It would calm down, and then you could go outside and breathe a little fresh autumn air, or it would clear up again, and then you wouldn’t want to go out anywhere.
The hedgehog has been sitting at home for a whole week. He looked out the window at the gray clouds that covered the sky, looked at the streams of rain flowing down from the tree under which his house was located. I didn’t want to go outside at all, but I wanted a little warmth and light, which seemed to be gone until next spring.
One autumn evening, Hedgehog, after drinking tea with dried currants, went to bed. I always slept well under the measured sound of rain. The hedgehog quickly fell asleep and had a wonderful dream about how it was as if summer had come, and he was walking through the forest and listening to birds singing, and butterflies and dragonflies were circling around, flowers were blooming. In the morning, Hedgehog woke up with a happy smile on his face. He lay on the bed for a long time and it seemed to him that the dream was continuing. It seemed to the hedgehog that the sun was shining brightly and the birds were singing. Finally, Hedgehog woke up completely and noticed that a bright ray of sunlight was falling into the room through the window. The hedgehog even felt its warmth. Not believing his eyes, Hedgehog jumped out of bed and ran to the window. Opening the window, he saw an unseasonably bright and warm sun in the sky. It illuminated the forest with its radiance, and the trees, imitating it, sparkled with golden leaves.
“What a beauty,” Hedgehog whispered admiringly.
And then Hedgehog thought that he even heard birds singing. He sat down by the windowsill and, resting his head on his paws, closed his eyes. The singing shimmered with different voices and was so beautiful that the Hedgehog again broke into a smile. Suddenly, the Hedgehog realized that he was not imagining singing and, indeed, a bird was singing somewhere. The hedgehog could not explain how this could happen, because all the songbirds had long since flown south. He became very curious and quickly ran outside.
It was light and warm outside. The bright sun warmed the earth. There was no wind. There was a pleasant autumn smell of fallen leaves in the air. Sunbeams played in the treetops, and on the lower branch of a spruce tree sat a bird and sang. The hedgehog has never seen such birds. She was very unusual: her feathers were rainbow-colored and gilded, her long tail was divided into two parts, her wings were blue, and there was a bright red bow on her chest. The bird sang, raising its head to the sun. She had a rainbow crest on her head. The ball bird was beautiful and sang amazingly too. Her singing reminded the Hedgehog of the singing of all the summer birds that had long flown south.
Noticing the Hedgehog, the bird paused for a second and became wary, but when it saw the enthusiastic look, it immediately continued. The hedgehog sat on the grass and listened, smiling. It seemed to him that he was dreaming or that he was in a fairy tale where it was summer all year round. Soon a cool breeze blew and the bird stopped singing. She looked up at the sky and spread her wings to fly away.
“Wait,” shouted the Hedgehog, “don’t fly away.”
The bird looked at the Hedgehog and smiled:
“I need to hurry,” she answered in a ringing voice, “it will soon become very cold.”
- Do you want me to give you some tea and keep you warm? - Hedgehog suggested.
- Thank you, but I'm in a hurry.
The hedgehog didn’t want to part with the unexpected miracle, but he understood that the bird really didn’t have time.
- Tell me, who are you? Why have I never seen you before? - Hedgehog asked, running closer.
“Because,” answered the bird, “I never stop here.” In the summer I live in the north, and in winter I fly to the south. Today, when I flew past the spruce tree and saw the sunrise, I really wanted to stop for a while and sing a song, even if no one would hear it.
“I heard your song,” Hedgehog shouted joyfully, “I really liked it!”
“Thank you too,” the bird shouted, taking off.
She quickly took off and flew over the forest. The hedgehog stood for a long time and looked after her. Soon the sky was clouded again and light rain began to fall. The hedgehog went home. He sat by the window and thought about a strange miracle, about a bird that flew to distant lands and, stopping for a while, brought back summer. The bird flew away, taking the good weather with it, but it left part of its song in Hedgehog’s soul, which made him feel warm and joyful.
Tolstoy L.N.
Young sparrows were jumping on the path in the garden.
And the old sparrow sat high on a tree branch and vigilantly looked to see if a bird of prey would appear somewhere.
A robber hawk flies through the backyard. He is the fierce enemy of the small bird. The hawk flies quietly, without noise.
But the old sparrow noticed the villain and is watching him.
The hawk is getting closer and closer.
The sparrow chirped loudly and anxiously, and all the little sparrows disappeared into the bushes at once.
Everything fell silent.
Only the sentry sparrow sits on a branch. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t take his eyes off the hawk.
The hawk noticed the old sparrow, flapped its wings, straightened its claws and descended like an arrow.
And the sparrow fell like a stone into the bushes.
The hawk was left with nothing.
He looks around. Evil has taken the predator. His yellow eyes burn with fire.
Little sparrows poured out of the bushes noisily and jumped along the path.
Swans
Tolstoy L.N.
The swans flew in a herd from the cold side to the warm lands. They flew across the sea. They flew day and night, and another day and another night, without resting, they flew over the water. There was a full month in the sky, and the swans saw blue water far below them. All the swans were exhausted, flapping their wings; but they did not stop and flew on. Old, strong swans flew in front, and those who were younger and weaker flew behind. One young swan flew behind everyone. His strength weakened. He flapped his wings and could not fly any further. Then he, spreading his wings, went down. He descended closer and closer to the water; and his comrades further and further became whiter in the monthly light. The swan descended onto the water and folded its wings. The sea rose beneath him and rocked him.
A flock of swans was barely visible as a white line in the light sky. And in the silence you could barely hear the sound of their wings ringing. When they were completely out of sight, the swan bent its neck back and closed its eyes. He did not move, and only the sea, rising and falling in a wide strip, raised and lowered him.
Before dawn, a light breeze began to sway the sea. And the water splashed into the white chest of the swan. The swan opened his eyes. The dawn reddened in the east, and the moon and stars became paler. The swan sighed, stretched out its neck and flapped its wings, rose up and flew, clinging to the water with its wings. He rose higher and higher and flew alone over the dark, rippling waves.
Starlings (Excerpt)
Kuprin A.I.
We were looking forward to seeing old friends fly into our garden again - starlings, these cute, cheerful, sociable birds, the first migratory guests, the joyful messengers of spring.
