Dmitry Mamin-Sibiryak - stories and fairy tales. Alphabetical index of works Siberian mother's stories for children to read short

Read Mamin-Sibiryak's tales

Tales of Mamin-Sibiryak

Mamin-Sibiryak wrote many stories, fairy tales, novellas for adults and children. The works were published in various children's collections and magazines, and published as separate books. Mamin-Sibiryak’s tales are interesting and informative to read; he truthfully, with strong words, talks about hard life, describes his native Ural nature. For the author, children's literature meant a child's connection with the adult world, which is why he took it very seriously.

Mamin-Sibiryak wrote fairy tales with the goal of raising fair, honest children. A sincere book works wonders, the writer often said. Wise words thrown onto fertile soil will bear fruit, because children are our future. Mamin-Sibiryak's tales are varied, designed for children of any age, because the writer tried to reach every child's soul. The author did not embellish life, did not justify or make excuses, he found warm words that convey the kindness and moral strength of the poor. Describing people's lives and nature, he subtly and easily conveyed and taught how to take care of them.

Mamin-Sibiryak worked a lot and hard on himself, on his skills, before he began to create literary masterpieces. Mamin-Sibiryak's tales are loved by adults and children; they are included in the school curriculum and children's matinees in kindergartens. The author's witty and sometimes unusual stories are written in the style of a conversation with young readers.

Mom's Siberian Alyonushka's tales

People begin to read Mamin-Sibiryak in kindergarten or junior school. Alyonushka's collection of Mamin-Sibiryak's tales is the most famous of them. These small tales from several chapters speak to us through the mouths of animals and birds, plants, fish, insects and even toys. The nicknames of the main characters touch adults and amuse children: Komar Komarovich - long nose, Ruff Ershovich, Brave Hare - long ears and others. Mamin-Sibiryak Alyonushkina’s fairy tales were written not only for entertainment; the author skillfully combined useful information with exciting adventures.

The qualities that Mamin-Sibiryak’s tales develop (in his own opinion):

• Modesty;
• Hard work;
• Sense of humor;
• Responsibility for the common cause;
• Selfless strong friendship.

Alyonushka's tales. Reading order

1. Saying;
2. A tale about a brave Hare - long ears, slanting eyes, short tail;
3. The Tale of Kozyavochka;
4. A fairy tale about Komar Komarovich - a long nose and about shaggy Misha - a short tail;
5. Vanka's name day;
6. A fairy tale about Sparrow Vorobeich, Ruff Ershovich and the cheerful chimney sweep Yasha;
7. The tale of how the last Fly lived;
8. A fairy tale about the little black little crow and the yellow bird Canary;
9. Smarter than everyone else;
10. The tale of Milk, oatmeal Porridge and the gray cat Murka;
11. It's time to sleep.

Mamin-Sibiryak. Childhood and youth

Russian writer Mamin-Sibiryak was born in 1852 in the village of Visim in the Urals. His place of birth largely determined his easy-going character, warm, kind heart, and love of work. The father and mother of the future Russian writer raised four children, working hard for many hours to earn their bread. From childhood, little Dmitry not only saw poverty, but lived in it.

Childhood curiosity led the child to completely different places, discovering pictures of arrested workers, arousing sympathy and at the same time interest. The boy loved to talk for a long time with his father, asking him about everything he saw that day. Like his father, Mamin-Sibiryak began to acutely feel and understand what honor, justice, and lack of equality are. Over the years, the writer has repeatedly described the harsh life of the common people from his childhood.

When Dmitry felt sad and anxious, his thoughts flew to his native Ural mountains, memories flowed in a continuous stream and he began to write. For a long time, at night, pouring out my thoughts on paper. Mamin-Sibiryak described his feelings this way: “It seemed to me that in my native Urals even the sky was clearer and higher, and the people were sincere, with a broad soul, it was as if I myself was becoming different, better, kinder, more confident.” Mamin-Sibiryak wrote his kindest fairy tales precisely at such moments.

The love of literature was instilled in the boy by his adored father. In the evenings, the family read books out loud, replenished the home library and were very proud of it. Mitya grew up thoughtful and enthusiastic... Several years passed and Mamin-Sibiryak turned 12 years old. It was then that his wanderings and hardships began. His father sent him to study in Yekaterinburg at the Bursa school. There, all issues were resolved by force, the elders humiliated the younger ones, they fed poorly, and Mitya soon fell ill. His father, of course, immediately took him home, but after several years he was forced to send his son to study at the same bursa, since there was not enough money for a decent gymnasium. Studying at the bursa left an indelible mark on the heart of what was then just a child. Dmitry Narkisovich said that it later took him many years to expel the terrible memories and all the accumulated anger from his heart.

After graduating from the bursa, Mamin-Sibiryak entered the theological seminary, but left it, as he himself explained, that he did not want to become a priest and deceive people. Having moved to St. Petersburg, Dmitry entered the veterinary department of the Medical-Surgical Academy, then transferred to the Faculty of Law and never graduated.

Mamin-Sibiryak. First work

Mamin-Sibiryak was an excellent student, did not miss classes, but was an enthusiastic person, which for a long time prevented him from finding himself. Dreaming of becoming a writer, he identified two things for himself that needed to be done. The first is working on your own language style, the second is understanding people’s lives, their psychology.

Having written his first novel, Dmitry took it to one of the editorial offices under the pseudonym Tomsky. It is interesting that the editor of the publication at that time was Saltykov-Shchedrin, who gave, to put it mildly, a low assessment of Mamin-Sibiryak’s work. The young man was so depressed that he left everything and returned to his family in the Urals.

Then troubles fell one after another: the illness and death of his beloved father, numerous moves, unsuccessful attempts to get an education... Mamin-Sibiryak passed through all the tests with honor and already in the early 80s the first rays of glory fell on him. The collection "Ural Stories" has been published.

Finally, about the tales of Mamin-Sibiryak

Mamin-Sibiryak began writing fairy tales when he was already an adult. Many novels and stories were written before them. A talented, warm-hearted writer, Mamin-Sibiryak enlivened the pages of children's books, penetrating young hearts with his kind words. You need to read Mamin-Sibiryak’s tales of Alyonushka especially thoughtfully, where the author easily and informatively laid down the deep meaning, the strength of his Ural character and the nobility of thought.

“Alyonushka’s Tales” by D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak

It is dark outside. Snowing. He fluttered the windows. Alyonushka, curled up in a ball, lies in bed. She never wants to fall asleep until dad tells a story.

Alyonushka's father, Dmitry Narkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak, is a writer. He sits at the table, bending over the manuscript of his future book. So he gets up, comes closer to Alyonushka’s bed, sits down in a soft chair, begins to talk... The girl listens attentively about the stupid turkey who imagined that he was smarter than everyone else, about how the toys were collected for the name day and what came of it. The tales are wonderful, one more interesting than the other. But one of Alyonushka’s eyes is already asleep... Sleep, Alyonushka, sleep, beauty.

Alyonushka falls asleep with her hand under her head. And outside the window it’s still snowing...

This is how the two of them spent the long winter evenings - father and daughter. Alyonushka grew up without a mother; her mother died long ago. The father loved the girl with all his heart and did everything to make her have a good life.

He looked at his sleeping daughter and was reminded of his own childhood years. They took place in a small factory village in the Urals. At that time, serf workers still worked at the plant. They worked from early morning until late evening, but vegetated in poverty. But their masters and masters lived in luxury. Early in the morning, when workers were walking to the factory, troikas flew past them. It was after the ball, which lasted all night, that the rich people went home.

Dmitry Narkisovich grew up in a poor family. Every penny counted in the house. But his parents were kind, sympathetic, and people were drawn to them. The boy loved it when factory workers came to visit. They knew so many fairy tales and fascinating stories! Mamin-Sibiryak especially remembered the legend about the daring robber Marzak, who in ancient years hid in the Ural forest. Marzak attacked the rich, took their property and distributed it to the poor. And the tsarist police never managed to catch him. The boy listened to every word, he wanted to become as brave and fair as Marzak was.

The dense forest where, according to legend, Marzak once hid, began a few minutes' walk from the house. Squirrels were jumping in the branches of the trees, a hare was sitting at the edge of the forest, and in the thicket one could meet the bear himself. The future writer explored all the paths. He wandered along the banks of the Chusovaya River, admiring the chain of mountains covered with spruce and birch forests. There was no end to these mountains, and therefore he forever associated with nature “the idea of ​​will, of wild space.”

The boy's parents taught him to love books. He was engrossed in Pushkin and Gogol, Turgenev and Nekrasov. A passion for literature arose in him early. At the age of sixteen he was already keeping a diary.

Years have passed. Mamin-Sibiryak became the first writer to paint pictures of life in the Urals. He created dozens of novels and stories, hundreds of stories. He lovingly portrayed in them the common people, their struggle against injustice and oppression.

Dmitry Narkisovich has many stories for children. He wanted to teach the children to see and understand the beauty of nature, the riches of the earth, to love and respect the working person. “It’s a joy to write for children,” he said.

Mamin-Sibiryak also wrote down the fairy tales that he once told his daughter. He published them as a separate book and called it “Alyonushka’s Tales.”

These tales contain the bright colors of a sunny day, the beauty of generous Russian nature. Together with Alyonushka you will see forests, mountains, seas, deserts.

The heroes of Mamin-Sibiryak are the same as the heroes of many folk tales: a shaggy, clumsy bear, a hungry wolf, a cowardly hare, a cunning sparrow. They think and talk to each other like people. But at the same time, these are real animals. The bear is depicted as clumsy and stupid, the wolf as angry, the sparrow as a mischievous, agile bully.

Names and nicknames help to introduce them better.

Here Komarishche - a long nose - is a big, old mosquito, but Komarishko - a long nose - is a small, still inexperienced mosquito.

Objects also come to life in his fairy tales. The toys celebrate the holiday and even start a fight. Plants talk. In the fairy tale “Time to Bed,” pampered garden flowers are proud of their beauty. They look like rich people in expensive dresses. But the writer prefers modest wildflowers.

Mamin-Sibiryak sympathizes with some of his heroes, and laughs at others. He writes with respect about the working person, condemns the slacker and the lazy.

The writer also did not tolerate those who are arrogant, who think that everything was created only for them. The fairy tale “How the Last Fly Lived” tells about one stupid fly who is convinced that the windows in houses are made so that she can fly into and out of rooms, that they only set the table and take out jam from the cupboard. in order to treat her that the sun shines for her alone. Well, of course, only a stupid, funny fly can think that way!

What do the lives of fish and birds have in common? And the writer answers this question with the fairy tale “About Sparrow Vorobeich, Ruff Ershovich and the cheerful chimney sweep Yasha.” Although Ruff lives in the water, and Sparrow flies through the air, fish and birds equally need food, chase after tasty morsels, suffer from cold in winter, and in summer they have a lot of troubles...

There is great power to act together, together. How powerful the bear is, but mosquitoes, if they unite, can defeat the bear (“The Tale about Komar Komarovich - a long nose and about shaggy Misha - a short tail”).

Of all his books, Mamin-Sibiryak especially valued Alyonushka’s Tales. He said: “This is my favorite book - love itself wrote it, and therefore it will outlive everything else.”

Andrey Chernyshev

Alyonushka's tales

Saying

Bye-bye-bye...

Sleep, Alyonushka, sleep, beauty, and dad will tell fairy tales. It seems that everyone is here: the Siberian cat Vaska, the shaggy village dog Postoiko, the gray Little Mouse, the Cricket behind the stove, the motley Starling in a cage, and the bully Rooster.

Sleep, Alyonushka, now the fairy tale begins. The high moon is already looking out the window; over there the sideways hare hobbled on his felt boots; the wolf's eyes glowed with yellow lights; Bear Mishka sucks his paw. Old Sparrow flew up to the window itself, knocked his nose on the glass and asked: how soon? Everyone is here, everyone is assembled, and everyone is waiting for Alyonushka’s fairy tale.

One of Alyonushka’s eyes is asleep, the other is watching; One ear of Alyonushka is sleeping, the other is listening.

Bye-bye-bye...

A tale about a 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 flies up, a lump of snow falls from a tree - the bunny is in hot water.

The bunny was afraid for a day, afraid for two, afraid for a week, afraid for a year; and then he grew up 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, that’s all!”

The old hares gathered, the little bunnies came running, the old female hares tagged along - everyone listened to how the Hare boasted - long ears, slanting eyes, a short tail - they listened and did not believe their own ears. There has never been a time when the hare was not afraid of anyone.

- Hey, slanting eye, aren’t you afraid of the wolf?

“I’m not afraid of the wolf, the fox, the bear—I’m not afraid of anyone!”

This turned out to be quite funny. The young hares giggled, covering their faces with their front paws, the kind old hare women laughed, even the old hares, who had been in the paws of a fox and tasted wolf teeth, smiled. A very funny hare!.. Oh, how funny! And everyone suddenly felt happy. They started tumbling, jumping, jumping, racing each other, as if everyone had gone crazy.

- What is there to say for a long time! - shouted the Hare, who had finally gained courage. - If I come across a wolf, I’ll eat it myself...

- Oh, what a funny Hare! Oh, how stupid he is!..

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

The hares scream about the wolf, and the wolf is right there.

He walked, walked in the forest about his wolf business, got hungry and just thought: “It would be nice to have a bunny snack!” - when he hears that somewhere very close, hares are screaming and they remember him, the gray Wolf.

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

The wolf came very close to the playful hares, heard them laughing at him, and most of all - the boastful Hare - slanted eyes, long ears, short tail.

“Eh, brother, wait, I’ll eat you!” - thought the gray Wolf and began to look out to see the hare boasting of his courage. But the hares don’t see anything and are having more fun than ever. It ended with the boastful Hare climbing onto a stump, sitting on his hind legs and speaking:

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

Here the braggart’s tongue seemed to freeze.

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

The boastful hare jumped up like a ball, and out of fear fell straight onto the wide wolf’s forehead, rolled head over heels along the wolf’s back, turned over again in the air and then gave such a kick that it seemed like 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 hot on his heels 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 that 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 how many other hares you can find in the forest, but this one was kind of crazy...

It took the rest of the hares a long time to come to their senses. Some ran into the bushes, some hid behind a stump, some fell into a hole.

Finally, everyone got tired of hiding, and little by little the bravest ones began to peek out.

- And our Hare cleverly scared the Wolf! - everything was decided. - If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have left alive... But where is he, our fearless Hare?..

We started looking.

We walked and walked, but the brave Hare was nowhere to be found. Had another wolf eaten him? Finally they found him: lying in a hole under a bush and barely alive from fear.

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

The brave Hare immediately perked up. He crawled out of his hole, shook himself, narrowed his eyes and said:

- What would you think! Oh you cowards...

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

Bye-bye-bye...

A fairy tale about Kozyavochka

Nobody saw how Kozyavochka was born.

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

- Fine!..

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

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

Kozyavochka also rubbed her legs and flew off. He flies, admires everything and is happy. And below the grass is turning green, and hidden in the grass is a scarlet flower.

- Kozyavochka, come to me! - the flower shouted.

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

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

“He’s kind, but I can’t walk,” the flower complained.

“It’s still good,” Kozyavochka assured. - And everything is mine...

Before she had time to finish speaking, a furry Bumblebee flew in with a buzz and went straight to the flower:

- LJ... Who climbed into my flower? LJ... who drinks my sweet juice? LJ... Oh, you trashy Booger, get out! Lzhzh... Get out before I sting you!

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

- Zhzh... No, mine!

Kozyavochka barely escaped the angry Bumblebee. She sat down on the grass, licked her feet, stained with flower juice, and got angry:

- What a rude Bumblebee!.. It’s even amazing!.. He also wanted to sting... After all, everything is mine - the sun, the grass, and the flowers.

- No, sorry - mine! - said the furry little worm, climbing a stalk of grass.

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

- Excuse me, Worm, you are mistaken... I’m not stopping you from crawling, but don’t argue with me!..

- Okay, okay... Just don’t touch my grass. I don’t like it, I must admit... You never know flying around here... You are a frivolous people, and I’m a serious worm... Frankly speaking, everything belongs to me. I’ll crawl onto the grass and eat it, I’ll crawl onto any flower and eat it too. Goodbye!..

In a few hours, Kozyavochka learned absolutely everything, namely: that, in addition to 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. Kozyavochka was even offended. For mercy's sake, she was sure that everything belonged to her and was created for her, but here others think the same thing. No, something is wrong... It can’t be.

- This is mine! - she squealed cheerfully. - My water... Oh, how fun!.. There is grass and flowers.

And other boogers fly towards Kozyavochka.

- Hello, sister!

- Hello, darlings... Otherwise, I’m getting bored of flying alone. What are you doing here?

- And we are playing, sister... Come to us. We have fun... Were you born recently?

- Just today... I was almost stung by the Bumblebee, then I saw the Worm... I thought that everything was mine, but they say that everything is theirs.

The other boogers reassured the guest and invited her to play together. Above the water, the boogers played like a pillar: circling, flying, squeaking. Our Kozyavochka was choking with joy and soon completely forgot about the angry Bumblebee and the serious Worm.

- Oh, how good! - she whispered in delight. - Everything is mine: the sun, the grass, and the water. I absolutely don’t understand why others are angry. 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 marsh sedge. You really need to relax! Kozyavochka watches how other little boogers are having fun; suddenly, out of nowhere, a sparrow darts past, as if someone had thrown a stone.

- Oh, oh! - the little boogers shouted and rushed in all directions.

When the sparrow flew away, a whole dozen little boogers were missing.

- Oh, robber! - the old boogers scolded. - I ate a whole ten.

It was worse than Bumblebee. The little booger began to be afraid and hid with other young little boogers even further into the swamp grass.

But here there is another problem: two of the boogers were eaten by a fish, and two by a frog.

- What is it? - Kozyavochka was surprised. “This doesn’t look like anything at all anymore... You can’t live like this.” Wow, how disgusting!..

It’s good that there were a lot of boogers and no one noticed the loss. Moreover, new boogers arrived that 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, nasty sparrows, fish and frogs. Be careful, sisters!

However, night came, and all the boogers 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.

Oh, 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...

This is how 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 sneaked up unnoticed - you never know how many enemies there are! There were also joys. Kozyavochka met another similar little booger, with a shaggy mustache. She says:

- How pretty you are, Kozyavochka... We will live together.

And they healed together, they healed very well. All together: where one goes, there goes the other. And we didn’t notice how the summer flew by. It started to rain and the nights were cold. Our Kozyavochka laid eggs, hid them in the thick grass and said:

- Oh, how tired I am!..

No one saw Kozyavochka die.

Yes, she didn’t die, but only fell asleep for the winter, so that in the spring she could wake up again and live again.

The tale of Komar Komarovich with a long nose and shaggy Misha with a short tail

This happened at midday, when all the mosquitoes hid from the heat in the swamp. Komar Komarovich - his long nose nestled under a wide leaf and fell asleep. He sleeps and hears a desperate cry:

- Oh, fathers!.. oh, carraul!..

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

- What happened?.. What are you yelling at?

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

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

Komar Komarovich - the long nose - immediately became angry; I was angry with both the bear and the stupid mosquitoes that squeaked to no avail.

- Hey, stop squeaking! - he shouted. - Now I’ll go and drive away the bear... It’s very simple! And you are only yelling in vain...

Komar Komarovich became even more angry and flew away. Indeed, there was a bear lying in the swamp. He climbed into the thickest grass, where mosquitoes had lived since time immemorial, lay down and sniffled through his nose, only a whistle sounded like someone playing a trumpet. What a shameless creature!.. He climbed into someone else’s place, destroyed so many mosquito souls in vain, and even sleeps so sweetly!

- Hey, uncle, where did you go? - Komar Komarovich shouted throughout the forest, so loudly that even he himself became scared.

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

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

Well, I just settled down to rest, and then some scoundrel squeaks.

- Hey, go away in good health, uncle!..

Misha opened both eyes, looked at the impudent man, sniffed and became completely angry.

- What do you want, you worthless creature? he growled.

- Leave our place, otherwise I don’t like to joke... I’ll eat you and your fur coat.

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

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

- I cleverly scared the furry Bear!.. He won’t come next time.

The mosquitoes marveled and asked:

- Well, where is the bear now?

- I don’t know, brothers... He got very scared when I told him that I would eat him if he didn’t leave. After all, I don’t like to joke, but I said it straight out: I’ll eat it. I’m afraid that he might die of fear while I’m flying to you... Well, it’s my own fault!

All the mosquitoes squealed, buzzed and argued for a long time about what to do with the ignorant bear. Never before has 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, in the forest, and sleep there. And our swamp... Our fathers and grandfathers lived in this very swamp.

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

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

Mosquitoes flew after Komar Komarovich. They fly and squeak, it’s even scary for them. They arrived and looked, but the bear lay there and didn’t move.

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

“He’s sleeping, brothers,” squeaked a little mosquito, flying right up to the bear’s nose and almost being pulled in there, as if through a window.

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

And furry Misha is sleeping and whistling with his nose.

- He's pretending to be asleep! - Komar Komarovich shouted and flew towards the bear. - Now I’ll show him... Hey, uncle, he’ll pretend!

As soon as Komar Komarovich swooped in, as he dug his long nose right into the black bear’s nose, Misha jumped up and grabbed his nose with his paw, and Komar Komarovich was gone.

