There were brother and sister - Vasya and Katya; and they had a cat. In the spring, the cat disappeared. The children looked for her everywhere, but could not find her. Once they were playing near the barn and heard something meowing in thin voices above their heads. Vasya climbed the stairs under the roof of the barn. And Katya stood below and kept asking:
- Found? Found?
But Vasya did not answer her. Finally, Vasya shouted to her:
- Found! Our cat... And she has kittens; so wonderful; come here soon.
Katya ran home, got milk and brought it to the cat.
There were five kittens. When they grew up a little and began to crawl out from under the corner where they hatched, the children chose one kitten, gray with white paws, and brought it into the house. The mother gave away all the other kittens, and left this one to the children. The children fed him, played with him and put him to bed with them.
Once the children went to play on the road and took a kitten with them.
The wind stirred the straw along the road, and the kitten played with the straw, and the children rejoiced at him. Then they found sorrel near the road, went to collect it and forgot about the kitten. Suddenly they heard someone shouting loudly: “Back, back!” - and they saw that the hunter was galloping, and in front of him two dogs saw a kitten and wanted to grab him. And the kitten, stupid, instead of running, sat down on the ground, hunched his back and looks at the dogs.
Katya was frightened by the dogs, screamed and ran away from them. And Vasya, with all his might, set off to the kitten and at the same time with the dogs ran up to him. The dogs wanted to grab the kitten, but Vasya fell on the kitten with his stomach and covered it from the dogs.
The hunter jumped up and drove the dogs away; and Vasya brought home a kitten and no longer took him into the field with him.
How my aunt talked about how she learned to sew
When I was six years old, I asked my mother to let me sew.
She said:
- You are still small, you will only prick your fingers.
And I kept coming up. Mother took a red piece of paper from the chest and gave it to me; then she threaded a red thread into the needle and showed me how to hold it. I began to sew, but I could not make even stitches: one stitch came out large, and the other fell to the very edge and broke through. Then I pricked my finger and wanted not to cry, but my mother asked me:
- What you?
I couldn't help but cry. Then my mother told me to go play.
When I went to bed, I kept dreaming of stitches; I kept thinking about how I could learn to sew as soon as possible, and it seemed to me so difficult that I would never learn.
And now I've grown big and I don't remember how I learned to sew; and when I teach my girl to sew, I wonder how she can't hold a needle.
girl and mushrooms
Two girls were walking home with mushrooms.
They had to cross the railroad.
They thought that a car far away, climbed onto the embankment and went across the rails.
Suddenly a car roared. The older girl ran back, and the younger one ran across the road.
The older girl shouted to her sister:
- Don't go back!
But the car was so close and made such a loud noise that the smaller girl did not hear; she thought she was being told to run back. She ran back across the tracks, stumbled, dropped the mushrooms and began to pick them up.
The car was already close, and the driver whistled with all his might.
The older girl shouted:
- Drop the mushrooms!
And the little girl thought she was being told to pick mushrooms and crawled along the road.
The driver could not keep the car. She whistled with all her might and ran over the girl.
The older girl was screaming and crying. All the passers-by looked out of the windows of the carriages, and the conductor ran to the end of the train to see what had become of the girl.
When the train passed, everyone saw that the girl was lying head down between the rails and was not moving.
Then, when the train had already gone far, the girl raised her head, jumped to her knees, picked mushrooms and ran to her sister.
How the boy talked about how he was not taken to the city
The father was going to the city, and I told him:
- Dad, take me with you.
And he says:
- You will freeze there; where are you...
I turned around, cried and went into the closet. I cried and cried and fell asleep.
And I see in a dream that from our village there is a small path to the chapel, and I see - dad is walking along this path. I caught up with him, and we went with him to the city. I go and see - the stove is heated in front. I say: “Dad, is this a city?” And he says: "He is the best." Then we reached the stove, and I see - they bake kalachi there. I say: "Buy me a loaf." He bought and gave to me.
Then I woke up, got up, put on my shoes, took my mittens and went out into the street. On the street, the guys ride on ice floes and on skids. I began to ride with them and skated until I got cold.
As soon as I returned and climbed onto the stove, I hear - dad returned from the city. I was delighted, jumped up and said:
- Dad, what - bought me a kalachik?
He says:
- I bought it, - and gave me a roll.
I jumped from the stove onto the bench and began to dance for joy.