So, we waited for the starlings. We fixed old birdhouses that had become warped from the winter winds and hung new ones.
The sparrows imagined that this courtesy was being done for them, and immediately, at the first warmth, they occupied the birdhouses.
Finally, on the nineteenth, in the evening (it was still light), someone shouted: “Look - starlings!”
Indeed, they sat high on the branches of poplars and, after the sparrows, seemed unusually large and too black...
For two days the starlings seemed to be gaining strength and were hanging out and exploring last year’s familiar places. And then the eviction of sparrows began. I did not notice any particularly violent clashes between starlings and sparrows. Usually, skurts sit in twos high above the birdhouses and, apparently, carelessly chatter among themselves about something, while they themselves gaze intently downwards with one eye, sideways. It's scary and difficult for the sparrow. No, no - he sticks his sharp, cunning nose out of the round hole - and back. Finally, hunger, frivolity, and perhaps timidity make themselves felt. “I’m flying off,” he thinks, “for a minute and right back.” Maybe I'll outwit you. Maybe they won’t notice.” And as soon as it has time to fly away a fathom, the starling drops like a stone and is already at home.
And now the sparrow’s temporary economy has come to an end. Starlings guard the nest in turns: one sits while the other flies on business. Sparrows would never think of such a trick.
And so, out of chagrin, great battles begin between the sparrows, during which fluff and feathers fly into the air. And the starlings sit high in the trees and even tease: “Hey, you black-headed one! You won’t be able to overcome that yellow-chested one forever and ever.” - "How? To me? Yes, I’ll take him now!” - “Come on, come on...”
And there will be a landfill. However, in the spring all the animals and birds... fight much more...
Starling song
Kuprin A.I.
The air warmed up a little, and the starlings had already settled on high branches and began their concert. I don’t know, really, whether the starling has his own motives, but you will hear enough of anything alien in his song. There are pieces of nightingale trills, and the sharp meow of an oriole, and the sweet voice of a robin, and the musical babbling of a warbler, and the thin whistle of a titmouse, and among these melodies suddenly such voices are heard that, sitting alone, you can’t help but laugh: a hen cackles on a tree , the sharpener's knife will hiss, the door will creak, the children's military trumpet will blow. And, having made this unexpected musical retreat, the starling, as if nothing had happened, without a break, continues his cheerful, sweet, humorous song.
Lark
I. Sokolov-Mikitov
Of the many sounds of the earth: the singing of birds, the fluttering of leaves on the trees, the crackling of grasshoppers, the murmur of a forest stream - the most cheerful and joyful sound is the song of field larks and meadow larks. Even in early spring, when there is loose snow on the fields, but in some places dark thawed patches have already formed in the warming up, our early spring guests arrive and begin to sing. Rising into the sky in a column, fluttering its wings, permeated through with sunlight, the lark flies higher and higher into the sky, disappearing into the shining blue. The song of a lark welcoming the arrival of spring is amazingly beautiful. This joyful song is like the breath of the awakened earth.
Many great composers tried to depict this joyful song in their musical works...
Much can be heard in the awakening spring forest. Hazel grouse squeak subtly, invisible owls hoot at night. Arrived cranes perform spring round dances in the impenetrable swamp. Bees buzz above the yellow golden downy coats of a flowering willow. And in the bushes on the river bank the first nightingale began to click and sing loudly.
Swan
Aksakov S. T.
The swan, due to its size, strength, beauty and majestic posture, has long been rightly called the king of all aquatic, or waterfowl. White as snow, with shiny, transparent small eyes, with a black nose and black paws, with a long, flexible and beautiful neck, he is inexpressibly beautiful when he calmly swims between the green reeds on the dark blue, smooth surface of the water.
Swan movements
Aksakov S. T.
All the movements of the swan are full of charm: will it start to drink and, scooping up water with its nose, raise its head up and stretch its neck; will he begin to swim, dive and splash with his mighty wings, scattering far away splashes of water rolling off his fluffy body; will he then begin to preen himself, easily and freely arching his snow-white neck back, straightening and cleaning with his nose the crumpled or dirty feathers on the back, sides and tail; whether the wing spreads through the air, as if a long slanting sail, and also begins to finger each feather in it with its nose, airing and drying it in the sun - everything is picturesque and magnificent in it.
Sparrow
Charushin E. I.
Nikita and dad went for a walk. He was walking and walking and suddenly he heard someone chirping: Chilik-chilik! Chilik-chilik! Chilik-chilik!
And Nikita sees that it is a little sparrow jumping along the road.
So ruffled, just like a ball rolling. Its tail is short, its beak is yellow, and it doesn’t fly anywhere. Apparently he doesn’t know how yet.
Look, dad,” Nikita shouted, “the sparrow is not real!”
And dad says:
No, this is a real sparrow, but only a small one. This is probably the chick falling out of its nest.
Then Nikita ran to catch a sparrow and caught it. And this little sparrow began to live in a cage at our house, and Nikita fed him flies, worms and a bun with milk.
Here is a sparrow living with Nikita. He screams all the time and asks for food. What a glutton! As soon as the sun appears in the morning, he will chirp and wake everyone up.
Then Nikita said:
I will teach him to fly and release him.
He took the sparrow out of the cage, sat it on the floor and began to teach.
“You flap your wings like this,” Nikita said and showed with his hands how to fly. And the sparrow jumped under the chest of drawers.
We fed the sparrow for another day. Again Nikita put him on the floor to teach him to fly. Nikita waved his arms, and the sparrow flapped its wings.
The sparrow has flown!
So he flew over the pencil. A red fire truck flew over. And when he began to fly over the inanimate toy cat, he bumped into it and fell.
“You’re still a bad flyer,” Nikita tells him. - Let me feed you for another day.
He fed and fed, and the next day the sparrow flew over Nikitin’s bench. Flew over a chair. Flew over the table with the jug. But he couldn’t fly over the chest of drawers - he fell.
Apparently, we still need to feed him. The next day Nikita took the sparrow with him into the garden and released it there.
The sparrow flew over the brick.
Flew over a stump.
And he began to fly over the fence, but bumped into it and fell.
And the next day he flew over the fence.
And flew over the tree.
