Willow feast who is as clumsy as a bear. “Lesson summary on literary reading on the topic N
TESTING THE READER'S ABILITY TO WORK WITH THE TEXT OF A WORK OF ART
Class
Playing dogs
Volodya stood at the window and looked out onto the street, where the yard dog Polkan was basking in the sun.
A little Pug ran up to Polkan and began to rush at him and bark: he grabbed his huge paws and muzzle with his teeth and seemed to be very annoying to the large and gloomy dog.
Wait a minute, he’ll give you a lesson,” said Volodya, “he’ll teach you a lesson.”
But Mops did not stop playing, and Polkan looked at him very favorably.
You see,” Volodya’s father said, “Polkan is kinder than you.” When your little brothers and sisters start playing with you, it will certainly end with you beating them. Polkan knows that it is a shame for the big and strong to offend the small and weak.
(K. Ushinsky)
Read the text “Playing Dogs” by K. Ushinsky. Complete the tasks. Mark the statements that correspond to the content of the text read.
1. At what time of day could the events described in the text take place?
a) morning b) afternoon c) evening d) night.
2. Write out the word from the text that determined your choice of time of day.______
3. Find the word favorably in the text. Mark the word that is closest in meaning:
a) kindly b) sternly; c) fun.
4. Using numbers, reconstruct the sequence of actions of the little Pug:
A) grabbed the paws and muzzle with his teeth; b) ran up; c) bored; d) began to rush and bark.
5. Find in the text and write down a word that characterizes Pug’s actions in relation to Polkan.___________________
6. Mark the sentence that expresses main idea text:
F) whoever is respected is listened to, b) A good example is better than a hundred words, c) It is a shame for the big and strong to offend the small and weak.
7. Think about what genre this text belongs to.
a) fairy tale b) fable c) story
Wonderful houses
It turns out that the entire forest from top to bottom is now occupied for housing. There was no free place left anywhere. They live on the ground, underground, on the water, under water, in trees, in the grass and in the air.
In the air is the oriole's house. High above the ground, she hung a light basket woven from hemp, stems, hairs and hairs from a birch branch. There are oriole eggs in the basket. It's amazing how they don't fight when the wind sways the branch.
The grass is home to larks, tree pipits, buntings and many other birds. The willow warbler makes a hut of dry grass and moss, with a roof, entrance on the side.
In trees - in hollows - are the homes of the flying squirrel (a squirrel with membranes between its paws), wood-boring beetles and bark beetles, woodpeckers, tits, starlings, owls and other birds.
Under the ground there are homes for moles, mice, badgers, shore swallows, kingfishers and various insects.
The great grebe, a water bird from the loons, has a floating nest on the water. It is made from a heap of marsh grass, reeds and mud. The great grebe rides on it around the lake, like on a raft.
Caddis flies and silverback water spiders have built their homes underwater . V.V. Bianchi (199 words)
1. Note the seasons during which the entire forest from top to bottom is occupied by housing.
a) Winter; b) spring; into the summer; d) autumn.
2.Where are the residents located? Underline your answer in the text with a straight line.
3.Which bird has a nest hanging in the air? Answer briefly.
______________________________
4.What is the technology for making an oriole nest? Mark the required option.
a) Blinded; b) dug up;
c) hollowed out; d) intertwined.
5. From the branches of which trees does the oriole often hang its nest? Answer briefly. _________________
6.Fill out the table. Which birds have nests in the grass?
7.What is a willow warbler's nest? Underline your answer in the text with a dotted line.
8.Fill out the table. Whose nests are built in the hollows of trees?
9.Fill out the table. Whose houses are underground?
11. Match the names of the birds with the names of their houses.
12.Which birds’ nests can be in motion? Insert the names of the birds.
a) Basket___________________________
swinging on a branch under the influence of the wind.
b) The nest_________________ floats on the surface of the lake.