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

- I won’t leave! - the bear shouted, sitting down on his hind legs. - I'll pass you all on...

- Oh, uncle, you’re boasting in vain...

Komar Komarovich flew again and stabbed the bear right in the eye. The bear roared in pain, hit himself in the face with his paw, and again there was nothing in his paw, only he almost tore out his own eye with a claw. And Komar Komarovich hovered just above the bear’s ear and squeaked:

- I'll eat you, uncle...

Misha became completely angry. He uprooted a whole birch tree and began to beat mosquitoes with it.

It hurts all over his shoulder... He beat and beat, he was even 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 to no avail.

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

No matter how long or how short Misha fought with the mosquitoes, there was just a lot of noise. A bear's roar could be heard in the distance. And how many trees he tore out, how many stones he tore up!.. He all wanted to catch the first Komar Komarovich, - after all, right here, just above his ear, the bear was hovering, and the bear would grab it with his paw, and again nothing, he just scratched his whole face into blood.

Misha finally became exhausted. He sat down on his hind legs, snorted and came up with a new trick - let's roll on the grass to crush the entire mosquito kingdom. Misha rode and rode, but nothing came of it, but only made him even more tired. Then the bear hid its face in the moss. It turned out even worse: the mosquitoes clung to the bear’s tail. The bear finally became furious.

“Wait, I’ll ask you this!” he roared so loudly that it could be heard five miles away. - I’ll show you a thing... I... I... I...

The mosquitoes have retreated and are waiting to see what will happen. And Misha climbed the tree like an acrobat, sat down on the thickest branch and roared:

- Come on, now come up to me... I’ll break everyone’s noses!..

The mosquitoes laughed in thin voices and rushed at the bear with the whole army. They squeak, circle, climb... Misha fought and fought, accidentally swallowed about a hundred mosquito troops, coughed and fell off the branch like a bag... However, he got up, scratched his bruised side and said:

- Well, did you take it? Have you seen how deftly I jump from a tree?..

The mosquitoes laughed even more subtly, and Komar Komarovich trumpeted:

- I will eat you... I will eat you... I will eat... I will eat you!..

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

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

“You don’t want to bother yourself, Mikhailo Ivanovich, in vain!.. Don’t pay any attention to these crappy mosquitoes.” Not worth it.

“It’s not worth it,” the bear rejoiced. - That’s how I say it... Let them come to my den, but I... 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 got together, consulted and decided: “It’s not worth it! Let him go - after all, the swamp is behind us!”

Vanka's name day

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

Vanka walks around in a red shirt and says:

- Brothers, you are welcome... As many treats as you like. Soup made from the freshest wood chips; cutlets from the best, purest sand; pies made from multi-colored pieces of paper; and what tea! From the best boiled water. You are welcome... Music, play!..

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

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

- LJ... LJ... where is the birthday boy? LJ... LJ... I really like to have fun in good company...

Two dolls arrived. One with blue eyes, Anya, her nose was a little damaged; the other with black eyes, Katya, she was missing one arm. They arrived decorously and took a place on a toy sofa.

“Let’s see what kind of treat Vanka has,” Anya noted. - He's really bragging about something. The music is not bad, but I have serious doubts about the food.

“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, young lady! Let's have great fun. Of course, I’m missing one leg, but the top can spin on just one leg. Hello, Volchok...

- LJ... Hello! Why does one of your eyes look black?

- Nonsense... I was the one who fell off the sofa. It could be worse.

- Oh, how bad it can be... Sometimes I hit the wall with all my speed, right on my head!..

- It’s good that your head is empty...

- It still hurts... jj... Try it yourself, you’ll find out.

The clown just clicked his copper plates. 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 with him a three-legged horse.

- Well, Vanka, receive guests! - Petrushka spoke cheerfully, tapping himself on the nose. - One is better than the other. My Matryona Ivanovna alone is worth something... She really loves to drink tea with me, like a duck.

“We’ll find some tea, Pyotr Ivanovich,” Vanka answered. - And we are always happy to have good guests... Sit down, Matryona Ivanovna! Karl Ivanovich, you are welcome...

The Bear and the Hare, Granny's gray Goat with the Crested Duck, the Cockerel and the Wolf also came - Vanka had a place for everyone.

The last to arrive were Alyonushkin's Shoe and Alyonushkin's Broomstick. They looked - all the places were occupied, and Broomstick said:

- It’s okay, I’ll stand in the corner...

But Shoe didn’t say anything and silently crawled under the sofa. It was a very venerable Shoe, although worn out. He was a little embarrassed only by the hole that was on the nose itself. Well, it’s okay, no one will notice under the sofa.

- Hey, music! - Vanka commanded.

The drum beat: tra-ta! ta-ta! The trumpets began to play: work! And all the guests suddenly felt so happy, so happy...

The holiday started off great. The drum beat by itself, the trumpets themselves played, the top hummed, the clown clinked his cymbals, and Petrushka squealed furiously. Oh, how fun it was!..

- Brothers, go for a walk! - Vanka shouted, smoothing out his flaxen curls.

- Matryona Ivanovna, does your tummy hurt?

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

- Come on, show your tongue.

- Leave me alone, please...

She was still lying calmly on the table, and when the doctor started talking about language, she couldn’t resist and jumped off. After all, the doctor always examines Alyonushka’s tongue with her help...

- Oh, no... no need! - Matryona Ivanovna squealed and waved her arms so funny, like a windmill.

“Well, I don’t impose my services,” Spoon was offended.

She even wanted to get angry, but at that moment the top flew up to her, and they began to dance. The top was buzzing, the spoon was ringing... Even Alyonushkin’s Shoe couldn’t resist, he crawled out from under the sofa and whispered to Nikolai:

- I love you very much, Broomstick...

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

After all, she was always such a modest Little Broom and never put on airs, as 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 was bald, the Gypsy looked like a firebrand, and the birthday boy Vanka got the most of it.

“He’s a bit of a man,” said Katya.

“And, besides, he’s a braggart,” added Anya.

Having had fun, everyone sat down at the table, and the real feast began. The dinner went as if it were a real name day, although there were some small misunderstandings. The bear almost ate the Bunny instead of the cutlet by mistake; The top almost got into a fight with the Gypsy over the Spoon - the latter wanted to steal it and had already hidden 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... Perhaps you have a headache? I have some great 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! - Vanka shouted. - This is much better than quarreling. I can't stand it when people quarrel. Look there...

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

The drum beat: tra-ta! ta-ta-ta! The trumpets played: tru-ru! ru-ru-ru! The Clown's plates clinked, the Spoon laughed with a silver voice, the Top buzzed, and the amused Bunny shouted: bo-bo-bo! Granny's little gray Goat turned out to be the most fun of all. First of all, he danced better than anyone, and then he shook his beard so funny and roared in a creaky voice: mee-ke-ke!..

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

Yes, that's how it was. First, wooden cubes came to congratulate Vanka... No, not like that again. That's not how it started at all. The cubes really came, but it was all the fault of black-eyed Katya. She, she, right!.. This pretty rogue whispered to Anya at the end of dinner:

- 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 directly:

- What do you think, that my Pyotr Ivanovich is a freak?

“Nobody thinks that, Matryona Ivanovna,” Katya tried to justify herself, but it was 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. And as for the mind...

The dolls began arguing 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!

At this point all the men were offended. For mercy, such a self-praise is this Petrushka! It's disgusting to even listen to! The clown was not a master of speech and was offended in silence, but Doctor Karl Ivanovich said very loudly:

- So we are all freaks? Congratulations, gentlemen...

All at once there was a hubbub. The Gypsy shouted something in his own way, the Bear growled, the Wolf howled, the gray Goat shouted, the Top hummed - in a word, everyone was completely offended.

- Gentlemen, stop it! - Vanka persuaded everyone. - Don’t pay attention to Pyotr Ivanovich... He was just joking.

But it was all in vain. Karl Ivanovich was mainly worried. He even banged his fist on the table and shouted:

“Gentlemen, it’s a good treat, there’s nothing to say!.. They invited us to visit only to call us freaks...”

- Dear ladies and gentlemen! - Vanka tried to shout over everyone. - If it comes to that, gentlemen, there is only one freak here - it’s me... Are you satisfied now?

Then... Excuse me, how did this happen? Yes, yes, that's how it was. Karl Ivanovich became completely heated 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 Petrushka’s pugnacious nature, 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 Parsley that it was not Vanka who hit him, but the doctor... What happened here!.. Parsley grabbed the doctor; Gypsy, who was sitting on the side, for no apparent reason began to beat the Clown, the Bear rushed at the Wolf with a growl, the Wolf hit the Goat with his empty head - in a word, a real scandal ensued. The dolls squealed in thin voices, and all three fainted with fear.

“Oh, I feel sick!” Matryona Ivanovna screamed, falling from the sofa.

- Gentlemen, what is this? - Vanka yelled. - Gentlemen, I’m the birthday boy... Gentlemen, this is finally impolite!..

There was a real clash, so it was already difficult to make out who was beating whom. Vanka tried in vain to break up the fighting and ended up starting to beat everyone who came under his arm, and since he was stronger than everyone else, it was bad for the guests.

- Carraul!!. Fathers... oh, carraul! - Petrushka yelled the loudest of all, trying to hit the doctor harder... - They killed Petrushka to death... Carraul!..

One Shoe escaped from the landfill, managing to hide under the sofa in time. He even closed his eyes in fear, and at that time the Bunny hid behind him, also looking for salvation in flight.

-Where are you going? - Shoe grumbled.

“Be quiet, otherwise they’ll hear, and both of them will get it,” persuaded the Bunny, peeking out of a hole in his sock with a sideways eye. - Oh, what a robber this Petrushka is!.. He beats everyone and he himself yells good obscenities. A good guest, nothing to say... And I barely escaped from the Wolf, ah! It’s scary to even remember... And there the Duck is lying upside down. They killed the poor thing...

- Oh, how stupid you are, Bunny: all the dolls are fainting, and so is the Ducky along with the others.

They fought, fought, and 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 faint, she opened one eye and asked:

- Gentlemen, where am I? Doctor, look if I'm alive?..

No one 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,” said Katya. - Good birthday boy, nothing to say!

The dolls immediately attacked Vanka, who absolutely did not know what to answer. And someone beat him, and he beat someone, but for what reason is unknown.

“I really don’t know how it all happened,” he said, spreading his hands. “The main thing is that it’s offensive: after all, I love them all... absolutely all of them.”

“And we know how,” Shoe and Bunny responded from under the sofa. - We saw everything!..

- Yes, it’s your fault! - Matryona Ivanovna attacked them. - Of course, you... You made some porridge and hid yourself.

- Yeah, that's what it's all about! - Vanka was delighted. - Get out, robbers... You visit guests only to quarrel with good people.

The Shoe and the Bunny barely had time to jump out the window.

“Here I am…” Matryona Ivanovna threatened them with her fist. - Oh, what crappy people there are in the world! So Ducky will say the same thing.

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

The duck always agreed with everyone.

“We need to return the guests...” Katya continued. - We'll have some more fun...

The guests returned willingly. Some had a black eye, some walked with a limp; Petrushka's long nose suffered the most.

- Oh, robbers! - everyone repeated in one voice, scolding Bunny and Shoe. - Who would have thought?..

- Oh, how tired I am! “I beat off all my hands,” Vanka complained. - Well, why bring up the old things... I’m not vindictive. Hey music!..

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

- Hurray, Vanka!..

A fairy tale about Sparrow Vorobeich, Ruff Ershovich and the cheerful chimney sweep Yasha

Vorobey Vorobeich and Ersh Ershovich lived in great friendship. Every day in the summer, Sparrow Vorobeich flew to the river and shouted:

- Hey, brother, hello!.. How are you?

“It’s okay, we live small,” answered Ersh Ershovich. - Come visit me. My brother, it’s good in deep places... The water is quiet, there’s as much water grass as you want. I’ll treat you to frog eggs, worms, water boogers...

- Thank you brother! I would love to come visit you, but I’m afraid of water. It’s better if you fly to visit me on the roof... I, brother, will treat you with berries - I have a whole garden, and then we’ll get a crust of bread, and oats, and sugar, and a live mosquito. You love sugar, don't you?

- What is he like?

- So white...

- How are the pebbles in our river?

- Here you go. And if you put it in your mouth, it’s sweet. I can't eat your pebbles. Shall we fly to the roof now?

- No, I can’t fly, and I’m suffocating on the air. It’s better to swim on the water together. I'll show you everything...

Sparrow Vorobeich tried to go into the water - he would go up to his knees, and then it would become scary. That's how you can drown! Sparrow Vorobeich will drink some light river water, and on hot days he will buy himself somewhere in a shallow place, clean his feathers, and go back to his roof. In general, they lived amicably and loved to talk about various matters.

- How come you don’t get tired of sitting in the water? - Sparrow Vorobeich was often surprised. - If you're wet in the water, you'll catch a cold...

Ersh Ershovich was surprised in turn:

- How do you, brother, not get tired of flying? Look how hot it is in the sun: you’ll almost suffocate. And it's always cool here. Swim as much as you want. Don’t be afraid in the summer everyone comes to my water to swim... And who will come to your roof?

- And how they walk, brother!.. I have a great friend - chimney sweep Yasha. He constantly comes to visit me... And he’s such a cheerful chimney sweep, he always sings songs. He cleans the pipes and hums. Moreover, he will sit down on the very ridge to rest, take out some bread and eat it, and I pick up the crumbs. We live soul to soul. I also like to have fun.

Friends and troubles were almost the same. For example, winter: how cold poor Sparrow Vorobeich is! Wow, what cold days there were! It seems that my whole soul is ready to freeze out. Sparrow Vorobeich gets ruffled, tucks his legs under him and sits. The only salvation is to climb into a pipe somewhere and warm up a little. But there’s a problem here too.

Once Vorobey Vorobeich almost died thanks to his best friend, a chimney sweep. The chimney sweep came and when he lowered his cast-iron weight with a broom down the chimney, he almost broke Sparrow Vorobeich’s head. He jumped out of the chimney covered in soot, worse than a chimney sweep, and now scolded:

- What are you doing, Yasha? After all, this way you can kill to death...

- How did I know that you were sitting in the pipe?

- Be careful ahead... If I hit you on the head with a cast-iron weight, would that be good?

Ruff Ershovich also had a hard time in the winter. He climbed somewhere deeper into the pool and dozed there for whole days. It’s dark and cold, and you don’t want to move. Occasionally he swam to the ice hole when he called Sparrow Sparrow. He will fly up to the ice hole to drink and shout:

- Hey, Ersh Ershovich, are you alive?

“And it’s no better with us either, brother!” What can I do, I have to endure it... Wow, what an evil wind there is!.. Here, brother, you can’t sleep... I keep jumping on one leg to keep warm. And people look and say: “Look, what a cheerful sparrow!” Oh, just to wait for the warmth... Are you asleep again, brother?

And in the summer there are troubles again. Once a hawk chased Sparrow Sparrow for about two miles, and he barely managed to hide in the river sedge.

- Oh, I barely escaped alive! - he complained to Ersh Ershovich, barely catching his breath. What a robber!.. I almost grabbed him, but then he should have remembered his name.

“It’s like our pike,” comforted Ersh Ershovich. “I also recently almost fell into her mouth.” How it will rush after me like lightning. And I swam out with other fish and thought that there was a log in the water, and how would this log rush after me... What are these pikes for? I'm surprised and can't understand...

- And me too... You know, it seems to me that the hawk was once a pike, and the pike was a hawk. In a word, robbers...

Yes, that’s how Vorobey Vorobeich and Ersh Ershovich lived and lived, chilled in winter, rejoiced in summer; and the cheerful chimney sweep Yasha cleaned his pipes and sang songs. Everyone has their own business, their own joys and their own sorrows.

One summer, a chimney sweep finished his work and went to the river to wash off the soot. He walks and whistles, and then he hears a terrible noise. What happened? And the birds are hovering over the river: ducks, geese, swallows, snipes, crows, and pigeons. Everyone is making noise, yelling, laughing - you can’t make out anything.

- Hey you, what happened? - the chimney sweep shouted.

“And so it happened...” chirped the lively titmouse. - So funny, so funny!.. Look what our Sparrow Vorobeich is doing... He’s completely furious.

When the chimney sweep approached the river, Sparrow Vorobeich flew into him. And the scary one is like this: the beak is open, the eyes are burning, all the feathers stand on end.

- Hey, Vorobey Vorobeich, are you making noise here, brother? - asked the chimney sweep.

“No, I’ll show him!..” yelled Sparrow Vorobeich, choking with rage. He doesn’t know what I’m like yet... I’ll show him, damned Ersh Ershovich! He will remember me, the robber...

- Do not listen to him! - Ersh Ershovich shouted to the chimney sweep from the water. - He’s still lying...

- I'm lying? - Sparrow Vorobeich yelled. - Who found the worm? I'm lying!.. Such a fat worm! I dug it up on the shore... I worked so hard... Well, I grabbed it and dragged it home to my nest. I have a family - I have to carry food... I just fluttered with a worm over the river, and damned Ruff Ershovich, the pike swallowed him! - when he shouts: “Hawk!” I screamed in fear, the worm fell into the water, and Ruff Ershovich swallowed it... Is this called lying?! And there was no hawk...

“Well, I was joking,” Ersh Ershovich justified himself. - And the worm was really tasty...

All sorts of fish gathered around Ruff Ershovich: roach, crucian carp, perch, little ones - listening and laughing. Yes, Ersh Ershovich cleverly joked about his old friend! And it’s even funnier how Vorobey Vorobeich got into a fight with him. It keeps coming and going, but it can’t take anything.

-Choke on my worm! - Sparrow Vorobeich scolded. “I’ll dig myself another one... But it’s a shame that Ersh Ershovich deceived me and is still laughing at me.” And I called him to my roof... Good buddy, nothing to say! Yasha, the chimney sweep, will say the same thing... He and I also live together and sometimes even have a snack together: he eats - I pick up the crumbs.

“Wait, brothers, this very matter needs to be judged,” said the chimney sweep. - Just let me wash my face first... I will sort out your case honestly. And you, Vorobey Vorobeich, calm down a little for now...

- My cause is just, so why should I worry! - Sparrow Vorobeich yelled. - But I’ll just show Ersh Ershovich how to joke with me...

The chimney sweep sat down on the bank, placed the bundle with his lunch next to it on a pebble, washed his hands and face and said:

- Well, brothers, now we will judge the court... You, Ersh Ershovich, are a fish, and you, Vorobey Vorobeich, are a bird. Is that what I say?

- So! So!.. - everyone shouted, both birds and fish.

The chimney sweep unwrapped his bundle, placed a piece of rye bread, which was his entire lunch, on the stone, and said:

- Look: what is this? This is bread. I earned it and I will eat it; I'll eat and drink some water. So? So, I’ll have lunch and won’t offend anyone. Fish and birds also want to dine... So you have your own food! Why quarrel? Sparrow Vorobeich dug up a worm, which means he earned it, and that means the worm is his...

“Excuse me, uncle...” a thin voice was heard in the crowd of birds.

The birds parted and let the Sandpiper Snipe go forward, who approached the chimney sweep himself on his thin legs.

- Uncle, this is not true.

- What's not true?

- Yes, I found a worm... Just ask the ducks - they saw it. I found it, and Sparrow swooped in and stole it.

The chimney sweep was embarrassed. It didn't turn out that way at all.

“How is this so?” he muttered, gathering his thoughts. - Hey, Vorobey Vorobeich, are you really lying?

“It’s not me who’s lying, it’s Bekas who’s lying.” He conspired with the ducks...

- Something’s not right, brother... um... Yes! Of course, the worm is nothing; but it’s just not good to steal. And whoever stole must lie... Is that what I say? Yes…

- Right! That’s right!..” everyone shouted in unison again. - But you still judge between Ruff Ershovich and Vorobyov Vorobeich! Who is right?.. Both made noise, both fought and raised everyone to their feet.

- Who is right? Oh, you mischievous ones, Ersh Ershovich and Vorobey Vorobeich!.. Really, mischievous ones. I will punish both of you as an example... Well, make up quickly, right now!

- Right! - everyone shouted in unison. - Let them make peace...

“And I’ll feed the Sandpiper Snipe, who worked hard to get the worm, with crumbs,” the chimney sweep decided. - Everyone will be happy...

- Great! - everyone shouted again.

The chimney sweep had already extended his hand for bread, but there was none.

While the chimney sweep was reasoning, Vorobey Vorobeich managed to steal it.

- Oh, robber! Ah, the rogue! - all the fish and all the birds were indignant.

And everyone rushed in pursuit of the thief. The edge was heavy, and Sparrow Vorobeich could not fly far with it. They caught up with him just above the river. Large and small birds rushed at the thief.

There was a real dump. Everyone just tears it up, only the crumbs fly into the river; and then the edge also flew into the river. At this point the fish grabbed onto it. A real fight began between the fish and the birds. They tore the whole edge into crumbs and ate all the crumbs. As it is, there is nothing left of the edge. When the edge was eaten, everyone came to their senses and everyone felt ashamed. They chased the thief Sparrow and ate the stolen piece along the way.

And the cheerful chimney sweep Yasha sits on the bank, looks and laughs. It all turned out very funny... Everyone ran away from him, only Snipe the sandpiper remained.

