it... Don't you know?

Sobolko stopped in thought, but apparently did not yet believe in the old acquaintance. He cautiously approached, sniffed at my hunting boots, and only after this ceremony wagged his tail guiltily. Say, it's my fault, I made a mistake - but still I have to guard the hut.

The hut was empty. The owner was not there, that is, he probably went to the lake to inspect some kind of fishing tackle. Around the hut, everything spoke of the presence of a living person: a weakly smoking light, an armful of freshly chopped firewood, a net drying on stakes, an ax stuck in a stump of a tree. Through the half-open door of the saima, Taras's entire household could be seen: a gun on the wall, several pots on the stove, a chest under the bench, hanging tackle. The hut was quite spacious, because in winter, during fishing, a whole artel of workers was placed in it. In the summer the old man lived alone. In spite of any weather, every day he hotly heated the Russian stove and slept on the floorboards. This love of warmth was explained by the respectable age of Taras: he was about ninety years old. I say "about" because Taras himself forgot when he was born. "Even before the Frenchman," as he explained, that is, before the French invasion of Russia in 1812.

Taking off my wet jacket and hanging my hunting armor on the wall, I began to build a fire. Sobolko hovered around me, anticipating some kind of life. A light flared up merrily, blowing up a blue wisp of smoke. The rain has already passed. Broken clouds rushed across the sky, dropping occasional drops. Here and there the sky was blue. And then the sun appeared, the hot July sun, under the rays of which the wet grass seemed to smoke.

The water in the lake was quiet, quiet, as it happens only after rain. There was a smell of fresh grass, sage, the resinous scent of a nearby pine forest. In general, it’s good, as soon as it can be good in such a remote forest corner. To the right, where the channel ended, the expanse of Svetloye Lake turned blue, and mountains rose beyond the jagged border. Wonderful corner! And not without reason old Taras lived here for forty years. Somewhere in the city he would not have lived even half, because in the city you cannot buy such clean air for any money, and most importantly - this calmness that enveloped here. Good on sime! A bright light burns merrily; the hot sun begins to bake, it hurts the eyes to look at the sparkling distance of the wonderful lake. So I would sit here and, it seems, would not part with a wonderful forest freedom. The thought of the city flashes through my head like a bad dream.

While waiting for the old man, I attached a copper camping kettle of water to a long stick and hung it over the fire. The water was already beginning to boil, but the old man was still gone.

Where would he go? I thought aloud. - They inspect the gear in the morning, and now it's noon. Maybe he went to see if anyone was catching fish without asking. Sobolko, where did your master go?

The smart dog only wagged its fluffy tail, licked its lips and squealed impatiently. In appearance, Sobolko belonged to the type of so-called "fishing" dogs. Small in stature, with a sharp muzzle, erect ears, and a tail bent up, he, perhaps, resembled an ordinary mongrel, with the difference that the mongrel would not have found a squirrel in the forest, would not have been able to "bark" a capercaillie, track down a deer - in a word, a real hunting dog, man's best friend. It is necessary to see such a dog in the forest in order to fully appreciate all its advantages.

When this "man's best friend" squealed with joy, I realized that he saw the owner. Indeed, in the channel, a fishing boat appeared as a black dot, skirting the island. This was Taras. He swam, standing on his feet, and deftly worked with one oar - real fishermen all swim like that on their one-tree boats, called, not without reason, "gas chambers". When he swam closer, I noticed, to my surprise, a swan swimming in front of the boat.

Go home, fool! - grumbled the old man, urging the beautifully swimming bird. - Get on, get on. Here I will give you - to swim away God knows where. Go home, fool!

The swan swam beautifully up to the sim, went ashore, shook himself and, waddling heavily on his crooked black legs, headed for the hut.

Old Taras was tall, with a thick gray beard and stern, large gray eyes. He walked barefoot and without a hat all summer. It is remarkable that all his teeth were intact and the hair on his head was preserved. His tanned, broad face was furrowed with deep wrinkles. In hot weather, he walked in one shirt made of peasant blue canvas.

Hello Taras!

Hello, barin!

Where does God bring it from?

But he swam for the Foster, for the swan. Everything here was spinning in the channel, and then suddenly disappeared. Well, I'm behind him now. Went to the lake - no; swam through the backwaters - no; and he swims behind the island.

Where did you get it, the swan?

And God sent, yes! Here the hunters from the masters ran into; well, they shot the swan with the swan, but this one remained. Crawled into the reeds and sits. He doesn’t know how to fly, so he hid like a child. Of course, I set nets near the reeds, and I caught him. One will disappear, the hawk will be killed, because there is still no real meaning in it. He remained an orphan. So I brought it and keep it. And he's used to it too. Now it will soon be a month since we live together. In the morning, at dawn, it rises, swims in the canal, feeds, and then goes home. Knows when I get up and waits to be fed. A smart bird, in a word, knows its own order.

