Short stories about pets for preschoolers. A story about animals for children. Stories for children about animal life

What will help pass the gloomy autumn evenings? What will amuse the children on joyless and boring days? Of course, these are interesting stories about the antics of animals, carefully preserved by representatives of the older generation and discovered on the bookshelf in time. The variety of publications and authors will allow every parent to choose for their child the book that will arouse the interest of even the most indifferent reader. So, let's figure out what works should be read by kindergarteners and primary schoolchildren.

Childhood memories: stories about animal mischief

Short works written by famous Russian animal writers are still relevant. Books by such authors as V. Bianki, M. Prishvin, K. Paustovsky, K. Ushinsky, I. Akimushkin, B. Zhitkov are capable of having a beneficial effect on the young reader. Works about animals make children more attentive, sensitive and responsive.

These books, familiar from childhood modern parents, will definitely appeal to their sons and daughters, brought up on foreign animated series and computer programs.

The world of animals in the works of foreign authors

There are some books by foreign writers that need to be read in childhood. about the antics of animals. You can start with the fairy tales of the cat Purr by the famous French author Marcel Emme. The heroines of the book are two little girls who adore animals, as well as their friends - animals living on the farm. A warm welcome awaits all visitors here. Who hasn't visited the compassionate heroines of a fairy tale! And a peacock, and a wolf, and a panther! It's not always easy to convince parents, but thanks to the help of a quick-witted cat and a smart drake, Marinette and Delphine always find a way out of a difficult situation.

Another French animal writer is Daniel Pennac. The stories about the antics of animals by this author are interesting because the world of man and animals is inseparable in them. Children and animals are friends here. The hero of the story “The Eye of the Wolf,” a boy named Africa, plays the role of a mediator, reconciling the wild animal with the human world. And in the story about a homeless dog, “Dog Dog,” the beast influences a spoiled girl, gradually rehabilitating her. This book will appeal to those who love touching stories with meaning.

Little children will not be left indifferent funny stories Canadian author Ernest Seton-Thompson, who is considered the founder of the literary movement about animals. One of the most famous works of this writer is the book “Johnny Bear,” in which the author describes the behavior of animals living in the Yellowstone Nature Reserve.

The best stories about animal pranks for 3rd grade

In the mandatory program for junior schoolchildren works about the relationship between children and animals are also included. Parents of future third-graders should pay attention to books by such authors as Yuri Koval, Mikhail Prishvin and Vitaly Bianchi.

Mikhail Prishvin offers young readers a very interesting story about the antics of animals. His story for primary schoolchildren, “The Blue Lapot,” tells about the adventures of a nimble little hare. The elusive white hare, always eluding hunters, will certainly be loved by toddlers and older children thanks to its cheerfulness and intelligence.

Among the works of the school curriculum are stories about the antics of animals for the 3rd grade by the author-animalist Vitaly Bianki “The First Hunt” and “The Fox and the Mouse”. The writer masterfully reveals the habits of each representative of the animal world and shows the character traits of any animal.

Collection “Guys and Animals” by Olga Perovskaya

This book about animals was first published in 1925, after which it was reprinted many times. According to the plot of the work, in the house where four sisters live (Natasha, Sonya, Yulia and the narrator), all kinds of animals regularly live. The girls' guests include a fawn, a tiger cub, and even a thoroughbred horse. This amazing story about the antics of animals was read for children by our grandparents, and then by our parents. The modern generation of schoolchildren is no exception, since the book can captivate any child.

Collection of works “Monkey Tricks”

The book includes stories about monkeys written by Boris Zhidkov and Sasha Bely. The antics of these animals will not let anyone get bored, so parents can rest assured that the children will have fun reading.

How much trouble the mischievous Yashka, invented by B. Zhidkov (the story “About the Monkey”), brings to those around him! This naughty guy is not afraid of anyone and keeps the entire neighborhood in fear. The monkey described by M. Zoshchenko in the story “The Adventures of a Monkey” is even more restless than Yashka. In addition, her upbringing leaves much to be desired. The apes invented by S. Bely (the work “The Cunning Soldier”) are also not distinguished by their meek disposition. Funny and smart bullies will not let children get bored.