- Why don’t you fly after everyone? - asks the chimney sweep.

“And I would fly, but I’m small, uncle.” The big birds are just about to peck...

- Well, it’ll be better this way, Bekasik. Both of you and I were left without lunch. Apparently, they haven’t done much work yet...

Alyonushka came to the bank, began to ask the cheerful chimney sweep Yasha what had happened, and also laughed.

- Oh, how stupid they all are, both the fish and the birds! And I would share everything - both the worm and the crumb, and no one would quarrel. Recently I divided four apples... Dad brings four apples and says: “Divide in half - for me and Lisa.” I divided it into three parts: I gave one apple to dad, the other to Lisa, and took two for myself.

The Tale of How the Last Fly Lived

How fun it was in the summer!.. Oh, how fun! It’s hard to even tell everything in order... There were thousands of flies. They fly, buzz, have fun... When little Mushka was born, she spread her wings, and she also began to have fun. So much fun, so much fun that you can’t tell. The most interesting thing was that in the morning they opened all the windows and doors to the terrace - whichever window you want, go through that window and fly.

“What a kind creature man is,” little Mushka marveled, flying from window to window. “The windows were made for us, and they open them for us too.” Very good, and most importantly - fun...

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

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

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

Then, people are generally so kind that everywhere they brought various pleasures to the flies. For example, Alyonushka drank milk in the morning, ate a bun, and then begged 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 the bun and sugar. Well, please tell me, what could be tastier than such crumbs, especially when you’ve been flying all morning and are hungry?.. Then, the cook Pasha was even kinder than Alyonushka. Every morning she went to the market specifically for flies and brought amazingly tasty things: beef, sometimes fish, cream, butter, in general she was the kindest woman in the whole house. She knew very well what flies needed, although she also did not know how to fly, like the gardener. A very good woman overall!

And Aunt Olya? Oh, this wonderful woman, it seems, specially lived only for flies... She opened all the windows with her own hands every morning so that it would be more convenient for the flies to fly, and when it rained or was cold, she closed them so that the flies would not get their wings wet and would not catch a cold. Then Aunt Olya noticed that flies really loved sugar and berries, so she began to boil the berries in sugar every day. The flies now, of course, realized why this was all being done, and out of a feeling of gratitude, they climbed straight into the bowl of jam. Alyonushka loved jam very much, but Aunt Olya gave her only one or two spoons, not wanting to offend the flies.

Since the flies couldn’t eat everything at once, Aunt Olya put some of the jam in glass jars (so that mice, who weren’t supposed to have any jam at all, wouldn’t eat it) and then served it to the flies every day when she drank tea.

- Oh, how kind and good everyone is! — young Mushka admired, flying from window to window. “Maybe it’s even good that people can’t fly.” Then they would turn into flies, big and voracious flies, and would probably eat everything themselves... Oh, how good it is to live in the world!

“Well, people are not quite as kind as you think,” remarked the old Fly, who loved to grumble. - It only seems so... Have you paid attention to the man whom everyone calls “dad”?

- Oh yes... This is a very strange gentleman. You are absolutely right, good, kind old Fly... Why does he smoke his pipe when he knows perfectly well that I cannot stand tobacco smoke at all? It seems to me that he is doing this just to spite me... Then, he absolutely does not want to do anything for the flies. I once tried the ink he always uses to write something like that, and I almost died... This is finally outrageous! I saw with my own eyes how two such pretty, but completely inexperienced flies drowned in his inkwell. It was a terrible picture when he pulled out one of them with a pen and put 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 advantage...” answered the old, experienced Fly. — He drinks beer after dinner. This is not a bad habit at all! I must admit, I don’t mind drinking beer either, although it makes me dizzy... What can I do, it’s a bad habit!

“And I love beer too,” admitted young Mushka and even blushed a little. “It makes me so happy, so happy, although the next day my head hurts a little.” But dad, perhaps, doesn’t do anything for the flies because he doesn’t eat jam himself, and only puts sugar in a glass of tea. In my opinion, you can’t expect anything good from a person who doesn’t eat jam... All he can do is smoke his pipe.

The flies generally knew all the 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, twirled and pestered everyone. But our little Mushka managed to become a real big fly and almost died several times. The first time she got her feet stuck in the jam, so she barely crawled out; another time, sleepy, she ran into a lit lamp and almost burned her wings; the third time I almost fell between the window sashes - in general there were enough adventures.

“What is it: these flies made life impossible!..” complained the cook. They look like crazy people, they climb everywhere... We need to harass them.

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 net. And when they brought provisions, the flies rushed at it in a living heap, pushed each other and quarreled terribly. The best pieces went to only the most spirited and strong, while 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.

- This is a great treat for flies! - said the cook Pasha, placing the plates in the most prominent places.

Even without Pasha, the flies realized that this was being done for them, and in a cheerful crowd they attacked the new dish. Our Fly also rushed to one plate, but she was pushed away rather rudely.

- Why are you pushing, gentlemen? - she was offended. “But by the way, I’m not so greedy as to take something from others.” This is finally rude...

Then something impossible happened. The greediest flies paid the first price... At first they wandered around like drunk people, and then they completely collapsed. The next morning Pasha scooped up a whole large plate of dead flies. Only the most prudent remained alive, including our Fly.

- We don’t want papers! - everyone squealed. - We do not want…

But the next day the same thing happened again. 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’s no life for them...” she complained.

Then the gentleman, whose name was Papa, brought three glass, very beautiful caps, poured beer into them and put them on plates... Then the most sensible flies were caught. It turned out that these caps are just flytraps. The flies flew to the smell of beer, fell into the hood 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 you put flytraps the size of a house, they would be caught in exactly the same way... Our Fly, taught by the bitter experience of even the most prudent flies, stopped completely believing people. They only seem kind, these people, but in reality all they do is deceive gullible poor flies all their lives. Oh, this is the most cunning and evil animal, to tell the truth!..

The number of flies has decreased greatly due to all these troubles, but now there is a new problem. It turned out that summer had passed, the rains began, a cold wind blew, and generally unpleasant weather set in.

- Has summer really passed? - the surviving flies were surprised. Excuse me, when did it pass? This is finally unfair... Before we knew it, it was autumn.

It was worse than poisoned pieces of paper and glass flytraps. From the approaching bad weather one could seek protection only from one’s worst enemy, that is, master man. Alas! Now the windows were no longer open for whole days, but only occasionally the vents. Even the sun itself only shone precisely to deceive the gullible house flies. How would you like this picture, for example? Morning. The sun looks so cheerfully into all the windows, as if inviting all the flies into the garden. You might think that summer is coming back again... And well, gullible flies fly out the window, but the sun only shines, and does not warm. They fly back - the window is closed. Many flies died in this way on cold autumn nights only due to 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 you trust?

It is clear that with the onset of autumn all the flies experienced the worst mood of spirit. Almost everyone's character immediately deteriorated. There was no mention of the former joys. Everyone became so gloomy, lethargic and dissatisfied. Some even went so far as to start biting, which had never happened before.

Our Fly's character had deteriorated to such an extent that she did not recognize herself at all. Previously, for example, she pitied other flies when they died, but now she thought only about herself. She was even ashamed to say out loud what she was thinking:

“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 the winter, and secondly, I’m just 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 clearly understood these evil thoughts and died by the hundreds. They didn’t even die, but they definitely fell asleep. Every day fewer and fewer of them were made, so that there was absolutely no need for either poisoned pieces of paper or glass flytraps. But this was not enough for our Fly: she wanted to be completely alone. Think how wonderful it is - five rooms, and only one fly!..

Such a happy day has come. Early in the morning our Fly woke up quite 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. As soon as I flew up to the window, everything became clear at once. The first snow fell... The ground was covered with a bright white veil.

- Oh, so this is what winter is like! - she realized immediately. “It’s completely white, like a lump of good sugar...

Then the Fly noticed that all the other flies had completely disappeared. The poor things could not bear the first cold and fell asleep wherever it happened. At another time the fly would have felt sorry for them, but now he thought:

“That’s great... Now I’m all alone!.. No one will eat my jam, my sugar, my crumbs... Oh, how good!..”

She flew around all the rooms and was once again convinced that she was completely alone. Now you could do absolutely whatever you wanted. And how good it is that the rooms are so warm! It’s winter outside, but the rooms are warm and cozy, especially when the lamps and candles are lit in the evening. With the first lamp, however, there was a little trouble - the fly flew into the fire again and almost got burned.

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

The Last Fly was happy for only 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, flies, rests, eats, flies again - and again she becomes more bored than before.

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

No matter how much the last Fly complained about her loneliness, absolutely no one wanted to understand her. Of course, this made her even angrier, and she pestered people like crazy. It will sit on someone’s nose, someone’s ear, or it will start flying back and forth before their eyes. In a word, 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 would play with me... No, where are you going? What could be more clumsy and clumsy than a person? The ugliest creature I've ever met...

Both the dog and the cat got tired of the last Fly - absolutely everyone. What upset her most was when Aunt Olya said:

- Oh, the last fly... Please don't touch it. Let him live all winter.

What is it? This is a direct insult. It seems they no longer consider her a fly. “Let him live,” say what a favor you did! What if I'm bored! What if I, perhaps, don’t want to live at all? I don’t want to and that’s all.”

The Last Fly became so angry with everyone that even she herself became afraid. It flies, buzzes, squeaks... The Spider sitting in the corner finally took pity on her and said:

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

- I humbly thank you... I found another friend! I know what your beautiful web is. You probably once were a man, but now you’re just pretending to be a spider.

- As you know, I wish you well.

- Oh, how disgusting! This is called wishing well: eating the last Fly!..

They quarreled a lot, and yet it was boring, so boring, so boring that you can’t even tell. The fly became absolutely angry with everyone, got tired and declared loudly:

- If so, if you don’t want to understand how bored I am, then I’ll sit in the corner all winter!.. Here you go!.. Yes, I’ll sit and won’t leave for anything...

She even cried with grief, remembering the past summer fun. How many funny flies there were; and she still wanted to remain completely alone. It was a fatal mistake...

Winter dragged on endlessly, 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 was probably people who invented winter, because they invent absolutely everything that is harmful to flies. Or maybe Aunt Olya hid summer somewhere, like she hides sugar and jam?..

The last Fly was ready to die completely out of despair, when something very special happened. She, as usual, was sitting in her corner and angry, when suddenly she heard: zh-zh-zh!.. 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 flew past her, still very young. She had just been born and was happy.

- Spring begins!.. spring! she buzzed.

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

- Spring! spring!..” she repeated.

When Aunt Olya ordered to put out 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 summer, flies...

A fairy tale about Voronushka - a black little head and a yellow bird, Canary

The Crow sits on a birch tree and pats its nose on a twig: clap-clap. She cleaned her nose, looked around and heard a croak:

- Karr... karr!..

The cat Vaska, who was dozing on the fence, almost fell over with fear and began to grumble:

- You've got it, black head... God will give you such a neck!.. What are you happy about?

- Leave me alone... I have no time, don’t you see? Oh, how never before... Carr-carr-carr!.. And still things are going on.

“I’m tired, poor thing,” Vaska laughed.

- Shut up, couch potato... You’ve been lying there all your life, all you know is to bask in the sun, but I haven’t known peace since morning: I sat on ten roofs, flew around half the city, examined all the nooks and crannies. And I also need to fly to the bell tower, visit the market, dig in the garden... Why am I wasting time with you, I have no time. Oh, how never before!

Crow smacked the twig with her nose for the last time, perked up and was just about to fly up when she heard a terrible scream. A flock of sparrows was rushing, and some small yellow bird was flying ahead.

- Brothers, hold her... oh, hold her! - the sparrows squealed.

- What's happened? Where? - Crow shouted, rushing after the sparrows.

The Crow flapped her wings a dozen times and caught up with the flock of sparrows. The yellow bird was exhausted with all its strength and rushed into a small garden where lilac, currant and bird cherry bushes grew. She wanted to hide from the sparrows chasing her. A yellow bird hid under a bush, and the Crow was right there.

-Who are you going to be? - she croaked.

The sparrows sprinkled the bush as if someone had thrown a handful of peas.

They got angry at the little yellow bird and wanted to peck it.

- Why are you offending her? - asked Crow.

“Why is she yellow?” all the sparrows squealed at once.

The crow looked at the yellow bird: indeed, it was all yellow, shook its head and said:

- Oh, you mischievous people... After all, this is not a bird at all!.. Do such birds exist?.. But by the way, get out... I need to talk to this miracle. She's just pretending to be a bird...

The sparrows squealed, began to chatter, became even more angry, but there was nothing to do, we had to get out.

Conversations with Vorona are short: the burden is enough and the spirit is gone.

Having dispersed the sparrows, the Crow began to interrogate the yellow bird, which was breathing heavily and looking so pitifully with its black eyes.

-Who are you going to be? - asked Crow.

- I'm Canary...

- Look, don’t lie, otherwise it will be bad. If it weren’t for me, the sparrows would have pecked you...

- Really, I’m Canary...

-Where did you come from?

- And I lived in a cage... in a cage I was born, and grew up, and lived. I kept wanting to fly like other birds. The cage stood on the window, and I kept looking at the other birds... They were so happy, but the cage was so cramped. Well, the girl Alyonushka brought a cup of water, opened the door, and I broke out. She flew and flew around the room, and then through the window and flew out.

- What were you doing in the cage?

- I sing well...

- Come on, sing.

The canary sang. The crow tilted its head to the side and was surprised.

-You call this singing? Ha-ha... Your owners were stupid if they fed you for singing like that. If only I had someone to feed, a real bird, like me... Just now she croaked, and Vaska the rogue almost fell off the fence. This is singing!..

- I know Vaska... The most terrible beast. How many times has he approached our cage? The eyes are green, they are burning, he will release his claws...

- Well, some are afraid, and some are not... He’s a big cheat, that’s true, but there’s nothing scary. Well, we’ll talk about that later... But I still can’t believe that you’re a real bird...

“Really, auntie, I’m a bird, just a bird.” All canaries are birds...

- Okay, okay, we’ll see... But how are you going to live?

“I need a little: a few grains, a piece of sugar, a cracker, and I’m full.”

- Look, what a lady!.. Well, you can manage without sugar, but somehow you’ll get some grains. Actually, I like you. Do you want to live together? I have an excellent nest on my birch tree...

- Thank you. Only sparrows...

“If you live with me, no one will dare lay a finger on you.” Not only the sparrows, but also the rogue Vaska knows my character. I don't like to joke...

The Canary immediately became emboldened and flew away with the Crow. Well, the nest is excellent, if only I could have a cracker and a piece of sugar...

The Crow and the Canary began to live and live in the same nest. Although the crow sometimes liked to grumble, it was not an angry bird. The main flaw in her character was that she was jealous of everyone, and considered herself offended.

- Well, why are stupid chickens better than me? But they are fed, they are looked after, they are protected,” she complained to the Canary. - Also, take the pigeons... What's the use of them, but no, no, and they'll throw them a handful of oats. Also a stupid bird... And as soon as I fly up, everyone now starts chasing me. Is this fair? And they scold after him: “Oh, you crow!” Have you noticed that I will be better than others and even more beautiful?.. Let’s say that you don’t have to say this to yourself, but they force you to. Is not it?

Canary agreed with everything:

- Yes, you are a big bird...

- That's exactly what it is. They keep parrots in cages, take care of them, and why is a parrot better than me?.. So, the stupidest bird. All he knows is to yell and mutter, but no one can understand what he is muttering about. Is not it?

- Yes, we also had a parrot and it bothered everyone terribly.

- But you never know how many other birds like this, who live for no one knows why!.. Starlings, for example, will fly in like crazy from nowhere, live through the summer and fly away again. Swallows too, tits, nightingales - you never know how many such rubbish there are. Not a single serious, real bird at all... It smells a little cold, that’s it, let’s run away wherever we look.

In essence, Crow and Canary did not understand each other. The Canary did not understand this life in the wild, and the Crow did not understand it in captivity.

“Has no one ever thrown a grain to you, auntie?” - Canary was surprised. - Well, one grain?

- How stupid you are... What kind of grains are there? Just be careful that someone doesn’t kill you with a stick or a stone. People are very angry...

Canary could not agree with the latter, because people fed her. Maybe it seems so to the Crow... However, the Canary soon had to convince herself of human anger. One day she was sitting on the fence, when suddenly a heavy stone whistled overhead. Schoolchildren were walking down the street and saw a Crow on the fence - how could they not throw a stone at it?

- Well, have you seen it now? - asked the Crow, climbing onto the roof. That's all they are, that is, people.

“Perhaps you did something to annoy them, auntie?”

- Absolutely nothing... They’re just so angry. They all hate me...

The Canary felt sorry for poor Crow, whom no one, no one loved. After all, you can’t live like this...

There were generally enough enemies. For example, the cat Vaska... With what oily eyes he looked at all the birds, pretended to be asleep, and Canary saw with her own eyes how he grabbed a small, inexperienced sparrow, only the bones crunched and the feathers flew... Wow, scary! Then the hawk is also good: it floats in the air, and then falls like a stone on some unwary bird. The canary also saw the hawk dragging the chicken. However, Crow was not afraid of cats or hawks, and even she herself was not averse to feasting on a small bird. At first Canary didn’t believe it until she saw it with her own eyes. Once she saw a whole flock of sparrows chasing the Crow. They fly, squeak, crackle... The canary got terribly scared and hid in the nest.

- Give it back, give it back! - the sparrows squealed furiously, flying over the crow's nest. - What is it? This is robbery!..

The Crow darted into its nest, and the Canary saw with horror that she had brought a dead, bloody sparrow in her claws.

- Auntie, what are you doing?

“Be quiet...” Crow hissed.

Her eyes were scary - they were shining... The canary closed her eyes in fear, so as not to see how the Crow would tear the unfortunate sparrow.

“After all, she will eat me too someday,” thought the Canary.

But Crow, having eaten, became kinder every time. He cleans his nose, sits comfortably somewhere on a branch and dozes sweetly. In general, as Canary noted, the aunt was terribly gluttonous and did not disdain anything. Now she drags a crust of bread, now a piece of rotten meat, now some scraps that she was looking for in garbage pits. The latter was Crow's favorite pastime, and Canary could not understand what pleasure it was to dig in a garbage pit. However, it was difficult to blame Crow: every day she ate as much as twenty canaries would not eat. And Crow's only concern was about food... He would sit on the roof somewhere and look out.

When Crow was too lazy to find food herself, she resorted to tricks. When he sees that the sparrows are fiddling with something, he will immediately rush. It’s as if she’s flying past, and she’s screaming at the top of her lungs:

- Oh, I have no time... absolutely no time!..

She would fly up, grab the prey, and that was it.

“It’s not good, auntie, to take away from others,” the indignant Canary once remarked.

- Not good? What if I’m always hungry?

- And others want too...

- Well, others will take care of themselves. It’s you, sissies, who are fed everything in cages, but we have to get everything for ourselves. And so, how much do you or the sparrow need?.. I pecked some grains and was full for the whole day.

Summer flew by unnoticed. The sun definitely became colder and the days became shorter. It started to rain and a cold wind blew. The canary felt like the most unfortunate bird, especially when it was raining. But Crow definitely doesn’t notice anything.

- So what if it’s raining? - she was surprised. - It goes on and on and stops.

- It’s cold, aunty! Oh, how cold!..

It was especially bad at night. The wet Canary was shaking all over. And Crow is still angry:

- What a sissy!.. Or else it will happen when the cold hits and it snows.

The crow even felt offended. What kind of bird is this if it is afraid of rain, wind, and cold? After all, you can’t live like this in this world. She again began to doubt whether this Canary was really a bird. He's probably just pretending to be a bird...

- Really, I’m a real bird, auntie! - Canary assured with tears in her eyes. - Only I get cold...

- That's it, look! But it still seems to me that you are just pretending to be a bird...

- No, really, I’m not pretending.

Sometimes Canary thought deeply about her fate. Perhaps it would be better to stay in the cage... It’s warm and satisfying there. She even flew up several times to the window where her original cage stood. Two new canaries were already sitting there and envied her.

“Oh, how cold it is...” the chilled Canary squeaked pitifully. - Let me go home.

One morning, when Canary looked out of the crow's nest, she was struck by a sad picture: the ground had been covered with the first snow overnight, like a shroud. Everything was white all around... And most importantly, the snow covered all the grains that the Canary ate. There was rowan left, but she could not eat this sour berry. The crow sits, pecks at the rowan tree and praises:

- Oh, good berry!..

After fasting for two days, Canary became desperate. What will happen next?.. This way you can die of hunger...

Canary sits and grieves. And then he sees that the same schoolchildren who threw stones at Crow came running into the garden, spread a net on the ground, sprinkled delicious flaxseed and ran away.

“They’re not evil at all, these boys,” Canary rejoiced, looking at the spread net. - Auntie, the boys brought me food!

- Good food, nothing to say! - Crow grumbled. - Don’t even think about sticking your nose in there... Do you hear? As soon as you start pecking the grains, you will end up in the net.

- And then what will happen?

- And then they’ll put you in a cage again...

The Canary thought about it: I want to eat, but I don’t want to go into a cage. Of course, it’s cold and hungry, but still it’s much better to live in freedom, especially when it’s not raining.

The Canary hung on for several days, but hunger did not stop her - she was tempted by the bait and fell into the net.