13. Mark true statements (2).
a) Serebryanka – spider;
b) flying squirrel - bird;
c) caddisfly - insect;
d) kingfisher – spider
The willow blossomed - guests from all sides. The bushes and trees are still bare, gray - the willow among them is like a bouquet, and not just a simple one, but a golden one. Each new “lamb” is a downy yellow chick: it sits and glows. If you touch it with your finger, your finger will turn yellow. If you click, golden smoke will evaporate. Smell it - honey. The guests are rushing to the feast.
The bumblebee arrived - clumsy, shaggy, like a bear. He became agitated, tossed and turned, and became covered in pollen.
The ants came running: lean, fast, hungry. They pounced on the pollen, and their bellies swelled up like barrels. Just look, the rims on their bellies will burst.
The mosquitoes arrived: their legs were a handful, their wings were flickering. Tiny helicopters. Some bugs are crawling around. The flies are buzzing.
Butterflies spread their wings.
A hornet on mica wings is striped, angry and hungry, like a tiger. Everyone is buzzing and in a hurry: the willow will turn green - the feast will end. It will turn green and get lost among the green bushes. Go find her then! And now she’s like a golden bouquet. And he calls everyone to a willow feast.
N.I. Sladkov (136 words)
Read the text “The Willow Feast” by N.I. Sladkova. Mark the statements that correspond to the content of the text read.
1.At what time of year do the events described in the text take place?
a) In winter; b) in spring; c) in summer; d) in the fall.
2.What kind of guests does willow attract?
a) Bumblebees, ants; b) mosquitoes, beetles; c) dragonflies, wasps;
d) flies, butterflies; d) hornets.
4.What is the significance of N.I. Sladkov in the word lambs?
a) Flower catkins of willow plants;
b) small Cumulus clouds;
c) diminutive for the word ram;
d) white foam on the crests of the waves.
6.What do insects eat on willow?
8.Why are insects in a hurry to enjoy the feast?
The willow will turn green:
a) the wild flowering will end;
b) gets lost among the lush bushes;
c) other insects will push these guests away;
d) frosts will come and the “lambs” will fall off.
9. Identify the insects that the figurative expressions inscribed in the table refer to.
10.Insert the missing words into the sentences that usually end fairy tales.
A) And they rolled___________
to the whole world.
b) I was on that_________
I drank honey and beer, it flowed down my mustache, but it didn’t get into my mouth.
11. Decide in which collection you will place this text.
a) Explanatory dictionary;
b) encyclopedia;
c) fairy tales;
d) stories about nature.
Hyena and turtle
One day there was a fire in the forest: dry grass caught fire. All the animals got scared and started running, but how could a turtle with its short legs get away from the fire?
The fire is getting closer and closer to it, it is about to overtake it - and the poor turtle will burn. A hyena ran past. The turtle asks her:
Have pity on me, friend, take me out of the fire!
And the fire is getting closer.
A turtle looks and a leopard runs. The turtle comes to him and asks him to save her. The leopard took the turtle and put it on the very tall tree, and when the fire passed, he returned, took him off the tree and lowered him to the ground.
“Let me thank you for your kindness,” the turtle told him.
She collected the ashes from the burnt grass, diluted it with water and approached the leopard.
You have a kind heart, that’s why you should wear beautiful clothes.
She painted his skin with black patterns, and from then on the leopard became so beautiful.
When the hyena met him, she asked in surprise:
Buddy, where did you get such a beautiful suit?
The leopard answered:
This is my friend, the turtle, who gave it to me.
The hyena ran to the turtle and asked him to make her the same costume as the leopard.
“You have an evil heart,” the turtle told her, “that’s why your clothes will be completely different.”
And with ashes she drew black, ugly stripes on the hyena’s skin.
Municipal budget educational institution city of Mtsensk
"Average comprehensive school No. 7"
ABSTRACT
literary reading lesson
Subject: N. Sladkov “Willow Feast”
Goal: to improve reading skills, the ability to work with text, to continue acquaintance with the work of N. Sladkov;
Develop students' speech and imagination, replenish lexicon. Expand children's knowledge about the nature of our Motherland.
To instill a love for works about animals, to cultivate a sense of kindness and careful attitude to nature.