It was Seryozha's birthday, and many different gifts were given to him: tops, horses, and pictures. But more than all the gifts, Uncle Seryozha gave a net to catch birds. The grid is made in such a way that a plank is attached to the frame, and the grid is thrown back. Pour the seed on a plank and put it out in the yard. A bird will fly in, sit on a plank, the plank will turn up, and the net will slam itself shut. Seryozha was delighted, ran to his mother to show the net.
Mother says:
- Not a good toy. What do you want birds? Why would you torture them?
I'll put them in cages. They will sing and I will feed them.
Seryozha took out a seed, poured it on a plank and put the net into the garden. And everything stood, waiting for the birds to fly. But the birds were afraid of him and did not fly to the net. Seryozha went to dinner and left the net. I looked after dinner, the net slammed shut and a bird beats under the net. Seryozha was delighted, caught the bird and carried it home.
- Mother! Look, I caught a bird, it must be a nightingale!.. And how his heart beats!
Mother said:
- This is a siskin. Look, do not torture him, but rather let him go.
No, I will feed and water him.
Seryozha chizh put him in a cage and for two days he sprinkled seed on him, and put water on, and cleaned the cage. On the third day he forgot about the siskin and did not change his water. His mother says to him:
- You see, you forgot about your bird, it's better to let it go.
– No, I won’t forget, I’ll put water on and clean the cage now.
Seryozha put his hand into the cage, began to clean it, but the chizhik was frightened, beating against the cage. Seryozha cleaned out the cage and went to fetch water. The mother saw that he had forgotten to close the cage, and she shouted to him:
- Seryozha, close the cage, otherwise your bird will fly out and be killed!
Before she had time to say, the siskin found the door, was delighted, spread his wings and flew through the upper room to the window. Yes, he did not see the glass, he hit the glass and fell on the windowsill.
Seryozha came running, took the bird, carried it to the cage. Chizhik was still alive; but lay on his chest, spreading his wings, and breathing heavily. Seryozha looked and looked and began to cry.
- Mother! What should I do now?
“Now you can’t do anything.
Seryozha did not leave the cage all day long and kept looking at the chizhik, but the chizhik still lay on his chest and breathed heavily and quickly - shal. When Seryozha went to sleep, the chizhik was still alive. Seryozha could not sleep for a long time. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined a siskin, how he lies and breathes. In the morning, when Seryozha approached the cage, he saw that the siskin was already lying on its back, tucked up its paws and stiffened.
I don’t know if my son will read War and Peace or maybe join the ranks of those high school students who offer to burn this book at the stake one of the first (I try to do everything possible to prevent this from happening), but so far he perceives the classics and specifically Tolstoy quite positively. I even provoked him a little: I suggested making diagrams of several sentences and finding sentences with interrogative intonation - he did not succumb to provocation :) By the way, the material for these purposes is very suitable - short tales, a little text plus a good Russian language and simple plots. In general, it was hard to resist :)
About animals and birds
Artist: Andrey Andreevich Brey
Publisher: Rech, 2015
Series: Mom's favorite book
ISBN: 978-5-9268-1866-3
Pages: 20 (Offset)
Printed in Latvia
This is a collection of short stories and true stories, quite successful, as it seemed to me, in content:
Eagle (Falle)
The Sparrow and the Swallows (Story)
How Wolves Teach Their Children (Story)
What are mice for?
Elephant (True)
They began to read and it occurred to me that Tolstoy's style was still harsh, even taking into account the fact that he writes for children: there is no singsong that is present in folk tales, such a feeling that speech seems to be flowing, for example, in "The Elephant":
"One Indian had an elephant. The owner fed him badly and forced him to work hard. Once the elephant got angry and stepped on his master. The Indian died."
And so I thought until we got to the Swans. I’ve already forgotten a little, but as a child, this story fascinated me:
"Swans flew in herds from a cold country to warm lands. They flew across the sea. They flew day and night; and another day and another night they flew over the water without rest. There was a full moon in the sky, and the swans far below saw blue water. All the swans died, flapping their wings, but they did not stop and flew on. Old, strong swans flew in front, those that were younger and weaker flew behind. One young swan flew behind all. His strength weakened. He flapped his wings and could not fly further. Then, spreading his wings, he went down. He descended closer and closer to the water; and his companions further and further whitened in the moonlight. The swan descended into the water and folded its wings. The sea stirred under him and shook him. The herd you could barely see the swans as a white line in the bright sky, and you could barely hear in the silence how their wings were ringing. When they were completely out of sight, the swan bent back his neck and closed his eyes. lifting lo and lowered him. Before dawn, a light breeze began to stir the sea. And the water splashed into the white chest of the swan. The swan opened his eyes. In the east the dawn was reddening, and the moon and the stars became paler. The swan sighed, stretched out his neck and, flapping his wings, got up and flew, catching his wings on the water. He climbed higher and higher and flew alone over the dark rippling waves.