“Fathers, guard!..” she squeaked pitifully. “I will never do it again... It’s better to die of hunger than to end up in a cage again!”

It now seemed to the canary that there was nothing better in the world than a crow's nest. Well, yes, of course, it was cold and hungry, but still - complete freedom. She flew wherever she wanted... She even cried. The boys will come and put her back in the cage. Luckily for her, she flew past Raven and saw that things were bad.

“Oh, you stupid!..” she grumbled. “I told you, don’t touch the bait.”

- Auntie, I won’t do it again...

The crow arrived on time. The boys were already running to grab the prey, but the Crow managed to tear the thin net, and the Canary found herself free again. The boys chased the damned Crow for a long time, threw sticks and stones at her and scolded her.

- Oh, how good! - Canary rejoiced, finding herself back in her nest.

- That's good. Look at me...” Crow grumbled.

The Canary began to live again in the crow's nest and no longer complained about the cold or hunger. Once the Crow flew off to prey, spent the night in the field, and returned home, the Canary lies in the nest with its legs up. Raven turned her head to the side, looked and said:

- Well, I told you it’s not a bird!..

Smarter than everyone else

Fairy tale

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

- After all, I’m smarter than everyone else? Yes?

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

- Oh, so smart... Cough, cough!.. Who doesn’t know that? Cough...

- No, tell me straight: smarter than everyone else? There are simply enough smart birds, and the smartest one is me.

- Smarter than everyone else... cough! Smarter than everyone... Cough-cough-cough!..

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

- You know, it seems to me that I have little respect. Yes, quite a bit.

- No, it seems so to you... Cough-cough! - Turkey reassured him, starting to straighten the feathers that had become tangled during the night. - Yes, it just seems... Birds couldn’t be smarter than you. Cough-cough-cough!

- And Gusak? Oh, I understand everything... Let’s say he doesn’t say anything directly, but mostly remains silent. But I feel that he silently does not respect me...

- Don’t pay any attention to him. It’s not worth it... cough! Have you noticed that Gusak is stupid?

- Who doesn’t see this? It’s written all over his face: stupid gander, and nothing more. Yes... But Gusak is okay - is it possible to be angry with a stupid bird? But the Rooster, the simplest rooster... What did he cry about me the day before? And as he shouted, all the neighbors heard. He, it seems, even called me very stupid... Something like that in general.

- Oh, how strange you are! - Turkey was surprised. “Don’t you know why he even screams?”

- Well, why?

- Cough-cough-cough... 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, a very ordinary rooster, and you are a real Indian, overseas rooster - so he screams with envy. Every bird wants to be an Indian rooster... Cough-cough-cough!..

- Well, it’s difficult, mother... Ha ha! Look 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, he hasn’t even had time to wake up, and he’s already thinking of someone to start a quarrel with or even a fight with. Generally the most restless bird, although not evil. The Turkey felt a little offended when other birds began to laugh at the Turkey and called him a chatterbox, a blabbermouth and a breaker. Let's say they were partly right, but find a bird without flaws? That's exactly what it is! There are no such birds, and it’s 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:

- Oh, 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,” observed Gusak, who was standing on one leg. Look at me: I’m also hungry, and I’m not screaming like you. If I screamed at the top of my lungs... like this... Go-go!.. Or like this: e-go-go-go!!.

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

“It’s good for him to talk about patience,” one Duck grumbled, “that throat is like a pipe.” And then, if I had such a long neck and such a strong beak, then I, too, would preach patience. She herself would be more likely to be full, and would advise others to be patient... We know this goose’s patience...

The Rooster supported the duck and shouted:

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

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

Out of pride, the turkey never rushed with others to feed, but patiently waited for Matryona to drive away the other greedy bird and call him. It was the same now. The turkey walked to the side, near the fence, and pretended to be looking for something among various rubbish.

- Cough, cough... oh, how I want to eat! - the Turkey complained, walking behind her husband. - Matryona threw away oats... yes... and, it seems, the remains of yesterday's porridge... cough-cough! Oh, how I love porridge!.. It seems that I would always eat one porridge, my whole life. I even sometimes see her at night in my dreams...

The Turkey loved to complain when she was hungry, and demanded that the Turkey certainly feel sorry for her. Among the other birds, she looked like an old woman: she was always hunched over, coughing, and walked with a 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 for food. Is that what I say? If my owner doesn't feed me, I'll die of hunger...right? Where will he find another turkey like this?

- There is nothing else like it anywhere...

- That's it... And the porridge, in essence, is nothing. Yes... It's not about the porridge, but about Matryona. Is that what I say? If Matryona were there, there would be porridge. Everything in the world depends on Matryona alone - oats, porridge, cereals, and crusts of bread.

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

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

- Oh, where!..

All the other hens immediately picked it up and screamed with good obscenities: “Oh, where! where, where..." And the Rooster roared louder than everyone else, of course:

- Carraul!.. Who's there?

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

“Yes, it’s a simple stone,” someone remarked.

“He was moving,” explained the Chicken. “I also thought it was a stone, I approached, and then it moved... Really!” It seemed to me that he had eyes, but stones do not have eyes.

“You never know what might seem out of fear to a stupid chicken,” said the Turkey. - Maybe this... this...

- Yes, it's a mushroom! - Gusak shouted. “I’ve seen mushrooms exactly like these, only without needles.”

Everyone laughed loudly at Gusak.

“It looks more like a hat,” someone tried to guess and was also ridiculed.

- Does a hat have eyes, gentlemen?

“There’s no need to talk in vain, but we need to act,” the Rooster decided for everyone. - Hey you, thing with needles, tell me, what kind of animal is it? 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’s... it’s a huge burdock cone, and nothing more,” he explained. - There’s nothing tasty... Would anyone like to try it?

Everyone was chatting, whatever came to mind. There was no end to guesswork and speculation. Only Turkey was silent. Well, let others chat, and he will listen to other people's nonsense. The birds chattered, screamed and argued for a long time until someone shouted:

- Gentlemen, why are we racking our brains in vain when we have Turkey? He knows everything...

“Of course, I know,” responded 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! Well, tell me, my dear... What should I say to you?

The turkey struggled for a long time and finally said:

- Well, okay, I guess I’ll say... yes, I’ll say it. Just first tell me who you think I am?

“Who doesn’t know that you are the smartest bird!” everyone answered in unison. That's what they say: smart as a turkey.

- So you respect me?

- We respect you! We respect everyone!..

The turkey broke down a little more, then it fluffed up all over, inflated its intestines, walked around the tricky animal three times and said:

- This is... yes... Do you want to know what it is?

- We want!.. Please don’t be tormented, but tell me quickly.

- This is someone crawling somewhere...

Everyone was just about to laugh when giggling was heard, and a thin voice said:

- That's the smartest bird!.. hee hee...

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

- Hello, gentlemen... How come you didn’t recognize this Hedgehog, the gray little man Hedgehog?

Everyone even became scared after such an insult as the Hedgehog inflicted on the Turkey. Of course, the Turkey said something stupid, that’s true, but it doesn’t follow from this that the Hedgehog has the right to insult him. Finally, it is simply impolite to come to someone else's house and insult the owner. Whatever you want, the Turkey is still an important, representative bird and certainly no match for some unfortunate Hedgehog.

Everyone somehow went over to Turkey’s side, and a terrible uproar arose.

— Hedgehog probably thinks we’re all stupid too! - shouted the Rooster, flapping his wings

- He insulted us all!..

“If anyone is stupid, it’s him, that is, the Hedgehog,” declared Gusak, craning his neck. - I noticed it right away... yes!..

-Can mushrooms be stupid? - answered the Hedgehog.

“Gentlemen, there’s no point in talking to him!” - the Rooster shouted. - He won’t understand anything anyway... It seems to me that we are just wasting our time. Yes... If, for example, you, Gander, grab his bristles with your strong beak on one side, and Turkey and I grab his bristles on the other, now it will be clear who is smarter. After all, you can’t hide your intelligence under stupid stubble...

“Well, I agree...” said Gusak. - It will be even better if I grab his stubble from behind, and you, Rooster, will peck him right in the face... Right, gentlemen? Who is smarter will now be seen.

The turkey was silent the whole time. At first he was stunned by the Hedgehog's audacity, and he could not find what to answer. Then Turkey got angry, so angry that even he himself became a little scared. He wanted to rush at the brute and tear him into small pieces so that everyone could see it and be convinced once again how serious and stern the Turkey bird is. He even took a few steps towards the Hedgehog, sulked terribly and was just about to rush when everyone started shouting and scolding the Hedgehog. The turkey stopped and patiently began to wait for how it would all 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 settle this whole matter peacefully... Yes. It seems to me that there is a slight misunderstanding here. Leave it to me, gentlemen, the whole matter...

“Okay, we’ll wait,” the Rooster reluctantly agreed, wanting to fight with the Hedgehog as quickly as possible. “But nothing will come of this anyway...

“But that’s my business,” the Turkey answered calmly. - 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. Hedgehog... Explain yourself seriously. I don't like troubles at home at all.

“God, how smart he is, how smart!..” thought Turkey, listening to her husband in silent delight.

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

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

The turkey stopped, paused for importance and then continued:

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

- Quite rightly, Turkey! - everyone shouted at once so loudly that the Hedgehog hid his black muzzle.

“Oh, how smart he is!” - thought Turkey, who was beginning to guess what was going on.

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

“Oh, you guessed it,” admitted the Hedgehog, sticking out his muzzle again. “I have such a cheerful character that I can’t even sleep at night... Many people can’t stand it, but I find it boring to sleep.”

- Well, you see... You will probably agree in character with our Rooster, who bawls like crazy at night.

Everyone suddenly felt cheerful, as if the only thing everyone needed to complete their life was the Hedgehog. The Turkey was triumphant that he had so cleverly gotten out of an awkward situation when the Hedgehog called him stupid and laughed right in his face.

“By the way, Mr. Hedgehog, admit it,” said Turkey, winking, because, of course, you were joking when you called me just now... yes... well, a stupid bird?

- Of course I was joking! - assured the Hedgehog. - I have such a cheerful character!..

- Yes, yes, I was sure of it. Did you hear, gentlemen? - Turkey asked everyone.

- We heard... Who could doubt it!

The Turkey leaned close to the Hedgehog’s ear and whispered to him in confidence:

- So be it, I’ll tell you a terrible secret... yes... Just one condition: don’t tell anyone. True, I’m a little ashamed to talk about myself, but what can you do if I’m the smartest bird! Sometimes this even embarrasses me a little, but you can’t hide a sewing in a bag... Please, just don’t say a word about this to anyone!..

The parable of Milk, Oatmeal Porridge and the gray cat Murka

Whatever you want, it was amazing! And the most amazing thing was that this was repeated every day. Yes, as soon as they put a pot of milk and a clay pan with oatmeal on the stove in the kitchen, that’s how it begins. At first they stand as if nothing is happening, and then the conversation begins:

- I am Milk...

- And I am oatmeal Porridge!

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

- I am Milk!

- And I am oatmeal Porridge!

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

- But I’m still oatmeal Porridge... pum!

Milk thought this boasting was terribly offensive. Please tell me what a miracle it is - some kind of oatmeal! The milk began to get hot, foamed up and tried to get out of its pot. The cook overlooked it a little, and looked - Milk poured onto the hot stove.

- Oh, this is Milk for me! — the cook complained every time. - If you overlook it a little, it will run away.

- What should I do if I have such a hot temper! Molochko justified himself. “I’m not happy when I’m angry.” And then Kashka constantly boasts: “I am Kashka, I am Kashka, I am Kashka...” He sits in his saucepan and grumbles; Well, I'll be angry.

Sometimes things got to the point where Kashka would run away from the saucepan, despite its lid, and would crawl onto the stove, while she kept repeating:

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

It is true that this did not happen often, but it still happened, and the cook, in despair, repeated over and over again:

- This is Porridge for me!.. And that it doesn’t sit in the saucepan is simply amazing!

The cook was generally worried quite often. And there were quite a few 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 following the cook and meowing in such a pitiful voice that it seemed that a heart of stone could not stand it.

- What an insatiable womb! - the cook was surprised, driving away the cat. How many livers did you eat yesterday?

- That was yesterday! - Murka was surprised in turn. - And today I’m hungry again... Meow!..

- I would catch mice and eat, lazy man.

“Yes, it’s good to say that, but I should try to catch at least one mouse myself,” Murka justified himself. - However, it seems that I’m trying hard enough... For example, last week who caught the mouse? Who gave me scratches all over my nose? That's the kind of rat I caught, and it grabbed my nose... It's just easy to say: catch mice!

Having eaten enough liver, Murka would sit somewhere near the stove, where it was warmer, close his eyes and doze sweetly.

- See how full I am! - the cook was surprised. - And he closed his eyes, lazybones... And keep giving him meat!

“After all, I’m not a monk, so I don’t eat meat,” Murka justified himself, opening only one eye. - Then, I also like to eat fish... It’s even very nice to eat fish. I still can’t say which is better: liver or fish. Out of politeness, I eat both... If I were a person, I would certainly be a fisherman or a peddler who brings us liver. I would feed all the cats in the world to the fullest and I would always be full...

Having eaten, Murka liked to occupy himself with various foreign objects for his own entertainment. Why, for example, not sit for two hours on the window where the cage with the starling hung? It's very nice to watch a stupid bird jump.

- I know you, old rogue! - Starling shouts from above. - There is no need to look at me...

- What if I want to meet you?

- I know how you meet... Who recently ate a real, living sparrow? Ugh, disgusting!..

- Not at all disgusting, - and even vice versa. Everyone loves me... Come to me, I’ll tell you a fairy tale.

- Oh, the rogue... Nothing to say, a good storyteller! I saw you telling your stories to the fried chicken you stole from the kitchen. Good!

- As you know, I’m speaking for your pleasure. As for the fried chicken, I actually ate it; but he was no good anyway.

By the way, every morning Murka sat at the heated stove and patiently listened to how Molochko and Kashka quarreled. He couldn’t understand what was going on and just blinked.

- I am Milk.

- I am Kashka! Porridge-Porridge-cough...

- No, I don’t understand! “I really don’t understand anything,” said Murka. Why are they angry? For example, if I repeat: I am a cat, I am a cat, cat, cat... Will anyone be offended?.. No, I don’t understand... However, I must admit that I prefer milk, especially when it doesn’t get angry.

One day Molochko and Kashka were quarreling especially heatedly; They quarreled to the point that half of them spilled onto the stove, and a terrible fume arose. The cook came running and just clasped her hands.

- Well, what am I going to do now? - she complained, putting Milk and Porridge away from the stove. - You can’t turn away...

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

- Please don’t be angry, Milk...

The milk noticeably began to calm down. Murka walked around him, blew again, straightened his mustache and said very affectionately:

- That's it, gentlemen... It's generally not good to quarrel. Yes. Choose me as a magistrate, and I will immediately sort out your case...

The black Cockroach sitting in the crack even choked with laughter: “That’s how the justice of the peace... Ha ha! Ah, the old rogue, what can he come up with!..” 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 what they were arguing about.

“Okay, okay, I’ll sort it all out,” said Murka the cat. - I won’t lie to you... Well, let’s start with Molochka.

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

- Fathers!.. Guard! - shouted the Cockroach. “He’ll cry out all the milk, but they’ll think of me!”

When the cook returned from the market and ran out of milk, the pot was empty. Murka the cat slept right next to the stove in a sweet sleep, as if nothing had happened.

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

No matter how painful it was, Murka pretended that he didn’t understand anything and couldn’t speak. When he was thrown out the door, he shook himself, licked his rumpled fur, straightened his tail and said:

“If I were a cook, all the cats would do from morning to night was drink milk.” However, I’m not angry with my cook, because she doesn’t understand this...

It's time to sleep

One of Alyonushka’s eyes falls asleep, Alyonushka’s other ear falls asleep...

- Dad, are you here?

- Here, baby...

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

Alyonushka fell asleep and smiled in her sleep.

Oh, so many flowers! And they all smile too. They surrounded Alyonushka’s crib, whispering and laughing in thin voices. Scarlet flowers, blue flowers, yellow flowers, blue, pink, red, white - as if a rainbow had fallen to the ground and scattered with living sparks, multi-colored lights and cheerful children's eyes.

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

- Oh, how funny she is! - whispered the modest Forget-Me-Nots.

“Gentlemen, this matter needs to be seriously discussed,” the yellow Dandelion cheerfully intervened. - At least I didn’t expect this...

- What does it mean to be a queen? - asked the blue field Cornflower. I grew up in the fields and don’t understand your city ways.

“It’s very simple...” the pink Carnation intervened. - It's so simple that there's no need to explain. The queen is... is... You still don’t understand anything? Oh, how strange you are... A queen is when the flower is pink, like me. In other words: Alyonushka wants to be a carnation. Seems clear?

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

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

- This is cute! - Dandelion got angry. - And who, in this case, do you take me for?

“Dandelion, please don’t be angry,” the forest Bells persuaded him. “It spoils your character and is ugly at that.” 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 a lot of flowers, and they argued so funny. The wildflowers were so modest - like lilies of the valley, violets, forget-me-nots, bells, cornflowers, wild carnations; and the flowers grown in the greenhouses were a little pompous: roses, tulips, lilies, daffodils, gillyflowers, like rich children dressed up for the holidays. Alyonushka loved more modest wildflowers, from which she made bouquets and wove wreaths. How nice they all are!

“Alyonushka loves us very much,” the Violets whispered. - After all, we are the first in the spring. As soon as the snow melts, we are here.

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

- Why is it our fault that it’s cold for us to grow right in the field? the fragrant curly Levkoi and Hyacinths complained. “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 nice it is there, and we constantly miss our sweet homeland... It’s so cold here in the north. Alyonushka loves us too, and even very much...

“It’s good here too,” the wildflowers 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 weren't for the cold, we would have had a bad time.

“We also love the cold,” Roses added.

Azalea and Camellia were told the same thing. They all loved the cold when they were gaining color.

“Here’s what, gentlemen, we’ll tell you about our homeland,” suggested white Narcissus. - This is very interesting... Alyonushka will listen to us. After all, she loves us too...

Then everyone started talking at once. Roses remembered with tears the blessed valleys of Shiraz, Hyacinths - Palestine, Azaleas - America, Lilies - Egypt... Flowers gathered here from all corners of the world, and everyone could tell so much. Most of the flowers came from the south, where there is so much sun and no winter. How nice it is there!.. 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,” all these southern plants whispered.

Native wildflowers even took pity on them. Indeed, one must have great patience when the cold north wind blows, the cold rain pours and the snow falls. Let’s say the spring snow is melting soon, but it’s still snow.

“You have a huge drawback,” Vasilek explained, having heard enough of these stories. “I don’t argue, you are, perhaps, sometimes more beautiful than us, simple wildflowers,” I willingly admit that... yes... In a word, you are our dear guests, and your main drawback is that you grow only for rich people, and we 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 poor children!.. You don’t have to pay money for me, you just have to go 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 they were just talking about.

“If I were a swallow, I would fly right now,” she finally said. - Why don’t I have wings? Oh, how good it is to be a bird!..

Before she had time to finish 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.

- But I don’t have wings, Ladybug!

- Sit on me...

- How can I sit down when you’re little?

- But look...

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

-Are you okay, Alyonushka? - asked Ladybug.

- Well, now hold on tight...

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

“Look what’s down there...” Ladybug told her.

Alyonushka looked down and even clasped her little hands.

- Oh, so many roses... red, yellow, white, pink!

The ground was as if covered with a living carpet of roses.

“Let’s go down to earth,” 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 through the pink field and picked a huge bouquet of flowers. How beautiful they are, these roses; and their aroma makes you dizzy. If only this whole pink field could be moved there, to the north, where roses are only dear guests!..

She again became big and big, and Alyonushka became small and small.

They flew again.

It was so good all around! The sky was so blue, and below was an even blue sea. They flew over a steep and rocky coast.

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

- Yes... just sit still and hold on tight.

At first Alyonushka was even scared, but then nothing. There was nothing left except sky and water. And ships rushed across the sea like large birds with white wings... Small ships looked like flies. Oh, how beautiful, how good!.. And ahead you can already see the seashore - low, yellow and sandy, the mouth of some huge river, some completely white city, as if it was built from sugar. And then a dead desert was visible, where only pyramids stood. Ladybug landed on the river bank. Green papyrus and lilies grew here, wonderful, tender lilies.

“It’s so nice here,” Alyonushka spoke to them. - It’s not winter for you?

- What is winter? - Lily was surprised.

- Winter is when it snows...

- What is snow?

Lily even laughed. They thought the little northern girl was playing a joke on 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 hearsay.

Alyonushka also did not believe that there was no winter. So, you don’t need a fur coat or 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 so hot here. Impenetrable forests began behind the mountains. It was dark under the canopy of trees because sunlight did not penetrate here through the dense tree tops. Monkeys were jumping on the branches. And how many birds there were, green, red, yellow, blue... But most amazing of all were the flowers that grew right on the tree trunks. There were flowers of a completely fiery color, some were variegated; there were flowers that looked like small birds and large butterflies, the whole forest seemed to be burning with multi-colored living lights.

“These are orchids,” explained Ladybug.

It was impossible to walk here - everything was so intertwined.

“This is 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 was better.

“I love snow,” said Alyonushka. - It’s not good without winter...