Stories by V. L. Durov from the series “My Animals”

Stories about the antics of animals were written by the famous trainer Vladimir Leonidovich Durov. The famous researcher, having carefully studied the habits and morals of animals, created amazing works - both sad and funny at the same time. V. Durov's animals study at their desks at school, play musical instruments and bow in dance. The wonderful stories of this author help to ridicule various human vices.

Do children need stories about animal mischief? Short and long works by different authors can work wonders. They are able to change a child’s worldview, strengthen the child’s faith in his own abilities, and make him kinder and more sympathetic. Without them, our literature would not be what it is.

The stories of Konstantin Dmitrievich Ushinsky are very sincere. He wrote about what he saw around him while still a barefoot boy - about animals, about nature, about village life. Stories about animals are full of warmth and kindness; they call for treating our smaller brothers with care and respect. “Bishka” alone is worth it: in three sentences, Ushinsky expressed the entire important essence of a dog. Animals in his stories reveal themselves like people, standing on a par with us, each with their own character, and what a character! Let's get to know these animals better and read the stories. To read offline, you can download a pdf file with Ushinsky’s stories about animals at the bottom of the page. All stories with pictures!

K.D.Ushinsky

Stories about animals

Bishka (story)

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

The dog sniffed the book and walked away.

The Lively Cow (short story)

We had a cow, but it was so characteristic and lively that it was a disaster! Maybe that’s why she had little milk.

Both her mother and sisters suffered with her. It happened that they would drive her into the herd, and she would either come home at noon or end up dead - go help her out!

Especially when she had a calf - I couldn’t help it! Once she even tore up the whole barn with her horns, she fought towards the calf, and her horns were long and straight. More than once, her father was going to saw off her horns, but somehow he kept putting it off, as if he had a presentiment of something.

And how evasive and quick she was! If he raises his tail, lowers his head, and waves, you won’t be able to catch him on a horse.

One day in the summer she came running from the shepherd, long before evening: she had a calf at home. The mother milked the cow, released the calf and said to her sister, a girl about twelve years old:

Drive them to the river, Fenya, let them graze on the bank, and be careful that they don’t get in the way. Night is still so far away that it is useless for them to stand.

Fenya took a twig and drove both the calf and the cow; she drove her to the bank, let her graze, and she sat down under a willow tree and began to weave a wreath from cornflowers that she had picked along the way in the rye; weaves and sings a song.

Fenya heard something rustling in the vines, and the river was overgrown with thick vines on both banks.

Fenya looks at something gray pushing through the thick vines, and show the stupid girl that this is our dog Serko. It is known that a wolf is very similar to a dog, only the neck is clumsy, the tail is sticky, the muzzle is downcast, and the eyes are shining; but Fenya had never seen a wolf up close.

Fenya has already begun to beckon the dog:

Serko, Serko! - as he looks - the calf, and behind him the cow, rush straight at her like mad. Fenya jumped up, pressed herself against the willow, and didn’t know what to do; the calf to her, and the cow pressed both of them with her backside to the tree, bowed her head, roared, dug the ground with her front hooves, and pointed her horns straight at the wolf.

Fenya got scared, grabbed the tree with both hands, wanted to scream, but had no voice. And the wolf rushed straight at the cow, and jumped back - the first time, apparently, it hit him with its horn. The wolf sees that you can’t take anything unceremoniously, and he began to rush from one side to the other, in order to somehow grab a cow from the side, or grab a carcass - but wherever he rushes, horns are everywhere to meet him.

Fenya still doesn’t know what’s going on, she wanted to run, but the cow wouldn’t let her in, and kept pressing her against the tree.