Equipment: textbook, paints, palette, portrait of N. Sladkov, image of a blooming willow, message about Sladkov, instructions for compiling a syncwine.
During the classes.
Org moment. Psychological mood.
Let’s read the title of the section in unison, placing logical emphasis on the first and third words.
Spring is coming, make way for spring! (message)
-Select the second and fourth (we tell you how it happens)
Spring is coming, make way for spring!
Take paints and try to express in color with strokes on your palettes: What spring!
Conclusion: Why did you end up with a different palette of colors? You expressed your feelings for one time of year?
I wanted that throughout the lesson, the whole diverse palette of your feelings and emotions would help you discover something new in N. Sladkov’s work about spring.
Working with the text before reading.
-Assumption of content based on the author's last name. What is he writing about?
On the board: Willow Feast. How do we put the emphasis? Let us clarify the meaning of the word feast.
-Let's try to guess and anticipate the content of the text based on the title.
-Open the textbook on page 164 and do a speech warm-up using key words. Let's supplement our assumptions about the content of the group keywords and illustrations.
Generalized.
- Now we will read the text and check and clarify our initial assumptions about the content of Sladkov’s work “WILLOW Feast”
Working with text while reading – thoughtful reading.
-Primary reading of the text is “combined”.
(Genre of the work, events take place around a willow tree, guests are insects)
-On whose behalf is the story being told?
-Question No. 4 p. 166 (card with 3 questions)
(describes, draws, pictures and discusses)
-What was your mood and feeling after reading this story?
-Now, rereading the work, we will try to understand what words created this mood. How Sladkov paints verbal pictures in his own way spring nature using magic paint words.
-What are their names? (comparisons, personifications)
Work “in pairs”: divide the text into parts and give titles.
Part 1 “The willow has bloomed - guests from all sides”
Find and read the description of willow and willow flowers. What does the author compare them to?
Pollen?
Part 2 “The guests are rushing to the feast”
We will find other comparisons in this text. How are the objects being compared similar?
Work on reading expressiveness.
Why are all the guests in such a hurry to enjoy the pollen? This answer is in part 3.
Part 3 “The feast ends here.”
-What will happen. When will the willow bloom?
-Explain the title of the work?
Sladkov describes the period of spring, followed by a riot of greenery.
For him, spring is a feast.
Working with the text after reading. Achieving understanding at the level of meaning.
Problematic question: Why did the author write this work? For whom?
-Let’s try to understand the author’s intention “hidden between the lines.”
Message about the writer (several students).
Sladkov wrote: “Nature has excited and attracted me all my life. Her beauty, secrets, charm, amazing harmony and coherence, inexhaustible knowledge amazed the imagination and attracted the heart. That's why all my books are about her.
No one deliberately introduced me to nature, no one “accustomed” me or “opened my eyes.” I was born a ready-made fan of hers.
He often takes up the pen not only out of a desire to acquaint the reader with little-known phenomena in nature. He wants to show that life in all its forms is the most amazing phenomenon. That it must be protected and respected.
“To take care of the earth, nature, you need to love it; to love it, you need to know it. Once you find out, it’s impossible not to love. He believes this is the meaning of the work.
Sladkov’s books are not so much educational as they show the aesthetic impact of nature on the human soul.
There are simply sciences - geography, zoology - Nikolai Ivanovich creates his own poetic geography, poetic zoology. Animals for him are living beings, very close to humans, generated by a common mother - nature. Close attention to our smaller brothers is the basis of his work. But most importantly actor in the works of N. Sladkov, man: his feelings, his thoughts, his actions.
The problematic question is repeated.
Student answers.
Bottom line.
In the section “Spring is coming, make way for spring!” We, reading the works of different authors, saw that this time of year is different for the authors. For A. Chekhov, spring is happiness, K. Paustovsky’s spring is joy, N. Gogol’s spring is festivities, A. Pleshcheev’s spring is renewal, celebration. Is it spring for N. Sladkov?
Compiling a syncwine on the theme “SPRING” based on the work of N. Sladkov “The Willow Feast”.
Spring.
Golden, honey.
Scurrying, buzzing and in a hurry.
