Ushinsky all works. A cow, a horse and a dog argued among themselves which of them the owner loves more

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Short stories, small tales about nature by Konstantin Dmitrievich Ushinsky transport the reader to a world of nature filled with magic, where the author, as if with an artist’s brush, in light lines of fairy-tale prose describes the nature of different seasons.

Nature in stories and fairy tales for children is instructive in the descriptions and dialogues of the characters, teaches goodness, where in simple words the author conveys the murmur of a stream, the singing of birds, the noise of the forest and many other natural phenomena in an educational and moral context.

Stories about plants and animals

Tales of the Seasons

Nature in short stories

Summer in the forest

It's good in the forest on a hot afternoon. What you won’t see here! Tall pines hung their needle-like tops. Christmas trees arch their thorny branches. A curly birch tree with fragrant leaves shows off. The gray aspen tree is trembling. A stocky oak tree spreads its carved leaves. A strawberry eye peeks out from the grass. A fragrant berry is blushing nearby.

Lily of the valley catkins swing between the long, smooth leaves. A woodpecker knocks on the trunk with its strong nose. The oriole screams. A tenacious squirrel flashed its fluffy tail. A cracking sound is heard far away in the bowl. Isn't this a bear?

On the field in summer

Fun on the field, free on the wide one! Multi-colored fields seem to run along the hills to the blue stripe of the distant forest. The golden rye is agitated; she inhales the strengthening air. Young oats turn blue; Blooming buckwheat with red stems and white-pink, honey-colored flowers turns white. Hidden away from the road was a curly pea, and behind it a pale green strip of flax with bluish eyes. On the other side of the road, the fields turn black under the flowing steam.

The lark flutters over the rye, and the sharp-winged eagle looks vigilantly from above: he sees a noisy quail in the thick rye, he also sees a field mouse as it hurries into its hole with a grain that has fallen from a ripe ear. Hundreds of invisible grasshoppers are chattering everywhere.

Morning rays

The red sun floated into the sky and began sending out its golden rays everywhere - waking up the earth.
The first ray flew and hit the lark. The lark started, flew out of the nest, rose high, high and sang its silver song: “Oh, how good it is in the fresh morning air! How good! How fun!”
The second beam hit the bunny. The bunny twitched his ears and hopped merrily across the dewy meadow: he ran to get some juicy grass for breakfast.
The third beam hit the chicken coop. The rooster flapped his wings and sang: ku-ka-re-ku! The chickens flew away from their infestations, clucked, and began to rake away the rubbish and look for worms. The fourth beam hit the hive. A bee crawled out of its wax cell, sat on the window, spread its wings and - zoom-zoom-zoom! - flew off to collect honey from fragrant flowers.
The fifth ray hit the nursery, on the little lazy man’s bed: it hit him right in the eyes, and he turned on the other side and fell asleep again.

Bread

The earth feeds man, but it does not feed him in vain. People must work a lot so that the field, instead of grass, suitable only for livestock, produces rye for black bread, wheat for rolls, buckwheat and millet for porridge.

First, the farmer plows the field with a plow if there is no need to plow deeply, or with a plow if he plows new land, or a field that needs to be plowed deeper. The plow is lighter than a plow, and it is harnessed to one horse. The plow is much heavier than the plow, goes deeper, and is harnessed to several pairs of horses or oxen.

The field is plowed; it was all covered with large blocks of earth. But this is still not enough. If the field is new or the soil itself is very rich, then manure is not needed; but if something has already been sown in the field and it has become depleted, then it must be fertilized with manure.

Peasants take manure to the field in the fall or spring and scatter it in heaps. But in heaps, manure will be of little use: it must be plowed into the ground with a plow.

The manure has rotted; but you still can’t sow. The earth lies in clods, but a grain needs a soft bed. Peasants go out to the field with toothed harrows: they harrow until all the clods are broken, and then they just begin to sow.

Sow either in spring or autumn. In autumn, winter bread is sown: rye and winter wheat. In the spring, spring grain is sown: barley, oats, millet, buckwheat and spring wheat.

Winter crops sprout in the fall, and when the grass in the meadows has long since turned yellow, then the winter fields are covered with seedlings, like green velvet. It’s a pity to watch snow fall on such a velvet field. Young winter leaves under the snow soon wither; but the better the roots grow, bush and go deeper into the ground. The winter plant will sit under the snow all winter, and in the spring, when the snow melts and the sun warms up, it will sprout new stems, new leaves, stronger, healthier than before. It is only bad if frosts begin before the snow falls; Then, perhaps, the winter may freeze. That is why peasants are afraid of frosts without snow and do not regret, but rejoice when the winter crop is covered with a thick blanket of snow for the winter.

Wind and sun

One day the Sun and the angry North Wind started a dispute about which of them was stronger. They argued for a long time and finally decided to measure their strength against the traveler, who at that very time was riding on horseback along the high road.
“Look,” said the Wind, “how I’ll fly at him: I’ll instantly tear off his cloak.”
He said, and began to blow as hard as he could. But the more the Wind tried, the tighter the traveler wrapped himself in his cloak: he grumbled about the bad weather, but rode further and further. The wind became angry, fierce, and showered the poor traveler with rain and snow; Cursing the Wind, the traveler put his cloak into the sleeves and tied it with a belt. At this point the Wind himself became convinced that he could not pull off his cloak.
The sun, seeing the powerlessness of its rival, smiled, looked out from behind the clouds, warmed and dried the earth, and at the same time the poor half-frozen traveler. Feeling the warmth of the sun's rays, he perked up, blessed the Sun, took off his cloak, rolled it up and tied it to the saddle.
“You see,” the meek Sun then said to the angry Wind, “you can do much more with affection and kindness than with anger.”

Four wishes

Mitya sledded down an icy mountain and skated on a frozen river, ran home rosy, cheerful and said to his father:
- How fun it is in winter! I wish it were all winter!
“Write your wish in my pocket book,” said the father.
Mitya wrote it down.
Spring came. Mitya ran to his heart’s content in the green meadow for colorful butterflies, picked flowers, ran to his father and said:
- What a beauty this spring is! I wish it were still spring.
The father again took out the book and ordered Mitya to write down his wish.
Summer has come. Mitya and his father went to haymaking. The boy had fun all long day: he fished, picked berries, tumbled in the fragrant hay, and in the evening he said to his father:
- I had a lot of fun today! I wish there was no end to summer!
And this desire of Mitya was written down in the same book. Autumn has come. Fruits were collected in the garden - ruddy apples and yellow pears. Mitya was delighted and said to his father:
— Autumn is the best time of the year!
Then the father took out his notebook and showed the boy that he had said the same thing about spring, and winter, and summer.

One day the Sun and the angry North Wind started a dispute about which of them was stronger. They argued for a long time and finally decided to measure their strength against the traveler, who at that very time was riding on horseback along the high road.

Look, - said the Wind, - how I will fly at him: I will instantly tear off his cloak.

He said, and began to blow as hard as he could. But the more the Wind tried, the tighter the traveler wrapped himself in his cloak: he grumbled about the bad weather, but rode further and further. The wind became angry, fierce, and showered the poor traveler with rain and snow; Cursing the Wind, the traveler put his cloak into the sleeves and tied it with a belt. At this point the Wind himself became convinced that he could not pull off his cloak.

The sun, seeing the powerlessness of its rival, smiled, looked out from behind the clouds, warmed and dried the earth, and at the same time the poor half-frozen traveler. Feeling the warmth of the sun's rays, he perked up, blessed the Sun, took off his cloak, rolled it up and tied it to the saddle.

You see,” the meek Sun then said to the angry Wind, “you can do much more with affection and kindness than with anger.”

Viper

Around our farm, in the ravines and wet places, there were many snakes.

I’m not talking about snakes: we’re so used to the harmless snake that we don’t even call it a snake. He has small sharp teeth in his mouth, he catches mice and even birds and, perhaps, can bite through the skin; but there is no poison in these teeth, and the snake’s bite is completely harmless.

We had a lot of snakes; especially in the piles of straw that lay near the threshing floor: as soon as the sun warms them, they will crawl out of there; they hiss when you approach, they show their tongue or sting, but it’s not the sting that snakes bite. Even in the kitchen there were snakes under the floor, and when the children would sit on the floor and slurp milk, they would crawl out and pull their heads towards the cup, and the children would hit them on the forehead with a spoon.

But we also had more than just snakes: there was also a poisonous snake, black, large, without those yellow stripes that are visible near the head of a snake. We call such a snake a viper. The viper often bit the cattle, and if they did not have time to call old grandfather Okhrim from the village, who knew some medicine against the bite of poisonous snakes, then the cattle would certainly fall - it would swell, poor, like a mountain.

One of our boys died from a viper. She bit him near the shoulder, and before Okhrim arrived, the swelling spread from his arm to his neck and chest: the child began to delirium, toss about, and two days later he died. As a child, I heard a lot about vipers and was terribly afraid of them, as if I felt that I would have to meet a dangerous reptile.

They mowed it behind our garden, in a dry ravine, where in the spring a stream runs every year, but in the summer it is only damp and tall, thick grass grows. Every mowing was a holiday for me, especially when the hay was raked into stacks. Here, it happened, you would start running around the hayfield and throw yourself into the haystacks with all your might and flounder in the fragrant hay until the women chased you away so that you wouldn’t break the haystacks.

That’s how this time I ran and tumbled: there were no women, the mowers had gone far away, and only our big black dog Brovko was lying on a haystack and gnawing on a bone.

I somersaulted into one heap, turned around in it twice and suddenly jumped up in horror. Something cold and slippery brushed my hand. The thought of a viper flashed through my head - so what? The huge viper, which I had disturbed, crawled out of the hay and, rising on its tail, was ready to attack me.

Instead of running, I stand petrified, as if the reptile had fascinated me with its lidless, unblinking eyes. Another minute and I would have died; but Brovko, like an arrow, flew off the hay, rushed at the snake, and a mortal struggle ensued between them.

The dog tore the snake with its teeth and trampled it with its paws; the snake bit the dog in the face, chest, and stomach. But a minute later, only scraps of the viper lay on the ground, and Brovko began to run and disappeared.

But the strangest thing is that from that day on Brovko disappeared and wandered in an unknown place.

Only two weeks later he returned home: thin, scrawny, but healthy. My father told me that dogs know the herb that they use to treat viper bites.

Children in the grove

Two children, brother and sister, went to school. They had to pass by a beautiful shady grove. It was hot and dusty on the road, but cool and cheerful in the grove.

Do you know what? - said the brother to the sister. - We'll still have time for school. The school is now stuffy and boring, but in the grove it must be a lot of fun. Listen to the birds screaming there! And the squirrel, how many squirrels jump on the branches! Shouldn't we go there, sister?

The sister liked her brother's proposal. The children threw their alphabet books into the grass, held hands and disappeared between the green bushes, under the curly birch trees. It was definitely fun and noisy in the grove. The birds fluttered constantly, sang and shouted; squirrels jumped on the branches; insects scurried about in the grass.