They flew again, and the higher they rose, the colder it became. Soon snowy glades appeared below. Only one coniferous forest was turning green. Alyonushka was terribly happy when she saw the first Christmas tree.

- Christmas tree, Christmas tree! - she shouted.

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

It was a real Christmas tree - Alyonushka recognized it immediately. Oh, what a sweet Christmas tree!.. Alyonushka bent down to tell her how cute she was, and suddenly flew down. Wow, how scary!.. She turned over several times in the air and fell straight into the soft snow. Out of 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 old man. She also recognized him immediately. This was the same old man who brings Christmas trees, gold stars, boxes with 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 asked again:

- How did you get here, little girl?

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

- So-so…

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

- Well, well... And now I’m also organizing 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 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. Now small birds that don’t fly away for the winter came from all sides: sparrows, blackbirds, buntings, and began to peck at the grain.

- This is our Christmas tree! - they shouted.

Alyonushka suddenly felt very happy. It was the first time she saw how they set up a Christmas tree for birds in winter.

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

- But 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, little sparrow!..

- Oh, is it you, Alyonushka? Hello!..

The bully sparrow hopped 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 her say it myself just now.”

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

- I really want to, grandpa!

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

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

Bye-bye-bye...

One of Alyonushka’s eyes is asleep, the other is watching; One ear of Alyonushka is sleeping, the other is listening. Everyone has now gathered around Alyonushka’s crib: the brave Hare, and Medvedko, and the bully Rooster, and the Sparrow, and the black little Crow, and Ruff Ershovich, and the little Kozyavochka. Everything is here, everything is at Alyonushka’s.

“Dad, I love everyone...” Alyonushka whispers. - I love black cockroaches too, dad...

Another eye closed, another ear fell asleep... And near Alyonushka’s crib the spring grass grows cheerfully green, flowers smile - many flowers: blue, pink, yellow, blue, red. A green birch tree leaned over the crib and whispered something so tenderly. And the sun is shining, and the sand is turning yellow, and the blue wave of the sea is calling Alyonushka...

- Sleep, Alyonushka! Get strong...

The article is dedicated to the popular writer-storyteller - D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak. 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. His mother paid a lot of attention to Dima's upbringing. When he grew up, his parents sent him to school, where the children of workers of the Visimo-Shaitansky plant studied.

Dad really wanted his son to follow in his footsteps. At first everything was 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 entire life to the work of a priest, and therefore decided to leave the seminary. The father was extremely dissatisfied with his son's behavior 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 medical institutions. For a year he studies to become a veterinarian, after which he transfers to the medical department. Then he entered St. Petersburg University at the Faculty of Natural Sciences, after which he began to study law.

As a result of six years of “walking” through 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 his pen the first work is born, which is called “Secrets of the Dark Forest”. Already in this essay his creative potential and extraordinary talent are visible. 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 works 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 artist 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 revealed himself to readers as a charming storyteller.

It is important to note this interesting fact: some of Mamin-Sibiryak’s works 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 a stone well."
• "Wizard".
• "In the mountains".
• "In learning."
• "Emelya the Hunter."
• "Green War".
• Series “From the Distant Past” (“The Road”, “The Execution of Fortunka”, “Illness”, “The Story of a Sawyer”, “The Beginner”, “The Book”).
• Legends: “Baymagan”, “Maya”, “Swan of Khantygay”.
• "Forest Tale".
• "Medvedko".
• "On a way".
• "About Nodi."
• "Fathers".
• "First correspondence".
• "Steady."
• "Underground".
• "Foster child."
• "Siberian Stories" ("Abba", "Despatch", "Dear Guests").
• Fairy tales and stories for children: “Akbozat”, “The Rich Man and Eremka”, “In the Wilderness”, “Winter Quarters on Studenoy”.
• "Gray neck"
• "Stubborn goat."
• "Old Sparrow"
• "The Tale of the Glorious King Pea."

Annotations to the tales of Mamin-Sibiryak

A truly talented storyteller is Mamin-Sibiryak. The fairy tales of this author are very popular with children and adults. They feel soulfulness and special penetration. They were created for a beloved daughter whose mother died during childbirth.

Dmitry Mamin was born on October 25 (November 6, n.s.) 1852 in the Visimo-Shaitansky plant in the then Perm province (now the village of Visim, Sverdlovsk region, near Nizhny Tagil) in the family of a priest. He was educated at home, then studied at the Visim school for children of workers.

Mamin’s father wanted him to follow in the footsteps of his parents in the future and be a minister of the church. Therefore, in 1866, the boy’s parents sent the boy to receive theological education at the Yekaterinburg Theological School, where he studied until 1868, and then continued his studies at the Perm Theological Seminary. During these years, he participated in a circle of advanced seminarians and was influenced by the ideas of Chernyshevsky, Dobrolyubov, and Herzen. His first creative attempts date back to his stay here.

After the seminary, Dmitry Mamin moved to St. Petersburg in the spring of 1871 and entered the medical-surgical academy in the veterinary department, and then transferred to medicine.

In 1874, Mamin passed the exams at St. Petersburg University. He studied at the Faculty of Science for about two years.

In 1876, he transferred to the university's law faculty, but never completed even a course there. Mamin was forced to leave his studies due to financial difficulties and a sharp deterioration in health. The young man began to develop tuberculosis. Fortunately, the young body was able to overcome the serious illness.

During his student years, Mamin began writing short reports and stories for newspapers. The first short stories by Mamin-Sibiryak appeared in print in 1872.

Mamin well described his student years, his first difficult steps in literature, along with acute material need, in the autobiographical novel “Characters from the Life of Pepko,” which became not only one of the best, brightest works of the writer, but also perfectly showed his worldview, views and ideas.

In the summer of 1877, Mamin-Sibiryak returned to his parents in the Urals. The following year his father died. The entire burden of caring for the family fell on Dmitry Mamin. In order to educate his brothers and sister, as well as to be able to earn money, the family decided to move to Yekaterinburg. Here began a new life for an aspiring writer.

Soon he married Maria Alekseeva, who also became a good adviser to him on literary issues.

During these years, he makes many trips throughout the Urals, studies literature on the history, economics, and ethnography of the Urals, immerses himself in folk life, and communicates with people who have extensive life experience.

Two long trips to the capital (1881-82, 1885-86) strengthened the writer’s literary connections: he met Korolenko, Zlatovratsky, Goltsev and others. During these years he wrote and published many short stories and essays.

In 1881-1882 a series of travel essays “From the Urals to Moscow” appears, published in the Moscow newspaper “Russian Vedomosti”. Then his Ural stories and essays appear in the publications “Foundations”, “Delo”, “Bulletin of Europe”, “Russian Thought”, “Domestic Notes”.

Some of the works of this time were signed with the pseudonym “D. Sibiryak”. Having attached a pseudonym to his name, the writer quickly gained popularity, and the signature Mamin-Sibiryak remained with him forever.

In these works of the writer, the creative motives characteristic of Mamin-Sibiryak begin to be traced: a gorgeous description of the grandiose Ural nature (not subject to any other writers), showing its impact on life, human tragedy. In the works of Mamin-Sibiryak, plot and nature are inseparable and interconnected.

In 1883, Mamin-Sibiryak’s first novel, “Privalov’s Millions,” appeared on the pages of the Delo magazine. He worked on it for ten (!) years. The novel was a great success.

In 1884, his second novel, “Mountain Nest,” was published in Otechestvennye zapiski, which secured Mamin-Sibiryak’s fame as a realist writer.

In 1890, Mamin-Sibiryak divorced his first wife and married the talented artist of the Yekaterinburg Drama Theater M. Abramova. Together with her, he permanently moves to St. Petersburg, where he passes the last stage of his life.

A year after the move, Abramova dies due to difficult childbirth, leaving her sick daughter Alyonushka in her father’s arms. The death of his wife, whom he loved dearly, shook Mamin-Sibiryak to the depths of his soul. He suffers very much and cannot find a place for himself. The writer fell into a deep depression, as evidenced by his letters to his homeland.

Mamin-Sibiryak begins to write a lot again, including for children. So he wrote “Alenushka’s Tales” (1894-96) for his daughter, which gained great popularity. “Alyonushka’s Tales” are full of optimism, a bright faith in goodness. “Alyonushka's Tales” have forever become a children's classic.

In 1895, the writer published the novel “Bread”, as well as the two-volume collection “Ural Stories”.

The writer's last major works were the novels "Characters from the Life of Pepko" (1894), "Shooting Stars" (1899) and the story "Mumma" (1907).

“Can you really be satisfied with your life alone? No, living a thousand lives, suffering and rejoicing in a thousand hearts - that’s where life and real happiness are!” says Mamin in “Characters from the Life of Pepko.” He wants to live for everyone, to experience everything and feel everything.

At the age of 60, on November 2 (November 15, n.s.), 1912, Dmitry Nirkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak died in St. Petersburg.

In 2002, on the 150th anniversary of the writer D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak, a prize named after him was established in the Urals. The prize is awarded annually on the birthday of D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak - November 6

Dmitry Narkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak did not write many children's fairy tales. One of them is “Grey Neck”. The little duck injured her wing and was unable to fly away with her flock to warmer climes, but she did not despair. Using this fairy tale as an example, you can explain to a child what courage and compassion are. Even 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 humorous parables and stories written in simple “children’s” language; they will be interesting even to the little ones.

Fairy tale Gray Neck

A serious large bird, like swans, geese and ducks, prepared for the journey with an important air, aware of the difficulty of the upcoming feat; and most of all the noise, fussing and fussing was made by small birds, such as sandpipers, phalaropes, dunlins, dunnies, and plovers. They had been gathering in flocks for a long time and were moving from one bank to another along 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 fly away in due time.” I don't understand what there is to worry about.

“You’ve always been lazy, that’s why 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, and nothing more. Maybe I care more than everyone else, but I just don’t show it. It won't do much good if I run from morning to night along the shore, shouting, disturbing others, annoying everyone.

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

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

Don't grumble, old woman! After all, I’m not saying anything but 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 babysits 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 it somehow turned out that it was he, Drake, who was always right, always smart and always better than everyone else. The duck had long been accustomed to this, but now she was worried about a very special occasion.

What kind of father are you? - she attacked her husband. - Fathers take care of their children, but you don’t even want grass to grow!

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

They called their crippled daughter Gray Neck, whose wing was broken in the spring, when the Fox crept up to the brood and grabbed the duckling. The Old Duck boldly rushed at the enemy and fought off the duckling, but one of its wings was broken.

It’s scary to even think about how we’ll leave Gray Neck here alone,” repeated the Duck 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 be freezing here. After all, she is our daughter, and how I love her, my Gray Neck! You know, old man, I’ll stay here with her for the winter together.

What about other children?

They are healthy and will manage without me.

The drake always tried to hush up the conversation when it came to Gray Neck. Of course, he loved her too, but why worry in vain? Well, it will stay, well, it will freeze - it’s a pity, of course, but still nothing can be done. Finally, you need to think about other children. My wife is always worried, but we need to look at things seriously. The drake felt sorry for his wife to himself, but did not fully understand her maternal grief. It would be better if the Fox then completely ate Gray Neck - after all, she still has to die in the winter.

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

You'll be back in the spring, won't you? - Gray Neck asked her mother.

Yes, yes, we'll be back, my dear. And again we will all live together.

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

Somehow, dear, you’ll get through,” the old Duck reassured. - At first you will get bored, and then you will get used to it. If it were possible to move you to a warm spring that doesn’t freeze even in winter, it would be absolutely good. It is not far from here. However, what can we say in vain, we still can’t take you there!

I will think about you all the time. “I’ll keep thinking: where are you, what are you doing, are you having fun?” It will be the same, as if I am with you together.

The Old Duck had to muster all her strength not to reveal her despair. She tried to appear cheerful and cried quietly from everyone. Oh, how she felt sorry for dear, poor Gray Neck. She now hardly noticed or paid any attention to the other children, and it seemed to her that she didn’t even love them at all.

And how quickly time flew. There had already been a whole series of cold morning performances, and the birch trees had turned yellow and the aspen trees had turned red from the frost. The water in the river darkened, and the river itself seemed larger, because the banks were bare - the coastal growth was quickly losing its foliage. The cold autumn wind tore off the dried leaves and carried them away. The sky was often covered with heavy autumn clouds, dropping fine autumn rain. In general, there was little good, and for many days already a flock of migratory birds rushed past. The swamp birds were the first to move, because the swamps had already begun to freeze. The waterfowl stayed the longest. Gray Neck was most upset by the migration of the cranes, because they cooed so pitifully, as if they were calling her to come with them. For the first time, her heart sank from some secret premonition, and for a long time she followed with her eyes the flock of cranes flying away in the sky.

How good it must be for them, thought Gray Neck.

Swans, geese and ducks also began to prepare to fly away. Individual nests united into large flocks. Old and experienced birds taught the young. Every morning these young people, shouting joyfully, took long walks to strengthen their wings for the long flight. Clever leaders first trained individual parties, and then all together. There was so much screaming, youthful fun and joy. Gray Neck alone could not take part in these walks and admired them only from afar. What to do, I had to come to terms 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 should we expect here?

And time flew, flew quickly. The fateful day came. The whole flock huddled together in one living heap on the river. It was an early autumn morning, when the water was still covered in thick fog. The school of ducks consisted of three hundred pieces. All that could be heard was the quacking of the main leaders. The Old Duck did not sleep all night - it was the last night she spent with Gray Neck.

“You stay near that bank where the spring runs into the river,” she advised. “The water there won’t freeze all winter.”

Gray Neck stayed away from the school, 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, looking 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 need to fly with the joint?

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

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

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

The river on which Gray Neck remained rolled merrily in the mountains covered with dense forest. The place was remote, and there was no housing around. In the mornings, the water off the coast began to freeze, and in the afternoon, the glass-thin ice melted.

Will the whole river freeze over? - Gray Neck thought 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 recognized loneliness. The river was empty, and life survived only in the forest, where hazel grouse whistled, squirrels and hares jumped.

One day, out of boredom, Gray Neck climbed into the forest and was terribly scared when a Hare flew head over heels from under a bush.

Oh, how you scared me, stupid! - said the Hare, calming down a little. - My soul has sunk into my heels... And why are you hanging around here? After all, the ducks have all flown away a long time ago.

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

This is my Fox! There is no worse beast. She's been getting to me for a long time now. You beware of it, especially when the river is covered with ice. It just grabs.

They met. The hare was as defenseless as Gray Neck, and saved his life by constant flight.

If I had wings like a bird, it seems that 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 constantly tremble with fear. I have enemies all around me. In summer you can still hide somewhere, but in winter everything is visible.

The first snow soon fell, but the river still did not succumb to the cold. One day, the mountain river that was seething during the day calmed down, and the cold quietly crept up on her, hugged the proud, rebellious beauty tightly and as if covered her with mirror glass. Gray Neck was in despair because only the very middle of the river, where a wide ice hole had formed, did not freeze. There was no more than fifteen fathoms of free space left to swim. Gray Neck's grief reached its final pitch when the Fox appeared on the shore - it was the same Fox who broke her wing.

Ah, old friend, hello! - the Fox said affectionately, stopping on the shore. - Long time no see. Congratulations on winter.

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

This is for my affection! You are good, there is nothing to say! However, they say a lot of unnecessary things about me. They will do something themselves, and then blame it on me. Bye see you!

When the Fox had cleared away, the Hare hobbled over and said:

Beware, Gray Neck: she will come again.

And Gray Neck also began to be afraid, just as the Hare was afraid. The poor woman could not even admire the miracles happening around her. Real winter has already arrived. The ground was covered with a snow-white carpet. Not a single dark spot remained. Even bare birches, willows and rowan trees were covered with frost, like silvery fluff. And spruce became even more important. They stood covered in snow, as if they were wearing an expensive, warm fur coat. Yes, it was wonderful, it was good all around; and poor Gray Neck knew only one thing, that this beauty was not for her, and trembled at the thought that her ice hole was about to freeze over and she would have nowhere to go. The fox actually 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 to, I’ll come to you myself. I'm not arrogant.

And the Fox began to crawl carefully along the ice towards the ice hole. Gray Neck's heart sank. But the Fox could not get to the water itself, because the ice there was still very thin. She laid her head on her front paws, licked her lips and said:

What a stupid duck you are. Get out on the ice! But bye bye! I'm in a hurry about my business.

The fox began to come every day to check if the ice hole had frozen. The coming frosts were doing their job. From the large hole there was only one window left, a fathom in size. The ice was strong, and the Fox sat on the very edge. Poor Gray Neck dived into the water with fear, and the Fox sat and laughed at her angrily:

It’s okay, dive in, and I’ll eat you anyway. Better go out yourself.

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

Oh, how shameless this Fox is. How unfortunate this Gray Neck is! The Fox will eat it.

In all likelihood, the Fox would have eaten Gray Neck when the ice hole froze completely, but it happened differently. The hare saw everything with his own slanting eyes.

It was in the morning. The hare jumped out of his den to feed and play with other hares. The frost was healthy, and the hares warmed themselves by beating their paws against paws. Although it is cold, it is still fun.

Brothers, beware! - someone shouted.

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

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

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

Ah, the crafty ones! - the old man got angry. - Now I’m here for you. What they don’t understand, the stupid ones, is that an old woman can’t go without a fur coat. Don't let her freeze. But you won’t deceive Akintich, no matter how much you run. Akintich will be more cunning. And the old woman told Akintich how: “Look, old man, don’t come without a fur coat!” And you go away.

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

Eh, old woman, old woman, our fur coat has run away! - he thought out loud. - Well, I’ll rest and go look for another one.

The old man is sitting, grieving, and then, lo and behold, the Fox is crawling along the river, just like a cat.

That's the thing! - the old man was happy. - The collar of the old woman’s fur coat creeps up on its own. Apparently, she wanted to drink, or maybe she even decided to catch fish.

The fox actually crawled up to the ice hole in which Gray Neck was swimming and lay down on the ice. The old man's eyes saw poorly and because of the fox the ducks did not notice.

“We have to shoot her in such a way as not to spoil the collar,” the old man thought, taking aim at the Fox. - Otherwise, this is how the old woman will scold if her collar turns out to have holes in it. You also need your own skill everywhere, but without gear you can’t even kill a bug.

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 darting on the ice - and rushed as fast as he could towards the ice hole; On the way, he fell twice, and when he reached the hole, he just threw up his hands - his 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 Neck explained.

Ran away? Here's a collar for your fur coat, old woman. What am I going to do now, huh? Well, the sin has come out. And you, stupid, why are you swimming here?

And I, grandfather, could not fly away with the others. One of my wings is damaged.

Oh, stupid, stupid. But you will 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 to you: I’ll take you away to my granddaughters. They'll be happy. And in the spring you will give the old woman eggs and hatch ducklings. Is that what I say? That's it, stupid.

The old man took the Gray Neck out of the wormwood and put it in his bosom.

“I won’t tell the old woman anything,” he thought as he headed home. - Let her fur coat and collar take a walk in the forest together. The main thing is that the granddaughters will be so happy.

The hares saw all this and laughed merrily. It’s okay, the old woman won’t freeze on the stove without a fur coat.

The parable of Milk, Oatmeal Porridge and the gray cat Murka

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

I am Milk...

And I am oatmeal porridge!

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

I am Milk!

And I am oatmeal porridge!

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

But I’m still oatmeal Porridge... pum!

Milk thought this boasting was terribly offensive. Please tell me what a miracle it is - some kind of oatmeal! The milk began to get hot, foamed up and tried to get out of its pot.

The cook overlooked it a little, and looked - milk poured onto the hot stove.

Oh, this is Milk for me! – the cook complained every time. - If you overlook it a little, it will run away.

What should I do if I have such a hot temper! - Molochko justified himself. – I’m not happy when I’m angry. And then Kashka constantly brags: “I am Kashka, I am Kashka, I am Kashka...” He sits in his saucepan and grumbles; Well, I'll be angry.

Sometimes things got to the point where Kashka would run away from the saucepan, despite its lid, and would crawl onto the stove, and she would repeat everything:

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

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

This is Porridge for me!.. And it’s simply amazing that it doesn’t fit in the saucepan!

The cook was generally worried quite often. And there were quite a few 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 following the cook and meowing in such a pitiful voice that it seemed that a heart of stone could not stand it.

What an insatiable womb! – the cook was surprised, driving away the cat. - How many livers did you eat yesterday?

Well, that was yesterday! – Murka was surprised in turn. – And today I’m hungry again... Meow!..

I would catch mice and eat, lazy man.

Yes, it’s good to say that, but I would try to catch at least one mouse myself,” Murka justified himself. - However, it seems that I’m trying hard enough... For example, last week who caught the mouse? Who gave me scratches all over my nose? That's the kind of rat I caught, and it grabbed my nose... It's just easy to say: catch mice!

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

Having eaten enough liver, Murka would sit somewhere near the stove, where it was warmer, close his eyes and doze sweetly.

See how full I am! – the cook was surprised. - And he closed his eyes, lazybones... And keep giving him meat!

After all, I’m not a monk, so I don’t eat meat,” Murka justified himself, opening only one eye. - Then, I also like to eat fish... It’s even very nice to eat fish. I still can’t say which is better: liver or fish. Out of politeness, I eat both... If I were a person, I would certainly be a fisherman or a peddler who brings us liver. I would feed all the cats in the world to the fullest and I would always be full...