And flew over the house.
And he completely flew away from Nikita.
That's how great it was to learn to fly!
Winter debts
N.I. Sladkov
The Sparrow was chirping on the dung heap - and he was jumping up and down! And the Crow Hag croaks in her nasty voice:
Why, Sparrow, was he happy, why was he chirping?
“The wings itch, Crow, the nose itches,” Sparrow answers. - The passion to fight is the hunt! Don’t croak here, don’t spoil my spring mood!
But I'll ruin it! - Crow does not lag behind. - How can I ask a question?
I scared you!
And I'll scare you. Did you peck crumbs in the trash bin in winter?
Pecked.
Did you pick up grains from the barnyard?
Picked it up.
Did you have lunch in the bird cafeteria near the school?
Thank you guys for feeding me.
That's it! - Crow bursts into tears. - With what
Are you thinking of paying for all this? With your chirping?
Am I the only one who used it? - Sparrow was confused. - And the Tit was there, and the Woodpecker, and the Magpie, and the Jackdaw. And you, Vorona, were...
Don't confuse others! - Crow wheezes. - You answer for yourself. Borrowed - give back! As all decent birds do.
Decent ones, maybe they do,” Sparrow became angry. - But are you doing it, Crow?
I'll cry before anyone else! Do you hear a tractor plowing in the field? And behind him, I pick out all sorts of root beetles and root rodents from the furrow. And Magpie and Galka help me. And looking at us, other birds are also trying.
Don't vouch for others either! - Sparrow insists. - Others may have forgotten to think.
But Crow doesn’t let up:
Come and check it out!
Sparrow flew to check. He flew into the garden, where the Tit lives in a new nest.
Congratulations on your housewarming! - Sparrow says. - In my joy, I suppose I forgot about my debts!
I haven’t forgotten, Sparrow, that you are! - Titmouse answers. “The guys treated me to delicious salsa in the winter, and in the fall I’ll treat them to sweet apples.” I protect the garden from codling moths and leaf-eaters.
For what reason did Sparrow fly to my forest?
“But they’re demanding payment from me,” Sparrow tweets. - And you, Woodpecker, how do you pay?
That’s how I try,” answers the Woodpecker. - I protect the forest from wood borers and bark beetles. I fight them tooth and nail! I even got fat...
Look, thought Sparrow. - I thought...
Sparrow returned to the dung heap and said to Crow:
Yours, hag, the truth! Everyone is paying off winter debts. Am I worse than others? How can I start feeding my chicks mosquitoes, horseflies and flies! So that the bloodsuckers don't sting these guys! I'll pay back my debts in no time!
He said so and let’s jump up and chirp on the dung heap again. There is still free time. Until the sparrows in the nest hatched.
Arithmetic titmice
N.I. Sladkov
In the spring, the white-cheeked tits sing loudest of all: they ring their bells. In different ways and manners. Some people just hear: “Twice two, twice two, twice two!” And others whistle smartly: “Four-four-four-four!”
From morning to evening, titmouses cram the multiplication table.
“Twice two, twice two, twice two!” - some shout.
“Four-four-four!” - others answer cheerfully.
Arithmetic titmice. 
Brave duckling
Boris Zhitkov
Every morning the housewife brought out a full plate of chopped eggs for the ducklings. She put the plate near the bush and left.
As soon as the ducklings ran up to the plate, suddenly a large dragonfly flew out of the garden and began to circle above them.
She chirped so terribly that the frightened ducklings ran away and hid in the grass. They were afraid that the dragonfly would bite them all.
And the evil dragonfly sat on the plate, tasted the food and then flew away. After this, the ducklings did not come to the plate for the whole day. They were afraid that the dragonfly would fly again. In the evening, the hostess removed the plate and said: “Our ducklings must be sick, for some reason they are not eating anything.” Little did she know that the ducklings went to bed hungry every night.
One day, their neighbor, the little duckling Alyosha, came to visit the ducklings. When the ducklings told him about the dragonfly, he began to laugh.
What brave men! - he said. - I alone will drive away this dragonfly. You'll see tomorrow.
“You are bragging,” said the ducklings, “tomorrow you will be the first to get scared and run.”
The next morning, the hostess, as always, put a plate of chopped eggs on the ground and left.
Well, look, - said the brave Alyosha, - now I will fight with your dragonfly.
As soon as he said this, a dragonfly began to buzz. It flew straight from above onto the plate.
The ducklings wanted to run away, but Alyosha was not afraid. Before the dragonfly had time to sit on the plate, Alyosha grabbed its wing with his beak. She forcibly escaped and flew away with a broken wing.
Since then, she never flew into the garden, and the ducklings ate their fill every day. They not only ate themselves, but also treated the brave Alyosha for saving them from the dragonfly.
Jackdaw
Boris Zhitkov
The brother and sister had a pet jackdaw. She ate from her hands, let herself be petted, flew out into the wild and flew back.
Once my sister began to wash herself. She took the ring off her hand, put it on the sink and lathered her face with soap. And when she rinsed the soap, she looked: where is the ring? But there is no ring.
She shouted to her brother:
Give me the ring, don't tease me! Why did you take it?
“I didn’t take anything,” the brother answered.
His sister quarreled with him and cried.
Grandma heard.
What do you have here? - speaks. - Give me glasses, now I’ll find this ring.
We rushed to look for glasses - no glasses.
“I just put them on the table,” the grandmother cries. -Where should they go? How can I thread a needle now?
And she screamed at the boy.
It's your business! Why are you teasing grandma?
The boy got offended and ran out of the house. He looks, and a jackdaw is flying above the roof, and something glitters under her beak. I took a closer look - yes, these are glasses! The boy hid behind a tree and began to watch. And the jackdaw sat on the roof, looked around to see if anyone was watching, and began pushing the glasses on the roof into the crack with her beak.
The grandmother came out onto the porch and said to the boy:
Tell me, where are my glasses?
On the roof! - said the boy.
Grandma was surprised. And the boy climbed onto the roof and pulled out his grandmother’s glasses from the crack. Then he pulled out the ring from there. And then he took out pieces of glass, and then a lot of different pieces of money.
The grandmother was delighted with the glasses, and the sister was delighted with the ring and said to her brother:
Forgive me, I was thinking about you, but this is a thief jackdaw.