First of all, the children saw a golden bug.

“Come play with us,” the children said to the beetle.

“I would love to,” answered the beetle, “but I don’t have time: I have to get myself lunch.”

“Play with us,” the children said to the yellow furry bee.

“I have no time to play with you,” answered the bee, “I need to collect honey.”

Will you play with us? - the children asked the ant.

But the ant had no time to listen to them: he dragged a straw three times his size and hurried to build his cunning dwelling.

The children turned to the squirrel, inviting it to also play with them; but the squirrel waved its fluffy tail and answered that it must stock up on nuts for the winter.

Dove said:

I'm building a nest for my little children.

The little gray bunny ran to the stream to wash his face. The white strawberry flower also had no time to take care of children. He took advantage of the beautiful weather and hurried to prepare his juicy, tasty berries on time.

The children became bored that everyone was busy with their own business and no one wanted to play with them. They ran to the stream. A stream ran through the grove, babbling over the stones.

Surely you have nothing to do? - the children told him. - Play with us!

How! I have nothing to do? - the stream purred angrily. - Oh, you lazy children! Look at me: I work day and night and don’t know a minute of peace. Am I not the one who sings to people and animals? Who, besides me, washes clothes, turns mill wheels, carries boats and puts out fires? Oh, I have so much work that my head is spinning! - the stream added and began to gurgle over the stones.

The children became even more bored, and they thought that it would be better for them to go to school first, and then, on their way from school, go into the grove. But at that very time the boy noticed a tiny beautiful robin on a green branch. She sat, it seemed, very calmly and, having nothing to do, whistled a joyful song.

Hey you, cheerful singer! - the boy shouted to the robin. - It seems like you have absolutely nothing to do; come play with us.

“What,” whistled the offended robin, “do I have nothing to do?” Didn’t I catch midges all day to feed my little ones? I'm so tired that I can't lift my wings; and even now I lull my dear children to sleep with a song. What did you do today, little sloths? You didn’t go to school, you didn’t learn anything, you’re running around the grove, and even preventing others from doing their work. Better go where you were sent, and remember that only those who have worked and done everything that was obliged to do are pleased to rest and play.

The children felt ashamed: they went to school and although they arrived late, they studied diligently.

Bunny complaints

The gray bunny stretched out and began to cry, sitting under a bush; cries, says:

“There is no worse fate in the world than mine, a little gray bunny! And who doesn’t sharpen their teeth on me? Hunters, dogs, a wolf, a fox and a bird of prey; a crooked hawk, a bug-eyed owl; even a stupid crow drags my dear children with her crooked paws - little gray hares. Trouble threatens me from everywhere; but I have nothing to defend myself with: I can’t climb a tree like a squirrel; I don’t know how to dig a hole like a rabbit. True, my teeth regularly gnaw cabbage and gnaw the bark, but I don’t have the courage to bite I’m a master at running and I can jump pretty well, but it’s good if you have to run on a flat field or up a mountain, but if you run downhill, you’ll end up somersaulting over your head: your front legs are not mature enough.

It would still be possible to live in the world if it were not for worthless cowardice. If you hear a rustling, your ears will perk up, your heart will beat, you won’t see the light, you’ll shoot out of a bush, and you’ll fall right into a snare or at the hunter’s feet.

Oh, I feel bad, little gray bunny! You are cunning, you hide in the bushes, you wander around the bushes, you confuse your tracks; and sooner or later trouble is inevitable: and the cook will drag me into the kitchen by my long ears.

My only consolation is that the tail is short: there is nothing for the dog to grab. If I had a tail like a fox's, where would I go with it? Then, it seems, he would have gone and drowned himself."

The story of an apple tree

A wild apple tree grew in the forest; in the fall a sour apple fell from her. The birds pecked at the apple and also pecked the grains.

Only one grain hid in the ground and remained.

The grain lay under the snow for the winter, and in the spring, when the sun warmed the wet ground, the grain began to germinate: it sent out a root and sent up the first two leaves. A stem with a bud ran out from between the leaves, and green leaves came out of the bud at the top. Bud by bud, leaf by leaf, twig by twig - and five years later a pretty apple tree stood in the place where the grain had fallen.

A gardener came to the forest with a spade, saw an apple tree and said: “This is a good tree, it will be useful to me.”

The apple tree trembled when the gardener began to dig it up, and thought: “I’m completely lost!” But the gardener dug up the apple tree carefully, without damaging the roots, moved it to the garden and planted it in good soil.

The apple tree in the garden became proud: “I must be a rare tree,” she thinks, “when they brought me from the forest to the garden,” and looks down on the ugly stumps tied with rags; She didn’t know that she was in school.

The next year a gardener came with a curved knife and began to cut the apple tree.

The apple tree trembled and thought: “Well, now I’m completely lost.”

The gardener cut off the entire green top of the tree, left one stump, and even split it on top; the gardener stuck a young shoot from a good apple tree into the crack; I covered the wound with putty, tied it with a cloth, set up a new clothespin with pegs and left.

The apple tree fell ill; but she was young and strong, she soon recovered and grew together with someone else’s branch.

The twig drinks the juice of a strong apple tree and grows quickly: it throws out bud after bud, leaf after leaf, shoots out shoot after shoot, twig after twig, and three years later the tree blooms with white-pink fragrant flowers.

The white and pink petals fell, and in their place a green ovary appeared, and by autumn the ovaries became apples; Yes, not wild sorrel, but large, rosy, sweet, crumbly!

And the apple tree was such a pretty success that people came from other orchards to take shoots from it for clothespins.

Cow

The cow is ugly, but she gives milk. Her forehead is wide, her ears are to the side; there are not enough teeth in the mouth, but the faces are large; the ridge is pointed, the tail is broom-shaped, the sides are protruding, the hooves are double. She tears grass, chews gum, drinks swill, moos and roars, calling the hostess: “Come out, hostess; take out the milk pan, clean toilet bowl! I brought milk and thick cream for the kids.”

Lisa Patrikeevna

The godmother fox has sharp teeth, a thin snout, ears on the top of her head, a tail that flies away, and a warm fur coat.

The godfather is well dressed: the fur is fluffy and golden; there is a vest on the chest, and a white tie on the neck.

The fox walks quietly, bends down to the ground as if bowing; wears his fluffy tail carefully, looks affectionately, smiles, shows his white teeth.

Digs holes, clever, deep; there are many passages and exits, there are storage rooms, there are also bedrooms, the floors are lined with soft grass. Everyone would like the little fox to be a good housewife, but the robber fox is cunning: she loves chickens, she loves ducks, she will wring the neck of a fat goose, she will not have mercy on even a rabbit.

Fox and goat

A fox ran, gaped at the crow, and ended up in a well. There was not much water in the well: you couldn’t drown, and you couldn’t jump out either. The fox sits and grieves. There comes a goat, a smart head; walks, shakes his beard, shakes his faces; With nothing to do, he looked into the well, saw a fox there and asked:

What are you doing there, little fox?

“I’m resting, my dear,” the fox answers. - It’s hot up there, so I climbed up here. It's so cool and nice here! Cold water - as much as you want.

But the goat has been thirsty for a long time.

Is the water good? - asks the goat.

Excellent! - the fox answers. - Clean, cold! Jump here if you want; There will be a place for both of us here.

The goat jumped foolishly, almost ran over the fox, and she said to him:

Eh, bearded fool! And he didn’t know how to jump - he splashed all over. "

The fox jumped onto the goat's back, from the back onto the horns, and out of the well.

A goat almost disappeared from hunger in a well; They found him by force and dragged him out by the horns.

Bear and log

A bear walks through the forest and sniffs around: is it possible to profit from something edible? He smells honey! Mishka raised his face up and saw a beehive on a pine tree, under the beehive there was a smooth log hanging on a rope, but Misha didn’t care about the log. The bear climbed up the pine tree, climbed up to the log, you can’t climb higher - the log is in the way. Misha pushed the log away with his paw; the log gently rolled back - and the bear knocked on the head. Misha pushed the log harder - the log hit Misha harder. Misha got angry and grabbed the log with all his might; the log was pumped back two fathoms - and it was enough for Misha that he almost fell out of the tree. The bear became furious, he forgot about the honey, he wanted to finish the log: well, he felled it as hard as he could, and he was never left without surrender. Misha fought with the log until he fell out of the tree, completely beaten; There were pegs stuck under the tree - and the bear paid for his insane anger with his warm skin.

Mice

Mice, old and small, gathered at their hole. They have black eyes, small paws, sharp teeth, gray fur coats, ears sticking up, tails drag along the ground. Mice, underground thieves, have gathered, they are thinking, they are holding advice: “How can we, the mice, get the cracker into the hole?” Oh, watch out for the mouse! Your friend, Vasya, is not far away. He loves you very much, he will kiss you with his paw; He'll wring your tail and tear your fur coats.

Rooster and dog

There lived an old man and an old woman, and they lived in great poverty. The only bellies they had were a rooster and a dog, and they fed them poorly. So the dog says to the rooster:

Come on, brother Petka, let's go into the forest: life here is bad for us.

Let's leave, says the rooster, it won't get any worse.

So they went wherever they looked. We wandered around all day; It was getting dark - it was time to stop for the night. They left the road into the forest and chose a large hollow tree. The rooster flew up onto a branch, the dog climbed into the hollow and fell asleep.

In the morning, just as dawn began to break, the rooster cried: “Ku-ku-re-ku!” The fox heard the rooster; She wanted to eat rooster meat. So she went up to the tree and began praising the rooster:

What a rooster! I have never seen such a bird: what beautiful feathers, what a red comb, and what a clear voice! Fly to me, handsome.

And for what purpose? - asks the rooster.

Let's go visit me: today is my housewarming party, and I have a lot of peas in store for you.

“Okay,” says the rooster, “but I can’t go alone: ​​my comrade is with me.”

“What luck has arrived!” thought the fox. “Instead of one rooster there will be two.”

Where is your friend? - she asks. - I’ll invite him to visit too.

“He spends the night there in the hollow,” the rooster answers.

The fox rushed into the hollow, and the dog grabbed its muzzle - tsap!.. Caught and tore the fox to pieces.

Cockerel with family

A cockerel walks around the yard: there is a red comb on its head and a red beard under its nose. Petya’s nose is a chisel, Petya’s tail is a wheel, there are patterns on his tail, and spurs on his legs. Petya rakes the pile with his paws and calls the hens and chicks together:

Crested hens! Busy hostesses! Motley-pockmarked, black-white! Gather together with the chickens, with the little children: I have saved you some grain!

The hens and chicks gathered and cackled; They didn’t share the grain, they got into a fight.

Petya the cockerel does not like unrest - now he has reconciled his family: he ate one for his crest, that for his tuft, he himself ate a grain, flew up onto the fence, flapped his wings, and shouted at the top of his lungs: “Ku-ka-re-ku!”