Here the girl began to scream, calling for help... Our Cossack was plowing here on a hillock, he heard that the cow was braying and the girl was screaming, he threw his plow and ran to the cry.

The Cossack sees what is happening, but does not dare to with bare hands to attack the wolf - he was so big and furious; The Cossack began to call his son that he was plowing right there in the field.

When the wolf saw that people were running, he calmed down, snapped once or twice more, howled and into the vines.

The Cossacks barely brought Fenya home - the girl was so scared.

Then the father was glad that he did not saw off the cow’s horns.

In the forest in summer (story)

There is no such expanse in the forest as there is in the field; but it’s good to wear it on a hot afternoon. And what can you see in the forest! Tall, reddish pines hung their needle-like tops, and green fir trees arched their thorny branches. A white, curly birch tree with fragrant leaves flaunts; the gray aspen trembles; and the stocky oak spread its carved leaves like a tent. The little white eye of a strawberry peeks out from the grass, and next to it a fragrant berry is already turning red.

The white catkins of the lily of the valley sway between the long, smooth leaves. Somewhere a strong-nosed woodpecker is chopping; the yellow oriole screams pitifully; A homeless cuckoo is counting down the years. The gray bunny darted into the bushes; high between the branches a tenacious squirrel flashed its fluffy tail.

Far away in the thicket, something is cracking and breaking: is a clumsy bear bending an arc?

Vaska (story)

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 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!

Raven and Magpie (story)

A spotted magpie jumped along the branches of a tree and chatted incessantly, and the raven sat silently.

Why are you silent, kumanek, or don’t you believe what I’m telling you? - the magpie finally asked.

“I don’t believe it well, gossip,” answered the raven, “whoever talks as much as you do probably lies a lot!”

Viper (story)

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

I’m not talking about snakes: we are so used to the harmless snake that we don’t even call it a snake. He has small ones in his mouth sharp teeth, 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 had spread from his arm to his neck and chest: the child began to become delirious, 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 went far away, and only our black big 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.

Geese (story)

Vasya saw a string of wild geese flying high in the air.

Vasya. Can our domestic ducks fly the same way?

Father. No.

Vasya. Who feeds the wild geese?

Father. They find their own food.

Vasya. And in winter?

Father. As soon as winter comes, wild geese fly away from us to warm countries, and return again in the spring.

Vasya. But why can’t domestic geese fly just as well and why don’t they fly away from us to warm countries for the winter?

Father. Because domestic animals have already lost part of their former dexterity and strength, and their feelings are not as subtle as those of wild animals.

Vasya. But why did this happen to them?

Father. Because people care about them and have taught them not to use them on our own. From this you see that people should try to do for themselves everything they can. Those children who rely on the services of others and do not learn to do everything they can for themselves will never be strong, smart and dexterous people.

Vasya. No, now I will try to do everything for myself, otherwise, perhaps, the same thing could happen to me as to domestic geese that have forgotten how to fly.

The Goose and the Crane (story)

A goose swims on the pond and talks loudly to itself:

What an amazing bird I really am! And I walk on the ground, and swim on the water, and fly through the air: there is no other bird like this in the world! I am the king of all birds!

The crane overheard the goose and said to him:

You stupid bird, goose! Well, can you swim like a pike, run like a deer, or fly like an eagle? It’s better to know one thing, but it’s good, than everything, but it’s bad.

Two goats (story)

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.

Woodpecker (story)

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'll run around the trunk and won't miss anyone.

The ants got scared:

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, gouges the bark, pushes its long tongue into holes, drags ants around like a fish.

Playing dogs (short story)

Volodya stood at the window and looked out onto the street, where a large dog, Polkan, was basking in the sun.

A little Pug ran up to Polkan and began to rush and bark at him; 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, she’ll ask you! - Volodya said. - She'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 pinning them. Polkan knows that it is a shame for the big and strong to offend the small and weak.

Goat (story)

A shaggy goat is walking, a bearded one is walking, waving its faces, shaking its beard, tapping its hooves; walks, bleats, calls 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!