And they made peace with their brother.
Grandma said:
That's all them, jackdaws and magpies. Whatever glitters, they drag everything away.
Orphan
Georgy Skrebitsky
The guys brought us a small shirt... He couldn’t fly yet, he could only jump. We fed him cottage cheese, porridge, soaked bread, and gave him small pieces of boiled meat; he ate everything and refused nothing.
Soon the little magpie grew a long tail and its wings were covered with stiff black feathers. He quickly learned to fly and moved to live from the room to the balcony.
The only problem with him was that our little magpie could not learn to eat on his own. The bird is quite an adult, so beautiful, flies well, and still asks for food like a little chick. You go out onto the balcony, sit down at the table, and the magpie is right there, spinning around in front of you, crouching, bristling its wings, opening its mouth. It’s funny and I feel sorry for her. Mom even nicknamed her Orphan. He used to put cottage cheese or soaked bread in her mouth, swallow the magpie - and then start begging again, but she herself wouldn’t take a bite from the plate. We taught and taught her, but nothing came of it, so we had to stuff food into her mouth. Orphan would sometimes eat her fill, shake herself up, look with her sly black eye at the plate to see if there was anything else tasty there, and fly up onto the crossbar right up to the ceiling or fly into the garden, into the yard... She flew everywhere and knew everyone : with the fat cat Ivanovich, with the hunting dog Jack, with ducks, chickens; Even with the old pugnacious rooster Petrovich, the magpie was on friendly terms. He bullied everyone in the yard, but didn’t touch her. It used to be that chickens would peck from the trough, and the magpie would immediately turn around. It smells delicious of warm pickled bran, the magpie wants to have breakfast in the friendly company of chickens, but nothing comes of it. Orphan pesters the chickens, crouches, squeaks, opens her beak - no one wants to feed her. She will jump up to Petrovich, squeal, and he will just look at her and mutter: “What a disgrace this is!” - and will go away. And then he suddenly flaps his strong wings, stretches his neck upward, strains, stands on tiptoe and sings: “Ku-ka-re-ku!” - so loud that you can hear it even across the river.
And the magpie jumps and jumps around the yard, flies into the stable, looks into the cow’s stall... Everyone eats themselves, and she again has to fly to the balcony and ask to be hand-fed.
One day there was no one to bother with the magpie. Everyone was busy all day. She pestered and pestered everyone - no one feeds her!
That day I was fishing in the river in the morning, returned home only in the evening and threw out the worms left over from fishing in the yard. Let the chickens peck.
Petrovich immediately noticed the prey, ran up and began calling the chickens: “Ko-ko-ko-ko! Ko-ko-ko-ko!” And as luck would have it, they scattered somewhere, not one of them was in the yard. The rooster is really exhausted! He calls and calls, then he grabs the worm in his beak, shakes it, throws it and calls again - he never wants to eat the first one. I’m even hoarse, but the chickens still won’t come.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a magpie. She flew up to Petrovich, spread her wings and opened her mouth: feed me, they say.
The rooster immediately perked up, grabbed a huge worm in his beak, picked it up, and shook it right in front of the magpie’s nose. She looked, looked, then grabbed a worm - and ate it! And the rooster is already giving her a second one. She ate both the second and the third, and Petrovich pecked the fourth himself.
I look out the window and am amazed at how the rooster feeds the magpie from his beak: he will give it to her, then he will eat it himself, then he will offer it to her again. And he keeps repeating: “Ko-ko-ko-ko!..” He bows and uses his beak to show the worms on the ground: eat, don’t be afraid, they’re so delicious.
And I don’t know how it all worked out for them, how he explained to her what was the matter, I just saw the rooster crowed, showed a worm on the ground, and the magpie jumped up, turned its head to one side, to the other, took a closer look and ate it right from the ground . Petrovich even shook his head as a sign of approval; then he grabbed a hefty worm himself, threw it up, grabbed it more comfortably with his beak and swallowed it: here, they say, as we think. But the magpie apparently understood what was going on - it jumped near him and pecked. The rooster also began to pick up worms. So they try to race each other to see who can do it faster. Instantly all the worms were eaten.
Since then, the magpie no longer had to be hand-fed. One time Petrovich taught her how to manage food. And how he explained this to her, I myself don’t know.
Forest voice
Georgy Skrebitsky
Sunny day at the very beginning of summer. I am wandering not far from home, in a birch forest. Everything around seems to be bathing, splashing in golden waves of warmth and light. Birch branches flow above me. The leaves on them seem either emerald green or completely golden. And below, under the birches, light bluish shadows also run and flow across the grass, like waves. And the light bunnies, like reflections of the sun in the water, run one after another along the grass, along the path.
The sun is both in the sky and on the ground... And this makes it feel so good, so fun that you want to run away somewhere into the distance, to where the trunks of young birch trees sparkle with their dazzling whiteness.
And suddenly from this sunny distance I heard a familiar forest voice: “Kuk-ku, kuk-ku!”
Cuckoo! I've heard it many times before, but I've never even seen it in a picture. What is she like? For some reason she seemed plump and big-headed to me, like an owl. But maybe she's not like that at all? I'll run and have a look.
Alas, this turned out to be far from easy. I go to her voice. And she will fall silent, and then again: “Kuk-ku, kuk-ku,” but in a completely different place.
How can you see her? I stopped in thought. Or maybe she's playing hide and seek with me? She's hiding, and I'm looking. Let's play it the other way around: now I'll hide, and you look.
I climbed into the hazel bush and also cuckooed once and twice. The cuckoo has fallen silent, maybe it’s looking for me? I sit in silence, even my heart is pounding with excitement. And suddenly, somewhere nearby: “Kuk-ku, kuk-ku!”
I am silent: better look, don’t shout to the whole forest.
And she’s already very close: “Kuk-ku, kuk-ku!”
I look: some kind of bird is flying across the clearing, its tail is long, it is gray, only its chest is covered in dark speckles. Probably a hawk. This one in our yard hunts sparrows. He flew up to a nearby tree, sat down on a branch, bent down and shouted: “Kuk-ku, kuk-ku!”
Cuckoo! That's it! This means that she does not look like an owl, but like a hawk.