The old man spoke unusually lovingly, as if talking about a close person. The swan hobbled to the very hut and, obviously, was waiting for some kind of handout.

He will fly away from you, grandfather, - I noticed.

Why should he fly? And it’s good here: full, water all around.

And in winter?

Overwinter with me in the hut. Enough space, and Sobolko and I have more fun. Once a hunter wandered into my saima, saw a swan and said the same way: "It will fly away if you don't cut its wings." But how can you mutilate the bird of God? Let her live as the Lord indicated to her ... One thing was indicated to a man, and another to a bird ... I don’t understand why the gentlemen shot the swans. After all, they won’t eat, but just for mischief.

The swan understood the old man's words exactly and looked at him with his intelligent eyes.

And how is he with Sobolok? I asked.

At first I was afraid, but then I got used to it. Now the swan takes another piece from Sobolko. The dog will grumble at him, and his swan will growl with his wing. It's funny to look at them from the side. And then they go for a walk together: a swan on the water, and Sobolko on the shore. The dog tried to swim after him, well, but the craft is not right: he almost drowned. And as the swan swims away, Sobolko is looking for him. He sits on the bank and howls. Say, I'm bored, dog, without you, my dear friend. So we live together.

I love the old man very much. He spoke very well and knew a lot. There are such good, smart old people. Many summer nights had to spend on the sim, and every time you learn something new. Formerly Taras was a hunter and knew the places about fifty miles around, knew every custom of a forest bird and a forest animal; but now he could not go far and knew one of his fish. It is easier to swim in a boat than to walk with a gun through the forest, and especially through the mountains. Now Taras had a gun only for old times sake, just in case a wolf ran in. In winter, the wolves looked at the saima and had long been sharpening their teeth on Sobolok. Only Sobolko was cunning and did not give in to the wolves.

I stayed on sim for the whole day. In the evening we went fishing and set up nets for the night. Svetloe Lake is good, and it is not for nothing that it is called Svetly Lake, because the water in it is completely transparent, so that you sail in a boat and see the whole bottom at a depth of several sazhens. You can see colorful pebbles, and yellow river sand, and algae, you can see how the fish walks in a "fleece", that is, a herd. There are hundreds of such mountain lakes in the Urals, and all of them are distinguished by their extraordinary beauty. Svetloye Lake differed from others in that it adjoined the mountains only on one side, and on the other it went "to the steppe", where blessed Bashkiria began. The most free places lay around Svetloye Lake, and a brisk mountain river came out of it, spilling over the steppe for a whole thousand miles. The lake was up to twenty versts long and about nine versts wide. The depth reached fifteen sazhens in some places. A group of wooded islands gave it a special beauty. One such island moved away to the very middle of the lake and was called Goloday, because, having got on it in bad weather, the fishermen more than once went hungry for several days.

Taras had lived on Svetloye for forty years. Once he had his own family and home, and now he lived as a bean. The children died, his wife also died, and Taras remained hopelessly on Svetloye for whole years.

Are you bored, grandpa? I asked when we were returning from fishing. - It's terribly lonely in the forest.

One? The barin will say the same. I live here prince by prince. I have everything. And every bird, and fish, and grass. Of course, they do not know how to speak, but I understand everything. The heart rejoices another time to look at God's creature. Everyone has their own order and their own mind. Do you think a fish swims in the water or a bird flies in the forest in vain? No, they care no less than ours. Avon, look, the swan is waiting for Sobolko and me. Ah, the prosecutor!

The old man was terribly pleased with his Adopted, and in the end all conversations came down to him.

A proud, real royal bird,” he explained. - Beckon him with food and don’t let him, another time he won’t go. It also has its own character, even though it is a bird. With Sobolok, he also holds himself very proudly. Just a little, now with a wing, or even with a nose. It is known that the dog will want to mischief another time, he strives to catch his tail with his teeth, and the swan in his face. This is also not a toy to grab by the tail.

I spent the night and in the morning the next day I was going to leave.

Already come in the autumn, - the old man says goodbye. - Then we will fish with spears. Well, let's shoot grouse. Autumn hazel grouse is fat.

Okay, grandpa, I'll come sometime.

When I was leaving, the old man brought me back:

Look, sir, how the swan played with Sobolok.

Indeed, it was worth admiring the original painting. The swan stood with wings spread, and Sobolko attacked him with a screech and bark. The clever bird stretched out its neck and hissed at the dog, as geese do. Old Taras laughed heartily at this scene like a child.