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

Having eaten, Murka liked to occupy himself with various foreign objects for his own entertainment. Why, for example, not sit for two hours on the window where the cage with the starling hung? It's very nice to watch a stupid bird jump.

I know you, old rogue! - Starling shouts from above. - There is no need to look at me...

What if I want to meet you?

I know how you meet... Who recently ate a real, live sparrow? Ugh, disgusting!..

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

Ah, the rogue... Nothing to say, a good storyteller! I saw you telling your stories to the fried chicken you stole from the kitchen. Good!

As you know, I’m speaking for your pleasure. As for the fried chicken, I actually ate it; but he was no good anyway.

By the way, every morning Murka sat at the heated stove and patiently listened to how Molochko and Kashka quarreled. He couldn’t understand what was going on and just blinked.

I am Milk.

I am Kashka! Porridge-Porridge-cough...

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

No, I don't understand! “I really don’t understand anything,” said Murka. – Why are they angry? For example, if I repeat: I am a cat, I am a cat, cat, cat... Will anyone be offended?.. No, I don’t understand... However, I must admit that I prefer milk, especially when it doesn’t get angry.

One day Molochko and Kashka were quarreling especially heatedly; They quarreled to the point that half of them spilled onto the stove, and a terrible fume arose. The cook came running and just clasped her hands.

Well what am I going to do now? - she complained, putting Milk and Porridge away from the stove. - You can’t turn away...

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

Please don't be angry, Milk...

The milk noticeably began to calm down. Murka walked around him, blew again, straightened his mustache and said very affectionately:

That's it, gentlemen... It's generally not good to quarrel. Yes. Choose me as a magistrate, and I will immediately sort out your case...

The black Cockroach sitting in the crack even choked with laughter: “That’s how the justice of the peace... Ha ha! Ah, the old rogue, what can he come up with!..” 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 what they were arguing about.

“Okay, okay, I’ll sort it all out,” said Murka the cat. – I won’t lie to you... Well, let’s start with Molochka.

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

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

Fathers!.. Guard! - Cockroach shouted. “He’ll drink up all the milk, but they’ll think of me!”

When the cook returned from the market and ran out of milk, the pot was empty. Murka the cat slept right next to the stove in a sweet sleep, as if nothing had happened.

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

No matter how painful it was, Murka pretended that he didn’t understand anything and couldn’t speak. When he was thrown out the door, he shook himself, licked his rumpled fur, straightened his tail and said:

If I were a cook, all the cats would do from morning to night was drink milk. However, I’m not angry with my cook, because she doesn’t understand this...

The tale of Vanka's name day

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

Vanka walks around in a red shirt and says:

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

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

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

LJ. LJ. Where is the birthday boy? LJ. LJ. I really like to have fun in good company.

Two dolls arrived. One with blue eyes, Anya, her nose was a little damaged; the other with black eyes, Katya, she was missing one arm. They arrived decorously and took a place on a toy sofa.

Let’s see what kind of treat Vanka has,” Anya noted. - He's really bragging about something. The music is not bad, but I have serious doubts about the food.

“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, young lady! Let's have great fun. Of course, I’m missing one leg, but the top can spin on just one leg. Hello, Volchok.

LJ. Hello! Why does one of your eyes look black?

Nothing. It was me who fell off the couch. It could be worse.

Oh, how bad it can be. Sometimes I hit the wall with all my running, right on my head!

It's good that your head is empty.

It still hurts. LJ. Try it yourself and you'll find out.

The clown just clicked his copper plates. 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 with him a three-legged horse.

Well, Vanka, receive guests! - Petrushka spoke cheerfully, clicking himself on the nose. - One is better than the other. My Matryona Ivanovna alone is worth something. She really loves to drink tea with me, like a duck.

“We’ll find some tea, Pyotr Ivanovich,” Vanka answered. - And we are always happy to have good guests. Sit down, Matryona Ivanovna! Karl Ivanovich, you are welcome.

The Bear and the Hare, Granny's gray Goat with the Crested Duck, the Cockerel and the Wolf also came - Vanka had a place for everyone.

The last to arrive were Alyonushkin's Shoe and Alyonushkin's Broomstick. They looked - all the places were occupied, and Broomstick said:

It’s okay, I’ll just stand in the corner.

But Shoe didn’t say anything and silently crawled under the sofa. It was a very venerable Shoe, although worn out. He was a little embarrassed only by the hole that was on the nose itself. Well, it’s okay, no one will notice under the sofa.

Hey music! - Vanka commanded.

The drum beat: tra-ta! ta-ta! The trumpets began to play: work! And all the guests suddenly felt so happy, so happy.

The holiday started off great. The drum beat by itself, the trumpets themselves played, the top hummed, the clown clinked his cymbals, and Petrushka squealed furiously. Oh, how fun it was!

Brothers, go for a walk! - Vanka shouted, smoothing out his flaxen curls.

Matryona Ivanovna, does your tummy hurt?

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

Come on, show your tongue.

Leave me alone, please.

She was still lying calmly on the table, and when the doctor started talking about language, she couldn’t resist and jumped off. After all, the doctor always examines Alyonushka’s tongue with her help.

Oh no, no need! - Matryona Ivanovna squealed and waved her arms so funny, like a windmill.

Well, I don’t impose myself with my services,” Spoon was offended.

She even wanted to get angry, but at that moment the top flew up to her, and they began to dance. The top was buzzing, the spoon was ringing. Even Alyonushkin’s Shoe couldn’t resist, he crawled out from under the sofa and whispered to Broomstick:

I love you very much, Broomstick.

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

After all, she was always such a modest Little Broom and never put on airs, as 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 was bald, the Gypsy looked like a firebrand, and the birthday boy Vanka got the most of it.

“He’s a little masculine,” said Katya.

And, besides, he’s a braggart,” added Anya.

Having had fun, everyone sat down at the table, and the real feast began. The dinner went as if it were a real name day, although there were some small misunderstandings. The bear almost ate the Bunny instead of the cutlet by mistake; The top almost got into a fight with the Gypsy over the Spoon - the latter wanted to steal it and had already hidden 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. Perhaps you have a headache? I have some great powders with me.

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

Hooray! - Vanka shouted. - It's much better than quarreling. I can't stand it when people quarrel. Look there.

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

The drum beat: tra-ta! ta-ta-ta! The trumpets played: tru-ru! ru-ru-ru! The Clown's plates clinked, the Spoon laughed with a silver voice, the Top hummed, 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. Granny's little gray Goat turned out to be the most fun of all. First of all, he danced better than anyone, and then he shook his beard so funny and roared in a creaky voice: meh!

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

Yes, that's how it was. First, wooden cubes came to congratulate Vanka. No, not like that again. That's not how it started at all. The cubes really came, but it was all the fault of black-eyed Katya. She, she, right! This pretty rogue whispered to Anya at the end of dinner:

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 directly:

What do you think, that my Pyotr Ivanovich is a freak?

“Nobody thinks that, Matryona Ivanovna,” Katya tried to make excuses, but it was 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. And as for the mind.

The dolls began arguing 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!

At this point all the men were offended. For mercy, such a self-praise is this Petrushka! It's disgusting to even listen to! The clown was not a master of speech and was offended in silence, but Doctor Karl Ivanovich said very loudly:

So we're all freaks? Congratulations, gentlemen.

All at once there was a hubbub. The Gypsy shouted something in his own way, the Bear growled, the Wolf howled, the gray Goat shouted, the Top hummed - in a word, everyone was completely offended.

Gentlemen, stop it! - Vanka persuaded everyone. - Don’t pay attention to Pyotr Ivanovich. He was just joking.

But it was all in vain. Karl Ivanovich was mainly worried. He even banged his fist on the table and shouted:

Gentlemen, a good treat, nothing to say! They invited us to visit only to call us freaks.

Dear ladies and gentlemen! - Vanka tried to shout over everyone. - For that matter, gentlemen, there is only one freak here - it’s me. Are you satisfied now?

After. Excuse me, how did this happen? Yes, yes, that's how it was. Karl Ivanovich became completely heated 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 Petrushka’s pugnacious nature, 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 grabbed the doctor; Gypsy, who was sitting on the side, for no apparent reason, began to beat the Clown, the Bear rushed at the Wolf with a growl, the Wolf hit the Goat with his empty head - in a word, a real scandal ensued. The dolls squealed in thin voices, and all three fainted with fear.

Oh, I feel sick! - Matryona Ivanovna screamed, falling from the sofa.

Gentlemen, what is this? - Vanka yelled. - Gentlemen, I am the birthday boy. Gentlemen, this is finally impolite!

There was a real clash, so it was already difficult to make out who was beating whom. Vanka tried in vain to break up the fighting and ended up starting to beat everyone who came under his arm, and since he was stronger than everyone else, it was bad for the guests.

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

One Shoe escaped from the landfill, managing to hide under the sofa in time. He even closed his eyes in fear, and at that time the Bunny hid behind him, also looking for salvation in flight.

Where are you going? - Shoe grumbled.

Keep quiet, otherwise they’ll hear, and both will get it,” the Bunny persuaded, peeking out of a hole in his sock with a sideways eye. - Oh, what a robber this Petrushka is! He beats everyone and yells obscenities at himself. Good guest, nothing to say. And I barely escaped from the Wolf, ah! It's scary to even remember. And there the Duck is lying upside down. They killed the poor thing.

Oh, how stupid you are, Bunny: all the dolls are fainting, and so is the Ducky along with the others.

They fought, fought, and 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 faint, she opened one eye and asked:

Gentlemen, where am I? Doctor, see if I'm alive?

No one 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,” said Katya. - A good birthday boy, nothing to say!

The dolls immediately attacked Vanka, who absolutely did not know what to answer. And someone beat him, and he beat someone, but for what reason is unknown.

“I really don’t know how it all happened,” he said, throwing up his hands. - The main thing is that it’s offensive: after all, I love them all. Absolutely everyone.

“And we know how,” Shoe and Bunny responded from under the sofa. - We saw everything!

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

Yeah, that's what it's all about! - Vanka was delighted. - Get out, robbers. You visit guests only to quarrel good people.

The Shoe and the Bunny barely had time to jump out the window.

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

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

The duck always agreed with everyone.

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

The guests returned willingly. Some had a black eye, some walked with a limp; Petrushka's long nose suffered the most.

Ah, robbers! - everyone repeated in one voice, scolding Bunny and Shoe. - Who would have thought?

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

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

Hurray, Vanka!

The Tale of How the Last Fly Lived

What a fun summer it was! Oh, how fun! It's hard to even tell everything in order. There were thousands of flies. They fly, buzz, and have fun. When little Mushka was born and spread her wings, she also felt happy. So much fun, so much fun that you can’t tell. The most interesting thing was that in the morning they opened all the windows and doors to the terrace - whichever window you want, go through that window and fly.

What a kind creature man is,” little Mushka marveled, flying from window to window. - These windows were made for us, and they open them for us too. Very good, and most importantly - fun.

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

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

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

Then, people are generally so kind that everywhere they brought various pleasures to the flies. For example, Alyonushka drank milk in the morning, ate a bun, and then begged 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 the bun and sugar. Well, please tell me, what could be tastier than such crumbs, especially when you’ve been flying all morning and are hungry? Then, the cook Pasha was even kinder than Alyonushka. Every morning she went to the market specifically for flies and brought amazingly tasty things: beef, sometimes fish, cream, butter - in general, she was the kindest woman in the whole house. She knew very well what flies needed, although she also did not know how to fly, like the gardener. A very good woman overall!

And Aunt Olya? Oh, this wonderful woman, it seems, specifically 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 was cold, she closed them so that the flies wouldn’t get their wings wet and catch a cold. Then Aunt Olya noticed that flies really loved sugar and berries, so she began to boil the berries in sugar every day. The flies now, of course, realized why this was all being done, and out of a feeling of gratitude, they climbed straight into the bowl of jam. Alyonushka loved jam very much, but Aunt Olya gave her only one or two spoons, not wanting to offend the flies.

Since the flies couldn’t eat everything at once, Aunt Olya put some of the jam in glass jars (so that mice, who weren’t supposed to have any jam at all, wouldn’t eat it) and then served it to the flies every day when she drank tea.

Oh, how kind and good everyone is! - young Mushka admired, flying from window to window. - Maybe it’s even good that people can’t fly. Then they would turn into flies, large and voracious flies, and, probably, would eat everything themselves. Oh, how good it is to live in the world!

Well, people are not quite as kind as you think,” said the old Fly, who loved to grumble. - It only seems so. Have you noticed the man everyone calls “Dad”?

Oh yeah. This is a very strange gentleman. You are absolutely right, good old Fly. Why does he smoke his pipe when he knows perfectly well that I can’t stand tobacco smoke at all? It seems to me that he is doing this just to spite me. Then, he absolutely doesn’t want to do anything for the flies. I once tried the ink he always uses to write something like that, and I almost died. This is finally outrageous! I saw with my own eyes how two such pretty, but completely inexperienced flies drowned in his inkwell. It was a terrible picture when he pulled out one of them with a pen and put 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 advantage,” answered the old, experienced Fly. - He drinks beer after lunch. This is not a bad habit at all! I must admit, I don’t mind drinking beer either, although it makes me dizzy. What to do, bad habit!

“And I love beer too,” admitted young Mushka and even blushed a little. “It makes me so happy, so happy, although the next day my head hurts a little.” But dad, perhaps, doesn’t do anything for the flies because he doesn’t eat jam himself, and only puts sugar in a glass of tea. In my opinion, you cannot expect anything good from a person who does not eat jam. All he can do is smoke his pipe.

The flies generally knew all the 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, twirled and pestered everyone. But our little Mushka managed to become a real big fly and almost died several times. The first time she got her feet stuck in the jam, so she barely crawled out; another time, sleepy, she ran into a lit lamp and almost burned her wings; the third time I almost fell between the window sashes - in general there were enough adventures.

What is it: these flies are no longer alive! - the cook complained. - Like crazy people, they climb everywhere. We need to get 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 net. And when they brought provisions, the flies rushed at it in a living heap, pushed each other and quarreled terribly. The best pieces went to only the most spirited and strong, while 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, placing the plates in the most prominent places.

Even without Pasha, the flies realized that this was being done for them, and in a cheerful crowd they attacked the new dish. Our Fly also rushed to one plate, but she was pushed away rather rudely.

Why are you pushing, gentlemen? - she was offended. - However, I’m not so greedy as to take something from others. It's finally rude.

Then something impossible happened. The greediest flies paid first. At first they wandered around like they were drunk, and then they completely collapsed. The next morning Pasha scooped up a whole large plate of dead flies. Only the most prudent remained alive, including our Fly.

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

But the next day the same thing happened again. 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 for them,” she complained.

Then the gentleman, whose name was Papa, brought three glass, very beautiful caps, poured beer into them and put them on plates. The most sensible flies were also caught here. It turned out that these caps are just flytraps. The flies flew to the smell of beer, fell into the hood 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 you placed flytraps the size of a house, you would catch them in exactly the same way. Our Fly, taught by the bitter experience of even the most prudent flies, stopped completely believing people. They only seem kind, these people, but, in essence, all they do is deceive gullible poor flies all their lives. Oh, this is the most cunning and evil animal, to tell the truth!

The number of flies has decreased greatly due to all these troubles, but now there is a new problem. It turned out that summer had passed, the rains began, a cold wind blew, and generally unpleasant weather set in.

Has summer really passed? - the surviving flies were surprised. - Excuse me, when did it pass? This is finally unfair. Before we knew it, it was autumn.

It was worse than poisoned pieces of paper and glass flytraps. From the approaching bad weather one could seek protection only from one’s worst enemy, that is, master man. Alas! Now the windows were no longer open for whole days, but only occasionally the vents. Even the sun itself only shone precisely to deceive the gullible house flies. How would you like this picture, for example? Morning. The sun looks so cheerfully into all the windows, as if inviting all the flies into the garden. You might think that summer is coming back again. And what - gullible flies fly out the window, but the sun only shines, and does not warm. They fly back - the window is closed. Many flies died in this way on cold autumn nights only due to their gullibility.

No, I don’t believe it,” said our Fly. - I don’t believe anything. If the sun is deceiving, then who and what can you trust?

It is clear that with the onset of autumn all the flies experienced the worst mood of spirit. Almost everyone's character immediately deteriorated. There was no mention of the former joys. Everyone became so gloomy, lethargic and dissatisfied. Some even went so far as to start biting, which had never happened before.

Our Fly's character had deteriorated to such an extent that she did not recognize herself at all. Previously, for example, she pitied other flies when they died, but now she thought only about herself. She was even ashamed to say out loud what she was thinking:

“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 the winter, and secondly, I’m just 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 clearly understood these evil thoughts and died by the hundreds. They didn’t even die, but they definitely fell asleep. Every day fewer and fewer of them were made, so that there was absolutely no need for either poisoned pieces of paper or glass flytraps. But this was not enough for our Fly: she wanted to be completely alone. Think how wonderful it is - five rooms, and only one fly!

Such a happy day has come. Early in the morning our Fly woke up quite 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. As soon as I flew up to the window, everything became clear at once. The first snow fell. The ground was covered with a bright white veil.

Ah, so this is what winter is like! - she realized immediately. - It 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 bear the first cold and fell asleep, no matter where they happened. At another time the fly would have felt sorry for them, but now he thought:

“That’s great. Now I’m all alone! No one will eat my jam, my sugar, my crumbs. Oh, how good!”

She flew around all the rooms and was once again convinced that she was completely alone. Now you could do absolutely whatever you wanted. And how good it is that the rooms are so warm! It’s winter outside, but the rooms are warm and cozy, especially when the lamps and candles are lit in the evening. With the first lamp, however, there was a little trouble - the fly flew into the fire again and almost got burned.

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

The Last Fly was happy for only 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, flies, rests, eats, flies again - and again she becomes more bored than before.

Oh, how bored I am! - she squeaked in the most pitiful thin voice, flying from room to room. - At least there was one more fly, the worst one, but still a fly.

No matter how much the last Fly complained about her loneliness, absolutely no one wanted to understand her. Of course, this made her even angrier, and she pestered people like crazy. It will sit on someone’s nose, someone’s ear, or it will start flying back and forth before their eyes. In a word, 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.” At least someone would play with me. No, where are you going? What could be more clumsy and clumsy than a person? The ugliest creature I've ever met.

Both the dog and the cat got tired of the last fly - absolutely everyone. What upset her most was when Aunt Olya said:

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

What is it? This is a direct insult. It seems they no longer consider her a fly. “Let him live,” say what a favor you did! What if I'm bored! What if I, perhaps, don’t want to live at all? I don’t want to - that’s all.”

The Last Fly became so angry with everyone that even she herself became afraid. It flies, buzzes, squeaks. The Spider sitting in the corner finally took pity on her and said:

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

I humbly thank you. Here's another friend! I know what your beautiful web is. You probably once were a man, but now you’re just pretending to be a spider.

As you know, I wish you well.

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

They quarreled a lot, and yet it was boring, so boring, so boring that you can’t even tell. The fly became absolutely angry with everyone, got tired and declared loudly:

If so, if you don’t want to understand how bored I am, then I’ll sit in the corner all winter! There you are! Yes, I will sit and not leave for anything.

She even cried with grief, remembering the past summer fun. How many funny flies there were; and she still wanted to remain completely alone. It was a fatal mistake.

Winter dragged on endlessly, 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 was probably people who invented winter, because they invent absolutely everything that is harmful to flies. Or maybe Aunt Olya hid summer somewhere, like she hides sugar and jam?

The last Fly was ready to die completely out of despair, when something very special happened. She, as usual, was sitting in her corner and getting angry, when suddenly she heard: zh-zh-zh! At first she didn’t believe her own ears, but thought that someone was deceiving her. And then. God, what was that! A real live fly, still very young, flew past her. She had just been born and was happy.

Spring is starting! spring! - she buzzed.

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

Spring! spring! - she repeated.

When Aunt Olya ordered to put out 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, flies, make summer.”

Fairy tale It's time to sleep

One of Alyonushka's eyes falls asleep, Alyonushka's other ear falls asleep.

Dad, are you here?

Here, baby.

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

Alyonushka fell asleep and smiled in her sleep.

Oh, so many flowers! And they all smile too. They surrounded Alyonushka’s crib, whispering and laughing in thin voices. Scarlet flowers, blue flowers, yellow flowers, blue, pink, red, white - as if a rainbow fell to 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 the modest Forget-Me-Nots.

“Gentlemen, this matter needs to be seriously discussed,” the yellow Dandelion cheerfully intervened. - At least, I didn’t expect this.

What does it mean to be a queen? - asked the blue field Cornflower. “I grew up in the fields and I don’t understand your city ways.”

It’s very simple,” the pink Carnation intervened. - It's so simple that there's no need to explain. The queen is. This. You still don't understand anything? 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 clear?

Everyone laughed merrily. Only the Roses were silent. They considered themselves offended. Who doesn’t know that the queen of all flowers is one Rose, tender, fragrant, wonderful? And suddenly some Carnation calls herself a queen. It's like nothing else. Finally, only Rose 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 who, in this case, do you take me for?