Rogue cat

Once upon a time there lived a cat, a goat and a ram in the same yard. They lived together: a tuft of hay and that in half; and if a pitchfork hits the side, it will hit Vaska the cat alone. He is such a thief and robber: where anything bad lies, he looks there. Here comes one purring little cat, a gray forehead; he goes and cries so pitifully. They ask the cat, goat and ram:

Little cat, little gray pubis! Why are you crying, jumping on three legs?

Vasya answers them:

How can I not cry! The woman beat me and beat me; she tore out my ears, broke my legs, and even had a stranglehold on me.

Why did such trouble come to you? - the goat and the ram ask.

Eh-eh! For accidentally licking the sour cream.

The thief deserves the flour, says the goat, “don’t steal the sour cream!”

Here the cat is crying again:

The woman beat me and beat me; she beat and said: my son-in-law will come to me, where will he get sour cream? Inevitably, you will have to slaughter a goat or a ram.

Here a goat and a ram roared:

Oh, you gray cat, your stupid forehead! Why did you ruin us?

They began to judge and figure out how they could get out of this great misfortune (ed.) - and decided right there: all three of them should run away. They waited until the landlady did not close the gate, and left.

The cat, the goat and the ram ran for a long time through the valleys, over the mountains, over the shifting sands; they landed and decided to spend the night in a mown meadow; and in that meadow there are stacks like cities.

The night was dark and cold: where could I get fire? And the purring cat had already taken out birch bark, wrapped the horns of the goat and told him to knock their foreheads with the ram. A goat and a ram collided, sparks flew from their eyes: the birch bark began to burn.

Okay,” said the gray cat, “now let’s warm up!” - and without thinking for long, he lit a whole haystack on fire.

Before they had time to warm up enough, an uninvited guest, a gray peasant, Mikhailo Potapych Toptygin, came to see them.

Let me in, he says, brothers, to warm up and rest; I can't do something.

Welcome, gray little man! - says the cat. - Where are you going from?

“I went to the beekeeping,” says the bear, “to check on the bees, but I got into a fight with the men, which is why I pretended to be ill.”

So they all began to while away the night together: the goat and the ram were by the fire, the little purr climbed onto the stack, and the bear hid under the stack.

The bear fell asleep; the goat and the ram are dozing; Only the purr does not sleep and sees everything. And he sees: seven gray wolves are walking, one white - and straight to the fire.

Fu-fu! What kind of people are these! - says the white wolf to the goat and the ram. Let's try the force.

Here a goat and a ram bleated out of fear; and the cat, the gray forehead, made the following speech:

Oh, you, white wolf, prince of wolves! Don't anger our elder: God have mercy, he is angry! How it diverges is bad for anyone. But you don’t see his beard: that’s where all his strength lies; He kills all the animals with his beard, and only removes the skin with his horns. Better come and ask with honor: we want to play with your little brother who sleeps under the haystack.

The wolves on that goat bowed; They surrounded Misha and started flirting. So Misha held on and held on, and as soon as there was enough for each paw of the wolf, they sang Lazarus (they complained about fate. - Ed.). The wolves emerged from under the stack, barely alive and, with their tails between their legs, “God bless your legs!”

The goat and the ram, while the bear was dealing with the wolves, picked up the little purr on their back and quickly went home: “They say, stop wandering around without a way, we won’t get into such trouble.”

The old man and the old woman were overjoyed that the goat and ram returned home; and the purring cat was also torn out for trickery.

The pranks of the old woman of winter

The old woman winter got angry: she decided to snatch every breath from the world. First of all, she began to get to the birds: she was tired of them with their screaming and squeaking.

Winter blew cold, tore leaves from forests and oaks and scattered them along the roads. There is nowhere for the birds to go; They began to gather in flocks and think little thoughts. They gathered, shouted and flew over the high mountains, over the blue seas, to warm countries. The sparrow remained, and it hid under the eagles.

Winter sees that it cannot catch up with the birds; attacked the animals. She covered the fields with snow, filled the forests with snowdrifts, covered the trees with icy bark and sent frost after frost. The frosts are getting fiercer than the other, jumping from tree to tree, crackling and clicking, scaring the animals. The animals were not afraid; Some have warm fur coats, others hid in deep holes; a squirrel in a hollow is gnawing nuts; a bear in a den sucks its paw; the little bunny, jumping, warms himself; and horses, cows, and sheep, long ago in warm barns, chewed ready-made hay and drank warm swill.

Winter is even more angry - it gets to the fish; sends frost after frost, one more severe than the other. Frosts run briskly, tapping loudly with hammers: without wedges, without wedges, they build bridges across lakes and rivers. Rivers and lakes froze, but only from above; and the fish went all the way deeper: under the ice roof it was even warmer.

“Well, wait,” winter thinks, “I’ll catch people,” and sends frost after frost, one angrier than the other. The frosts covered the windows with patterns; They knock on the walls and on the doors, so that the logs burst. And people lit the stoves, baked hot pancakes and laughed at winter. If someone goes to the forest for firewood, he will put on a sheepskin coat, felt boots, warm mittens, and when he starts swinging an ax, he will even break out in a sweat. Along the roads, as if laughing at winter, convoys stretched; the horses are steaming, the cabmen are stamping their feet, patting their mittens, twitching their shoulders, and praising the frosty ones.

The most offensive thing about winter seemed to be that even small children are not afraid of it! They go skating and sledding, play in the snow, make women, build mountains, water them, and even call out to the frost: “Come help!” Out of anger, winter will pinch one boy on the ear, another on the nose, and even turn white; and the boy grabs the snow, let's rub it - and his face will flare up like fire.

Winter sees that she can’t take anything, she began to cry with anger. Winter tears began to fall from the eaves... apparently spring is not far away!

Bees and flies

In late autumn it turned out to be a glorious day, the kind that is rare in spring: the lead clouds dissipated, the wind calmed down, the sun came out and looked so tenderly, as if it was saying goodbye to the faded plants. Summoned from the hives by the light and warmth, the shaggy bees, buzzing merrily, flew from grass to grass, not for honey (there was nowhere to get it), but just to have fun and spread their wings.

How stupid you are with your fun! - the fly told them, which immediately sat on the grass, saddened and with its nose down. - Don’t you know that the sun is only for a minute and that, probably, today the wind, rain, cold will begin and we will all have to disappear.

Zoom-zoom-zoom! Why disappear? - the cheerful bees answered the fly. - We will have fun while the sun is shining, and when bad weather comes, we will hide in our warm hive, where we have stored a lot of honey over the summer.

Blind horse

A long time ago, a very long time ago, when not only we, but also our grandfathers and great-grandfathers were not yet in the world, the rich and commercial Slavic city of Vineta stood on the seashore; and in this city lived a rich merchant, Usedom, whose ships, loaded with expensive goods, sailed across distant seas.

Usedom was very rich and lived luxuriously: perhaps he received the very nickname Usedom, or Vsedom, because in his house there was absolutely everything that could be found that was good and expensive at that time; and the owner himself, his mistress and children ate only on gold and silver, walked only in sables and brocade.

There were many excellent horses in Usedoma's stable; but neither in Usedom’s stable, nor in the whole of Vineta was there a horse faster and more beautiful than Dogoni-Veter - that’s how Usedom nicknamed his favorite riding horse for the speed of its legs. No one dared to ride Dogoni-Vetra except the owner himself, and the owner never rode any other horse.

It happened to the merchant, on one of his trips on trade business, returning to Vineta, to ride his favorite horse through a large and dark forest. It was late in the evening, the forest was terribly dark and dense, the wind was shaking the tops of the gloomy pines; The merchant rode alone and at a pace, saving his beloved horse, which was tired from the long journey.

Suddenly, from behind the bushes, as if from under the ground, six broad-shouldered young men with brutal faces, in shaggy hats, with spears, axes and knives in their hands, jumped out; three were on horseback, three on foot, and two robbers had already grabbed the merchant's horse by the bridle.

The rich Usyedy would not have seen his dear Vineta if he had had some other horse under him, and not Catch-the-Wind. Sensing someone else's hand on the bridle, the horse rushed forward, with his wide, strong chest he knocked over two daring villains who were holding him by the bridle to the ground, crushed under his feet the third, who, waving his spear, ran forward and wanted to block his way, and rushed off like a whirlwind . The mounted robbers set off in pursuit; Their horses were also good, but where could they catch up with Usedomov’s horse?

Catch-the-Wind, despite his fatigue, sensing pursuit, rushed like an arrow shot from a tightly drawn bow, and left the enraged villains far behind him.

Half an hour later, Usedom was already riding into his dear Vineta on his good horse, from which foam fell in shreds to the ground.

Getting off his horse, whose sides were rising high from fatigue, the merchant immediately, patting Catch-the-Wind on his lathered neck, solemnly promised: no matter what happens to him, never sell or give his faithful horse to anyone, never drive him away, no matter how he never grew old, and every day, until his death, he gave his horse three measures of the best oats.

But, hurrying to his wife and children, Usedom did not look after the horse himself, and the lazy worker did not take the exhausted horse out properly, did not allow it to completely cool down and gave it water ahead of time.

From then on, Catch-the-Wind began to fall ill, become frail, weakened his legs and, finally, went blind. The merchant was very sad and for six months faithfully kept his promise: the blind horse was still standing in the stable, and he was given three measures of oats every day.

Usedom then bought himself another riding horse, and six months later it seemed too imprudent to give a blind, worthless horse three measures of oats, and he ordered two. Another six months have passed; The blind horse was still young, it took a long time to feed him, and they began to let him have one measure at a time.

Finally, this too seemed difficult to the merchant, and he ordered the reins to be taken off Dogoni-Vetr and driven out of the gate so that he would not waste his space in the stable. The workers escorted the blind horse out of the yard with a stick, as he resisted and would not walk.

Poor blind Catch-the-Wind, not understanding what they were doing to him, not knowing or seeing where to go, remained standing outside the gate, with his head down and his ears moving sadly. Night fell, it began to snow, and sleeping on the rocks was hard and cold for the poor blind horse. She stood in one place for several hours, but finally hunger forced her to look for food. Raising his head, sniffing in the air to see if somewhere there might be even a tuft of straw from the old, sagging roof, the blind horse wandered at random and constantly bumped into either the corner of the house or the fence.

You need to know that in Vineta, like in all ancient Slavic cities, there was no prince, and the inhabitants of the city governed themselves, gathering in the square when some important matters had to be decided. Such a meeting of the people to decide their own affairs, for trial and punishment, was called a veche. In the middle of Vineta, on the square where the veche met, a large veche bell hung on four pillars, by the ringing of which the people gathered and which anyone who considered himself offended and demanded justice and protection from the people could ring. No one, of course, dared to ring the veche bell for trifles, knowing that for this they would get a lot of punishment from the people.