The willow will bloom and the fun will end.
Feast.
D/z – Compose a syncwine on the topic “Spring”, based on your feelings.
- Draw a picture that reflects the entire content of the text.
- Retelling according to the drawn up plan.
Reflection.
On back side palette shows a flower with three petals. Color it in three colors that reflect how you feel after the lesson.
Read for free online
The willow blossomed - guests from all sides. The bushes and trees are still bare and gray; the willow among them is like a bouquet, and not simple, but golden. Each new lamb is a downy yellow chick: sitting and glowing. If you touch it with your finger, your finger will turn yellow. If you click, golden smoke will steam away. Smell it - honey.
The guests are rushing to the feast.
The bumblebee arrived - clumsy, shaggy, like a bear. He became agitated, tossed and turned, and became covered in pollen.
The ants came running: lean, fast, hungry. They pounced on the pollen, and their bellies swelled up like barrels. Just look, the rims on their bellies will burst.
The mosquitoes arrived: their legs were a handful, their wings were flickering. Tiny helicopters.
Some bugs are crawling around.
The flies are buzzing.
Butterflies spread their wings.
The hornet on mica wings is striped, angry and hungry, like a tiger.
Everyone is buzzing and in a hurry: the willow will turn green - the feast is over.
It will turn green and get lost among the green bushes. Go find her then!
And now - like a golden bouquet.
The willow blossomed - guests from all sides. The bushes and trees around are still bare and gray. Willow among them is like a bouquet, but not simple, but golden. Each willow lamb is like a downy yellow chicken: it sits and glows. If you touch it with your finger, your finger will turn yellow. If you click, golden smoke will steam away. Smell it - honey!
The guests are rushing to the feast.
The bumblebee arrived: clumsy, fat, shaggy, like a bear. He became agitated, tossed and turned, and became covered in pollen.
The ants came running: lean, fast, hungry. They pounced on the pollen, and their bellies swelled up like barrels. Just look, the rims on their bellies will burst.
The mosquitoes have arrived: their legs are folded into a handful, their wings are flickering. Tiny helicopters.
Some bugs are crawling around.
The flies are buzzing.
Butterflies spread their wings.
A hornet on mica wings, striped and angry, like a tiger.
Everyone is buzzing and in a hurry.
And I was there, smelling honey lambs.
The willow will bloom, turn green, and get lost among the other green bushes. This is where the feast ends.
Nikolay Sladkov “The Bear and the Sun”
Water seeped into the den and wet the bear’s pants.
- May you, slush, dry out completely! - the Bear cursed. - Here I am now.
- It’s not me, Bear, it’s my fault. Snow is to blame for everything. Started to melt. He let the water in. But my business is watery - it flows downhill.
- Oh, so it’s Snow’s fault? Here I am now! - the Bear roared.
Snow turned white and got scared. He creaked in fear:
— It’s not my fault, Bear. The sun is to blame. It’s so hot, it’s so scorching - you’ll melt here!
- Oh, so it was the Sun that wet my pants! - the Bear barked. - Here I am now!
What now"? You can’t grab the sun with your teeth or reach it with your paw.
Shines to himself. The snow melts and drives water into the den. The bear wets his pants.
There is nothing to do - the Bear left the den. He grumbled and grumbled and squinted. Dry your pants. Celebrate spring.
Nikolay Sladkov “The Squirrel and the Bear”
- Hey, Bear! What are you doing at night?
- Me? Yes, I eat.
- What about during the day?
- And I eat during the day.
- And in the morning?
- I eat too.
- Well, what about in the evening?
- And I eat in the evening.
- When do you not eat?
- Yes, when I’m full.
- When are you full?
- But never...
Georgy Skrebitsky “Forest Voice”
Sunny day at the very beginning of summer.
I am wandering not far from my house in a birch forest. Everything around seems to be bathing, splashing in golden waves of warmth and light. Birch branches flow above me. The leaves on them seem either emerald green or completely golden. And below, under the birches, light bluish shadows also run and flow across the grass, like waves. And the light bunnies, like reflections of the sun in the water, run one after another along the grass, along the path.