The next time I got to Svetloye Lake was in late autumn, when the first snow fell. The forest was still good. Somewhere on the birches there was still a yellow leaf. The firs and pines seemed greener than in summer. Dry autumn grass peeked out from under the snow like a yellow brush. Dead silence reigned all around, as if nature, weary of the summer's vigorous work, was now resting. The bright lake seemed large, because there was no coastal greenery. The transparent water darkened, and a heavy autumn wave beat noisily against the shore.

Taras's hut stood in the same place, but seemed taller, because the tall grass surrounding it had disappeared. The same Sobolko jumped out to meet me. Now he recognized me and wagged his tail affectionately from a distance. Taras was at home. He repaired a net for winter fishing.

Hello old man!

Hello, barin!

Well, how are you?

Never mind. In the autumn, by the first snow, he fell ill a little. Legs hurt. It always happens to me when it's bad weather.

The old man really looked tired. He seemed now so decrepit and pathetic. However, this happened, as it turned out, not at all from the disease. We talked over tea, and the old man told his grief.

Do you remember, sir, a swan

Adopted?

He is. Ah, the bird was good! And here again Sobolko and I were left alone. Yes, there was no Adoptive.

Hunters killed?

No, he left. That's how insulting it is to me, sir! It seems that I didn’t look after him, didn’t I hang around! Feeding by hand. He was walking towards me. He swims on the lake - I will call him, he will swim up. Learned bird. And I'm quite used to it. Yes! Already on the frost sin came out. On the migration, a flock of swans descended on Svetloye Lake. Well, they rest, feed, swim, and I admire. Let the bird of God gather with strength: it is not a close place to fly. Well, here comes the sin. My Priemysh at first avoided the other swans: he would swim up to them, and back. They cackle in their own way, call him, and he goes home. Say, I have my own house. So they had it for three days. All, then, are talking in their own way, like a bird. Well, and then, I see, my Adopted became homesick. It's all the same how a person yearns. It will go ashore, stand on one leg and start screaming. Yes, it screams so plaintively. It will make me sad, and Sobolko, the fool, howls like a wolf. It is known, a free bird, the blood had an effect.

The old man paused and sighed heavily.

Well, what about it, grandpa?

Ah, don't ask. I locked him in a hut for the whole day, so he pestered him here. He will stand on one foot to the very door and stand until you drive him out of his place. Only now he won’t say in a human language: “Let me go, grandfathers, to my comrades. They will fly in the warm direction, but what will I do with you here in the winter?” Oh, you think the challenge! Let it go - it will fly away after the herd and disappear.

Why will it disappear?

But how? Those grew up in freedom. They are young, who, father and mother taught to fly. How do you think they are? The swans will grow up - the father and mother will first take them to the water, and then they will begin to teach them to fly. Gradually they teach: further and further. I have seen with my own eyes how young people are taught to fly. First, they teach alone, then in small flocks, and then they crowd into one big herd. It looks like a soldier being drilled. Well, my Foster grew up alone and, honestly, did not fly anywhere. Floats on the lake - that's all crafts. Where can he fly? It will be exhausted, fall behind the herd and disappear. Unaccustomed to a long flight.

The old man fell silent again.

But I had to let it out,” he said sadly. - All the same, I think if I keep him for the winter, he will get bored and wither away. The bird is so special. Well, he released it. My adoptive landed with the herd, swam with him for a day, and in the evening he returned home. So two days sailed. Also, although a bird, it’s hard to part with your home. It was he who swam to say goodbye, master. For the last time, he sailed from the shore for twenty fathoms, stopped and how, my brother, you will shout in your own way. They say: "Thank you for the bread, for the salt!" Only I saw him. Sobolko and I were left alone again. At first, we were both very sad. I'll ask him: "Sobolko, where is our Foster?" And Sobolko howl now. So he regrets. And now to the shore, and now to look for a dear friend. At night I kept dreaming that Priemysh was rinsing around the shore and flapping his wings. I go out - there is no one.

Here's what happened, sir.

Medvedko's story

Sir, do you want to take a bear cub? - offered me my coachman Andrey.

And where he?

Yes, neighbors. The familiar hunters gave them. Such a nice bear cub, only three weeks old. Funny animal, in a word.

Why do the neighbors give away if he is nice?

Who knows. I saw a bear cub: no more than a mitten. And so funny passes.

I lived in the Urals, in a county town. The apartment was big. Why not take the teddy bear? In fact, the animal is funny. Let him live, and then we'll see what to do with him.

No sooner said than done. Andrei went to the neighbors and half an hour later brought back a tiny bear cub, which really was no bigger than his mitten, with the difference that this living mitten walked so amusingly on its four legs and even more amusingly goggled such cute blue eyes.