Wandering around the square, a blind, deaf and hungry horse accidentally came across the pillars on which the bell hung, and, thinking perhaps to pull out a bunch of straw from the eaves, grabbed the rope tied to the tongue of the bell with its teeth and began to pull: the bell rang like this it was so strong that the people, despite the fact that it was still early, began to flock to the square in crowds, wanting to know who was so loudly demanding his trial and protection. Everyone in Vineta knew Dogoni-Veter, they knew that he saved the life of his owner, they knew the owner’s promise - and they were surprised to see a poor horse in the middle of the square - blind, hungry, shivering from the cold, covered with snow.

It soon became clear what the matter was, and when the people learned that the rich Usedom had driven out of the house the blind horse that had saved his life, they unanimously decided that Dogoni-Veter had every right to ring the veche bell.

They demanded an ungrateful merchant to come to the square; Despite his excuses, they ordered him to keep the horse as before and feed it until its death. A special person was assigned to oversee the execution of the sentence, and the sentence itself was carved on a stone placed in memory of this event on the veche square...

Know how to wait

Once upon a time there lived a brother and a sister, a cockerel and a hen. The cockerel ran into the garden and began to peck the green currants, and the hen said to him: “Don’t eat, Petya! Wait until the currants ripen.” The cockerel did not listen, he pecked and pecked, and got so sick that he had to force his way home. “Oh!” the cockerel cries, “my misfortune! It hurts, sister, it hurts!” The hen gave mint to the cockerel, applied mustard plaster - and it went away.

The cockerel recovered and went into the field: he ran, jumped, got hot, sweated and ran to the stream to drink cold water; and the chicken shouts to him:

Don’t drink, Petya, wait until you get cold.

The cockerel did not listen, drank cold water - and then he began to have a fever: the chicken was forced home. The chicken ran for the doctor, the doctor prescribed Petya some bitter medicine, and the cockerel lay in bed for a long time.

The cockerel recovered for winter and saw that the river was covered with ice; the cockerel wanted to go ice skating; and the hen says to him: “Oh, wait, Petya! Let the river freeze completely; now the ice is still very thin, you’ll drown.” The cockerel did not listen to his sister: he rolled on the ice; the ice broke, and the cockerel fell into the water! Only the cockerel was seen.

Morning rays

The red sun floated into the sky and began to send its golden rays everywhere - waking up the earth.

The first ray flew and hit the lark. The lark perked up, fluttered out of the nest, rose high, high and sang its silver song: “Oh, how good it is in the fresh morning air! How good! How free!”

The second beam hit the bunny. The bunny twitched his ears and hopped merrily across the dewy meadow: he ran to get some juicy grass for breakfast.

The third beam hit the chicken coop. The rooster flapped his wings and sang: “Ku-ka-re-ku!” The chickens flew away from their infestations, clucked, and began to rake away the rubbish and look for worms.

The fourth ray hit the hive. A bee crawled out of its wax cell, sat on the window, spread its wings and “zoom-zoom-zoom!” - flew off to collect honey from fragrant flowers.

The fifth ray hit the little lazy boy in the nursery: it hit him right in the eyes, and he turned on the other side and fell asleep again.

Four wishes

Mitya sledded down an icy mountain and skated on a frozen river, ran home rosy, cheerful and said to his father:

How fun it is in winter! I wish it were all winter.

“Write your wish in my pocket book,” said the father.

Mitya wrote it down.

Spring came. Mitya ran to his heart’s content in the green meadow for colorful butterflies, picked flowers, ran to his father and said:

What a beauty this spring is! I wish it were still spring.

The father again took out the book and ordered Mitya to write down his wish.

Summer has come. Mitya and his father went to haymaking. The boy had fun all long day: he fished, picked berries, tumbled in the fragrant hay, and in the evening he said to his father:

I had a lot of fun today! I wish there was no end to summer.

And this desire of Mitya was written down in the same book.

Autumn has come. Fruits were collected in the garden - ruddy apples and yellow pears. Mitya was delighted and said to his father:

Autumn is the best time of the year!

Then the father took out his notebook and showed the boy that he had said the same thing about spring, and winter, and summer.



Someone else's testicle

Early in the morning, old lady Daria got up, chose a dark, secluded place in the chicken coop, put a basket there, where thirteen eggs were laid out on soft hay, and sat the Corydalis on them.

It was just getting light, and the old woman did not notice that the thirteenth egg was greenish and larger than the others. The hen sits diligently, warms her testicles, runs off to peck some grain, drink some water, and returns to her place; even faded, poor thing. And she became so angry, hissing, clucking, she wouldn’t even let the cockerel come, but he really wanted to see what was going on there in the dark corner. The hen sat for about three weeks, and the chicks began to hatch from the eggs, one after another: they would peck the shell with their nose, jump out, shake themselves off and begin to run around, rake up the dust with their legs, look for worms.

Later than everyone else, a chick hatched from a greenish egg. And how strange he came out: round, fluffy, yellow, with short legs, and a wide nose. “I’ve got a strange chicken,” the hen thinks, “it pecks, and it doesn’t walk like us; its nose is wide, its legs are short, it’s kind of clubfooted, it waddles from one foot to the other.” The hen marveled at her chicken, but no matter what it was, it was all a son. And the chicken loves and takes care of him, like the others, and if she sees a hawk, then, fluffing up her feathers and spreading her round wings wide, she hides her chickens under herself, without distinguishing what kind of legs each has.

The chicken began to teach the children how to dig worms out of the ground, and took the whole family to the shore of the pond: there were more worms there and the earth was softer. As soon as the short-legged chicken saw the water, it jumped straight into it. The chicken screams, flaps its wings, rushes to the water; the chickens were also worried: they were running, fussing, squeaking; and one cockerel, in fright, even jumped up on a pebble, stretched out his neck and for the first time in his life yelled in a hoarse voice: “Ku-ku-re-ku!” Help, they say, good people! Brother is drowning! But the brother did not drown, but joyfully and easily, like a piece of cotton paper, he swam through the water, scooping up the water with his wide, webbed paws. At the hen’s cry, old Daria ran out of the hut, saw what was happening, and shouted: “Oh, what a sin! Apparently, I blindly put a duck egg under the chicken.”

And the chicken was eager to get to the pond: they could have driven it away by force, poor thing.

Wind and sun

One day the Sun and the angry North Wind started a dispute about which of them was stronger. They argued for a long time and finally decided to measure their strength against the traveler, who at that very time was riding on horseback along the high road.

Look, - said the Wind, - how I will fly at him: I will instantly tear off his cloak.

He said, and began to blow as hard as he could. But the more the Wind tried, the tighter the traveler wrapped himself in his cloak: he grumbled about the bad weather, but rode further and further. The wind became angry, fierce, and showered the poor traveler with rain and snow; Cursing the Wind, the traveler put his cloak into the sleeves and tied it with a belt. At this point the Wind himself became convinced that he could not pull off his cloak.

The sun, seeing the powerlessness of its rival, smiled, looked out from behind the clouds, warmed and dried the earth, and at the same time the poor half-frozen traveler. Feeling the warmth of the sun's rays, he perked up, blessed the Sun, took off his cloak, rolled it up and tied it to the saddle.

You see,” the meek Sun then said to the angry Wind, “you can do much more with affection and kindness than with anger.”

Two plows

Two plows were made from the same piece of iron and in the same workshop. One of them fell into the hands of a farmer and immediately went to work, while the other spent a long time and completely uselessly in the merchant’s shop.

It happened some time later that both fellow countrymen met again. The farmer's plow shone like silver and was even better than when he had just left the workshop; the plow, which lay idle in the shop, darkened and became covered with rust.

Tell me please, why do you shine so much? - the rusty plow asked his old acquaintance.

From work, my dear,” he answered, “and if you got rusty and became worse than you were, it’s because all this time you lay on your side, doing nothing.”

Fox and goat

A fox ran, gaped at the crow, and ended up in a well. There was not much water in the well: you couldn’t drown, and you couldn’t jump out either. The fox sits and grieves. There comes a goat, a smart head; walks, shakes his beard, shakes his faces; With nothing to do, he looked into the well, saw a fox there and asked:

What are you doing there, little fox?

“I’m resting, my dear,” the fox answers. - It’s hot up there, so I climbed up here. It's so cool and nice here! Cold water - as much as you want.

But the goat has been thirsty for a long time.

Is the water good? - asks the goat.

Excellent! - the fox answers. - Clean, cold! Jump here if you want; There will be a place for both of us here.

The goat jumped foolishly, almost ran over the fox, and she said to him:

Eh, bearded fool! And he didn’t know how to jump - he splashed all over. ‘

The fox jumped onto the goat's back, from the back onto the horns, and out of the well.

A goat almost disappeared from hunger in a well; They found him by force and dragged him out by the horns.

Bunny complaints

The gray bunny stretched out and began to cry, sitting under a bush; cries, says:

“There is no worse fate in the world than mine, little gray bunny! And who doesn’t sharpen their teeth on me? Hunters, dogs, wolf, fox and bird of prey; crooked hawk, goggle-eyed owl; even the stupid crow drags my cute little gray bunnies with her crooked paws. Trouble threatens me from everywhere; but I have nothing to defend myself with: I can’t climb a tree like a squirrel; I don’t know how to dig holes like a rabbit. True, my teeth regularly gnaw the cabbage and gnaw the bark, but I don’t have the courage to bite. I’m a master at running and I can jump pretty well; but it’s good if you have to run across a flat field or up a mountain, but if it’s downhill, you’ll end up somersaulting over your head: your front legs are not mature enough.

It would still be possible to live in the world if it were not for worthless cowardice. If you hear a rustling, your ears will perk up, your heart will beat, you won’t see the light, you’ll shoot out of a bush, and you’ll fall right into a snare or at the hunter’s feet.

Oh, I feel bad, little gray bunny! You are cunning, you hide in the bushes, you wander around the bushes, you confuse your tracks; and sooner or later trouble is inevitable: and the cook will drag me into the kitchen by my long ears.

My only consolation is that the tail is short: there is nothing for the dog to grab. If I had a tail like a fox's, where would I go with it? Then, it seems, he would have gone and drowned himself.”

Not well tailored, but tightly sewn

The white, sleek bunny said to the hedgehog:

What an ugly, scratchy dress you have, brother!

True,” answered the hedgehog, “but my thorns save me from the teeth of the dog and the wolf; does your pretty skin serve you the same way?

Instead of answering, the bunny just sighed.

Rooster and dog

There lived an old man and an old woman, and they lived in great poverty. The only bellies they had were a rooster and a dog, and they fed them poorly. So the dog says to the rooster:

Come on, brother Petka, let's go into the forest: life here is bad for us.

Let's leave, says the rooster, it won't get any worse.

So they went wherever they looked. We wandered around all day; It was getting dark - it was time to stop for the night. They left the road into the forest and chose a large hollow tree. The rooster flew up onto a branch, the dog climbed into the hollow and fell asleep.