The whole picture is still in front of my eyes :)
The illustrations by Andrey Andreevich Brey look very harmonious here, I would even say that they somehow soften some of the severity of the style: both by the dominance of smooth rounded lines, and by contours in which there is practically no sharpness and rigidity:
State budgetary educational institution of the Samara region
basic comprehensive school with. Zavolzhye municipal district
Privolzhsky, Samara region
Composition "Stories of L.N. Tolstoy about animals"
Nomination: "Composition"
The work was completed by: Ekaterina Rybochkina, 12 years old
Teacher: Agapcheva R.E.
2016
LN Tolstoy is known not only for literary works for adults, but also for instructive stories about animals. I especially like the stories: "The Lion and the Dog", "Milton and Bulka", "Bulka". The writer teaches children about friendship and devotion using examples from the life of animals. The stories are emotional, saturated with sadness and grief, along with extremely exciting. The story "The Lion and the Dog" tells an ordinary story about the life of the zoo. A small dog, tiny and defenseless, is thrown into the cage of a formidable lion. People expect a bloody spectacle, they think that the lion will tear the poor mongrel to pieces. However, the predator is in no hurry to harm the harmless creature, he leaves her alive, takes care of her and protects her. And when the lion's little friend dies in his paws, he refuses to eat. Full of sadness and pain from loss, he dies on the sixth day ... How much tragedy in the devotion, affection and love of a lion! In the story "The Eagle" Leo Tolstoy draws the image of a caring parent in the animal world, humanizing the bird. An eagle parent brings a big fish for his chicks, but evil people throw stones at him. When he drops his prey, they take it away from the mighty bird. The chicks begin to squeak plaintively, asking for food. A caring parent calms his children, gently pats them on the feathers. And again it flies far to the sea to feed its chicks. In the story “Fire Dogs,” the writer tells children about dogs that are brave and loyal to people, who fearlessly rush into the fire and save a girl from a building on fire. In his short stories about animals, Lev Nikolayevich introduces the habits and character of the forest inhabitants, shows how quick-witted and smart our smaller brothers are. In stories about animals, Tolstoy introduces children to the habits of animals and birds, humanizes them, endows them with character traits: “The jackdaw wanted to drink. There was a jug of water in the yard, and the jug only had water at the bottom. Jackdaw could not be reached. She began to throw pebbles into the jug and threw so many that the water became higher and it was possible to drink. I really liked the intelligence and resourcefulness of the jackdaw. In stories about the life of animals, Tolstoy seeks to acquaint children with the causes of natural phenomena and explain them by asking simple questions: “What is the wind for?”, “Why do windows sweat and dew occurs?”, “Why do trees crack in the frost?”. The stories about Bulka serve as a statement about the responsibility of a person to those whom he has tamed. Each story by Leo Tolstoy contains an instructive lesson for children. These fairy tales and stories are full of goodness and justice.
Leo Tolstoy "Bird" True story
It was Seryozha's birthday, and many different gifts were given to him: tops, horses, and pictures. But more than all the gifts, Uncle Seryozha gave a net to catch birds.
The grid is made in such a way that a plank is attached to the frame, and the grid is thrown back. Pour the seed on a plank and put it in the yard. A bird will fly in, sit on a plank, the plank will turn up, and the net will slam itself shut.
Seryozha was delighted, ran to his mother to show the net. Mother says:
- Not a good toy. What do you want birds? Why would you torture them?
I'll put them in cages. They will sing and I will feed them!
Seryozha took out a seed, poured it on a plank and put the net into the garden. And everything stood, waiting for the birds to fly. But the birds were afraid of him and did not fly to the net.
Seryozha went to dinner and left the net. I looked after dinner, the net slammed shut and a bird beats under the net. Seryozha was delighted, caught the bird and carried it home.
- Mother! Look, I caught a bird, it must be a nightingale! And how his heart beats.
Mother said:
- This is a siskin. Look, do not torture him, but rather let him go.