A whole crowd of street children came for the bear cub, so the gate had to be closed. Once in the rooms, the bear cub was not much embarrassed, but on the contrary, he felt very free, as if he had come home. He calmly examined everything, walked around the walls, sniffed everything, tried something with his black paw and seemed to find that everything was in order.

My high school students brought him milk, rolls, crackers. The little bear took everything for granted and, sitting in a corner on his hind legs, prepared to eat. He did everything with extraordinary comic gravity.

Medvedko, do you want some milk?

Medvedko, here are crackers.

Medvedko!

While all this fuss was going on, my hunting dog, an old red setter, quietly entered the room. The dog immediately sensed the presence of some unknown animal, stretched out, bristled, and before we had time to look back, she had already made a stand over the little guest. It was necessary to see the picture: the bear cub huddled in a corner, sat down on its hind legs and looked at the slowly approaching dog with such angry little eyes.

The dog was old, experienced, and therefore she did not rush at once, but looked for a long time with surprise with her large eyes at the uninvited guest - she considered these rooms to be her own, and then suddenly an unknown beast climbed in, sat down in a corner and looked at her, no matter how in what never happened.

I saw the setter begin to tremble with excitement and I prepared to grab it. If only he had thrown himself at the little bear cub! But it turned out something completely different, which no one expected. The dog looked at me as if asking for permission, and moved forward with slow, calculated steps. Only half an arshin was left before the bear cub, but the dog did not dare to take the last step, but only stretched out even more and strongly drew air into itself: it wanted, out of dog habit, to first sniff the unknown enemy. But just at this critical moment, the little guest swung and instantly hit the dog with his right paw right in the face. Probably the blow was very strong, because the dog jumped back and squealed.

So well done Medvedko! The high school students approved. - So small and not afraid of anything.

The dog was embarrassed and quietly disappeared into the kitchen.

The little bear calmly ate milk and a bun, and then climbed onto my lap, curled up in a ball and purred like a kitten.

Oh, how cute he is! repeated the schoolboys with one voice. We'll let him live with us. He's so small and can't do anything.

Well, let him live, - I agreed, admiring the hushed animal.

And how could you not love it! He purred so sweetly, licked my hands so trustingly with his black tongue, and ended up falling asleep in my arms like a small child.

The bear cub settled in with me and for the whole day amused the audience, both large and small. He tumbled so amusingly, he wanted to see everything and climbed everywhere. He was especially interested in the doors. He hobbles, launches his paw and begins to open. If the door did not open, he became amusingly angry, grumbled, and began to gnaw at the wood with his teeth, sharp as white carnations.

I was struck by the extraordinary mobility of this little bumpkin and his strength. In the course of that day he walked around the entire house, and it seems that there was not a thing left that he would not examine, sniff and lick.

The night has come. I left the teddy bear in my room. He curled up on the carpet and immediately fell asleep.

After making sure that he calmed down, I put out the lamp and also got ready for bed. A quarter of an hour had not passed before I began to fall asleep, but at the most interesting moment my sleep was disturbed: the bear cub was attached to the door to the dining room and stubbornly wanted to open it. I dragged him out once and put him back in his old place. Less than half an hour later, the same story repeated itself. I had to get up and put down the stubborn beast a second time. Half an hour later, the same. Finally, I got tired of it, and I wanted to sleep. I opened the office door and let the bear cub into the dining room. All outside doors and windows were locked, so there was nothing to worry about.

But I couldn't sleep this time either. The little bear climbed into the sideboard and clattered the plates. I had to get up and pull him out of the buffet, and the bear cub got terribly angry, grunted, began to turn his head and tried to bite my hand. I took him by the collar and carried him into the living room. This fuss began to bother me, and the next day I had to get up early. However, I soon fell asleep, forgetting about the little guest.

Perhaps an hour passed when a terrible noise in the drawing-room made me jump up. At first I could not figure out what had happened, and only then everything became clear: the bear cub had quarreled with the dog, which was sleeping in its usual place in the hallway.

Well, the beast! - the coachman Andrey was surprised, separating the combatants.

Where are we going to take him now? I thought out loud. He won't let anyone sleep all night.

And to the high school students, - Andrey advised. “They really respect him. Well, let them sleep again.

The bear cub was placed in the room of the schoolboys, who were very pleased with the little lodger.

It was already two in the morning when the whole house was quiet.

I was very glad that I got rid of the restless guest and could sleep. But an hour had not passed before everyone jumped up from the terrible noise in the room of the schoolboys. Something incredible happened there. When I ran into this room and lit a match, everything was explained.