In the morning, just as dawn began to break, the rooster cried: “Ku-ku-re-ku!” The fox heard the rooster; She wanted to eat rooster meat. So she went up to the tree and began praising the rooster:

What a rooster! I have never seen such a bird: what beautiful feathers, what a red comb, and what a clear voice! Fly to me, handsome.

And for what purpose? - asks the rooster.

Let's go visit me: today is my housewarming party, and I have a lot of peas in store for you.

“Okay,” says the rooster, “but I can’t go alone: ​​my comrade is with me.”

“This is such happiness! - thought the fox. “Instead of one rooster there will be two.”

Where is your friend? - she asks. - I’ll invite him to visit too.

“He spends the night there in the hollow,” the rooster answers.

The fox rushed into the hollow, and the dog grabbed its muzzle - tsap!.. Caught and tore the fox to pieces.

Rogue cat

Once upon a time there lived a cat, a goat and a ram in the same yard. They lived together: a tuft of hay and that in half; and if a pitchfork hits the side, it will hit Vaska the cat alone. He is such a thief and robber: where anything bad lies, he looks there. Here comes one purring little cat, a gray forehead; he goes and cries so pitifully. They ask the cat, goat and ram:

Little cat, little gray pubis! Why are you crying, jumping on three legs?

Vasya answers them:

How can I not cry! The woman beat me and beat me; she tore out my ears, broke my legs, and even had a stranglehold on me.

Why did such trouble come to you? - the goat and the ram ask.

Eh-eh! For accidentally licking the sour cream.

The thief deserves the flour, says the goat, “don’t steal the sour cream!”

Here the cat is crying again:

The woman beat me and beat me; she beat and said: my son-in-law will come to me, where will he get sour cream? Inevitably, you will have to slaughter a goat or a ram.

Here a goat and a ram roared:

Oh, you gray cat, your stupid forehead! Why did you ruin us?

They began to judge and figure out how they could get out of the great misfortune (avoid. - Ed.) - and decided right there: all three of them should run away. They waited until the landlady did not close the gate, and left.

The cat, the goat and the ram ran for a long time through the valleys, over the mountains, over the shifting sands; they landed and decided to spend the night in a mown meadow; and in that meadow there are stacks like cities.

The night was dark and cold: where could I get fire? And the purring cat had already taken out birch bark, wrapped the horns of the goat and told him to knock their foreheads with the ram. A goat and a ram collided, sparks flew from their eyes: the birch bark began to burn.

Okay,” said the gray cat, “now let’s warm up!” - and without thinking for long, he lit a whole haystack on fire.

Before they had time to warm up enough, an uninvited guest came to them - a gray peasant, Mikhailo Potapych Toptygin.

Let me in, he says, brothers, to warm up and rest; I can't do something.

Welcome, gray little man! - says the cat. - Where are you going from?

“I went to the beekeeping,” says the bear, “to check on the bees, but I got into a fight with the men, which is why I pretended to be ill.”

So they all began to while away the night together: the goat and the ram were by the fire, the little purr climbed onto the stack, and the bear hid under the stack.

The bear fell asleep; the goat and the ram are dozing; Only the purr does not sleep and sees everything. And he sees: seven gray wolves are walking, one white - and straight to the fire.

Fu-fu! What kind of people are these! - says the white wolf to the goat and the ram. - Let's try the force.

Here a goat and a ram bleated out of fear; and the cat, the gray forehead, made the following speech:

Oh, you, white wolf, prince of wolves! Don't anger our elder: God have mercy, he is angry! How it diverges is bad for anyone. But you don’t see his beard: that’s where all his strength lies; He kills all the animals with his beard, and only removes the skin with his horns. Better come and ask with honor: we want to play with your little brother who sleeps under the haystack.

The wolves on that goat bowed; They surrounded Misha and started flirting. So Misha held on and held on, and as soon as there was enough for each paw of the wolf, they sang Lazarus (they complained about fate. - Ed.). The wolves emerged from under the stack, barely alive and, with their tails between their legs, “God bless your legs!”

The goat and the ram, while the bear was dealing with the wolves, picked up the little purr on their back and quickly went home: “They say, “It’s enough to wander around without a way, we won’t get into such trouble.”

The old man and the old woman were overjoyed that the goat and ram returned home; and the purring cat was also torn out for trickery.

Bishka

“Come on, Bishka, read what’s written in the book!”

The dog sniffed the book and walked away. “It’s not my job,” he says, “to read books; I guard the house, I don’t sleep at night, I bark, I scare thieves and wolves, I go hunting, I keep an eye on the bunny, I look for ducks, I carry diarrhea - I’ll have that too.”

Brave dog

Dog, why are you barking?

I scare the wolves.

The dog with its tail between its legs?

I'm afraid of wolves.

Mice

Mice, old and small, gathered at their hole. They have black eyes, small paws, sharp teeth, gray fur coats, ears sticking up, tails drag along the ground. Mice, underground thieves, have gathered, they are thinking, they are holding advice: “How can we, the mice, get the cracker into the hole?” Oh, watch out for the mouse! Your friend, Vasya, is not far away. He loves you very much, he will kiss you with his paw; He'll wring your tail and tear your fur coats.

Goat

A shaggy goat is walking, a bearded one is walking, waving its faces, shaking its beard, tapping its hooves, walking, bleating, calling for goats and kids. And the goats and kids went into the garden, nibbled grass, gnawed bark, spoiled young clothespins, hoarded milk for the children; and the kids, little kids, sucked milk, climbed the fence, fought with their horns.

Wait, the bearded owner will come and give you all order!

Fox and geese

One day a fox came to the meadow. And there were geese in the meadow. Good geese, fat. The fox was happy and said:

Now I'll eat you all! And the geese say:

You, fox, are kind! You are a good fox, don’t eat, have pity on us!

No! - says the fox, - I won’t regret it, I’ll eat everyone! What to do here? Then one goose says:

Let us sing a song, fox, and then eat us!

“Okay,” says the fox, “sing!” The geese all stood in a row and sang:

Ha!

Ha-ga!

Ha-ha-ha!

Ga-ha-ga-ha!

Ga-ha-ha-ha-ha!

They are still singing, and the fox is waiting for them to finish.

Cockerel with family

A cockerel walks around the yard: there is a red comb on its head and a red beard under its nose. Petya’s nose is a chisel, Petya’s tail is a wheel, there are patterns on his tail, and spurs on his legs. Petya rakes the pile with his paws and calls the hens and chicks together:

Crested hens! Busy hostesses! Motley-pockmarked, black-white! Gather together with the chickens, with the little children: I have saved you some grain!

The hens and chicks gathered and cackled; They didn’t share the grain, they got into a fight.

Petya the cockerel does not like unrest - now he has reconciled his family: he ate one for his crest, that for his tuft, he himself ate a grain, flew up onto the fence, flapped his wings, and shouted at the top of his lungs: “Ku-ka-re-ku!”

Cow

The cow is ugly, but she gives milk. Her forehead is wide, her ears are to the side; there are not enough teeth in the mouth, but the faces are large; the ridge is pointed, the tail is broom-shaped, the sides are protruding, the hooves are double. She tears grass, chews gum, drinks swill, moos and roars, calling her mistress: “Come out, mistress; take out the bin, clean toilet! I brought milk and thick cream for the kids.”

Lisa Patrikeevna

The godmother fox has sharp teeth, a thin snout, ears on the top of her head, a tail that flies away, and a warm fur coat.

The godfather is well dressed: the fur is fluffy and golden; there is a vest on the chest, and a white tie on the neck.

The fox walks quietly, bends down to the ground as if bowing; wears his fluffy tail carefully, looks affectionately, smiles, shows his white teeth.

Digs holes, clever, deep; there are many passages and exits, there are storage rooms, there are also bedrooms, the floors are lined with soft grass. Everyone would like the little fox to be a good housewife, but the robber fox is cunning: she loves chickens, she loves ducks, she will wring the neck of a fat goose, she will not have mercy on even a rabbit.

Crow and cancer

A crow flew over the lake; looks - the cancer is crawling: grab it! She sat down on a willow tree and thought about having a snack. The cancer sees that it has to disappear and says:

Ay, crow! crow! I knew your father and mother, what nice birds they were!

Yes! - says the crow without opening his mouth.

I knew your sisters and brothers - they were excellent birds!

Yes! - the crow says again.

Even though the birds were good, they are still far from you.

Ara! - the crow shouted at the top of her lungs and dropped Cancer into the water.

Know how to wait

Once upon a time there lived a brother and a sister, a cockerel and a hen. The cockerel ran into the garden and began pecking at the green currants, and the hen said to him: “Don’t eat it, Petya! Wait until the currants ripen." The cockerel did not listen, he pecked and pecked, and got so sick that he had to force his way home. "Oh! - the cockerel cries, - my misfortune! It hurts, sister, it hurts!” The hen gave mint to the cockerel, applied mustard plaster - and it went away.

The cockerel recovered and went into the field: he ran, jumped, got hot, sweated and ran to the stream to drink cold water; and the chicken shouts to him:

Don’t drink, Petya, wait until you get cold.

The cockerel did not listen, drank cold water - and then he began to have a fever: the chicken was forced home. The chicken ran for the doctor, the doctor prescribed Petya some bitter medicine, and the cockerel lay in bed for a long time.

The cockerel recovered for winter and saw that the river was covered with ice; the cockerel wanted to go ice skating; and the chicken says to him: “Oh, wait, Petya! Let the river freeze completely; Now the ice is still very thin, you will drown.” The cockerel did not listen to his sister: he rolled on the ice; the ice broke, and the cockerel fell into the water! Only the cockerel was seen.

Vaska

Kitty-cat - gray pubis. Vasya is affectionate and cunning; The paws are velvety, the claw is sharp. Vasyutka has sensitive ears, a long mustache, and a silk fur coat. The cat caresses, bends over, wags its tail, closes its eyes, sings a song, but if you come across a mouse - don’t be angry! The eyes are big, the paws are like steel, the teeth are crooked, the claws are protruding!

Little goats and a wolf

Once upon a time there lived a goat.

The goat made herself a hut in the forest and settled in it with her kids.

Every day the goat went to the forest for food.

She will leave on her own, and tells the children to lock themselves tightly and not open the doors to anyone.

The goat returns home, knocks on the door and sings:

“Little goats, little kids,

Open up, open up!

Your mother has come,

I brought milk.

I, a goat, was in the forest,

I ate silk grass,

I drank cold water;

Milk runs down the shelf,

From the markings to the hooves,

And from the hooves there is dirt in the cheese.”

The kids will hear their mother and open the door for her.

She will feed them and go off to graze again.

The wolf overheard the goat and, when the goat left, he walked up to the door of the hut and sang in a thick, fat voice:

“You, children, you, fathers,

Open up, open up!

Your mother has come,

Brought milk...

The hooves are full of water!”