No, I will feed and water him.
Seryozha chizh put him in a cage and for two days he sprinkled seed on him, and put water on, and cleaned the cage. On the third day he forgot about the siskin and did not change his water.
His mother says to him:
- You see, you forgot about your bird, it's better to let it go.
— No, I won't forget, I'll put water on and clean the cage.
Seryozha put his hand into the cage, began to clean it, but the chizhik was frightened, beating against the cage. Seryozha cleaned out the cage and went to fetch water.
The mother saw that he had forgotten to close the cage, and she shouted to him:
- Seryozha, close the cage, otherwise your bird will fly out and be killed!
Before she had time to say, the siskin found the door, was delighted, spread his wings and flew through the upper room to the window. Yes, he did not see the glass, he hit the glass and fell on the windowsill.
Seryozha came running, took the bird, carried it to the cage.
The chizhik was still alive, but lay on his chest, spreading his wings, and breathing heavily. Seryozha looked and looked and began to cry.
- Mother! What should I do now?
“Now you can’t do anything.
Seryozha did not leave the cage all day long and kept looking at the chizhik, but the chizhik still lay on his chest and breathed heavily. When Seryozha went to sleep, the chizhik was still alive.
Seryozha could not fall asleep for a long time, every time he closed his eyes, he imagined a chizhik, how he lies and breathes.
In the morning, when Seryozha approached the cage, he saw that the siskin was already lying on its back, tucked up its paws and stiffened.
Since then, Seryozha has never caught birds.
Leo Tolstoy "Kitten" True story
There were brother and sister - Vasya and Katya; and they had a cat. In the spring, the cat disappeared. The children looked for her everywhere, but could not find her.
Once they were playing near the barn and heard something meowing in thin voices above their heads. Vasya climbed the stairs under the roof of the barn. And Katya stood below and kept asking:
- Found? Found?
But Vasya did not answer her. Finally, Vasya shouted to her:
- Found! Our cat... and she has kittens; so wonderful; come here soon.
Katya ran home, got milk and brought it to the cat.
There were five kittens. When they grew up a little and began to crawl out from under the corner where they hatched, the children chose one kitten, gray with white paws, and brought it into the house. Mom gave away all the other kittens, and left this one to the children. The children fed him, played with him and put him to bed with them.
Once the children went to play on the road and took a kitten with them. The wind stirred the straw along the road, and the kitten played with the straw, and the children rejoiced at him. Then they found sorrel near the road, went to collect it and forgot about the kitten.
Suddenly they heard someone shouting loudly: “Back, back!” - and they saw that the hunter was galloping, and in front of him were two dogs - they saw a kitten and they want to grab it. And the stupid kitten, instead of running, sat down on the ground, hunched his back and looked at the dogs. Katya was frightened by the dogs, screamed and ran away from them. And Vasya, with all his might, set off to the kitten and at the same time with the dogs ran up to him. The dogs wanted to grab the kitten, but Vasya fell on the kitten with his stomach and covered it from the dogs.
The hunter jumped up and drove the dogs away, and Vasya brought the kitten home and no longer took him into the field with him.
Leo Tolstoy "The Lion and the Dog"
They showed wild animals in London and took money or dogs and cats to feed wild animals for watching.
One man wanted to look at the animals; he grabbed a dog in the street and brought it to the menagerie. They let him watch, but they took the little dog and threw it into a cage to be eaten by a lion.
The dog tucked its tail between its legs and snuggled into the corner of the cage. The lion walked up to her and sniffed her.
The dog lay on its back, raised its paws and began to wag its tail. The lion touched her with his paw and turned her over. The dog jumped up and stood in front of the lion on its hind legs.
The lion looked at the dog, turned its head from side to side and did not touch it.
When the owner threw meat to the lion, the lion tore off a piece and left it for the dog.
In the evening, when the lion went to bed, the dog lay down beside him and laid her head on his paw.
Since then, the dog has lived in the same cage with the lion. The lion did not touch her, ate food, slept with her, and sometimes played with her.
Once the master came to the menagerie and recognized his little dog; he said that the dog was his own, and asked the owner of the menagerie to give it to him. The owner wanted to give it back, but as soon as they began to call the dog to take it out of the cage, the lion bristled and growled.
So the lion and the dog lived for a whole year in one cage.