Cow (fairy tale)

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.”

Cuckoo (story)

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.”

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.

Swallow (story)

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 searches and searches for small children.

Horse (story)

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.

The Bear and the Log (story)

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.

Not well cut, but tightly sewn (The Hare and the Hedgehog) (fairy tale)

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.

Eagle (story)

The blue-winged eagle is the king of all birds. He makes nests on rocks and on old oak trees; flies high, sees far, looks unblinkingly at the sun.

The eagle has a sickle nose, hooked claws; the wings are long; bulging chest - well done.

The Eagle and the Cat (story)

Outside the village, a cat was playing happily with her kittens. The spring sun was warm, and the little family was very happy. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a huge steppe eagle: like lightning, he descended from above and grabbed one kitten. But before the eagle had time to rise, the mother had already grabbed onto it. The predator threw the kitten and grabbed old cat. A battle to the death began.

Mighty wings, a strong beak, strong paws with long, curved claws gave the eagle a great advantage: he tore the skin of the cat and pecked out one of her eyes. But the cat did not lose courage, grabbed the eagle tightly with its claws and bit off its right wing.

Now victory began to lean towards the cat; but the eagle was still very strong, and the cat was already tired; however, she gathered her last strength, made a deft leap and knocked the eagle to the ground. At that very moment she bit off his head and, forgetting her own wounds, began to lick her wounded kitten.

Cockerel with his family (story)

A cockerel walks around the yard: there is a red comb on his head, and a red beard under his 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! 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 the cockerel does not like unrest - now he has reconciled his family: one for the crest, that for the cowlick, he ate the grain himself, flew up onto the fence, flapped his wings, shouted at the top of his lungs:

- “Ku-ka-re-ku!”

Ducks (story)

Vasya sits on the bank, he watches how the ducks tumble in the pond: they hide their wide noses in the water, and dry their yellow paws in the sun. They ordered Vasya to guard the ducks, and they went to the water - both old and young. How can I get them home now?

So Vasya started clicking ducks:

Duck-duck-duck! Gluttonous chatterboxes, wide noses, webbed paws! You've had enough of carrying around worms, plucking grass, swallowing mud, stuffing your crops - it's time for you to go home!

Vasya’s ducklings obeyed, went ashore, walked home, shimmering from foot to foot.

The Scientist Bear (short story)

- 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 and reluctantly climbed up hind legs, shifts from foot to foot, bows 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 wet - on your 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 comes and goes; 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 through the ring.

Khavronya (story)

Our sow hare is dirty, dirty and gluttonous; It eats everything, crumples everything, itches on the corners, finds a puddle - 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.

Brave Dog (story)

Dog, why are you barking?

I scare the wolves.

The dog with its tail between its legs?

I'm afraid of wolves.

You can download this book of children's stories about animals by K. Ushinsky for free in pdf format: DOWNLOAD >>

Mikhail Prishvin “Squirrel Memory”

Today, looking at the tracks of animals and birds in the snow, this is what I read from these tracks: a squirrel made its way through the snow into the moss, took out two nuts hidden there since the fall, ate them right away - I found the shells. Then she ran ten meters away, dived again, again left a shell on the snow and after a few meters made a third climb.

What kind of miracle? You wouldn't think she could smell the nut through thick layer snow and ice. This means that since the fall I remembered about my nuts and the exact distance between them.

But the most amazing thing is that she could not measure centimeters like we did, but directly by eye she determined with precision, dived and reached. Well, how could one not envy the squirrel’s memory and ingenuity!

Mikhail Prishvin “Gadgets”

I got a speck of dust in my eye. While I was taking it out, another speck got into my other eye.

Then I noticed that the wind was carrying sawdust towards me and they immediately lay down in a path in the direction of the wind. This means that in the direction from which the wind was coming, someone was working on a dry tree.