I'll crow out of the bush in response to her! Out of fright, she almost fell out of the tree, immediately darted down from the branch, scurried off somewhere into the thicket of the forest, and that was all I saw.
But I don’t need to see her anymore. So I solved the forest riddle, and besides, for the first time I spoke to the bird in its native language.
So the clear forest voice of the cuckoo revealed to me the first secret of the forest. And since then, for half a century, I have been wandering in winter and summer along remote untrodden paths and discovering more and more secrets. And there is no end to these winding paths, and there is no end to the secrets of our native nature.
Friendship
Georgy Skrebitsky
One day my brother and I were sitting in our room in the winter and looking out the window at the yard. And in the yard, by the fence, crows and jackdaws were digging in the garbage.
Suddenly we see that some kind of bird has flown towards them, completely black, with a blue tint, and a large, white nose. What a wonder: it’s a rook! Where did he come from in winter? We see a rook walking through the garbage heap among the crows and limping a little - probably someone sick or old; He couldn’t fly south with other rooks, so he stayed with us for the winter.
Then every morning a rook got into the habit of flying to our trash heap. We will deliberately crumble him some bread, porridge, and cottage cheese from lunch. Only he didn’t get much: the crows would eat everything - they’re such impudent birds. And some quiet rook was caught. He stays on the sidelines, all alone. And that’s true: his brethren flew south, he was the only one left; Crows are bad company for him. We see that the gray robbers are offending our rook, but we don’t know how to help him. How to feed him without the crows disturbing him?
Day by day the rook became sadder. Sometimes he would fly in and sit on the fence, but he was afraid to go down to the crows’ rubbish heap: he was completely weak.
One morning we looked out the window, and a rook was lying under the fence. We ran and brought him into the house; he can barely breathe. We put him in a box next to the stove, covered him with a blanket and gave him all kinds of food.
He stayed with us for two weeks, warmed up, and ate a little. We think: what to do with him further? Don't keep him in a box all winter! We decided to release him into the wild again: maybe he will be stronger now and will survive the winter somehow.
And the rook, apparently, realized that we did good to him, which means there is nothing to be afraid of people. Since then, I spent whole days like this with the chickens in the yard.
At that time, a tame magpie, Orphan, lived with us. We took her as a chick and raised her. The orphan flew freely around the yard and garden, and returned to the balcony to spend the night. Here we see - our rook has become friends with Orphan: where she flies, he follows her. One day we see - the Orphan flew to the balcony, and the rook also showed up with her. It’s important to walk around the table like that. And the magpie, like a mistress, fusses and jumps around him.
We slowly stuck a cup of soaked bread out from under the door. The magpie goes straight to the cup, and the rook follows it. We both had breakfast and flew away. So every day the two of them began to fly to the balcony to feed.
Winter passed, the rooks returned from the south, and started making noise in the old birch grove. In the evenings, they sit in couples near the nests, sit and talk, as if they are discussing their affairs. Only our rook did not find a mate; he still flew everywhere after Orphan. And in the evening they will sit on a birch tree near the house and sit side by side, close, side by side.
You look at them and involuntarily think: this means that birds also have friendship.
A selection of stories about wintering birds for preschoolers and elementary schools (grades 1 - 4).
FLOCK OF BIRDS UNDER THE SNOW
A hare galloped through the swamp. From bump to bump, from bump to bump, yes - bang! - he fell into the snow up to his ears.
And he feels with his scythe: something living is moving under his feet. At that same moment, white partridges began to burst out from under the snow around him with a loud flapping of wings. The frightened hare ran back into the forest.
It turned out that a whole flock of white partridges lives in the snow in a swamp. During the day they fly out, walk through the swamp, and dig up cranberries. They bite - and again into the snow.
They are warm and safe there. Who will notice them under the snow?
V. Bianchi
Mother and nurse.
A huge old spruce tree grows in a forest clearing. Its top rose high above the other trees, as if looking through their heads somewhere into the distance, at the hills and valleys, at the fields and meadows... at the endless expanse of the native land. Who knows how old this tree is: maybe two hundred, three hundred, maybe more.
Once upon a time, this spruce was not alone in the middle of a clearing, but in a close family of young trees just like itself. They all grew up together, clinging tightly to each other.
Years passed like this. The spruces grew and matured. They could no longer be called young. Their trunks became coarse, covered with hard, rough bark, and the lower branches dried out and broke off, leaving behind knotty outgrowths.
But not all Christmas trees survived to this age. Many of them have long since withered away and died, but those that remained spread their branches wider and raised their tops higher and higher to the sky.
The branches of neighboring trees almost closed with each other, so the ground below them was always gloomy and cool, even on hot summer days. Neither grass nor flowers grew there, and the whole earth seemed to be covered with a carpet of wet moss.
Winter came.
The forest became hungry. Where can those who did not fly to southern countries and fall into deep sleep all winter get food?
A fluffy squirrel jumped out into a forest clearing and looked with a keen eye at the old spruce: “How many wonderful cones hang at the ends of its branches! They probably contain delicious seeds.” The squirrel instantly climbed up the tree, took the pine cone in its front paws and began to eat.
And the spotted woodpecker comes from the forest straight to the tall spruce - also in a hurry to get the cones. He chose which one was denser and more ruddy, plucked it with his strong beak and flew back into the forest to the treasured tree.
The woodpecker flew into the forest, and the spruce tree already had new guests. A whole flock of crossbills with cheerful cries landed on the branches of a tree.
Old spruce feeds many forest inhabitants in winter and brings great benefits to the forest. This means that it is not without reason that heavy clusters of ripened cones hang on its branches, and it is not without reason that tasty seeds are hidden under their scales. The old spruce is the nurse of many birds and animals.
According to G. Skrebitsky.
Bullfinch.
You know, many birds fly south with the onset of cold weather. And there are those who come to us only in winter. And they are called “bullfinches” because they appear with us along with the snow. What kind of strange desire is it to live here in winter, when it’s cold here and all the birds have been in the south for a long time? But the fact is that our forests are already “warm lands” for bullfinches: in the summer they live much further north, where there are very severe frosts.