A year later, the dog fell ill and died. The lion stopped eating, but kept sniffing, licking the dog and touching it with his paw. When he realized that she was dead, he suddenly jumped up, bristled, began to whip his tail on the sides, threw himself on the wall of the cage and began to gnaw the bolts and the floor.
All day long he fought, rushed around the cage and roared, then lay down beside the dead dog and calmed down. The owner wanted to carry away the dead dog, but the lion would not let anyone near it.
The owner thought that the lion would forget his grief if he was given another dog, and let a live dog into his cage; but the lion immediately tore her to pieces. Then he hugged the dead dog with his paws and lay like that for five days. On the sixth day the lion died.
Leo Tolstoy "Hares"
Forest hares feed at night on the bark of trees, field hares - on winter crops and grass, bean gooses - on grain on the threshing floors. During the night, hares make a deep, visible trail in the snow. Before hares, hunters are people, and dogs, and wolves, and foxes, and crows, and eagles. If the hare walked simply and straight, then in the morning he would now be found on the trail and caught; but the hare is cowardly, and cowardice saves him.
The hare walks at night through the fields and forests without fear and makes straight tracks; but as soon as morning comes, his enemies wake up: the hare begins to hear either the barking of dogs, or the screech of sleighs, or the voices of peasants, or the crackling of a wolf in the forest, and begins to rush from side to side with fear. It will jump forward, be frightened of something - and run back in its wake. He will hear something else - and with all his might he will jump to the side and gallop away from the previous trace. Again something will knock - again the hare will turn back and again jump to the side. When it becomes light, he will lie down.
The next morning, the hunters begin to disassemble the hare's trail, get confused by double tracks and long jumps, and are surprised at the tricks of the hare. And the hare did not think to be cunning. He's just afraid of everything.
This book for family reading contains the best works of Leo Tolstoy, which have been loved by both preschoolers and demanding teenagers for more than a century. The main characters of the stories are children, “troubled”, “dexterous”, and therefore close to modern boys and girls. The book ends with the story "Prisoner of the Caucasus", in which the harsh truth about the war is combined with kindness and humanity. The book teaches Love - for a person and everything that surrounds him: nature, animals, native land. She is kind and bright, like all the work of a brilliant writer.
* * *
The following excerpt from the book All the best fairy tales and stories (L. N. Tolstoy, 2013) provided by our book partner - the company LitRes.
Stories about animals and plants
Lion and dog
In London, they showed wild animals and took money or dogs and cats for food for wild animals. One man wanted to look at the animals: he grabbed a dog in the street and brought it to the menagerie. They let him watch, but they took the little dog and threw it into a cage to be eaten by a lion.
The dog tucked its tail between its legs and snuggled into the corner of the cage. The lion walked up to her and sniffed her.
The dog lay on its back, raised its paws and began to wag its tail.
The lion touched her with his paw and turned her over.
The dog jumped up and stood in front of the lion on its hind legs.
The lion looked at the dog, turned its head from side to side and did not touch it.
When the owner threw meat to the lion, the lion tore off a piece and left it for the dog.
In the evening, when the lion went to bed, the dog lay down beside him and laid her head on his paw.
Since then, the dog lived in the same cage with the lion, the lion did not touch her, ate food, slept with her, and sometimes played with her.
Once the master came to the menagerie and recognized his little dog; he said that the dog was his own, and asked the owner of the menagerie to give it to him. The owner wanted to give it back, but as soon as they began to call the dog to take it out of the cage, the lion bristled and growled.
So the lion and the dog lived for a whole year in one cage.
A year later, the dog fell ill and died. The lion stopped eating, but kept sniffing, licking the dog and touching it with his paw.
When he realized that she was dead, he suddenly jumped up, bristled, began to whip his tail on the sides, threw himself on the wall of the cage and began to gnaw the bolts and the floor.
All day he fought, tossed about in the cage and roared, then lay down beside the dead dog and fell silent. The owner wanted to carry away the dead dog, but the lion would not let anyone near it.
The owner thought that the lion would forget his grief if he was given another dog, and let a live dog into his cage; but the lion immediately tore her to pieces. Then he hugged the dead dog with his paws and lay like that for five days.