In the middle of the room stood a desk covered with oilcloth. The bear cub reached the oilcloth along the table leg, grabbed it with his teeth, rested his paws on the leg and began to drag what was urine. He dragged and dragged until he pulled off the entire oilcloth, along with it - a lamp, two inkwells, a decanter of water, and in general everything that was laid out on the table. As a result - a broken lamp, a broken decanter, ink spilled on the floor, and the culprit of the whole scandal climbed into the farthest corner; only one eye glittered from there, like two embers.

They tried to take him, but he desperately defended himself and even managed to bite one schoolboy.

What are we going to do with this robber! I pleaded. - It's all you, Andrew, to blame.

What have I done, sir? - justified the coachman. - I only said about the bear cub, but you took it. And the high school students even quite approved of him.

In a word, the teddy bear did not let him sleep all night.

The next day brought new challenges. It was a summer affair, the doors were left unlocked, and he crept into the yard unnoticed, where he frightened the cow terribly. It ended up that the bear cub caught the chicken and crushed it. There was a whole riot. The cook was especially indignant, pitying the chicken. She attacked the coachman, and it almost came to a fight.

The next night, in order to avoid misunderstandings, the restless guest was locked in a closet, where there was nothing but a chest of flour. Imagine the indignation of the cook when the next morning she found the bear cub in the chest: he opened the heavy lid and slept in the most peaceful way right in the flour. The upset cook even burst into tears and began to demand payment.

There is no life from a filthy beast, she explained. “Now you can’t approach the cow, the chickens must be locked up, the flour should be thrown away. No, please, sir, calculation.

Frankly, I was very sorry that I took the bear cub, and was very glad when I found a friend who took him.

Have mercy, what a cute animal! he admired. - Children will be happy. For them, this is a real holiday. Right, how cute.

Yes, honey, I agreed.

We all breathed a sigh of relief when we finally got rid of this sweet beast and when the whole house returned to its former order.

But our happiness did not last long, because my friend returned the bear cub the very next day. The cute beast has played tricks in the new place even more than mine. He climbed into the carriage, laid down by a young horse, growled. The horse, of course, rushed headlong and broke the carriage. We tried to return the bear cub to the first place, from where my coachman brought him, but they flatly refused to accept him.

What are we going to do with it? I pleaded, turning to the coachman. I'm even willing to pay just to get rid of it.

Fortunately for us, there was some hunter who took it with pleasure.

The only thing I know about Medvedok's further fate is that he died two months later.

Tale about Komar Komarovich-long nose and about shaggy Misha-short tail

It happened at noon, when all the mosquitoes hid from the heat in the swamp. Komar Komarovich - long nose tucked under a wide sheet and fell asleep. Sleeps and hears a desperate cry:

Oh, fathers! oh guard!

Komar Komarovich jumped out from under the sheet and also shouted:

What happened? What are you yelling?

And mosquitoes fly, buzz, squeak - you can’t make out anything.

Oh, fathers! A bear came to our swamp and fell asleep. As he lay down in the grass, he immediately crushed five hundred mosquitoes; as he breathed, he swallowed a whole hundred. Oh, trouble, brothers! We barely got away from him, otherwise he would have crushed everyone.

Komar Komarovich - the long nose immediately became angry; he got angry both at the bear and at the stupid mosquitoes, which squeaked to no avail.

Hey you, stop beeping! he shouted. - Now I'll go and drive the bear away. Very simple! And you yell only in vain.

Komar Komarovich became even more angry and flew off. Indeed, there was a bear in the swamp. He climbed into the thickest grass, where mosquitoes lived from time immemorial, fell apart and sniffs with his nose, only the whistle goes, just like someone is playing the trumpet. Here is a shameless creature! He climbed into a strange place, ruined so many mosquito souls in vain, and even sleeps so sweetly!

Hey uncle, where are you going? - shouted Komar Komarovich to the whole forest, so loudly that even he himself became frightened.

Shaggy Misha opened one eye - no one was visible, opened the other eye - he barely saw that a mosquito was flying over his very nose.

What do you need, buddy? Misha grumbled and also began to get angry.

How, just settled down to rest, and then some villain squeaks.

Hey, go well, hello, uncle!

Misha opened both eyes, looked at the impudent fellow, blew his nose, and finally got angry.

What do you want, wretched creature? he growled.

Get out of our place, otherwise I don’t like joking. I'll eat you with a fur coat.

The bear was funny. He rolled over onto the other side, covered his muzzle with his paw, and immediately began to snore.

Komar Komarovich flew back to his mosquitoes and trumpeted the whole swamp:

I cleverly scared the furry Mishka! Will not come another time.

Mosquitoes marveled and ask:

Well, where is the bear now?