The little goats listened to the wolf and said: “We hear, we hear! You don’t sing with your mother’s voice, your mother sings more subtly and doesn’t lament like that!” - And they didn’t open the door to the wolf.

The wolf left unsalted.

The mother came and praised the children for listening to her: “You are smart, children, for not opening the door to the wolf, otherwise he would have eaten you.”

Two goats

Two stubborn goats met one day on a narrow log thrown across a stream. It was impossible to cross the stream at both times; one had to turn back, give way to the other and wait.

“Make way for me,” said one.

- Here's another! Look, what an important gentleman,” answered the other, “backing away, I was the first to ascend the bridge.”

- No, brother, I am much older than you in years, and I have to give in to the milksucker! Never!

Here both, without thinking for a long time, collided with strong foreheads, locked horns and, resting their thin legs on the deck, began to fight. But the deck was wet: both stubborn men slipped and flew straight into the water.

Together it’s cramped, but apart it’s boring

Brother says to sister: “Don’t touch my top!” The sister answers her brother: “Don’t touch my dolls!”

The children sat in different corners, but soon they both became bored.

Why did the children get bored?

The story of an apple tree

A wild apple tree grew in the forest; in the fall a sour apple fell from her. The birds pecked at the apple and also pecked the grains.

Only one grain hid in the ground and remained.

The grain lay under the snow for the winter, and in the spring, when the sun warmed the wet ground, the grain began to germinate: it sent out a root and sent up the first two leaves. A stem with a bud ran out from between the leaves, and green leaves came out of the bud at the top. Bud by bud, leaf by leaf, twig by twig - and five years later a pretty apple tree stood in the place where the grain had fallen.

A gardener came to the forest with a spade, saw an apple tree and said: “This is a good tree, it will be useful to me.”

The apple tree trembled when the gardener began to dig it up, and thought: “I’m completely lost!” But the gardener dug up the apple tree carefully, without damaging the roots, moved it to the garden and planted it in good soil.

The apple tree in the garden became proud: “I must be a rare tree,” she thinks, “when they brought me from the forest to the garden,” and looks down on the ugly stumps tied with rags; She didn’t know that she was in school.

The next year a gardener came with a curved knife and began to cut the apple tree.

The apple tree trembled and thought: “Well, now I’m completely lost.”

The gardener cut off the entire green top of the tree, left one stump, and even split it on top; the gardener stuck a young shoot from a good apple tree into the crack; I covered the wound with putty, tied it with a cloth, set up a new clothespin with pegs and left.

The apple tree fell ill; but she was young and strong, she soon recovered and grew together with someone else’s branch.

The twig drinks the juice of a strong apple tree and grows quickly: it throws out bud after bud, leaf after leaf, shoots out shoot after shoot, twig after twig, and three years later the tree blooms with white-pink fragrant flowers.

The white and pink petals fell, and in their place a green ovary appeared, and by autumn the ovaries became apples; Yes, not wild sorrel, but large, rosy, sweet, crumbly!

And the apple tree was such a pretty success that people came from other orchards to take shoots from it for clothespins.

How a shirt grew in a field

Tanya saw her father scattering handfuls of small shiny grains across the field, and asked:

What are you doing, daddy?

But I’m sowing flax, daughter; a shirt will grow for you and Vasyutka.

Tanya thought: she had never seen shirts growing in a field.

Two weeks later the strip was covered with green silky grass and Tanya thought: “It would be nice if I had a shirt like that.”

Once or twice Tanya’s mother and sisters came to weed the strip and each time they said to the girl:

You'll have a nice shirt!

A few more weeks passed: the grass on the strip rose, and blue flowers appeared on it.

“Brother Vasya has such eyes,” Tanya thought, “but I’ve never seen such shirts on anyone.”

When the flowers fell, green heads appeared in their place. When the heads turned brown and dried out, Tanya’s mother and sisters pulled out all the flax by the roots, tied sheaves and put them in the field to dry.

When the flax dried out, they began to cut off its heads, and then they sank the headless bunches in the river and piled another stone on top so that they would not float up.

Tanya watched sadly as her shirt was drowned; and the sisters then told her again:

You will have a nice shirt, Tanya.

About two weeks later, they took the flax out of the river, dried it and began to beat it, first with a board on the threshing floor, then with a whip in the yard, so that the poor flax sent fire flying in all directions. Having frayed, they began to comb the flax with an iron comb until it became soft and silky.

“You will have a nice shirt,” the sisters told Tanya again. But Tanya thought:

“Where is the shirt? It looks like Vasya’s hairs, not a shirt.”

The long winter evenings have arrived. Tanya's sisters put flax on their combs and began to spin threads from it.

“These are threads,” Tanya thinks, “but where is the shirt?”

Winter, spring and summer have passed, autumn has come. The father installed crosses in the hut, pulled the warp over them and began to weave. The shuttle ran quickly between the threads, and then Tanya herself saw that canvas was coming out of the threads.

When the canvas was ready, they began to freeze it in the cold, spread it on the snow, and in the spring they spread it on the grass, in the sun, and sprinkled it with water. The canvas turned from gray to white, like boiling water.

Winter has come again. The mother cut shirts from canvas; The sisters began to sew shirts and for Christmas they put new shirts as white as snow on Tanya and Vasya.

Chicken and ducklings

The owner wanted to raise ducks. She bought duck eggs, put them under the chicken and is waiting for her ducklings to hatch. The hen sits on the eggs, sits patiently, comes down for a while to peck at the food and then returns to the nest.

The hen has hatched her ducklings, is happy, clucks, leads them around the yard, tears up the ground - looking for food for them.

One day a hen and her brood went outside the fence and reached a pond. The ducklings saw the water, they all ran to it, one after another they started swimming. The poor chicken runs along the shore, screams, calls the ducklings to her - she is afraid that they will drown.

And the ducklings are happy about the water, they swim, dive and don’t even think about going ashore. The housewife barely managed to get the chicken away from the water.

The pranks of the old woman of winter

The old woman-winter got angry, she decided to squeeze every breath from the light. First of all, she began to get to the birds: she was tired of them with their screaming and squeaking.

Winter blew cold, tore leaves from forests and oak forests and scattered them along the roads. There is nowhere for the birds to go; They began to gather in flocks and think little thoughts. They gathered, shouted and flew over the high mountains, over the blue seas, to warm countries. The sparrow remained, and it hid under the eagles.

Winter sees that it cannot catch up with the birds: it attacked the animals. She covered the fields with snow, filled the forests with snowdrifts, covered the trees with icy bark and sent frost after frost. The frosts are getting fiercer than the other, they are jumping from tree to tree, crackling and clicking, scaring the animals. The animals were not afraid: some had warm fur coats, others hid in deep holes; a squirrel in a hollow is gnawing nuts, a bear in a den is sucking a paw; The little bunny is jumping and warming himself, and the horses, cows, and sheep have long been chewing ready-made hay in warm barns and drinking warm swill.

Winter is even more angry - it gets to the fish: it sends frost after frost, one more severe than the other. Frosts run briskly, tapping loudly with hammers: without wedges, without wedges, they build bridges across lakes and rivers. The rivers and lakes froze, but only from above, but the fish all went deeper into the depths: under the icy roof they are even warmer.

Well, wait, - winter thinks, - I’ll catch people, and it sends frost after frost, one angrier than the other. The frosts covered the windows with patterns; They knock on the walls and on the doors, so that the logs burst. And people lit the stoves, baked hot pancakes and laughed at winter. If someone goes to the forest for firewood, he will put on a sheepskin coat, felt boots, warm mittens, and when he starts swinging an ax, he will even break out in a sweat. Along the roads, as if to laugh at the winter, the convoys pulled out: the horses were steaming, the cabbies were stamping their feet, patting their mittens, twitching their shoulders, praising the frosty weather.

The most offensive thing about winter seemed to be that even small children are not afraid of it! They go skating and sledding, play in the snow, make women, build mountains, water them, and even call out to the frost: “Come help!” Out of anger, winter will pinch one boy by the ear, another by the nose, they will even turn white, and the boy will grab the snow, let’s rub it - and his face will flare up like fire.

Winter sees that she can’t take anything, and she starts crying with anger. Winter tears began to fall from the eaves... apparently spring is not far away!

Morning rays

The red sun floated into the sky and began to send its golden rays everywhere - waking up the earth.

The first ray flew and hit the lark. The lark perked up, fluttered out of the nest, rose high, high and sang its silver song: “Oh, how nice it is in the fresh morning air! How good! How fun!”

The second beam hit the bunny. The bunny twitched his ears and hopped merrily across the dewy meadow: he ran to get some juicy grass for breakfast.

The third beam hit the chicken coop. The rooster flapped his wings and sang: “Ku-ka-re-ku!” The chickens flew away from their infestations, clucked, and began to rake away the rubbish and look for worms.

The fourth ray hit the hive. A bee crawled out of its wax cell, sat on the window, spread its wings and “zoom-zoom-zoom!” - flew off to collect honey from fragrant flowers.

The fifth ray hit the little lazy boy in the nursery: it hit him right in the eyes, and he turned on the other side and fell asleep again.

Four wishes

Mitya sledded down an icy mountain and skated on a frozen river, ran home rosy, cheerful and said to his father:

How fun it is in winter! I wish it were all winter.

“Write your wish in my pocket book,” said the father.

Mitya wrote it down.

Spring came. Mitya ran to his heart’s content in the green meadow for colorful butterflies, picked flowers, ran to his father and said:

What a beauty this spring is! I wish it were still spring.

The father again took out the book and ordered Mitya to write down his wish.

Summer has come. Mitya and his father went to haymaking. The boy had fun all long day: he fished, picked berries, tumbled in the fragrant hay, and in the evening he said to his father:

I had a lot of fun today! I wish there was no end to summer.

And this desire of Mitya was written down in the same book.

Autumn has come. Fruits were collected in the garden - ruddy apples and yellow pears. Mitya was delighted and said to his father:

Autumn is the best time of the year!

Then the father took out his notebook and showed the boy that he had said the same thing about spring, and winter, and summer.


“Of course, me,” says the horse. “I carry him a plow and a harrow, I carry firewood from the forest; He himself rides me to town: he would be completely lost without me.

“No, the owner loves me more,” says the cow. “I feed his whole family milk.”

“No, me,” the dog grumbles, “I guard his property.”

The owner overheard this argument and said:

- Stop arguing in vain: I need all of you, and each of you is good in his place.

Tree dispute

The trees argued among themselves: which of them is better? Here the oak says:

- I am the king of all trees! My root has gone deep, the trunk is three times around, the top looks up to the sky; My leaves are carved, and the branches seem to be cast from iron. I do not bow to storms, I do not bend before thunderstorms.

The apple tree heard the oak boasting and said:

- Don’t brag too much, dude, that you are big and fat: but only acorns grow on you, for the pigs’ amusement; and my rosy apple is even on the royal table.

The pine tree listens, shakes its needle-like top.