On the sixth day the lion died.
old poplar
For five years our garden has been abandoned; I hired workers with axes and shovels and began to work with them myself in the garden. We cut down and cut dry land and game and extra bushes and trees. Most of all, other trees grew and jammed poplar and bird cherry. The poplar comes from the roots, and it cannot be dug, but the roots must be cut down in the ground. Behind the pond stood a huge, two-girth poplar. There was a clearing around him; it was all overgrown with shoots of poplars. I ordered them to be cut down: I wanted the place to be cheerful, and most importantly, I wanted to lighten the old poplar, because I thought: all these young trees come from it and draw juice from it. When we were cutting down these young poplars, I sometimes felt sorry to see how their juicy roots were cut under the ground, how then the four of us pulled and could not pull out the chopped poplar. He fought hard and didn't want to die. I thought: "It seems that they need to live, if they cling to life so tightly." But it was necessary to cut, and I chopped. Later, when it was too late, I learned that it was not necessary to destroy them.
I thought that the shoots draw juice from the old poplar, but it turned out the other way around. When I cut them down, the old poplar was already dying. When the leaves blossomed, I saw (it split into two branches) that one branch was bare; and in the same summer it dried up. He had been dying for a long time and knew this and transferred his life into offspring.
Because of this, they grew so quickly, and I wanted to relieve him - and beat all his children.
On the Holy the peasant went to see if the earth had thawed? He went out into the garden and felt the ground with a stake. The earth crumbled. The man went into the forest. Buds have already swelled on the vine in the forest.
The man thought:
“Let me plant a garden with a vine, it will grow - there will be protection!”
He took an ax, chopped a dozen vines, hewed them with stakes from the thick ends and stuck them in the ground.
All the vines sent out shoots above with leaves, and below under the ground they released the same shoots instead of roots; and some clung to the ground and set to work, while others awkwardly clung to the ground with their roots - they froze and fell down.
By the fall, the peasant was glad for his vines: six of them began. The next spring, the sheep gnawed four vines, and only two remained. The next spring, even these were gnawed by the sheep. One completely disappeared, and the other coped, began to root and grew into a tree. Through the springs, the bees buzzed on the vine. Swarms often landed on the lozina in the royovshchina, and the peasants raked them. The peasants and women often had breakfast and slept under the vines; and the guys climbed on it and broke the rods out of it.
The man - the one who planted the vine, had already died a long time ago, and she kept growing. The eldest son cut branches from her twice and drowned them. The vine kept growing. They will chop it off all around, make a bump, and in the spring it will release branches again, although thinner, but twice as large as before, like a tuft of a foal.
And the eldest son stopped hosting, and the village was resettled, and the vine kept growing in the open field. Alien men went, cut it down - it kept growing. A thunderstorm hit the vine; she coped with the side branches, and everything grew and bloomed. One man wanted to cut it down on a log, but threw it away: it was very rotten. The vine fell on its side and held on only one side, but it kept growing, and every year bees flew in to pick off the diaper from its flowers.
Once the guys gathered early in the spring to guard the horses under the vine. It seemed cold to them; they began to build a fire, gathered stubble, Chernobyl, brushwood. One climbed onto the vine, and broke branches from it. They piled everything in the hollow of the vine and lit it.
The vine hissed, the juice boiled in it, smoke went out, and the fire began to run across; her whole interior turned black. Young shoots wrinkled, flowers withered.
The boys took the horses home. The burnt vine was left alone in the field. A black raven flew in, sat on it and shouted:
- What, died, the old poker, it was long overdue!
bird cherry
One bird cherry grew on a hazel path and drowned out hazel bushes. I thought for a long time - to chop or not to chop it: I was sorry. This bird cherry did not grow as a bush, but as a tree, an inch three in a cut and fathoms four in height, all forked, curly and all sprinkled with a bright, white, fragrant color. Her scent could be heard from afar. I would not have cut it down, but one of the workers (I told him before to cut down all the bird cherry trees) started cutting it without me. When I arrived, he had already cut an inch and a half into it, and the juice squished under the ax when it hit the old chopper. “There is nothing to do, apparently, fate,” I thought, took the ax itself and began to chop together with the peasant.
Every job is fun to work on; fun and hack. It's fun to drive the ax deep obliquely, and then cut straight through the mowed down, and further and further cut into the tree.
I completely forgot about the bird cherry and only thought about how to dump it as soon as possible. When I was out of breath, I put down the ax, ran into a tree with the peasant and tried to knock him down. We shook: the tree trembled with leaves, and dew dripped on us from it, and white, fragrant flower petals fell down.
At the same time, something seemed to cry out - it crunched in the middle of the tree; we leaned, and as if wept, it crackled in the middle, and the tree fell down. It was torn at the notch and, swaying, lay down in branches and flowers on the grass. Branches and flowers trembled after the fall and stopped.