Bullfinches are easy to recognize. Their red breasts, bluish-gray backs, black velvet caps and wings are clearly visible against the background of white snow.
Bullfinches are respectable birds. They slowly fly in small flocks from tree to tree, politely yielding the best bunches of rowan to the females (who are colored the same, only their breasts are brownish-gray).
When the song of the finch rings, the bullfinches will already be far in the north - in their homeland. They will build nests there, hatch and feed the chicks. And in late autumn or early winter, their low, ringing whistle will be heard again: “Ju... ju... ju... - we have arrived!”
Welcome! Guests are always welcome in our forest.
Yu. Dmitriev.
Towards spring.
It was the height of winter. In the forest, trees cracked from the frost. In the mornings the sun rose red, like a polished copper basin. It rose low above the horizon and hardly warmed the earth. The bushes and trees were covered with white sparkling frost, and the sky looked like blue frozen ice. And the silver tops of the trees were drawn even brighter on it.
In the enchanted kingdom of Santa Claus, everything was beautiful, but lifeless. The animals hid from the cold in holes, in lairs, insects climbed into deep crevices and fell asleep there in a deep sleep. Only the birds flew through the fields and forests, trying to find at least a little food. They ruffled their feathers and were silent.
But then one day, cheerful, noisy birds - crossbills - flew into the forest. They were larger than sparrows and dressed much more elegantly. The females had greenish feathers, while the males had an orange-red tint. But the most surprising thing that immediately struck me about the appearance of crossbills was their beaks.
Different birds have different beak shapes.
The tit's is as thin as a needle; With such a beak it is very convenient to pull bugs out of narrow cracks. The woodpecker has a strong, short beak; It’s good for them to chisel the bark, extract woodcutter beetles from under it, or peck at conifer cones. But a hawk or a kite has a sharp beak, curved down. These are birds of prey. With their hooked beak, they deftly grab prey and tear it into pieces.
The beaks of the crossbill birds had a completely amazing shape - also sharp, hooked, but they were only curved not downwards, but in different directions: the upper half of the beak was curved in one direction, and the lower half in a completely different direction. This unusual beak most closely resembled crooked tongs.
Oh, and noses! - they were surprised, looking at the crossbills, goldfinches and tits. - How can they peck food or peck something? Those are freaks!
But the crooked birds did not lose heart. On the contrary, in the gloomy winter forest they felt perfectly at home. They migrated to that forest from the distant North - from the taiga. There, in the taiga, it is even colder and there is even less food. Having flown to a new place, the crossbills first of all settled on the tops of pines and spruces.
“Oh, how many ripe cones there are here!” they rejoiced. “What delicious seeds they contain!” This is where the freedom is!
The crossbill birds lived well in the new forest: plenty of cones! So they stayed there for the winter.
According to G. Skrebitsky.
Carnation.
The forest sleeps in a winter slumber, enchanted by the cold and snow. And it emanates from him a light sadness and peace...
The swans flew far, far away. And the mighty eagles - the giants of the bird world - left the rocks and dead pines, from where they had been watching for prey. No wings will rustle, no clear voice will disturb the winter slumber...
But the kings stayed with us!
The wren is a little one, all the size of a dragonfly, and the conifers have become his home.
The wren silently flutters along the branches, as if from floor to floor. He picks out the hanging moss, picks off scales from the branches, and the yellow feathers on his head are like a golden crown.
The wren is restless and active - it is not for nothing that it is popularly nicknamed the “carnation”. Really nails it: for every crack, wherever midges and spiders hide for the winter. It destroys a million forest pests a year.
The wind blows the kinglet from the tops of the fir trees, the blizzard covers it with snow, the frost penetrates through... The stubborn one does not give up, he keeps watch in the coniferous sea of forests.
Rogoleva Elena Gennadievna
A Tale of Migratory Birds “On the Lake”
In the distance lake, among the green reeds there lived different birds. Wild geese, motley mallard ducks and white swans swam along the lake, caught flying butterflies and dragonflies with their wide beaks, dived under the water for small fish, went out for a walk on the bank and nibbled the lush green grass.
Long-legged herons walked along the very edge of the water, catching green frogs with their long beaks.
They lived well, together! They built nests, laid eggs, hatched chicks. And then they taught them to swim and fly, catch butterflies and dragonflies, and clean their feathers with their beaks.
loved birds their lake, didn't fly far.
But one day a cold wind blew, and rain fell on lake beautiful butterflies. Young ducks and geese shouted:
Look how many butterflies there are! Catch them!
They began to grab butterflies with their beaks, but they turned out to be completely tasteless.
Ha-ha-ha! - the wise old Goose cackled. - These are not butterflies, these are yellow leaves from trees. Autumn has come.
Every day it became colder. The insects disappeared, the fish swam deep to the bottom, the frogs hid under snags, the grass turned yellow and dried out.
The young people became worried birds.
What's happened? We have absolutely nothing to eat! Our paws freeze in cold water! We will die of hunger and cold!
Ha-ha-ha! – the wise old Goose cackled again. - Winter is coming soon. Water on lake will freeze and turn into ice. It's time for us to get ready for a long journey!
Ha-ha-ha! Quack-quack-quack! - the young people made noise birds. - Where? Why? We do not want!
We will fly to warmer lands, because we are migratory birds. We will spend the whole winter there, and in the spring we will return back to our lake, - the old wise Goose reassured everyone.
No sooner said than done. Become birds getting ready for a long journey. The herons flew first. They circled over lake, waved their large wings and disappeared behind the forest.
Ducks and geese flew after the herons. The main bird is ahead - the leader, and behind her in an even wedge the rest birds. They shouted their farewell song and disappeared into the distance.
The last to fly away were the white swans. It became quiet lake, cold and sad...
But let's not be sad! The snowy, frosty winter will pass, and migratory birds will return to the lake again, to your beloved homeland.
Questions about fairy tale.
loved birds have their lake or not? How did they live there?
Why birds flew away from your loved one lakes?
What do they call birds that fly to warmer climes?
Who flew away first? Who's behind the herons? Who's last?
Why birds are they coming back?
Name others migratory birds that you know.
Stories for reading in elementary school. Stories about a sparrow, a story about a smart titmouse, a story about a sparrow, a story about a swift.