The sun is both in the sky and on the ground... And this makes it feel so good, so fun that you want to run away somewhere into the distance, to where the trunks of young birch trees sparkle with their dazzling whiteness.
And suddenly from this sunny distance I heard a familiar forest voice: “Kuk-ku, kuk-ku!”
Cuckoo! I've heard it many times before, but I've never seen it before, not even in a picture. What is she like? For some reason she seemed plump and big-headed to me, like an owl. But maybe she's not like that at all? I'll run and have a look.
Alas, it turned out to be far from easy. I listen to her voice. And she will fall silent, and here again: “Kuk-ku, kuk-ku,” but in a completely different place.
How can you see her? I stopped in thought. Or maybe she's playing hide and seek with me? She's hiding, and I'm looking. Let's play the other way around: now I'll hide, and you look.
I climbed into the hazel bush and also cuckooed once and twice. The cuckoo has fallen silent, maybe it’s looking for me? I sit in silence and even my heart is pounding with excitement. And suddenly, somewhere nearby: “Kuk-ku, kuk-ku!”
I am silent: better look, don’t shout to the whole forest.
And she’s already very close: “Kuk-ku, kuk-ku!”
I look: some kind of bird is flying across the clearing, its tail is long, it is gray, only its chest is covered in dark speckles. Probably a hawk. This one in our yard hunts sparrows. He flew up to a nearby tree, sat down on a branch, bent down and shouted: “Kuk-ku, kuk-ku!”
Cuckoo! That's it! This means that she does not look like an owl, but like a hawk.
I'll crow out of the bush in response to her! Out of fright, she almost fell out of the tree, immediately darted down from the branch, darted somewhere into the thicket of the forest, and that’s all I saw.
But I don’t need to see her anymore. So I figured it out forest riddle, and besides, for the first time he himself spoke to the bird in its native language.
So the clear forest voice of the cuckoo revealed to me the first secret of the forest. And since then, for half a century, I have been wandering in winter and summer along remote untrodden paths and discovering more and more secrets. And there is no end to these winding paths, and there is no end to the secrets of our native nature.
Mikhail Prishvin "Little Frog"
At midday the snow began to melt from the hot rays of the sun. Two days will pass, or three at most, and spring will begin to hum. At midday the sun is so steamy that all the snow around our house on wheels is covered with some kind of black dust. We thought they were burning coals somewhere. I brought my palm closer to this dirty snow, and suddenly - there were those coals! - on the gray snow it became White spot: These tiny jumping bugs scattered in different directions.
In the midday rays, for an hour or two, various spider bugs, fleas, and even mosquitoes come to life in the snow. It happened that the melt water penetrated deep into the snow and woke up a little pink frog sleeping on the ground under a snow blanket. He crawled up from under the snow, foolishly decided that real spring had begun, and went traveling. It is known where frogs travel: to a stream, to a swamp.
It happened that there was a good dusting that night, and the trail of the traveler could easily be made out. At first the trail was straight, paw by paw to the nearest swamp... Suddenly, for some reason, the trail went astray, further and further. Then the frog rushes back and forth, forward and back, the trail becomes like a tangled ball of thread.
What's happened? Why did the little frog suddenly abandon his direct path to the swamp and try to go back?
To unravel, to unravel this tangle, we move on and now we see: the frog itself, small, pink, lies with its lifeless paws spread out.
Now everything is clear. At night, the frost took the reins and began to whip up so much that the frog stopped, poked his head here and there and turned sharply towards the warm hole from which he sensed spring.
On this day, the frost pulled its reins even tighter, but we ourselves were warm, and we began to help spring.
We warmed the little frog with our hot breath for a long time - he still did not come to life. But we guessed: they poured warm water into a saucepan and lowered a pink body with splayed legs into it.
Tighten, pull tighter, frost, your reins - now you can’t cope with our spring anymore! No more than an hour passed when our little frog again sensed spring with his body and moved his paws. Soon he all came to life.