- Eh! Something important! - said the man. - Really sorry!
And I was so sorry that I quickly went to other workers.
How trees walk
Times we cleaned out on semi-hillock an overgrown path near the pond, they cut a lot of wild rose, willows, poplars, then came bird cherry. She grew up on the very road and was so old and fat that she could not be less than ten years old. And five years ago I knew that the garden had been cleaned.
I could not understand how such an old bird cherry tree could grow here. We cut it down and moved on. Farther, in another thicket, another similar bird cherry grew, even thicker. I examined its root and found that it was growing under an old linden tree.
The linden with its boughs drowned it out, and the bird cherry stretched out arshin five with a straight stem on the ground; and when she got out into the light, she raised her head and began to bloom. I cut it down at the root and marveled at how fresh it was and how rotten the root was. When I cut it down, the peasants and I began to drag it away; but no matter how much we dragged it, we could not move it: it seemed to stick to it.
I said:
“Look, are you hooked somewhere?”
The worker crawled under it and shouted:
- Yes, she has a different root, here on the road!
I went up to him and saw that it was true.
Bird cherry, so that the linden would not suppress it, moved from under the linden to the path, three arshins from the former root. The root I cut was rotten and dry, but the new one was fresh.
She sensed, it is clear that she could not live under a linden tree, stretched out, grabbed the ground with a twig, made a root out of a twig, and threw that root.
Only then did I understand how that first bird cherry had grown on the road. She did the same thing, it’s true, but she had already completely discarded the old root, so I didn’t find it.
Trees breathe
The child was sick. He struggled, tossed about, then calmed down. The mother thought he was asleep; I looked and he wasn't breathing.
She began to cry, called her grandmother and said:
“Look, my baby is dead.
Grandma says:
“Wait, cry, maybe he just froze, not died.” Here, let's put a glass to the mouth, if it sweats, it means that it breathes and is alive.
They put a glass to the mouth. The glass got sweaty. The child was alive.
He woke up and recovered.
Great Lent there was a thaw, but it did not drive away all the snow, and it froze again, and there was fog.
Early in the morning I went along the crust to the garden. I look - all the apple trees are variegated: some knots are black, while others are exactly sprinkled with white stars. I came closer - I looked at the black knots - they were all dry, I looked at the motley ones - they were all alive and all were covered with frost on the kidneys. There is no frost anywhere, only on the very tips of the kidneys, on the mouths, where they have begun to open, just as the mustaches and beards of peasants become dull in the cold.
Dead trees do not breathe, but living trees breathe just like people. We are mouths and noses, they are kidneys.
I planted two hundred young apple trees, and for three years in spring and autumn I dug them in, and wrapped them in straw for winter. In the fourth year, when the snow melted, I went to look at my apple trees. They got fat in the winter; the bark on them was glossy and poured; the knots were all intact, and on all ends and on the forks sat round, like peas, flower buds. Somewhere already burst unpacking and the scarlet edges of the flowered leaves could be seen. I knew that all the unravelings would be flowers and fruits, and I rejoiced looking at my apple trees. But when I unfolded the first apple tree, I saw that below, above the ground itself, the bark of the apple tree was gnawed all around to the very wood, like a white ring. The mice did it. I unrolled another apple tree - and the other one had the same thing. Of the two hundred apple trees, not a single one remained intact. I smeared the gnawed places with pitch and wax; but when the apple trees blossomed, their flowers immediately fell asleep. Little leaves came out - and they withered and withered. The bark was wrinkled and blackened. Of the two hundred apple trees, only nine remained. On these nine apple trees, the bark was not eaten around, but a strip of bark remained in the white ring. On these strips, in the place where the bark diverged, outgrowths became, and although the apple trees got sick, they went. The rest all disappeared, only shoots went below the gnawed places, and then they are all wild.
The bark of trees is the same veins in a person: through the veins the blood goes through a person - and through the bark the juice goes through the tree and rises into branches, leaves and flowers. It is possible to hollow out everything inside from a tree, as is the case with old vines, but if only the bark was alive, the tree would live; but if the bark is gone, the tree is gone. If a person's veins are cut, he will die, firstly, because the blood will flow out, and secondly, because the blood will no longer flow through the body.
So the birch dries up when the guys make a hole to drink the juice, and all the juice will flow out.