Stories about birds by Nikolai Sladkov.
Nikolai Sladkov. Winter debts
The Sparrow was chirping on the dung heap - and he was jumping up and down! And the Crow Hag croaks in her nasty voice:
- Why, Sparrow, were you happy, why were you chirping?
“The wings itch, Crow, the nose itches,” Sparrow answers. - The passion to fight is the hunt! Don’t croak here, don’t spoil my spring mood!
- But I’ll ruin it! — Crow doesn’t lag behind. - How can I ask a question?
- I scared you!
- And I'll scare you. Did you peck crumbs in the trash bin in winter?
- Pecked.
— Did you pick up grains from the barnyard?
- I picked it up.
— Did you have lunch at the bird canteen near the school?
— Thanks to the guys, they fed me.
- That's it! - Crow bursts into tears. - With what
Are you thinking of paying for all this? With your chirping?
— Am I the only one who used it? - Sparrow was confused. - And the Tit was there, and the Woodpecker, and the Magpie, and the Jackdaw. And you, Vorona, were...
- Don't confuse others! — Crow wheezes. - You answer for yourself. If you borrowed money, pay it back! As all decent birds do.
“The decent ones, maybe they do,” Sparrow got angry. - But are you doing it, Crow?
- I’ll cry before anyone else! Do you hear a tractor plowing in the field? And behind him, I pick out all sorts of root beetles and root rodents from the furrow. And Magpie and Galka help me. And looking at us, other birds are also trying.
- Don’t vouch for others either! - Sparrow insists. “Others may have forgotten to think.”
But Crow doesn’t let up:
- Fly over and check it out!
Sparrow flew to check. He flew into the garden, where the Tit lives in a new nest.
— Congratulations on your housewarming! - Sparrow says. “In my joy, I suppose I forgot about my debts!”
- I haven’t forgotten, Sparrow, that you are! - Titmouse answers. “The guys treated me to delicious salsa in the winter, and in the fall I’ll treat them to sweet apples.” I protect the garden from codling moths and leaf-eaters.
- For what need, Sparrow, did you fly to my forest?
“Yes, they demand payment from me,” Sparrow tweets. - And you, Woodpecker, how do you pay?
“That’s how I try,” answers the Woodpecker. — I protect the forest from wood borers and bark beetles. I fight them tooth and nail! I even got fat...
“Look,” Sparrow thought. - I thought...
Sparrow returned to the dung heap and said to Crow:
- Yours, hag, the truth! Everyone is paying off winter debts. Am I worse than others? How can I start feeding my chicks mosquitoes, horseflies and flies! So that the bloodsuckers don't sting these guys! I'll pay back my debts in no time!
He said so and let’s jump up and chirp on the dung heap again. There is still free time. Until the sparrows in the nest hatched.
Nikolai Sladkov. Arithmetic titmice
In the spring, the white-cheeked tits sing loudest of all: they ring their bells. In different ways and manners. Some people just hear: “Twice two, twice two, twice two!” And others whistle smartly: “Four-four-four-four!”
From morning to evening, titmouses cram the multiplication table.
“Twice two, twice two, twice two!” - some shout.
“Four-four-four!” - others answer cheerfully.
Arithmetic titmice.
Nikolai Sladkov. Sparrow's spring
Song under the window
In spring, masters of songs sing in the forests and fields: nightingales and larks. People listen to them with bated breath. I know a lot of bird songs. I’ll hear it and I’ll immediately tell you who’s singing. But now I didn’t guess.
I woke up early. Suddenly I heard: outside the window, behind the curtain, some bird was fussing in the bushes. Then a voice, but so pleasant, as if two crystals had hit each other. And then just like a sparrow: “Chiv! Chiv!”
A crystalline - a sparrow, a sparrow - a crystalline. Yes, everything is hotter, faster and louder!
I went through all the bird songs in my memory - no, I’ve never heard one like this.
And the invisible bird does not stop: with a crystal - a sparrow, with a sparrow - with a crystal!
You can’t even lie under a warm blanket here! I jumped up, pulled back the curtain and saw: an ordinary sparrow sitting on a bush! Old friend! Chiv - Pinched Back of the Head. He flew to my windowsill all winter for crumbs. But now Chiv is not alone, but with his girlfriend. The girlfriend sits quietly and cleans her feathers. But Chivu can’t sit still. He chirps at the top of his lungs and jumps like a clockwork around his girlfriend from branch to branch - from step to step. Thin branches beat against each other and ring with crystals. That's why they ring because rainwater has frozen on them in thin icicles.
"Chiv!" - sparrow. "Ding!" - icicle.
And so it turns out well and great, really, no worse than that of the honored singers - Nightingales and Larks.
Sparrow nights
The sparrow Chiv lived all winter in an old chimney. The terrible winter nights dragged on for a long time: the frost was shooting, the wind shook the chimney and sprinkled ice grains on top. The legs were chilly, frost grew on the feathers.
great day
Every day the sun is higher. Every night at least as fast as a sparrow, but in short.
And then it came - the Great Day: the sun rose so high that it looked into Chiv’s black chimney.
Icicle water
There are icicles on the roofs. During the day, water drips from the icicles. This is a special water - icicle. Chiv loves icicle water very much. It will bend over the ledge and deftly pick up with its beak an icicle droplet, similar to a droplet of the sun. After drinking water, Chiv begins to jump and chirp so desperately that passers-by stop, smile and say: “The smoking room has come to life!”
Cap! Cap!
The bushes were filled with water. There are garlands of drops on each branch. A sparrow lands - sparkling rain! He bends down to drink, and a drop comes from right under his nose - drip! Sparrow to the other, the other - drop!
Leap, hop sparrow, drip, drip droplets.
Spring ringing
The frost has taken hold. Each wet branch was dressed in an ice cap. A sparrow sat on an inclined branch and rolled down, as if down a hill. The tit also slipped and hung upside down. The crow flew into the thick of the branches - it made a noise!