I don't know, brothers. He was very scared when I told him that I would eat if he didn’t leave. After all, I don’t like joking, but I said directly: I’ll eat it. I'm afraid he won't die with fear while I'm flying to you. Well, it's your own fault!

All the mosquitoes squealed, buzzed and argued for a long time how to deal with the ignorant bear. Never before had there been such a terrible noise in the swamp.

They squeaked and squeaked and decided to drive the bear out of the swamp.

Let him go to his home, into the forest, and sleep there. And our swamp. Even our fathers and grandfathers lived in this very swamp.

One prudent old woman Komarikha advised to leave the bear alone: ​​let him lie down, and when he gets enough sleep, he will leave, but everyone attacked her so much that the poor woman barely had time to hide.

Let's go, brothers! shouted Komar Komarovich the most. We'll show him. Yes!

Mosquitoes flew after Komar Komarovich. They fly and squeak, even they themselves are scared. They flew in, look, but the bear lies and does not move.

Well, that's what I said: the poor fellow died of fear! - boasted Komar Komarovich. - It’s even a pity a little, howling what a healthy bear.

Yes, he is sleeping, brothers, - squeaked a small mosquito, flying up to the very bear's nose and almost drawn in there, as if through a window.

Ah, shameless! Ah, shameless! - squealed all the mosquitoes at once and raised a terrible hubbub. - He crushed five hundred mosquitoes, swallowed a hundred mosquitoes and sleeps himself, as if nothing had happened.

And shaggy Misha sleeps to himself and whistles with his nose.

He pretends to be asleep! - shouted Komar Komarovich and flew at the bear. - I'll show him now. Hey uncle, will pretend!

As soon as Komar Komarovich swoops in, as he digs his long nose right into the black bear nose, Misha jumped up just like that - grab his nose with his paw, and Komar Komarovich was gone.

What didn't you like, uncle? - squeaks Komar Komarovich. - Leave, otherwise it will be worse. Now I am not the only Komar Komarovich - a long nose, but my grandfather flew in with me, Komarishche - a long nose, and my younger brother, Komarishko - a long nose! Go away, uncle.

And I won't leave! - shouted the bear, sitting on its hind legs. - I'll turn you all over.

Oh, uncle, you're boasting in vain.

Again flew Komar Komarovich and dug into the bear right in the eye. The bear roared in pain, hit itself in the muzzle with its paw, and again there was nothing in the paw, only it nearly ripped out its eye with its claw. And Komar Komarovich hovered over the very bear's ear and squeaked:

I'll eat you, uncle.

Misha was completely angry. He uprooted a whole birch along with the root and began to beat mosquitoes with it.

So it hurts from all over the shoulder. He beat, beat, even got tired, but not a single mosquito was killed - everyone hovered over him and squeaked. Then Misha grabbed a heavy stone and threw it at the mosquitoes - again there was no sense.

What did you take, uncle? squeaked Komar Komarovich. - But I'll still eat you.

How long, how short Misha fought with mosquitoes, but there was a lot of noise. A bear's roar could be heard in the distance. And how many trees he uprooted, how many stones he turned out! All he wanted was to catch the first Komar Komarovich, - after all, right here, just above the ear, it curls, and the bear will grab with its paw, and again nothing, only scratched his whole face in the blood.

Exhausted at last Misha. He sat down on his hind legs, snorted and came up with a new thing - let's roll on the grass to crush the entire mosquito kingdom. Misha rode, rode, but nothing came of it, but he was only even more tired. Then the bear hid its muzzle in the moss. It turned out even worse - mosquitoes clung to a bear's tail. The bear finally got angry.

Wait, I'll ask you! - he roared so that it was heard for five miles. - I'll show you a thing.

The mosquitoes have receded and are waiting for what will happen. And Misha climbed a tree like an acrobat, sat down on the thickest bough and roared:

Come on, come to me now. I'll break everyone's noses!

The mosquitoes laughed in thin voices and rushed at the bear with the whole army. They squeak, spin, climb. Misha fought back, fought back, accidentally swallowed a hundred pieces of a mosquito army, coughed, and as soon as he fell off the bough, like a sack. However, he got up, scratched his bruised side and said:

Well, have you taken it? Have you seen how deftly I jump from a tree?

The mosquitoes laughed even thinner, and Komar Komarovich trumpeted:

I will eat you. I will eat you. Removal Eat!

The bear was completely exhausted, exhausted, and it is a shame to leave the swamp. He sits on his hind legs and only blinks his eyes.

A frog rescued him from trouble. She jumped out from under the bump, sat down on her hind legs and said:

Hunt you, Mikhailo Ivanovich, worry yourself in vain! Pay no attention to those nasty mosquitoes. Not worth it.