So the apple trees disappeared because the mice ate the whole bark around, and the juice no longer had a way from the roots to the branches, leaves and color.
How wolves teach their children
I was walking down the road and heard a scream behind me. The shepherd boy screamed. He ran across the field and pointed at someone.
I looked and saw two wolves running across the field: one mother, another young. The young man carried a slaughtered lamb on his back, and held his leg with his teeth. The seasoned wolf ran behind.
When I saw the wolves, I ran after them together with the shepherd, and we began to shout. Men with dogs came running to our cry.
As soon as the old wolf saw the dogs and the people, he ran up to the young one, grabbed the lamb from him, threw it on his back, and both wolves ran faster and disappeared from sight.
Then the boy began to tell how it was: a big wolf jumped out of the ravine, grabbed the lamb, slaughtered it and carried it away.
A wolf cub ran out to meet and rushed to the lamb. The old one gave the young wolf to carry the lamb, and he himself ran lightly beside him.
Only when trouble came did the old man leave his studies and take the lamb himself.
Description
Hares feed at night. In winter, forest hares feed on the bark of trees, field hares - winters and grass, bean goose - grains on the threshing floor. During the night, hares make a deep, visible trail in the snow. Before hares, hunters are people, and dogs, and wolves, and foxes, and crows, and eagles. If the hare walked simply and straight, then in the morning he would now be found on the trail and caught; but the hare is cowardly, and cowardice saves him.
The hare walks at night through the fields and forests without fear and makes straight tracks; but as soon as morning comes, his enemies wake up: the hare begins to hear either the barking of dogs, or the screech of sleighs, or the voices of peasants, or the crackling of a wolf in the forest, and begins to rush from side to side with fear. It will jump forward, be frightened of something and run back in its wake. He will hear something else - and with all his might he will jump to the side and gallop away from the previous trace. Again something hits - again the hare will turn back and again jump to the side. When it becomes light, he will lie down. In the morning, the hunters begin to disassemble the hare's trail, get confused by double tracks and long jumps, they are surprised at the tricks of the hare. And the hare did not think to be cunning. He's just afraid of everything.
Owl and hare
It got dark. Owls began to fly in the forest along the ravine, looking out for prey.
A big hare jumped out into the clearing, began to preen.
The old owl looked at the hare and sat on the bough, and the young owl said:
- Why don't you catch a hare?
The old one says:
- Unbearable - the hare is great: you will cling to him, and he will drag you into the thicket.
And the young owl says:
- And I will grab with one paw, and with the other I will quickly hold on to the tree.
And a young owl set off after a hare, clung to its back with its paw so that all the claws were gone, and prepared the other paw to cling to a tree. As a hare dragged an owl, she clung to a tree with her other paw and thought: “It won’t leave.”
The hare rushed and tore the owl. One paw remained on the tree, the other on the hare's back.
The next year, the hunter killed this hare and marveled at the fact that he had overgrown owl claws in his back.
Officer's Tale
I had muzzle… Her name was Bulka. She was all black, only the tips of her front paws were white.
In all muzzles, the lower jaw is longer than the upper and the upper teeth extend beyond the lower ones; but Bulka's lower jaw protruded so far forward that a finger could be placed between the lower and upper teeth. Bulka's face was broad; the eyes are large, black and shiny; and white teeth and fangs always stuck out. He looked like an arap. Bulka was quiet and did not bite, but he was very strong and tenacious. When he used to cling to something, he would grit his teeth and hang like a rag, and he, like a tick, could not be torn off in any way.
Once they let him attack a bear, and he grabbed the bear's ear and hung like a leech. The bear beat him with his paws, pressed him to himself, threw him from side to side, but could not tear him off and fell on his head to crush Bulka; but Bulka kept on him until they poured cold water on him.
I adopted him as a puppy and fed him myself. When I went to serve in the Caucasus, I did not want to take him and left him quietly, and ordered him to be locked up. At the first station, I already wanted to get on another foldable when he suddenly saw that something black and shiny was rolling down the road. It was Bulka in his copper collar. He flew at full speed to the station. He rushed towards me, licked my hand and stretched out in the shade under the cart. His tongue stuck out to the palm of his hand. He then pulled it back, swallowing saliva, then again stuck it out on a whole palm. He was in a hurry, did not keep up with breathing, his sides were jumping. He turned from side to side and tapped his tail on the ground.
End of introductory segment.