When thunder struck and frogs began to stir everywhere, we released our traveler into the very swamp where he wanted to get ahead of time, and told him as parting words:
- Live, little frog, but if you don’t know the ford, don’t poke your nose into the water.
Georgy Skrebitsky “Respite”
From the village to the nearest forest the road went through a wide field. You walk along it on a summer day - the sun is baking, it’s hot. There seems to be no end to this field.
But just halfway along the road, right next to the road, a spreading green birch grew.
Whoever walks from the forest to the village or back will definitely sit down and relax in the cool shade under an old tree.
And so it used to be wonderful: all around the field even shone from the sun, and under the thick birch trees it was fresh and cool. The green leaves rustle overhead, as if calling you to sit down and rest a little.
So they nicknamed this birch local residents"A break."
It will only warm up in early spring better sun, and Respite has already turned green, stands in the middle of a field, all elegantly strewn with sticky young leaves.
And in the fall, Respite became all yellow. The wind will blow and golden leaves will fly.
Whole flocks migratory birds sat down to rest on a birch tree.
And this has been the custom, year after year, for many years: whether a person walks from the forest to the village, or a bird flies from somewhere far away - for everyone, a birch tree in the middle of a field serves as a resting place.
But then one autumn the guys were returning home with a bundle of brushwood. They reached the birch tree and, as expected, sat down to rest.
It’s unpleasant all around in autumn: the field is empty, gray, the grain has been harvested from it long ago, only the dry stubble sticks out like a hard, prickly brush. And right next to the road, the potato beds turn dark. The tops on them turned black, the rains and winds beat them to the very ground.
The guys sat under the tree for a while, and then one of them suggested; “Let’s light a fire, warm ourselves up, and bake potatoes in the ashes.”
They broke dry sticks from brushwood and began to make a fire, but it did not burn: the wind blew out the fire.
- Wait! - one boy shouts. - Drag the branches to the birch tree. It’s like a stove right there at the very roots, the fire won’t blow out there.
That's how it was arranged.
Since then, the guys decided to build a fire between the birch roots and bake potatoes. And it was very convenient to light a fire: they would strip the bark from the same birch tree, it would burn hotly, and in an instant the fire would flare up.
All the bark was stripped off the tree. And between the roots they burned a large black hole - a real oven.
Winter came. The guys stopped going into the forest.
Everything around: fields and forests was covered with snow. In the middle white field Only the birch tree was visible. Its branches became icy and covered with frost. And when the sun rose in the morning, the birch tree seemed soft pink, as if painted with a thin brush on a blue background frosty sky. Only below, at the very roots, still there was a blackened charred hole. But now she was not very noticeable - the outside was lightly dusted with snow.
But now winter has passed. Streams began to flow. The field was full of thawed patches, everything around was blooming and turning green.
And only one Respite was not covered with green leaves this spring. She stood naked, darkened. The wind broke off its dry branches and left only hooked thick branches.
“Our birch tree has dried up, now there will be no respite,” they said in the village.
And then one day people with an ax and a saw arrived in a road and toppled dry wood and taken away for firewood.
All that was left of the Respite was a stump, and below it was a black, charred hole.
One day a forester was walking from the village to his lodge, and the guys with him also went into the forest to pick berries. We reached the middle of the field. It’s hot, but there’s nowhere to hide from the sun; there’s only one tree stump sticking out by the road.
The forester looked at him and waved his hand.
“Who,” he says, “has the conscience to ruin the respite?” They burned a hole right at the roots and tore off all the bark from the trunk...
The boys felt ashamed. That's what they did. They looked at each other and told the forester about everything. He shook his head.
“Well,” he says, “you can’t take back what happened, but now you need to correct your guilt.”
The guys were happy. But how can I fix it?
“That’s how it is,” said the old man. - Come to my lodge in the fall. We will dig up young bushes and birches and plant them all along the road.
That's what we decided. This was ten years ago.
And now the entire road from the forest is lined with trees and bushes. And in the middle of the path there is an old wide stump sticking out.
This is where everyone still sits down to rest. Some sit on a stump, and some sit just like that, on the ground, under the shadow of thick young birch trees. And this place is still called “Respite”.