“Wait,” he says, “to boast; Winter will come, and you will both be standing naked, but my green thorns will still remain on me; without me, people wouldn’t be able to live in the cold side; I use it to heat stoves and build huts.

The horse snores, curls its ears, moves its eyes, gnaws at the bit, bends its neck like a swan, and digs the ground with its hoof. The mane is wavy on the neck, the tail is a pipe at the back, bangs are between the ears, and a brush is on the legs; the wool shines silver. There is a bit in the mouth, a saddle on the back, golden stirrups, steel horseshoes.

Sit down and let's go! To distant lands, to the thirtieth kingdom!

The horse runs, the ground trembles, foam comes out of the mouth, steam comes out of the nostrils.

A shaggy goat is walking, a bearded one is walking, waving its faces, shaking its beard, tapping its hooves: it walks, bleats, calling for goats and kids. And the goats and kids went into the garden, nibbled grass, gnawed bark, spoiled young clothespins, saved milk for the children; and the kids, little kids, sucked milk, climbed the fence, fought with their horns.

Wait, the bearded owner will come and give you all order!

Cockerel with family

A cockerel walks around the yard: there is a red comb on its head and a red beard under its nose. Petya's nose is a chisel, Petya's tail is a wheel; there are patterns on the tail, spurs on the legs. Petya rakes the pile with his paws and calls the hens and chicks together:

- Crested hens! Busy hostesses! Motley-pockmarked! Little black and white! Gather together with the chickens, with the little children: I have saved you some grain!

The hens and chicks gathered and cackled; They didn’t share the grain - they got into a fight. Petya doesn’t like unrest - now he has reconciled his family: one for the crest, that for the tuft, he ate a grain, flew up onto the fence, flapped his wings, shouted at the top of his lungs: “Ku-ku-re-ku!”

Sow

Our sow hare is dirty, dirty and gluttonous; It eats everything, crushes everything, itches on the corners, finds a puddle - it’s like rushing into a feather bed, grunting, basking.

The sow's snout is not elegant: its nose rests on the ground, its mouth reaches to its ears; and the ears dangle like rags; Each leg has four hooves, and when it walks, it stumbles. The sow's tail is a screw, the ridge is a hump; stubble sticks out on the ridge. She eats for three, gets fat for five; but her mistresses take care of her, feed her, and give her slop to drink; If he breaks into the garden, they will drive him away with a log.

- Come on, Bishka, read what’s written in the book!

The dog sniffed the book and walked away.

Little cat - gray pubis. Vasya is affectionate, but cunning, his paws are velvet, his nails are sharp.

Vasyutka has sensitive ears, a long mustache, and a silk fur coat.

The cat caresses, bends over, wags its tail, closes its eyes, sings a song, but a mouse is caught - don’t be angry! The eyes are big, the paws are like steel, the teeth are crooked, the claws are protruding!

Mice, old and small, gathered at their hole. They have black eyes, small paws, sharp teeth, gray fur coats, ears sticking up, tails drag along the ground.

Mice, underground thieves, have gathered, they are thinking, they are holding advice: “How can we, the mice, get the cracker into the hole?”

Oh, watch out, mice! Your friend Vasya is not far away. He loves you very much, he will kiss you with his paw; He will rip your tails and tear your fur coats.

In one pretty Little Russian village there were so many gardens that the whole place seemed like one big garden. The trees were blooming and fragrant in the spring, and in the dense greenery of their branches many birds fluttered, filling the surrounding area with ringing songs and cheerful chirping; in the fall, many pink apples, yellow pears and blue-purple plums were already appearing between the leaves.

But several evil boys gathered in a crowd and destroyed the birds' nests. The poor birds left the gardens and never returned to them.

Autumn and winter have passed, a new spring has come; but in the gardens it was quiet and sad. The harmful caterpillars, which birds had previously exterminated by the thousands, now bred unhindered and devoured not only flowers but also leaves on the trees: and now the naked trees in the middle of summer looked sad, as if in winter.

Autumn came, but there were no pink apples, yellow pears, or purple plums in the gardens; the cheerful birds did not flutter on the branches; the village was not filled with their sonorous songs.

Cuckoo

The gray cuckoo is a homeless sloth: it doesn’t build a nest, it lays its eggs in other people’s nests, it gives its cuckoo chicks to be raised, and it even laughs and boasts to its hubby: “Hee-hee-hee! Ha ha ha! Look, hubby, how I laid an egg for the joy of the oatmeal.”

Konstantin Dmitrievich Ushinsky (1824 - 1870) - Russian teacher, founder of scientific pedagogy in Russia. He is a literary figure, a talented writer, the author of many pedagogical and literary-artistic works: poems, stories, fables, essays, reviews, critical and bibliographic publications. Ushinsky collaborated in many magazines, including Sovremennik, the most progressive magazine of that time.
Excellent knowledge of the state of the theory of education and the practical work of the school, a deep analysis of the history of the development of views on the goals and objectives of education, a broad orientation in the achievements of contemporary scientific thought (in various fields of knowledge) allowed him to create numerous works that meet the most pressing needs of the Russian school, and put forward a number of scientific provisions of lasting value. His works, especially his educational books “Children’s World” and “Native Word”, were extremely popular
Genre and theme of literary works by K.D. Ushinsky are diverse and diverse. Particularly prominent among them are works of fiction for children, which are interesting and informative for beginning readers. Articles are written in clear, simple language, introducing children to natural science, nature, and everyday life issues.

GEESE AND CRANES

Geese and cranes grazed together in the meadow. Hunters appeared in the distance. The light cranes took off and flew away, but the heavy geese remained and were killed.

IT'S NOT WELL CUT, BUT IT'S STRICTLY SEWED

The white, sleek bunny said to the hedgehog:
- What an ugly, scratchy dress you have, brother!
“True,” answered the hedgehog, “but my thorns save me from the teeth of the dog and the wolf; does your pretty skin serve you the same way?
Instead of answering, the bunny just sighed.

CUCKOO

The gray cuckoo is a homeless sloth: it doesn’t build nests, it lays eggs in other people’s nests, it gives its cuckoo chicks to be raised, and it also laughs and boasts to its hubby: - ​​- Hee-hee-hee! Ha ha ha! Look, hubby, how I laid an egg for the joy of the oatmeal.
And the tailed hubby, sitting on a birch tree, his tail unfurled, his wings lowered, his neck stretched out, swaying from side to side, calculating the years, counting out stupid people.

WOODPECKER

Knock-Knock! In a deep forest, a black woodpecker is carpentering on a pine tree. It clings with its paws, rests its tail, taps its nose, and scares away ants and boogers from behind the bark; He will run around the trunk, not overlook anyone.
The goosebumps were frightened: “These arrangements are not good!” They squirm in fear, hide behind the bark - they don’t want to go out.


- These rules are not good! They squirm in fear, hide behind the bark - they don’t want to go out.

Knock-Knock! The black woodpecker knocks with its nose, chisels the bark, and sticks its long tongue into holes; drags ants around like a fish.

MARTIN

The killer whale swallow did not know peace, it flew all day long, carried straws, sculpted with clay, made a nest. She made a nest for herself: she carried testicles. I applied it to the testicles: it doesn’t come off the testicles, it’s waiting for the kids. I hatched the babies: the babies squeaked and wanted to eat.

The killer whale flies all day long, knows no peace: catches midges, feeds the crumbs. The inevitable time will come, the babies will fledge, they will all fly apart, beyond the blue seas, beyond the dark forests, beyond the high mountains.

The killer whale swallow does not know peace: day after day it keeps on the prowl, looking for cute children.

EAGLE

The blue-winged eagle is the king of all birds. He makes nests on rocks and on old oak trees; flies high, sees far, does not blink at the sun. The eagle has a sickle nose, hooked claws; the wings are long; bulging chest - well done. An eagle flies through the clouds, looking for prey from above. He will fly at a pintail duck, a red-footed goose, a deceiver cuckoo - only feathers will fall...

FOX PATRIKEVNA

The gossamer fox has sharp teeth and a thin snout; ears on the top of the head, a tail on the fly, a warm fur coat.
The godfather is well dressed: the fur is fluffy and golden; there is a vest on the chest, and a white tie on the neck.
The fox walks quietly, bends down to the ground as if bowing; wears his fluffy tail carefully; looks affectionately, smiles, shows white teeth.
She digs holes, clever, deep: there are many entrances and exits, there are storage rooms, there are also bedrooms; The floors are lined with soft grass.
If only a little fox would be nice to everyone, the mistress... but the fox is a robber, a fasting woman: she loves chickens, she loves ducks, she will wring the neck of a fat goose, she will not have mercy on even a rabbit.

BUNNY'S COMPLAINTS

The gray bunny stretched out and began to cry, sitting under a bush; cries and says: “There is no worse fate in the world than mine, little gray bunny!” And who doesn’t sharpen their teeth on me? Hunters, dogs, wolf, fox and bird of prey; crooked hawk, goggle-eyed owl; even the stupid crow drags my cute little gray bunnies with her crooked paws...
Trouble threatens me from everywhere; but I have nothing to defend myself with: I can’t climb a tree like a squirrel; I don’t know how to dig holes like a rabbit. True, my teeth regularly gnaw cabbage and gnaw the bark, but I don’t have the courage to bite...
I’m a master at running and I can jump pretty well; but it’s good if you have to run across a flat field or up a mountain, but downhill -
- then you will go somersault over your head: the front legs are not mature enough.
It would still be possible to live in the world if it were not for worthless cowardice. If you hear a rustling, your ears will perk up, your heart will beat, you won’t see the light, you’ll jump out of the bush, and you’ll end up right in the snare or at the hunter’s feet... Oh, I feel bad, the little gray bunny! You are cunning, you hide in the bushes, you wander around the bushes, you confuse your tracks; and sooner or later trouble is inevitable: and the cook will drag me into the kitchen by my long ears...
My only consolation is that the tail is short: there is nothing for the dog to grab. If I had a tail like a fox's, where would I go with it? Then, it seems, he would have gone and drowned himself.

SCIENTIST BEAR

- Children! Children! - the nanny shouted. - Go see the bear. The children ran out onto the porch, and a lot of people had already gathered there. A Nizhny Novgorod man, with a large stake in his hands, is holding a bear on a chain, and the boy is preparing to beat a drum.
“Come on, Misha,” says the Nizhny Novgorod resident, tugging the bear with a chain, “get up, rise, shift from side to side, bow to the honest gentlemen and show yourself to the pullets.”
The bear roared, reluctantly rose to its hind legs, waddled from foot to foot, bowed to the right, to the left.
“Come on, Mishenka,” continues the Nizhny Novgorod resident, “show how little kids steal peas: where it’s dry - on the belly, and where it’s wet - on the knees.”
And Mishka crawled: he fell on his belly and raked it with his paw, as if he were pulling a pea.
“Come on, Mishenka, show me how women go to work.”