And that is not worth it, - the bear was delighted. - I do. Let them come to my lair, yes I do. I.

How Misha turns, how he runs out of the swamp, and Komar Komarovich - his long nose flies after him, flies and shouts:

Oh brothers, hold on! The bear will run away. Hold on!

All the mosquitoes gathered, consulted and decided: "It's not worth it! Let him go - after all, the swamp is left behind us!"

Fairy tale about goat

How Kozyavochka was born, no one saw.

It was a sunny spring day. The goat looked around and said:

Kozyavochka straightened her wings, rubbed her thin legs one against the other, looked around again and said:

How good! What a warm sun, what a blue sky, what green grass - good, good! And all mine!

The Kozyavochka also rubbed her legs and flew away. It flies, admires everything and rejoices. And below the grass is turning green, and a scarlet flower hid in the grass.

Goat, come to me! - shouted the flower.

The little goat descended to the ground, climbed onto the flower and began to drink the sweet flower juice.

What a kind flower you are! - says Kozyavochka, wiping her stigma with her legs.

Kind, kind, but I don’t know how to walk, ”complained the flower.

And yet it’s good, ”the Kozyavochka assured. - And all mine.

Before she had time to finish, a shaggy Bumblebee flew in with a buzz - and straight to the flower:

Lzhzhzh. Who climbed into my flower? Lzhzhzh. Who drinks my sweet juice? Lzhzhzh. Oh, you wretched Kozyavka, get out! Lzhzhzh. Get out before I sting you!

Allow me, what is this? squeaked the Kozyavochka. - Everything, everything is mine.

Lzhzhzh. No, mine!

The goat barely flew away from the angry Bumblebee. She sat down on the grass, licked her feet, stained with flower juice, and got angry:

What a rude this Bumblebee! Even amazing! I also wanted to sting. After all, everything is mine - and the sun, and grass, and flowers.

No, sorry - mine! - said the shaggy Worm, climbing up the stalk of grass.

Kozyavochka realized that Little Worm could not fly, and spoke more boldly:

Excuse me, Worm, you are wrong. I'm not stopping you from crawling, but don't argue with me!

Good good. Just don't touch my weed. I don't like it, to be honest. How few of you fly here. You are a frivolous people, and I am a serious worm. To be honest, I own everything. Here I will crawl on the grass and eat it, I will crawl on any flower and also eat it. Goodbye!

In a few hours Kozyavochka learned absolutely everything, namely: that, besides the sun, blue sky and green grass, there are also angry bumblebees, serious worms and various thorns on flowers. In a word, it was a big disappointment. The goat was even offended. For mercy, she was sure that everything belongs to her and was created for her, but here others think the same. No, something is wrong. It can't be.

It's mine! she squeaked cheerfully. - My water. Ah, how fun! There are grass and flowers here.

And other goats are flying towards Kozyavochka.

Hello sister!

Hello dears. And then I got bored of flying alone. What are you doing here?

And we play, sister. Come to us. We have fun. Are you newly born?

Only today. I almost got stung by a Bumblebee, then I saw a Worm. I thought that everything was mine, but they say that everything is theirs.

Other goats reassured the guest and invited them to play together. Above the water, the boogers played in a column: they circle, fly, squeak. Our Kozyavochka gasped with joy and soon completely forgot about the angry Bumblebee and the serious Worm.

Ah, how good! she whispered in delight. - Everything is mine: the sun, grass, and water. Why others are angry, I really do not understand. Everything is mine, and I don’t interfere with anyone’s life: fly, buzz, have fun. I let.

Kozyavochka played, had fun and sat down to rest on the swamp sedge. You really need to take a break! The little goat looks at how the other little goats are having fun; suddenly, out of nowhere, a sparrow - how it darts past, as if someone had thrown a stone.

Hey, oh! - shouted the goats and rushed in all directions.

When the sparrow flew away, a dozen goats were missing.

Ah, robber! - the old goats scolded. - I ate a dozen.

It was worse than Bumblebee. The goat started to be afraid and hid with other young goats even further into the swamp grass.

But here is another problem: two goats were eaten by a fish, and two by a frog.

What is it? - the Kozyavochka was surprised. - It doesn't look like anything at all. So you can't live. Wow, how ugly!

It’s good that there were a lot of goats and no one noticed the loss. Moreover, new goats arrived, which were just born.

They flew and squeaked:

Everything is ours. Everything is ours.

No, not everything is ours, our Kozyavochka shouted to them. - There are also angry bumblebees, serious worms, ugly sparrows, fish and frogs. Be careful sisters!

However, night fell, and all the goats hid in the reeds, where it was so warm. The stars poured out in the sky, the moon rose, and everything was reflected in the water.