I walked into the wind along this white path of sawdust and soon saw that these were the two smallest tits, nuts, gray with black stripes on their plump white cheeks, working with their noses on the dry wood and getting insects for themselves in the rotten wood. The work went on so briskly that before my eyes the birds went deeper and deeper into the tree. I patiently looked at them through binoculars, until finally only the tail of one nut was visible. Then I quietly walked in from the other side, crept up and covered the place where the tail was sticking out with my palm. The bird in the hollow did not make a single movement and immediately seemed to die. I accepted the palm, touched the tail with my finger - it lay there, not moving; I stroked my finger along the back - it lies like a dead woman. And another nut sat on a branch two or three steps away and squeaked.

One could guess that she was trying to persuade her friend to lie as quietly as possible. “You,” she said, “lie down and be silent, and I’ll squeak next to him, he’ll chase me, I’ll fly, and then don’t yawn.”

I didn’t bother torturing the bird, I stepped aside and watched what would happen next. I had to stand for quite a long time, because the loose nut saw me and warned the prisoner: “Better lie down a little, otherwise he’s standing not far away and watching.”

I stood like that for a very long time, until finally the loose nut squeaked in a special voice, as I guess:

- Get out, there’s nothing you can do: it’s worth it.

The tail disappeared. A head with a black stripe on its cheek appeared. Squeaked:

- Where is he?

“There it is,” squeaked another, “see?”

“Ah, I see,” the captive squeaked.

And she fluttered out.

They flew away only a few steps and probably managed to whisper to each other:

- Let's see, maybe he left.

We sat on the top branch. We took a closer look.

“It’s worth it,” said one.

“It’s worth it,” said another.

And they flew away.

Mikhail Prishvin "Bear"

Many people think that you can only go into the forest, where there are a lot of bears, and so they will pounce and eat you, and all that will be left of the goat are legs and horns.

This is so untrue!

Bears, like any animal, walk through the forest with great caution, and, when they smell a person, they run away from him so much that not only the whole animal, but you won’t even see a glimpse of its tail.

Once in the north they showed me a place where there were a lot of bears. This place was in the upper reaches of the Koda River, which flows into Pinega. I didn’t want to kill the bear at all, and it wasn’t the time to hunt for it: they hunt in winter, but I came to Koda in early spring, when the bears had already left their dens.

I really wanted to catch the bear eating, somewhere in a clearing, or fishing on the river bank, or on vacation. Having a weapon just in case, I tried to walk through the forest as carefully as animals, hiding near warm tracks; more than once it seemed to me that I even smelled a bear... But this time, no matter how much I walked, I was never able to meet the bear itself.

It finally happened, my patience ran out, and the time had come for me to leave.

I headed to the place where I had hidden the boat and food.

Suddenly I see: a large spruce paw in front of me trembled and swayed.

“Some kind of animal,” I thought.

Taking my bags, I got into the boat and sailed away.

And just opposite the place where I got into the boat, on the other bank, very steep and high, a commercial hunter lived in a small hut.

After about an hour or two, this hunter rode his boat down the Koda, caught up with me and found me in that hut halfway where everyone stops.

It was he who told me that from his shore he saw a bear, how it flew out of the taiga just opposite the place from where I went to my boat.

It was then that I remembered how, in complete calm, the spruce legs swayed in front of me.

I felt annoyed with myself for making noise to the bear. But the hunter also told me that the bear not only escaped my sight, but also laughed at me... It turns out that he ran very close to me, hid behind the turnout and from there, standing on his hind legs, watched me: and how I came out of the forest, and how I got into the boat and swam. And then, when I closed myself off to him, he climbed a tree and watched me for a long time as I descended the Code.

“So long,” said the hunter, “that I got tired of watching and went to the hut to drink tea.”

I was annoyed that the bear laughed at me.

But it’s even more annoying when various talkers scare children with forest animals and imagine them in such a way that if you show up in the forest without a weapon, they will leave you with only horns and legs.