The bear is coming, not coming; looks back, scratches behind his ear with his paw. Several times the bear showed annoyance, roared, and did not want to get up; but the iron ring of the chain, threaded through the lip, and the stake in the hands of the owner forced the poor beast to obey.
When the bear had remade all his things, the Nizhny Novgorod resident said:
- Come on, Misha, now shift from foot to foot, bow to the honest gentlemen, but don’t be lazy - but bow lower! Sweat the gentlemen and grab your hat: if they put down the bread, eat it, but return the money to me.
And the bear, with a hat in its front paws, went around the audience. The children put in a ten-kopeck piece; but they felt sorry for poor Misha: blood was oozing from the lip threaded through the ring...

EAGLE AND CROW

Once upon a time there lived a crow in Rus' - with nannies, with mothers, with small children, with close neighbors. Geese and swans flew in from distant countries and laid eggs; and the crow began to offend them and began to steal their testicles.
An owl happened to fly by, and he saw that the crow was offending the birds, so he flew and said to the eagle: “Father, gray eagle!” Give us righteous judgment against the thief crow.

The gray eagle sent a light messenger, a sparrow, for the crow. The sparrow flew and captured the crow; She tried to resist, but he kicked her and dragged her towards the eagle.
So the eagle began to judge the crow:
- Oh, you thief crow, stupid head! They say about you that you open your mouth at other people's goods: you steal eggs from big birds.
This is all a blind owl, an old brat, who lied about me.
“They say about you,” says the eagle, “that a man will come out to sow, and you will jump out with all your sodom - and well, rake up its seeds.”
- It's a lie, father, gray eagle, it's a lie!
- And they also say: the women will start laying sheaves, and you will jump out with all your sodomy - and well, stir up the sheaves.
- It's a lie, father, gray eagle, it's a lie!
The eagle condemned the crow to be imprisoned.

FOX AND GOAT

A fox ran, gaped at the crow, and ended up in a well. There was not much water in the well: you couldn’t drown, and you couldn’t jump out either. The fox sits and grieves.
There comes a goat, a smart head; walks, shakes his beard, shakes his faces; With nothing to do, he looked into the well, saw a fox there and asked:
- What are you doing there, little fox?
“I’m resting, my dear,” the fox answers. “It’s hot up there, so I climbed up here.” It's so cool and nice here! Cold water - as much as you want.
But the goat has been thirsty for a long time.
- Is the water good? - asks the goat.
- Excellent! - the fox answers. - Clean, cold! Jump here if you want; There will be a place for both of us here.
The goat foolishly jumped, almost ran over the fox, and she said to him:
- Eh, bearded fool! And he didn’t know how to jump - he splashed all over.
The fox jumped onto the goat's back, from the back onto the horns, and out of the well. The goat almost disappeared from hunger in the well; They found him by force and dragged him out by the horns.

ROOSTER AND DOG

There lived an old man and an old woman, and they lived in great poverty. The only bellies they had were a rooster and a dog, and they fed them poorly. So the dog says to the rooster:
- Come on, brother Petka, let’s go into the forest: life here is bad for us.
“Let’s leave,” says the rooster, “it won’t get any worse.”
So they went wherever they looked. We wandered around all day; It was getting dark - it was time to stop for the night. They left the road into the forest and chose a large hollow tree. The rooster flew up onto a branch, the dog climbed into the hollow and fell asleep.
In the morning, just as dawn began to break, the rooster cried: “Ku-ku-re-ku!” The fox heard the rooster; She wanted to eat rooster meat. So she went up to the tree and began praising the rooster:
- What a rooster! I have never seen such a bird: what beautiful feathers, what a red comb, and what a clear voice! Fly to me, handsome.
- What business? - asks the rooster.
- Let's go visit me: I have a housewarming party today, and I have a lot of peas in store for you.
“Okay,” says the rooster, “but I can’t go alone: ​​I have a comrade with me.” “What luck has arrived!” thought the fox. “Instead of one rooster there will be two.”
- Where is your comrade? - she asks the rooster. - I’ll invite him to visit too.
“He spends the night there in the hollow,” answers the rooster.
The fox rushed into the hollow, and the dog grabbed its muzzle - tsap!.. Caught and tore the fox to pieces.

FOUR WISHES.

Mitya went sledding down the icy mountain and skating on the frozen
river, ran home rosy, cheerful and said to his father:
- How fun it is in winter! I wish it were all winter.
“Write your wish in my pocket book,” said the father.
Mitya wrote it down.
Spring came. Mitya ran to his heart's content for colorful butterflies in the green
meadow, picked flowers, ran to his father and said:
- What a beauty this spring is! I wish it were still spring.
The father again took out the book and ordered Mitya to write down his wish.
Summer has come. Mitya and his father went to haymaking. All long day
the boy was having fun: he fished, picked berries, tumbled in the fragrant hay, and
in the evening he told his father:
- I had a lot of fun today! I wish the summer never ends
was.
And this desire of Mitya was written down in the same book.
Autumn has come. Fruits were collected in the garden - ruddy apples and yellow pears.
Mitya was delighted and said to his father:
— Autumn is the best time of the year!
Then the father took out his notebook and showed the boy that he was the same
he said the same thing about spring, and about winter, and about summer.

HOW A SHIRT GREW IN A FIELD

Tanya saw how her father scattered small
shiny grains, and asks:
- What are you doing, daddy?
- But I’m sowing flax, daughter; a shirt will grow for you and Vasyutka.
Tanya thought: she had never seen shirts growing in a field.
After two weeks the strip was covered with green silky grass and
Tanya thought: “It would be nice if I had a shirt like that.”
Once or twice Tanya’s mother and sisters came to weed the strip and every time
told the girl:
- You will have a nice shirt!
Several more weeks passed: the grass on the strip rose, and on it
blue flowers appeared.
“Brother Vasya has such eyes,” Tanya thought, “but I don’t have shirts like that.”
I haven’t seen it on anyone.”
When the flowers fell, green heads appeared in their place. When
the heads turned brown and dried out, Tanya’s mother and sisters pulled out all the flax from
roots, tied sheaves and put them on the field to dry.

When the flax dried out, they began to cut off its heads, and then drowned it
There were headless bunches in the river and they piled a stone on top so that they wouldn’t float up.
Tanya watched sadly as her shirt was drowned; and the sisters are here for her again
said:
- You have a nice shirt, Tanya.
About two weeks later they took the flax out of the river, dried it and began to beat it,
first with a board on the threshing floor, then with a ruffle in the yard, so that from the poor flax
The fire was flying in all directions. Having become frayed, they began to scratch the flax with an iron
comb until it becomes soft and silky.
“You’ll have a nice shirt,” the sisters said to Tanya again. But Tanya
thought:
“Where is the shirt here? It looks like Vasya’s hairs, not a shirt.”

The long winter evenings have arrived. Tanya's sisters put flax on combs and steel
spin threads from it.
“These are threads,” Tanya thinks, “but where is the shirt?”
Winter, spring and summer have passed, autumn has come. My father installed a roof in the hut,
I pulled the warp over them and began to weave. The shuttle ran nimbly between the threads,
and then Tanya herself saw that canvas was coming out of the threads.
When the canvas was ready, they began to freeze it in the cold, on the snow
spread it out, and in the spring they spread it on the grass, in the sun, and sprinkled it
water. The canvas turned from gray to white, like boiling water.
Winter has come again. The mother cut shirts from canvas; the sisters began
sew shirts and for Christmas they put new ones on Tanya and Vasya, white as snow
shirts.

CRAFT CAT

Once upon a time there lived a cat, a goat and a ram in the same yard. They lived together: a tuft of hay and that in half; and if a pitchfork hits the side, it will hit Vaska the cat alone. He is such a thief and robber: where anything bad lies, he looks there.
Once upon a time there comes a purring little cat, a gray forehead, walking and crying so pitifully. They ask the cat, goat and ram:
- Kitty, little gray pubis! Why are you crying, jumping on three legs? Vasya answers them:
- How can I not cry! The woman beat me and beat me; She tore out my ears, broke my legs, and even had a stranglehold on me.
- Why did such trouble come to you? - the goat and the ram ask.
- Eh-eh! For accidentally licking the sour cream.
“The thief deserves the flour,” says the goat, “don’t steal the sour cream!”
And the cat cries again:
- The woman beat me, beat me; she beat me and said: my son-in-law will come to me, where will I get sour cream? Inevitably, you will have to slaughter a goat or a ram. Here a goat and a ram roared:
- Oh, you gray cat, your stupid forehead! Why did you ruin us?
They began to judge and decide how they could get rid of the great misfortune, and they decided right there: all three of them should run away. They waited until the landlady did not close the gate, and left.

The cat, the goat and the ram ran for a long time through the valleys, over the mountains, over the shifting sands; got tired and decided to spend the night in a mown meadow; and in that meadow there are stacks like cities.
The night was dark and cold: where could I get fire? And the purring cat had already taken out birch bark, wrapped the horns of the goat and ordered him and the ram to knock their foreheads. A goat and a ram bumped into each other, sparks flew from their eyes: the birch bark burst into flames.
“Okay,” said the gray cat, “now let’s warm up!” - and without thinking for long, he lit a whole haystack on fire.
Before they had time to warm up enough, an uninvited guest came to them - a gray peasant, Mikhailo Potapych Toptygin.
“Let me in,” he says, “brothers, to warm up and rest; I can't do something.
- Welcome, gray little man! - says the cat. - Where are you going from?
“I went to the beekeeping,” says the bear, “to check on the bees, I got into a fight with the men, and that’s why I pretended to be ill.”

So they all began to while away the night together: the goat and the ram were by the fire, the little purr climbed onto the stack, and the bear hid under the stack. The bear fell asleep; the goat and the ram are dozing; Only the purr does not sleep and sees everything.
And he sees: seven gray wolves are coming, and one is white. And straight to the fire.
- Fu-fu! What kind of people are these! - says the white wolf to the goat and the ram. - Let's try the force. Here a goat and a ram bleated out of fear; and the cat, the gray forehead, made the following speech:
- Oh, you, white wolf, prince of wolves! Don't anger our elder: God have mercy, he is angry! How it diverges is bad for anyone. Al you don’t see his beard: that’s where all the strength lies; He kills all the animals with his beard, and only removes the skin with his horns. Better come and ask with honor: we want to play with your little brother who sleeps under the haystack.
The wolves on that goat bowed; They surrounded Misha and started flirting. So Misha steadied himself and steadied himself, and as soon as there was enough for each paw of the wolf, they sang Lazarus. The wolves crawled out from under the stack barely alive and, with their tails between their legs, “God bless your legs!”
The goat and the ram, while the bear was dealing with the wolves, picked up the purr on their back and quickly went home:
“They say, stop wandering around without a way, we won’t get into such trouble.”
And the old man and the old woman were very happy that the goat and ram returned home; and the purring cat was torn out for cheating.

// February 5, 2009 // Views: 59,174

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