Ah, how good it was!

My month, my stars, our Kozyavochka thought, but she didn’t tell anyone this: they’ll just take that away too.

So the Kozyavochka lived the whole summer.

She had a lot of fun, but there was also a lot of unpleasantness. Twice she was almost swallowed by an agile swift; then a frog imperceptibly crept up - you never know the goats have all sorts of enemies! There were some joys too. The little goat met another similar goat, with a shaggy mustache. And she says:

How pretty you are, goat. Let's live together.

And they healed together, they healed very well. All together: where one, there and another. And did not notice how the summer flew by. It began to rain, cold nights. Our Kozyavochka applied the eggs, hid them in the thick grass and said:

Oh, how tired I am!

No one saw how Kozyavochka died.

Yes, she did not die, but only fell asleep for the winter, so that in the spring she would wake up again and live again.

Fairy tale about the brave Hare - long ears, slanting eyes, short tail

A bunny was born in the forest and was afraid of everything. A twig cracks somewhere, a bird flutters, a lump of snow falls from a tree, - a bunny has a soul in its heels.

The bunny was afraid for a day, afraid for two, afraid for a week, afraid for a year; and then he grew big, and suddenly he got tired of being afraid.

I'm not afraid of anyone! he shouted to the whole forest. - I'm not afraid at all, and that's it!

Old hares gathered, little hares ran, old hares dragged in - everyone listens to the Hare boasting - long ears, slanting eyes, short tail - they listen and do not believe their own ears. It was not yet that the hare was not afraid of anyone.

Hey you, slanting eye, are you not afraid of the wolf?

And I'm not afraid of the wolf, and the fox, and the bear - I'm not afraid of anyone!

It turned out to be quite funny. The young hares giggled, covering their muzzles with their front paws, the good old hares laughed, even the old hares, who had been in the paws of a fox and tasted wolf teeth, smiled. Very funny bunny! Ah, how funny! And all of a sudden it became fun. They began to tumble, jump, jump, overtake each other, as if everyone had gone crazy.

What is there to say for a long time! - shouted the Hare, finally emboldened. - If I come across a wolf, I'll eat it myself.

Oh, what a funny Bunny! Oh, how stupid he is!

Everyone sees that he is both funny and stupid, and everyone laughs.

Hares scream about the wolf, and the wolf is right there.

He walked, walked in the forest on his wolf business, got hungry and only thought: "It would be nice to have a bite of a bunny!" - as he hears that somewhere very close the hares are screaming and he, the gray Wolf, is commemorated.

Now he stopped, sniffed the air and began to creep up.

The wolf came very close to the hares playing out, hears how they laugh at him, and most of all - the bouncer Hare - slanting eyes, long ears, short tail.

"Hey, brother, wait, I'll eat you!" - thought the gray Wolf and began to look out, which hare boasts of his courage. And the hares see nothing and have more fun than before. It ended with the bouncer Hare climbing onto a stump, sitting on his hind legs and talking:

Listen, you cowards! Listen and look at me! Now I'll show you one thing. I... I... I...

Here the tongue of the bouncer is definitely frozen.

The Hare saw the Wolf looking at him. Others did not see, but he saw and did not dare to die.

The bouncer hare jumped up like a ball, and from fear fell right on the wolf’s wide forehead, rolled head over heels on the wolf’s back, turned over again in the air and then asked such a rattle that, it seems, he was ready to jump out of his own skin.

The unfortunate Bunny ran for a long time, ran until he was completely exhausted.

It seemed to him that the Wolf was chasing him and was about to grab him with his teeth.

Finally, the poor fellow was completely exhausted, closed his eyes and fell dead under a bush.

And the Wolf at this time ran in the other direction. When the Hare fell on him, it seemed to him that someone had shot at him.

And the wolf ran away. You never know other hares can be found in the forest, but this one was kind of mad.

For a long time the rest of the hares could not come to their senses. Who fled into the bushes, who hid behind a stump, who fell into a hole.

Finally everyone got tired of hiding, and little by little they began to look out who was braver.

And our Hare cleverly scared the Wolf! - decided everything. If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't be able to leave alive. But where is he, our fearless Hare?

We started looking.

They walked, walked, there is no brave Hare anywhere. Has another wolf eaten him? Finally found: lying in a hole under a bush and barely alive from fear.

Well done, oblique! - shouted all the hares in one voice. - Oh yes oblique! Cleverly you scared the old Wolf. Thank you brother! And we thought you were bragging.

The brave Hare immediately cheered up. He got out of his hole, shook himself, screwed up his eyes and said:

What would you think! Oh you cowards.

From that day on, the brave Hare began to believe himself that he was really not afraid of anyone.