Dandelion, please don’t be angry,” the forest Bells persuaded him. - It spoils the character and, moreover, is 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 a lot of flowers, and they argued so funny. The wildflowers were so modest - like lilies of the valley, violets, forget-me-nots, bells, cornflowers, wild carnations; and the flowers grown in the greenhouses were a little pompous - roses, tulips, lilies, daffodils, gillyflowers, like rich children dressed up for the holidays. Alyonushka loved more modest wildflowers, from which she made bouquets and wove wreaths. How nice they all are!

Alyonushka loves us very much,” the Violets whispered. - After all, we are the first in the spring. As soon as the snow melts, we are here.

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

What is it that is our fault that it is cold for us to grow right in the field? - the fragrant, curly Levkoi and Hyacinths complained. “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 constantly miss our sweet homeland. It's so cold here in the north. Alyonushka loves us too, and even very much.

And it’s good with us too,” the wildflowers argued. - Of course, it can be very cold sometimes, but it’s great. And then, the cold kills our worst enemies, like worms, midges and various insects. If it weren't for the cold, we would have had a bad time.

“We also love the cold,” Roses added.

Azalea and Camellia were told the same thing. They all loved the cold when they were gaining color.

This is what, gentlemen, we will tell you about our homeland,” suggested white Narcissus. - It is very interesting. Alyonushka will listen to us. After all, she loves us too.

Then everyone started talking at once. Roses remembered with tears the blessed valleys of Shiraz, Hyacinths - Palestine, Azaleas - America, Lilies - Egypt. Flowers gathered here from all corners of the world, and everyone had so much to say. Most of the flowers came from the south, where there is so much sun and no winter. How nice it is there! 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,” all these southern plants whispered.

Native wildflowers even took pity on them. Indeed, one must have great patience when the cold north wind blows, the cold rain pours and the snow falls. Let’s say the spring snow is melting soon, but it’s still snow.

“You have a huge disadvantage,” Vasilek explained, having heard enough of these stories. “I don’t argue, you are, perhaps, sometimes more beautiful than us, simple wildflowers,” I willingly admit. 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 have to pay money for me, you just have to go 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 they were just talking about.

If I were a swallow, I would fly right now,” she finally said. - Why don’t I have wings? Oh, how good it is to be a bird!

Before she had time to finish 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!

Sit on me.

How can I sit down when you're little?

But look.

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

Are you feeling good, Alyonushka? - asked Ladybug.

Well, hold on tight now.

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

Look what’s down there,” Ladybug told her.

Alyonushka looked down and even clasped her little hands.

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

The ground was as if covered with a living carpet of roses.

Let’s go down to earth,” 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 through the pink field and picked a huge bouquet of flowers. How beautiful they are, these roses; and their aroma makes you dizzy. If only this whole pink field could be moved there, to the north, where roses are only dear guests!

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

It was so good all around! The sky was so blue, and below was even blue - the sea. They flew over a steep and rocky coast.

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

Yes. Just sit still and hold on tight.

At first Alyonushka was even scared, but then nothing. There was nothing left except sky and water. And ships rushed across the sea like large birds with white wings. The small ships looked like flies. Oh, how beautiful, how good! And ahead you can already see the seashore - low, yellow and sandy, the mouth of some huge river, some completely white city, as if it was built of sugar. And then a dead desert was visible, where only pyramids stood. Ladybug landed on the river bank. Green papyrus and lilies grew here, wonderful, tender lilies.

“It’s so good here,” Alyonushka spoke to them. - It’s not winter for you?

What is winter? - Lily was surprised.

Winter is when it snows.

What is snow?

Lily even laughed. They thought the little northern girl was playing a joke on 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 hearsay.

Alyonushka also did not believe that there was no winter. So, you don’t need a fur coat or 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 so hot here. Impenetrable forests began behind the mountains. It was dark under the canopy of trees because sunlight did not penetrate here through the dense tree tops. Monkeys were jumping on the branches. And how many birds there were - green, red, yellow, blue. But most amazing of all were the flowers that grew right on the tree trunks. There were flowers of a completely fiery color, some were variegated; there were flowers that looked like small birds and large butterflies - the whole forest seemed to be burning with multi-colored living lights.

These are orchids,” Ladybug explained.

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

“This is 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 was better.

“I love snow,” said Alyonushka. - It’s not good without winter.

They flew again, and the higher they rose, the colder it became. Soon snowy glades appeared below. Only one coniferous forest was turning green. Alyonushka was terribly happy when she saw the first Christmas tree.

Christmas tree, Christmas tree! - she shouted.

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

It was a real Christmas tree - Alyonushka recognized it immediately. Oh, what a sweet Christmas tree! Alyonushka bent down to tell her how cute she was, and suddenly flew down. Wow, how scary! She turned over several times in the air and fell straight into the soft snow. Out of 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 old man. She also recognized him immediately. This was the same old man who brings Christmas trees, gold stars, boxes with 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 asked again:

How did you get here, little girl?

I traveled on a ladybug. Oh, how much I’ve seen, grandfather!

So-so.

And I know you, grandpa! You bring Christmas trees for the children.

So-so. And now I’m also organizing 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, grandpa? 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 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. Now small birds that don’t fly away for the winter came from all sides: sparrows, blackbirds, buntings, and began to peck at the grain.

This is our Christmas tree! - they shouted.

Alyonushka suddenly felt very happy. It was the first time she saw how they set up a Christmas tree for birds in winter.

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

But 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, little sparrow!

Oh, is it you, Alyonushka? Hello!

The bully sparrow hopped 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 her say it myself just now.

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

I really want it, grandpa!

Great. 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 quickly as possible, before some mischievous sparrow ate it. They flew home quickly. And there all the flowers are waiting for Alyonushka. They argued all the time about what a queen was.

Bye-bye-bye.

One of Alyonushka’s eyes is asleep, the other is watching; One ear of Alyonushka is sleeping, the other is listening. Everyone has now gathered around Alyonushka’s crib: the brave Hare, and Medvedko, and the bully Rooster, and Sparrow, and Voronushka - the black little head, and Ruff Ershovich, and little, little Kozyavochka. Everything is here, everything is at Alyonushka’s.

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

The other eye closed, the other ear fell asleep. And near Alyonushka’s crib the spring grass is growing cheerfully green, the flowers are smiling, there are many flowers: blue, pink, yellow, blue, red. A green birch tree leaned over the crib and whispered something so tenderly. And the sun is shining, and the sand is turning yellow, and the blue sea wave is calling Alyonushka to it.

Sleep, Alyonushka! Get strong.

Bye-bye-bye.

Fairy tale Smarter than everyone

Am I smarter than everyone else? Yes?

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

Oh, how smart. Cough cough! Who doesn't know this? Cough.

No, tell me straight: smarter than everyone else? There are simply enough smart birds, but the smartest one is me.

Smarter than everyone else. Cough. Smarter than everyone else. Cough-cough-cough!

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

You know, it seems to me that I have little respect. Yes, quite a bit.

No, it seems that way to you. Cough cough! - Turkey calmed him down, starting to straighten the feathers that had gotten lost during the night. - Yes, it just seems. Birds couldn't be smarter than you. Cough-cough-cough!

And Gusak? Oh, I understand everything. Let's say he doesn't say anything directly, but mostly stays silent. But I feel that he silently does not respect me.

Don't pay any attention to him. Not worth it. Cough. Have you noticed that Gusak is stupid?

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

Oh, how strange you are! - Turkey was surprised. “Don’t you know why he even screams?”

Well, why?

Cough cough cough. 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, a very ordinary rooster, and you are a real Indian, overseas rooster - so he screams with envy. Every bird wants to be an Indian rooster. Cough-cough-cough!

Well, it's not easy, mother. Ha ha! Look 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, he hasn’t had time to wake up, and he’s already thinking of someone to start a quarrel with or even a fight with. Generally the most restless bird, although not evil. The Turkey felt a little offended when other birds began to laugh at the Turkey and called him a chatterbox, a blabbermouth and a breaker. Let's say they were partly right, but find a bird without flaws? That's exactly what it is! There are no such birds, and it’s 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:

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

“Gentlemen, have patience,” noted Gusak, who was standing on one leg. - Look at me: I’m also hungry, and I’m not screaming like you. If I had screamed at the top of my lungs. Like this. Ho-ho! Or like this: go-go-go!

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

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

The Rooster supported the duck and shouted:

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

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

Out of pride, the turkey never rushed with others to feed, but patiently waited for Matryona to drive away the other greedy bird and call him. It was the same now. The turkey walked to the side, near the fence, and pretended to be looking for something among various rubbish.

Cough cough. Oh, how I want to eat! - the Turkey complained, walking behind her husband. - Matryona threw away the oats. And, it seems, the remains of yesterday's porridge. Cough cough! Oh, how I love porridge! It seems like I would always eat one porridge for the rest of my life. I even sometimes see her in my dreams at night.

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

Yes, it’s good to eat porridge too,” Turkey agreed with her. - But a smart bird never rushes to food. Is that what I say? If my owner doesn't feed me, I'll die of hunger. So? Where will he find another turkey like this?

There is no other place like it.

That's it. And the porridge is, in essence, nothing. Yes. It's not about the porridge, but about Matryona. Is that what I say? If Matryona were there, there would be porridge. Everything in the world depends on Matryona alone - oats, porridge, cereals, and crusts of bread.

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

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

Oh-where!

All the other hens immediately picked it up and screamed with good obscenities: Oh, where! where where. And of course, the Rooster roared the loudest:

Carraul! Who's there?

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

“Yes, it’s a simple stone,” someone remarked.

“He was moving,” explained the Chicken. “I also thought it was a stone, I walked up and saw how it moved.” Right! It seemed to me that he had eyes, but stones do not have eyes.

You never know what a stupid chicken might think out of fear,” said Turkey. - Maybe this. This.

Yes, it's a mushroom! - Gusak shouted. - I saw exactly these mushrooms, only without needles.

Everyone laughed loudly at Gusak.

“It looks more like a hat,” someone tried to guess and was also ridiculed.

Does a hat have eyes, gentlemen?

There’s no need to talk in vain, but we need to act,” the Rooster decided for everyone. - Hey you, thing with needles, tell me, what kind of animal is it? 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.

This. “It’s a huge burdock cone, and nothing more,” he explained. - There is nothing tasty. Would anyone like to try it?

Everyone was chatting, whatever came to mind. There was no end to guesswork and speculation. Only Turkey was silent. Well, let others chat, and he will listen to other people's nonsense. The birds chattered, screamed and argued for a long time until someone shouted:

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

Of course, I know,” responded 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! Well, tell me, my dear. What should you say?

The turkey struggled for a long time and finally said:

Well, okay, I guess I'll say it. Yes, I'll tell you. Just first tell me who you think I am?

Who doesn’t know that you are the smartest bird! - everyone answered in unison. - That's what they say: smart as a turkey.

So you respect me?

We respect you! We respect everyone!

The turkey broke down a little more, then it fluffed up all over, inflated its intestines, walked around the tricky animal three times and said:

This. Yes. Want to know what it is?

We want! Please don’t be tormented, but tell me soon.

This is someone crawling somewhere.

Everyone was just about to laugh when giggling was heard, and a thin voice said:

That's the smartest bird! Hee hee.

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

Hello, gentlemen. How come you didn’t recognize the Hedgehog, the little gray little Hedgehog? Oh, what a funny Turkey you have, excuse me, what he is like. What's the politest way to say this? Well, stupid Turkey.

Everyone even became scared after such an insult as the Hedgehog inflicted on the Turkey. Of course, the Turkey said something stupid, that’s true, but it doesn’t follow from this that the Hedgehog has the right to insult him. Finally, it is simply impolite to come to someone else's house and insult the owner. Whatever you want, the Turkey is still an important, representative bird and certainly no match for some unfortunate Hedgehog.

Everyone somehow went over to Turkey’s side, and a terrible uproar arose.

Hedgehog probably thinks we are all stupid too! - shouted the Rooster, flapping his wings.

He insulted us all!

If anyone is stupid, it’s him, that is, the Hedgehog,” declared Gusak, craning his neck. - I noticed it immediately. Yes!

Can mushrooms be stupid? - answered the Hedgehog.

Gentlemen, we are talking to him in vain! - the Rooster shouted. - He won’t understand anything anyway. It seems to me that we are just wasting our time. Yes. If, for example, you, Goose, grab his bristles with your strong beak on one side, and Turkey and I grab his bristles on the other, now it will be clear who is smarter. After all, you can’t hide your intelligence under stupid stubble.

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

The turkey was silent the whole time. At first he was stunned by the Hedgehog's audacity, and he could not find what to answer. Then Turkey got angry, so angry that even he himself became a little scared. He wanted to rush at the brute and tear him into small pieces so that everyone could see it and be convinced once again how serious and stern the Turkey bird is. He even took a few steps towards the Hedgehog, sulked terribly and was just about to rush when everyone started shouting and scolding the Hedgehog. The turkey stopped and patiently began to wait for how it would all 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 settle this whole thing peacefully. Yes. It seems to me that there is a slight misunderstanding here. Leave it to me, gentlemen, it's all up to me.

“Okay, we’ll wait,” the Rooster reluctantly agreed, wanting to fight with the Hedgehog as quickly as possible. - But nothing will come of this anyway.

“And that’s my business,” the Turkey answered calmly. - Yes, listen to how I talk.

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

Listen, Mr. Hedgehog. Explain yourself seriously. I don't like troubles at home at all.

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

Pay attention, first of all, to the fact that you are in a decent and well-mannered society,” Turkey continued. - Does this mean something? Yes. Many consider it an honor to come into our yard, but - alas! - rarely does anyone succeed.

But this is so, between us, and that’s not the main thing.

The turkey stopped, paused for importance and then continued:

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

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

Oh, how smart he is! - thought Turkey, who was beginning to guess what was going on.

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

Oh, you guessed it right,” the Hedgehog admitted, sticking out his muzzle again. - I have such a cheerful character that I can’t even sleep at night. Many people can’t stand it, but I find it boring to sleep.

Well, you see. You will probably have a similar personality to our Rooster, who crows like crazy at night.

Everyone suddenly felt cheerful, as if the only thing everyone needed to complete their life was the Hedgehog. The Turkey was triumphant that he had so cleverly gotten out of an awkward situation when the Hedgehog called him stupid and laughed right in his face.

By the way, Mr. Hedgehog, admit it,” said Turkey, winking, “after all, of course, you were joking when you called me just now.” Yes. Well, a stupid bird?

Of course I was joking! - assured the Hedgehog. - I have such a cheerful character!

Yes, yes, I was sure of it. Did you hear, gentlemen? - Turkey asked everyone.

We heard. Who could doubt it!

The Turkey leaned close to the Hedgehog’s ear and whispered to him in confidence:

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

The Story of the Adopter

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

It was on such a rainy day that I approached Svetloe Lake, to the familiar watchman at the fishing sama (parking lot) Taras. The rain was already thinning. On one side of the sky, gaps appeared, a little more - and the hot summer sun would appear. The forest path made a sharp turn, and I came out onto a sloping cape that jutted out into the lake with a wide tongue. Actually, here there was not a lake itself, but a wide channel between two lakes, and the salmon was nestled in a bend on the low bank, where fishing boats huddled in the bay. The channel between the lakes was formed thanks to a large wooded island, spread out like a green cap opposite the salmon.

My appearance on the cape evoked a guard call from 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 dogs for their extraordinary intelligence and faithful service.

From a distance the fisherman's hut seemed like a large boat turned upside down - it was a hunched old wooden roof overgrown with cheerful green grass. All around the hut there was a thick growth of fireweed, sage and “bear pipes”, so that the person approaching the hut could only see his head. Such thick grass grew only along the shores of the lake, because there was enough moisture and the soil was oily.

When I was getting very close to the hut, a motley little dog flew head over heels from the grass at me and burst into desperate barking.

So much, stop... Didn't recognize?

Sobolko stopped in thought, but apparently did not yet believe in the old acquaintance. He approached cautiously, sniffed my hunting boots, and only after this ceremony began to wag his tail guiltily. They say I’m guilty, I made a mistake, but still I have to guard the hut.

The hut turned out to be empty. The owner was not there, that is, he probably went to the lake to inspect some fishing equipment. Around the hut, everything spoke of the presence of a living person: a faintly 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 lake one could see Taras’s entire household: a gun on the wall, several pots on the stove, a chest under the bench, hanging gear. The hut was quite spacious, because in winter, during fishing, a whole artel of workers could fit in it. In the summer the old man lived alone. Despite any weather, he heated the Russian stove every day and slept on the floors. This love of warmth was explained by Taras’s venerable age: 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 wet jacket and hanging my hunting armor on the wall, I began to make a fire. He hovered around me a lot, sensing some kind of profit. The fire flared up cheerfully, sending up a blue stream of smoke. The rain has already passed. Torn clouds rushed across the sky, dropping rare drops. Here and there the sky was blue. And then the sun appeared, the hot July sun, under whose rays the wet grass seemed to begin to smoke.

The water in the lake stood quietly, as it does only after rain. It smelled of fresh grass, sage, and the resinous aroma of a nearby pine forest. In general, it’s as good as it can be in such a remote forest corner. To the right, where the channel ended, the expanse of Svetloe Lake was blue, and mountains rose beyond the jagged edge. Wonderful corner! And it’s not for nothing that old Taras lived here for forty years. Somewhere in the city he wouldn’t have lived even half of it, because in the city you couldn’t buy such clean air for any money, and most importantly, this calmness that covered here. Good on Saimaa! A bright light burns merrily; The hot sun begins to burn, it hurts your eyes to look at the sparkling distance of the wonderful lake. So I would sit here and, it seems, would not part with the wonderful freedom of the forest. The thought of the city flashes through my head like a bad dream.

While waiting for the old man, I attached a copper camp kettle filled with water to a long stick and hung it over the fire. The water was already beginning to boil, but the old man was still not there.

Where should he go? - I thought out loud. - The gear is inspected in the morning, and now it’s noon. Maybe he went to see if anyone was fishing without asking. Sobolko, where did your master go?

The smart dog just 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, a curved tail, he probably resembled an ordinary mongrel with the difference that a mongrel would not have found a squirrel in the forest, would not have been able to “bark” at a wood grouse, or track down a deer - in a word, a real hunting dog, man's best friend. You need to see such a dog in the forest to fully appreciate all its advantages.

When this “man’s best friend” squealed joyfully, I realized that he had spotted his owner. Indeed, a fishing boat appeared as a black dot in the channel, skirting the island. This was Taras. He swam on his feet and deftly worked with one oar - this is how real fishermen all sail in their one-tree boats, which are called, not without reason, “gas chambers.” As he swam closer, I noticed, to my surprise, a swan swimming in front of the boat.

Go home, reveler! - the old man grumbled, urging the beautifully swimming bird on. - Go, go. Here I will give it to you - sail away to God knows where. Go home, reveler!

The swan swam beautifully to the salmon, went ashore, shook itself and, swaying heavily on its crooked black legs, headed towards the hut.

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

Hello, Taras!

Hello, master!

Where is God coming from?

But I swam after Priemysh, after the swan. Everything was spinning around in the channel, and then suddenly it disappeared. Well, I'm following him now. I went out into the lake - no; swam through the creeks - no; and he swims behind the island.

Where did you get it from, the swan?

And God sent, yes! Here gentlemen hunters came; Well, the swan and the swan were shot, but this one remained. Huddled in the reeds and sitting. He doesn’t know how to fly, so he hid as a child. Of course, I set my nets near the reeds, and I caught him. If one goes missing, the hawk will be eaten, because there is no real meaning in it yet. Left an orphan. So I brought it and am holding it. And he got used to it too. Now it will soon be a month that we have been living together. In the morning at dawn he gets up, swims in the channel, 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 loved one. The swan hobbled to the hut itself and, obviously, was waiting for some handout.

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

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

And in winter?

He will spend the winter with me in the hut. There is enough space, and Sobolko and I have more fun. Once a hunter wandered into my lake, saw a swan and said the same thing: “It will fly away if you don’t clip its wings.” How can you mutilate God's bird? Let her live as the Lord told her... A man is given one thing, but a bird another... I can’t understand why the Lord shot the swans. After all, they won’t even eat it, just for mischief.

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

How is he and Sobolko? - I asked.

At first I was afraid, but then I got used to it. Now the swan will take a piece from Sobolka another time. The dog will growl at him, and the swan will grumble at him. It's funny to look at them from the outside. Otherwise they go for a walk together: the swan on the water, and Sobolko on the shore. The dog tried to swim after him, but it was not the same job: he almost drowned. And when the swan floats away, Sobolko looks for him. He sits on the bank and howls. They say, I, the dog, am bored without you, dear friend. So the three of us live together.

I love the old man very much. He spoke very well and knew a lot. There are such good, smart old people. I had to while away many summer nights on Saimaa, and every time you learn something new. Previously, Taras was a hunter and knew places around fifty miles, knew every custom of forest birds and forest animals; and now he could not go far and knew only his fish. Sailing on a boat is easier than walking with a gun through the forest, and especially through the mountains. Now Taras kept the gun only out of old memory and just in case a wolf ran in. In winter, wolves looked at the salmon and had long been sharpening their teeth on Sobolko. Only Sobolko was cunning and did not give in to the wolves.