Mikhail Prishvin “Floors of the Forest”
Birds and animals in the forest have their own floors: mice live in the roots - at the very bottom; various birds, like the nightingale, build their nests right on the ground; blackbirds even higher, on bushes; hollow birds - woodpeckers, titmice, owls - even higher; on different heights Predators live along the tree trunk and at the very top: hawks and eagles.
I once had the opportunity to observe in the forest that they, animals and birds, have floors that are not like our skyscrapers: with us you can always change with someone, with them each breed certainly lives in its own floor.
One day while hunting we came to a clearing with dead birch trees. It often happens that birch trees grow to a certain age and dry out. Another tree, having dried up, drops its bark to the ground, and therefore the uncovered wood soon rots and the whole tree falls; The birch bark does not fall, this resinous, white outside bark - birch bark - is an impenetrable case for the tree, and a dead tree stands for a long time as if it were alive.
Even when the tree rots and the wood turns into dust, heavy with moisture, in appearance White birch stands as if alive. But as soon as you give such a tree a good push, it suddenly breaks into heavy pieces and falls. Cutting down such trees is a very fun activity, but also dangerous: a piece of wood, if you don’t dodge it, can hit you hard on the head. But still, we hunters are not very afraid, and when we get to such birches, we begin to destroy them in front of each other.
So we came to a clearing with such birches and brought down a rather tall birch tree. As it fell, it broke into several pieces in the air, and in one of them there was a hollow with a chickadee’s nest. The little chicks were not injured when the tree fell; they only fell out of the hollow together with their nest. Naked chicks, covered with feathers, opened their wide red mouths and, mistaking us for parents, squeaked and asked us for a worm. We dug up the ground, found worms, gave them a snack; they ate, swallowed and squeaked again.
Very soon the parents arrived, chickadees with white plump cheeks and worms in their mouths, and sat down on nearby trees.
- Hello dear! - we told them. —- It was a disaster: we didn’t want this.
The chickadees could not answer us, but, most importantly, they could not understand what had happened, where the tree had gone, where their children had disappeared.
They were not at all afraid of us, they fluttered from branch to branch in great anxiety.
- Yes, here they are! — we showed them the nest on the ground. - Here they are, listen to how they squeak, how they call you!
The chickadees did not listen to anything, fussed, worried and did not want to go down and go beyond their floor.
“Or maybe,” we said to each other, “they are afraid of us.” Let's hide! - And they hid.
No! The chicks squealed, the parents squeaked, fluttered, but did not go down.
We guessed then that the birds, unlike ours in skyscrapers, cannot change floors: now it just seems to them that the entire floor with their chicks has disappeared.
“Oh-oh-oh,” said my companion, “what fools you are!”
It became pitiful and funny: so nice and with wings, but they don’t want to understand anything.
Then we took that large piece in which the nest was located, broke the top of a neighboring birch tree and placed our piece with the nest on it exactly at the same height as the destroyed floor. We didn't have to wait long in ambush: after a few minutes happy parents met our chicks.
DRUMMER
“Drummer” is a courageous, strong word!
And drumming is a man's job. A drummer woodpecker sounds about right.
A woodpecker beats a drum in the spring. A woodpecker's drum is a dry, sonorous twig. But even though it’s a knot, the roll on it turns out to be a real drum roll. There are no sticks either: he drums with his own nose.
It turns out great: drrrrrrr! - and an echo across the river.
I myself thought and read in books that only male woodpeckers drum on the drum.
He declares to everyone: “This is my hollow, I’m the boss here - get over it!” So I decided to take it off.
I heard the beat, saw the drummer and began to approach, hiding behind the trees. I approached, and the drum was thundering. It was a special drum: a drum to all drums! The knot was dry and loud, and the drummer was dashing. He leaned back, leaning on his tail, proudly examined the forest from above and, trembling, suddenly began to knock his nose on a twig with such speed that its head was seen as a blurry, indistinct speck. Put your ear to the tree - it will deafen you! What a great guy! Yes, the drum is a male instrument.