Somersault
Every day there is news. There are insects in the air! Chiv flew up from the roof in a column, grabbed a bug in the air and, having somersaulted in the air, landed on the chimney. Chiv ate beetles and flies, and strange things began to happen to him. He suddenly grabbed his old friend Chirik by the scruff of the neck and began to torment him like a dog to a cat. The chirp screamed, kicked its legs, and beat its wings. But Chiv tore him and tore him until he tore out a tuft of feathers from him. And all winter they were friends. And they drank water from one icicle. And they washed themselves in the neighboring puddles. Only after Chirik the water became not black, but red. Because all winter Chirik slept in a crack in a brick pipe.
And now everything has gone topsy-turvy.
steps
The drooping branches of the willow look like green hair. There are knots and knots on every hair.
These are the kidneys.
Raindrops roll down the branches and happily jump from bud to bud. So the guys jump down the steps on one leg.
Willow sparkles and smiles.
Green butterflies
The buds on the poplars strained and burst. From each bud, like a butterfly from a chrysalis, a green leaf emerged.
The sparrows settled on the branches and began to peck at the sticky green butterflies. Help themselves; one peephole is up - is there a hawk, the other is down - is there a cat?
Brawlers
The sparrows went crazy from the icicle water and the sun, from the beetles and flies, from the fresh leaves. Fights here and there! Two people grapple on the roof - a dozen are rushing towards them. They cling to each other, flutter, scream and fall like a feathered garland from the roof onto the heads of passers-by.
tree of songs
In the evening, all the sparrows - beaten and unbeaten - flock to a special tree - the tree of songs. They say goodbye to the day in a friendly chorus. So, with a song, they say goodbye to every day of spring.
Passers-by listen to the sparrow choir with pleasure and smile.
Trouble
Chiv and his mate Chuka built a nest in a crack under the eaves. They lined it with feathers, hair, cotton wool, hay and rags. And Chuka brought a candy wrapper and two tram tickets: pink and blue. It turned out very cozy. Chiv remembered his chimney and regretted that he had not thought of meeting Chuka earlier.
And suddenly - creaking, creaking, creaking! The plasterer climbed up to the cornice in a cradle. He stood up and began to seal the cracks under the eaves with his spatula.
What started here! All the sparrows are jumping towards him! They jump along the very edge of the roof, scolding the plasterer at the top of their voices. But the plasterer does not understand the sparrow’s language: he covers up the cracks and brushes off the sparrows with a spatula. And he threw away Chiva and Chuka’s nest. Feathers, cotton wool, hair, hay and rags flew in the wind. And the candy wrapper and tickets fell down.
Crib house
Chiv and Chuka occupied the birdhouse. The wind swayed the pole, and their new house swayed along with the pole. Chiv got seasick and nodded off. Chuka did not doze: she again carried feathers, cotton wool and dry blades of grass into the nest. And again she brought a candy wrapper and tram tickets.
Eviction
The owners of the birdhouse returned from the south - serious black starlings. Silently, working busily, they threw out first Chiva and Chuka and finally their entire nest from the birdhouse. Again feathers, cotton wool, blades of grass, candy wrappers and tram tickets flew in the wind.
Petal Blizzard
A blizzard whistles. A white mist of apple tree petals flows through the streets. And in the dead ends there are whirlwinds. White swirls of apple petals.
Once!
I heard Chiva. He was sitting at his old nest - on an abandoned old pipe. He sat and tweeted in a voice that was not his own. Because in its beak there was a caterpillar sticking out like a cigarette. And he chirped without opening his mouth, “through his teeth.” Once!
The sparrow spring is over. My mouth is full of trouble!
Nikolai Sladkov. Swift's secret
Remember the fairy tale about Heinz? Heinz was such a lazy person that he rested even after sleep. And, most importantly, nothing bad was done to him because of his laziness.
“Probably there is no harm in being lazy!” - I decided.
But it happened - it happens!
I love birds very much - I always fuss with them. My house is full of cages. And in the cages there are not just any siskins, bullfinches or tap dancers. Siskin-finches - preschool level for bird lovers. Any little boy can hold them.
I live with our most delicate birds - kinglets, wrens, and long-tailed titmice. If you can handle these, it means you are a top-class birder!
That's what everyone thought of me as. And I received honor and respect from all lovers. When meeting, it happened that they took off their hats and pointed a finger in the back: “There goes the expert!”
But suddenly a stranger comes to me. He looked at my birds and grinned:
— Kings and wrens are not the limit. The highest class is the swift! - and left.
It was a challenge. The next day I caught a swift. Catching them is easy. They lived in my own house, under the eaves.
The swift did not eat or drink anything. He lay motionless at the bottom of the cage. I had to let him out.
I caught the second one. I force-fed this one. He gave water precisely at those hours when free swifts flew to the lake and, in flight, folding their sharp wings over their backs, grabbed the water with their beaks. I also force-fed the swift. I fed him the same mosquito flies that I found in his mouth when I caught him. Swifts do not carry one mosquito to the nest at a time, but collect a whole lump of them in their mouths.
And I placed the cage with the swift on the roof, in the fresh air. And he built a cave with a nest for him to sleep at night. Everything is like free swifts!
The swift ate, drank, restlessly climbed the net, and by morning he was so weak that he had to be released.
Then I put two in a cage at once. Maybe they, like my kinglets and longtails, cannot live alone?
I had to be released a day later. Both were barely alive.
I love birds. And although I was sad, I couldn’t put any more swifts in the cage. I decided to use the free swifts to unravel their secret. I tied a paper ribbon to the swift's paw and released it. And he took binoculars, climbed out onto the roof and began to follow.
The swift flew out to hunt at dawn. I flew to the bell tower, then to the factory chimney, then to the lake. And back - feed the chicks. From the nest to the bell tower, from the bell tower to the chimney, from the chimney to the lake and back - five kilometers. The swift hunted until sunset. And it turned out that he flew more than half a thousand kilometers per day! And it’s like that every day!
I realized that even I, an old bird catcher, could not stand a swift in a cage. And even more so for you guys!
Everyone knows that you can drive a horse. Even a hare can be driven if you chase it without interruption. He falls, kicks his paws - and he’s ready! It's similar to the swift's. Just the opposite. His heart, lungs, muscles - everything is adapted for long flight. And suddenly - it’s impossible! Suddenly - a cage! And the swift weakens and dies from... rest.
Well, how can we not remember the lazy Heinz? If only he knew about swifts, he would be afraid to rest after sleep!