I stayed at Saimaa for the whole day. In the evening we went fishing and set up our nets for the night. Svetloye Lake is good, and it’s not for nothing that it’s called Svetloye, because the water in it is completely transparent, so you sail on a boat and see the entire bottom at a depth of several fathoms. You can see colorful pebbles, yellow river sand, and algae, and you can see how the fish move in a “fleece,” that is, in 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 was adjacent to the mountains on only one side, and the other went “out into the steppe,” where blessed Bashkiria began. All around the Svetloe Lake lay the most peaceful places, and from it came a brisk mountain river that spread across the steppe for a thousand miles. The lake was up to twenty miles long and about nine miles wide. The depth reached fifteen fathoms in some places. A group of wooded islands gave it special beauty. One such island was located in the very middle of the lake and was called Goloday, because when fishermen found it in bad weather, they often went hungry for several days.

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

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

Alone? The master will say the same. I live here like a prince. I have everything. And all kinds of birds, and fish, and grass. Of course, they don’t know how to speak, but I understand everything. The heart rejoices to look at God’s creation another time. Each one has its own order and its own mind. Do you think it’s in vain that a fish swims in the water or a bird flies in the forest? No, they have no less worries than we do. Evon, look, the swan is waiting for Sobolko and me. Ah, the prosecutor!

The old man was terribly pleased with his Stepchild, and all conversations ultimately centered on him.

Proud, a real royal bird,” he explained. - Lure him with food and don’t give him anything, next time he won’t come. It also has its own character, despite being a bird. He also behaves very proudly with Sobolko. Just a little bit, now he’ll hit you with his wing, or even his nose. It is known that the dog wants to make trouble next time, tries to catch him by the tail with his teeth, and the swan in his face. This is also not a toy to be grabbed by the tail.

I spent the night and got ready to leave the next morning.

Come back in the fall,” the old man says goodbye. - Then we will fish the fish with a spear. Well, let's shoot hazel grouse. Autumn hazel grouse is fat.

Okay, grandpa, I'll come sometime.

When I was leaving, the old man returned me:

Look, master, how the swan played with Sobolko.

Indeed, it was worth admiring the original painting. The swan stood with its wings spread, and Sobolko attacked him with squeals and barks. 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 came to Svetloe Lake was in late autumn, when the first snow fell. The forest was still good. Here and there there were still yellow leaves on the birch trees. The spruce and pine trees 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, tired of the summer's hectic work, was now resting. The light lake seemed large because the coastal greenery was gone. The transparent water darkened, and a heavy autumn wave crashed noisily onto the shore.

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

Hello, old man!

Hello, master!

Well, how are you doing?

Never mind. In the fall, around the first snow, I got a little sick. My legs hurt. This always happens to me in bad weather.

The old man really looked tired. He seemed so decrepit and pathetic now. However, it turned out that this was not due to illness at all. Over tea we started talking, and the old man told his grief.

Do you remember, master, the swan

Adopted child?

He is. Oh, what a beautiful bird it was! But Sobolko and I were left alone again. Yes, the foster child is gone.

Killed by hunters?

No, he left on his own. That's how offensive it is to me, master! It seems like I didn’t look after him, didn’t I hang around! Hand fed. He came towards me and followed my voice. He swims on the lake, I click on him, and he swims up. Scientist bird. And I’m quite used to it. Yes! It's already a frosty day. During the flight, a flock of swans descended onto Svetloye Lake. Well, they rest, feed, swim, and I admire. Let God's bird gather its strength: it is not a close place to fly. Well, here comes the sin. My fosterling at first avoided the other swans: he would swim up to them and then back. They cackle in their own way, call him, and he goes home. They say, I have my own house. So they had it for three days. Everyone, therefore, talks in their own way, in a bird’s way. Well, then, I see, my foster child is sad. It’s all the same how a person grieves. He will come ashore, stand on one leg and start screaming. Why, he screams so pitifully. It will make me sad, and Sobolko, the fool, howls like a wolf. It is known that he is a free bird, and the blood took its toll.

The old man fell silent and sighed heavily.

Well, so what, grandfather?

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

Why will it disappear?

But what about it? They grew up in freedom. They are young, whose father and mother taught them to fly. After all, what do you think about them? When the swans grow up, their father and mother will first take them out onto the water and then begin to teach them to fly. Gradually they learn: further and further. I saw with my own eyes how young people are trained for the flight. First they teach separately, then in small flocks, and then they gather together into one large herd. It looks like soldiers being drilled. Well, my foster child grew up alone and almost never flew anywhere. Swimming on the lake - that's all the craft does. Where should he fly? He will become exhausted, fall behind the herd and disappear. Unaccustomed to long summers.

The old man fell silent again.

“But I had to let him out,” he said sadly. - All the same, I think, if I keep him for the winter, he will become sad and wither. This bird is so special. Well, he released it. My fosterling came to the herd, swam with it for a day, and in the evening went home again. So he sailed for two days. Even though he’s a bird, it’s hard to part with his home. It was he who swam to say goodbye, master. The last time he sailed from the shore about twenty fathoms, he stopped and how, my brother, he screamed in his own way. Say: “Thank you for the bread, for the salt!” I was the only one who saw him. Sobolko and I were left alone again. At first, we were both very sad. I’ll ask him: “So much, where is our fosterling?” And Sobolko is now howling. So he regrets it. And now to the shore, and now to look for a dear friend. At night I kept dreaming that Priymysh was rinsing himself near the shore and flapping his wings. I go out - there is no one.

That's how it turned out, master.

Medvedko's story

Master, do you want to take the teddy bear? - my coachman Andrei suggested to me.

And where he?

Yes, the neighbors. Hunters they knew gave it to them. Such a nice little bear, only three weeks old. A funny animal, in a word.

Why do the neighbors give it if he is nice?

Who knows? I saw a bear cub: no bigger than a mitten. And it's so funny.

I lived in the Urals, in a district town. The apartment was big. Why not take the bear cub? Indeed, 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 funny stared at such cute blue eyes.

A whole crowd of street kids came for the bear cub, so the gate had to be closed. Once in the room, the bear cub was not at all 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, and crackers. The little bear took everything for granted and, sitting in the corner on his hind legs, prepared to have a snack. He did everything with extraordinary comic importance.

Medvedko, would you like some milk?

Medvedko, here are some 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 taken a stance over the little guest. You should have seen the picture: the bear cub hid in a corner, sat down on its hind legs and looked at the slowly approaching dog with such evil eyes.

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

I saw the setter begin to tremble with excitement and prepared to grab him. If only he had rushed at the little bear cub! But what happened was something completely different, something no one expected. The dog looked at me, as if asking for consent, and moved forward with slow, calculated steps. There was only about half an arshin left to the bear cub, but the dog did not dare to take the last step, but only stretched out even more and strongly pulled in the air: she wanted, out of dog habit, to sniff the unknown enemy first. But it was at this critical moment that the little guest swung his hand and instantly hit the dog with his right paw right in the face. The blow must have been very strong, because the dog jumped back and squealed.

Well done Medvedko! - the schoolchildren approved. - So small and not afraid of anything.

The dog was embarrassed and quietly disappeared into the kitchen.

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

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

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

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

The bear cub settled with me and throughout the whole day amused the audience, both big and small. He tumbled so funny, he wanted to see everything and climbed everywhere. He was especially interested in doors. He hobbles, puts his paw in and begins to open it. If the door did not open, he began to become funny angry, grumbled and began to gnaw on the wood with his teeth, sharp as white carnations.

I was amazed by the extraordinary mobility of this little bumpkin and his strength. During this day, he walked around the entire house, and it seemed that there was not a thing left that he would not examine, smell, or lick.

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 had calmed down, I turned off the lamp and also got ready to sleep. Less than a quarter of an hour later, I began to fall asleep, but at the most interesting moment my sleep was disturbed: the bear cub settled down to the door to the dining room and stubbornly wanted to open it. I pulled him away once and put him in his old place. Less than half an hour later the same story repeated itself. I had to get up and put the stubborn beast down a second time. Half an hour later - the same thing. 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 the outer doors and windows were locked, so there was nothing to worry about.

But this time I couldn’t fall asleep either. The little bear climbed into the buffet and rattled the plates. I had to get up and pull him out of the cupboard, and the bear cub became terribly angry, growled, 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 was starting to bore me, and I had to get up early the next day. However, I soon fell asleep, forgetting about the little guest.

Perhaps an hour had passed when a terrible noise in the living room made me jump up. At first I couldn’t figure out what had happened, and only then did everything become clear: the bear cub had gotten into a fight with the dog, who was sleeping in his usual place in the hallway.

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

Where do we take it now? - I thought out loud. - He won't let anyone sleep the whole night.

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

The bear cub was placed in the room of the schoolchildren, who were very happy about the little lodger.

It was already two o'clock in the morning when the whole house calmed down.

I was very glad that I was rid of the restless guest and could fall asleep. But less than an hour had passed before everyone jumped up from the terrible noise in the schoolchildren’s room. Something incredible was happening there. When I ran into this room and lit a match, everything was explained.

In the middle of the room there was a desk covered with oilcloth. The little bear reached the oilcloth along the table leg, grabbed it with his teeth, rested his paws on the leg and began to drag as best he could. 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. The result was a broken lamp, a broken decanter, ink spilled on the floor, and the culprit of the whole scandal climbed into the farthest corner; From there only one eyes sparkled, like two coals.

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

What are we going to do with this robber! - I begged. - It’s all your fault, Andrey.

What have I done, master? - the coachman made excuses. - I just said about the bear cub, but you took it. And the schoolchildren even very much approved of him.

In a word, the bear cub did not let me sleep all night.

The next day brought new challenges. It was summer, the doors remained unlocked, and he quietly crept into the yard, where he terribly scared the cow. It ended with the bear cub catching the chicken and killing it. A whole riot broke out. The cook was especially indignant, feeling sorry for 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 except a chest of flour. Imagine the cook’s indignation when the next morning she found the bear cub in the chest: he had opened the heavy lid and was sleeping in the most peaceful way right in the flour. The distressed cook even burst into tears and began to demand payment.

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

Frankly speaking, I was very sorry that I took the teddy bear, and I was very glad when I found an acquaintance who took it.

For mercy, what a cute animal! - he admired. - The children will be happy. For them, this is a real holiday. Really, how cute.

Yes, honey,” I agreed.

We all breathed a sigh of relief when we finally got rid of this cute beast and when the whole house was back in order.

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

What are we going to do with it? - I begged, turning to the coachman. “I’m even ready to pay just to get rid of it.”

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

All I know about Medvedok’s further fate is that he died two months later.

A fairy tale about Komar Komarovich - a long nose and about shaggy Misha - a short tail

This happened at midday, when all the mosquitoes hid from the heat in the swamp. Komar Komarovich - his long nose snuggled under a wide leaf and fell asleep. He sleeps and hears a desperate cry:

Oh, fathers! oh, guard!

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

What's happened? What are you yelling about?

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

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

Komar Komarovich - the long nose - immediately became angry; I was angry with both the bear and the stupid mosquitoes that squeaked to no avail.

Hey you, stop squeaking! - he shouted. - Now I’ll go and chase away the bear. Very simple! And you are only yelling in vain.

Komar Komarovich became even more angry and flew away. Indeed, there was a bear lying in the swamp. He climbed into the thickest grass, where mosquitoes had lived since time immemorial, lay down and sniffled through his nose, only a whistle sounded like someone playing a trumpet. What a shameless creature! He climbed into a strange place, destroyed so many mosquito souls in vain, and still sleeps so sweetly!

Hey, uncle, where have you gone? - Komar Komarovich shouted throughout the forest, so loudly that even he himself became scared.

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

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

Well, I just settled down to rest, and then some scoundrel squeaks.

Hey, go away in good health, uncle!

Misha opened both eyes, looked at the impudent man, sniffed and became completely angry.

What do you want, you worthless creature? - he growled.

Leave our place, otherwise I don’t like to joke. I'll eat you and your fur coat.

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

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

I deftly scared the furry Bear! He won't come next time.

The mosquitoes marveled and asked:

Well, where is the bear now?

I don’t know, brothers. He got very scared when I told him that I would eat him if he didn’t leave. After all, I don’t like to joke, but I said it straight out: I’ll eat it. I'm afraid that he might die of fear while I'm flying to you. Well, it's my own fault!

All the mosquitoes squealed, buzzed and argued for a long time about what to do with the ignorant bear. Never before has 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, in the forest, and sleep there. And the swamp is ours. Our fathers and grandfathers lived in this very swamp.

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

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

Mosquitoes flew after Komar Komarovich. They fly and squeak, it’s even scary for them. They arrived and looked, but the bear lay there and didn’t move.

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

“He’s sleeping, brothers,” squeaked a small mosquito, flying up to the bear’s very nose and almost being pulled in there, as if through a window.

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

And furry Misha is sleeping and whistling with his nose.

He's pretending to be asleep! - Komar Komarovich shouted and flew towards the bear. - I’ll show him now. Hey, uncle, he will pretend!

As soon as Komar Komarovich swooped in, as he dug his long nose right into the black bear’s nose, Misha jumped up and grabbed his nose with his paw, and Komar Komarovich was gone.

What, uncle, didn’t you like? - Komar Komarovich squeaks. - Go away, otherwise it will get worse. Now I’m not the only Komar Komarovich - a long nose, but my grandfather, Komarishko - a long nose, and my younger brother, Komarishko - a long nose, came with me! Go away, uncle.

But I won't leave! - the bear shouted, sitting down on his hind legs. - I'll hand over you all.

Oh, uncle, you’re boasting in vain.

Komar Komarovich flew again and stabbed the bear right in the eye. The bear roared in pain, hit himself in the face with his paw, and again there was nothing in his paw, only he almost tore out his own eye with a claw. And Komar Komarovich hovered just above the bear’s ear and squeaked:

I'll eat you, uncle.

Misha became completely angry. He uprooted a whole birch tree and began to beat mosquitoes with it.

It hurts all over my shoulder. He beat and beat, he even got tired, but not a single mosquito was killed - they all hovered over him and squeaked. Then Misha grabbed a heavy stone and threw it at the mosquitoes - again to no avail.

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

No matter how long or how short Misha fought with the mosquitoes, there was just a lot of noise. A bear's roar could be heard in the distance. And how many trees he tore out, how many stones he tore up! He kept wanting to grab the first Komar Komarovich - after all, right here, just above his ear, the bear would grab it with his paw, and again nothing, he just scratched his whole face into blood.

Misha finally became exhausted. 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 and rode, but nothing came of it, but only made him even more tired. Then the bear hid its face in the moss. It turned out even worse - mosquitoes clung to the bear's tail. The bear finally became furious.

Wait, I’ll ask you this! - he roared so loudly that it could be heard five miles away. - I'll show you a thing.

The mosquitoes have retreated and are waiting to see what will happen. And Misha climbed the tree like an acrobat, sat down on the thickest branch and roared:

Come on, come closer 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, circle, and climb. Misha fought and fought, accidentally swallowed about a hundred mosquito troops, coughed and fell off the branch like a sack. However, he stood up, scratched his bruised side and said:

Well, did you take it? Have you seen how deftly I jump from a tree?

The mosquitoes laughed even more subtly, and Komar Komarovich trumpeted:

I will eat you. I will eat you. I'll eat it. I'll eat it!

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

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

You don't want to bother yourself, Mikhailo Ivanovich, in vain! Don't pay any attention to these crappy mosquitoes. Not worth it.

And that’s not worth it,” the bear was happy. - That's how I say it. Let them come to my den, yes I will. 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 it!

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

Tale About Kozyavochka

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

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

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

Kozyavochka also rubbed her legs and flew off. He flies, admires everything and is happy. And below the grass is turning green, and hidden in the grass is a scarlet flower.

Kozyavochka, come to me! - the flower shouted.

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

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

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

“And yet it’s good,” Kozyavochka assured. - And everything is mine.

Before she had time to finish speaking, a furry Bumblebee flew in with a buzzing sound - and straight to the flower:

LJJ. Who got into my flower? LJJ. Who drinks my sweet juice? LJJ. Oh, you trashy Booger, get out! LJJ. Get out before I sting you!

Excuse me, what is this? - Kozyavochka squealed. - Everything, everything is mine.

LJJ. No, mine!

Kozyavochka barely escaped the angry Bumblebee. She sat down on the grass, licked her feet, stained with flower juice, and got angry:

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

No, sorry - mine! - said the furry little worm, climbing a stalk of grass.

Kozyavochka realized that the 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 this, I must admit. You never know how many of you are flying around here. You are a frivolous people, but I am a serious Worm. Frankly speaking, everything belongs to me. I’ll crawl onto the grass and eat it, I’ll crawl onto any flower and eat it too. Goodbye!

In a few hours, Kozyavochka learned absolutely everything, namely: that, in addition to 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. Kozyavochka was even offended. For mercy's sake, she was sure that everything belonged to her and was created for her, but here others think the same thing. No, something's wrong. This can't be true.

This is mine! - she squealed cheerfully. - My water. Oh, how fun! There is grass and flowers here.

And other boogers fly towards Kozyavochka.

Hello, sister!

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

And we are playing, sister. Come to us. We're having fun. Are you recently born?

Only today. I was almost stung by the Bumblebee, then I saw the Worm. I thought that everything was mine, but they said that everything was theirs.

The other boogers reassured the guest and invited her to play together. Above the water, the boogers played like a pillar: circling, flying, squeaking. Our Kozyavochka was choking with joy and soon completely forgot about the angry Bumblebee and the serious Worm.

Oh, how good! - she whispered in delight. - Everything is mine: the sun, the grass, and the water. I absolutely don’t understand why others are angry. 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 marsh sedge. You really need to relax! Kozyavochka watches how other little boogers are having fun; suddenly, out of nowhere, a sparrow darts past, as if someone had thrown a stone.

Ay, oh! - the little boogers shouted and rushed in all directions.

When the sparrow flew away, a whole dozen little boogers were missing.

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

It was worse than Bumblebee. The little booger began to be afraid and hid with other young little boogers even further into the swamp grass.

But here there is another problem: two of the boogers were eaten by a fish, and two by a frog.

What is it? - Kozyavochka was surprised. - It doesn’t look like anything at all anymore. You can't live like that. Wow, how disgusting!

It’s good that there were a lot of boogers and no one noticed the loss. Moreover, new boogers arrived that 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, nasty sparrows, fish and frogs. Be careful, sisters!

However, night came, and all the boogers 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.

Oh, 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.

This is how 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 sneaked up unnoticed - you never know how many enemies there are! There were also joys. Kozyavochka met another similar little booger, with a shaggy mustache. She says:

How pretty you are, Kozyavochka. We will live together.

And they healed together, they healed very well. All together: where one goes, there goes the other. And we didn’t notice how the summer flew by. It started to rain and the nights were cold. Our Kozyavochka laid eggs, hid them in the thick grass and said:

Oh, how tired I am!

No one saw Kozyavochka die.

Yes, she didn’t die, but only fell asleep for the winter, so that in the spring she could wake up again and live again.

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 will crack somewhere, a bird will fly up, a lump of snow will fall from a tree - the bunny is in hot water.

The bunny was afraid for a day, afraid for two, afraid for a week, afraid for a year; and then he grew up 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, that’s all!

The old hares gathered, the little bunnies came running, the old female hares tagged along - everyone listened to how the Hare boasted - long ears, slanting eyes, a short tail - they listened and did not believe their own ears. There has never been a time when the hare was not afraid of anyone.

Hey, slanting eye, aren't you even afraid of the wolf?

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

This turned out to be quite funny. The young hares giggled, covering their faces with their front paws, the kind old hare women laughed, even the old hares, who had been in the paws of a fox and tasted wolf teeth, smiled. A very funny hare! Oh, how funny! And everyone suddenly felt happy. They started tumbling, jumping, jumping, racing each other, as if everyone had gone crazy.

What is there to talk about for so long! - shouted the Hare, who had finally gained courage. - If I come across a wolf, I’ll eat it myself.

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

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

The hares scream about the wolf, and the wolf is right there.

He walked, walked in the forest about his wolf business, got hungry and just thought: “It would be nice to have a bunny snack!” - when he hears that somewhere very close, hares are screaming and they remember him, the gray Wolf.

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

The wolf came very close to the playful hares, he heard them laughing at him, and most of all - the boastful Hare - slanting eyes, long ears, short tail.

“Eh, brother, wait, I’ll eat you!” - thought the gray Wolf and began to look out to see the hare boasting of his courage. But the hares don’t see anything and are having more fun than ever. It ended with the boastful Hare climbing onto a stump, sitting on his hind legs and speaking:

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

Here the braggart’s tongue seemed to freeze.

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

The boastful hare jumped up like a ball, and out of fear fell straight onto the wide wolf’s forehead, rolled head over heels along the wolf’s back, turned over again in the air and then gave such a kick that it seemed like 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 hot on his heels 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 that 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 how many other hares you can find in the forest, but this one was kind of crazy.

It took the rest of the hares a long time to come to their senses. Some ran into the bushes, some hid behind a stump, some fell into a hole.

Finally, everyone got tired of hiding, and little by little the bravest ones began to peek out.

And our Hare cleverly scared the Wolf! - everything was decided. “If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have left alive.” Where is he, our fearless Hare?

We started looking.

We walked and walked, but the brave Hare was nowhere to be found. Had another wolf eaten him? Finally they found him: lying in a hole under a bush and barely alive from fear.

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

The brave Hare immediately perked up. He crawled out of his hole, shook himself, narrowed his eyes and said:

What would you think! Oh you cowards.

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