I aimed the photo gun and suddenly I saw up close not a drummer, but... a drummer! Not a woodpecker, but a woodpecker! On the back of her head she did not have a red stripe - the decoration of a male woodpecker.
Didn't see it, didn't hear it. And I would never believe anyone, but I see with my own eyes: a musician, not a musician!
I retreat with my back, trail after trail, from tree to tree, taking away my little discovery.
And the drum is thundering. Dashing drum! Even the echo responds across the river.
WILLOW Feast
The willow blossomed - guests from all sides. The bushes and trees are still bare and gray; the willow among them is like a bouquet, and not simple, but golden. Each new lamb is a downy yellow chick: it sits and glows. If you touch it with your finger, your finger will turn yellow. If you click, golden smoke will evaporate. Smell it - honey.
The guests are rushing to the feast.
The bumblebee arrived - clumsy, shaggy, like a bear. He became agitated, tossed and turned, and became covered in pollen.
The ants came running: lean, fast, hungry. They pounced on the pollen, and their bellies swelled up like barrels. Just look, the rims on their bellies will burst.
The mosquitoes arrived: their legs were a handful, their wings were flickering. Tiny helicopters.
Some bugs are crawling around.
The flies are buzzing.
Butterflies spread their wings.
The hornet on mica wings is striped, angry and hungry, like a tiger.
Everyone is buzzing and in a hurry: the willow will turn green - the feast will end.
It will turn green and get lost among the green bushes. Go find her then!
And now it’s like a golden bouquet.
FIVE GROSES
At dawn, a hazel grouse flew to the side of the grouse current and started his song: “Five-five, five-five, five grouse!”
I counted: six scythes on the lek! Five are on the side in the snow, and the sixth is sitting next to the hut on a gray hummock.
And the hazel grouse says: “Five-five, five-five, five grouse!”
Six! - I say.
"Five-five, five-five, five grouse!"
The neighbor - the sixth - heard, got scared and flew away.
"Five-five, five-five, five grouse!" - the hazel grouse whistles.
I'm silent. I see for myself that it’s five. The sixth one flew away.
But the hazel grouse doesn’t let up: “Five-five, five-five, five grouse!”
I'm not arguing! - I say. - Five is five!
"Five-five, five-five, five grouse!" - the hazel grouse whistles.
I see without you! - I barked. - Probably not blind!
How the white wings flutter, how they flutter - and not a single black grouse remains! And the hazel grouse flew away with them.
WHISPERING TRACES
In the light aspen and alder groves the snow has melted, the fallen leaves are drying in the sun, curling up into rolls, curling up into little balls, clenching into fists. The leaf is dry, but the ground underneath is wet. You go and press dry leaves into the damp ground with your boot.
Whether an elk passes or a person passes by, they will all leave traces and press a leaf into the ground. They will pass, become silent in the distance, and their traces will suddenly begin to whisper. Then the crushed sheet will straighten out and touch the neighboring one. The stem will dry out and straighten out. The ribbon of yellow grass will come undone. Or a bunch of lingonberries squeezed into an accordion will shake out.
The elk and the man left the forest a long time ago, somewhere they are already far, far away, and their traces are still whispering and whispering. Long long time…
EVERYONE WANTS TO SING
Toads sing, owls drone. The bumblebee hums in a bass voice. There’s nothing to say about birds! They sing from dawn to dusk.
The starling doesn't have enough of his own song, so he sings other people's songs. He sits on a birch tree, shiny and black, as if dipped in tar, spreading his wings as if he was conducting himself, and clicking his beak like a hairdresser with scissors.
Either it will whistle with its white brow, or it will scream with its whirligig, or it will quack like a duck. And a rooster, and a gander, and a lamb.
Oriole, warbler, magpie!
FOREST SCALLOP
No matter how dense the bush is, it is a forest comb. And the comb will not miss a single slob, he will certainly comb his hair. Whether it's a fox, a bear, a hare - he doesn't care: he combs, combs, smoothes everyone. From a hare - a white tuft, from a fox - a red bunch, from a bear - brown hairs.
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