Konstantin Ushinsky “Chicken and ducklings”

The owner wanted to raise ducks. She bought duck eggs, put it 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.

Konstantin Ushinsky “Swallow”

In the fall, the boy wanted to destroy the swallow’s nest stuck under the roof, in which the owners were no longer there: sensing the approach of cold weather, they flew away.

“Don’t ruin your nest,” the father told the boy. “In the spring the swallow will fly again, and she will be pleased to find her former home.”

The boy obeyed his father.

Winter passed, and at the end of April a pair of sharp-winged, beautiful birds, cheerful and chirping, flew in and began to fly around the old nest. Work began to boil, swallows carried clay and silt from a nearby stream in their noses, and soon the nest, which had deteriorated a little over the winter, was refinished. Then the swallows began to carry either fluff, then a feather, or a stalk of moss into the nest.

A few more days passed, and the boy noticed that only one swallow was flying out of the nest, and the other remained in it constantly.

“Apparently, she put on the testicles and is now sitting on them,” the boy thought.

In fact, after three weeks, tiny heads began to peek out of the nest. How glad the boy was now that he had not ruined the nest!

Sitting on the porch, he spent hours watching how caring birds flew through the air and caught flies, mosquitoes and midges. How quickly they scurried back and forth, how tirelessly they obtained food for their children! The boy marveled at how the swallows did not get tired of flying all day long, without sitting down for almost a single minute, and expressed his surprise to his father.

The father took out a stuffed swallow and showed it to his son:

- Look how long, large wings and tail the swallow has, in comparison with its small, light body and such tiny legs that it has almost nothing to sit on, which is why it can fly so fast and for a long time. If the swallow could speak, then it would tell you such wonders - about the southern Russian steppes, about the Crimean mountains. Covered with grapes, about the stormy Black Sea, which she had to fly through without sitting down even once, about Asia Minor, where everything bloomed and turned green. When we already had snow, about the blue Mediterranean Sea, where she had to relax once or twice on the islands, about Africa, where she built her nest and caught midges when we had Epiphany frosts.

“I didn’t think swallows fly so far,” said the boy.

“And not just swallows,” the father continued. - Larks, quails, blackbirds, cuckoos, wild ducks, geese and many other birds, which are called migratory, also fly away from us to warm countries for the winter. For some, the warmth that happens in winter in southern Germany and France is enough; others need to fly high snowy mountains to take refuge for the winter in the blooming lemon and orange groves of Italy and Greece; others need to fly even further, across the entire Mediterranean Sea in order to bring out and feed their children somewhere on the banks of the Nile.

“Why don’t they stay in warm countries the whole year,” asked the boy, “if it’s so good there?”

“Apparently they don’t have enough food for the children, or maybe it’s too hot.” But here's what you

Marvel: how do swallows, flying thousands of four miles, find their way to the very house where they have built their nest?

Konstantin Ushinsky “Leshy”

The inhabitants of one secluded village were in great concern, especially women and children. In their favorite nearby forest, where boys and girls were constantly snooping, now for berries, now for mushrooms, there was a goblin. As soon as night falls, laughter, whistling, meowing will go through the forest, and from time to time terrible screams are heard, as if someone is being strangled. When he starts screaming and laughing, his hair stands on end. Children, not only at night, but also during the day, were afraid to go to their favorite forest, where previously all they could hear was the singing of nightingales and the lingering cries of orioles. At the same time, young chickens, ducks and goslings began to disappear around the village more often than before.

One young peasant, Yegor, finally got tired of it.

“Wait, women,” he said, “I’ll bring you the devil alive.”

Yegor waited until evening, took a bag and a gun and went into the forest, despite the requests of his cowardly wife. He wandered in the forest all night, his wife did not sleep all night and listened in horror as the goblin laughed and howled until daylight.

Only in the morning did Yegor appear from the forest. He was carrying something large and living in a bag, one of Yegor’s hands was wrapped in a rag, and blood was visible on the rag. The whole village ran to the brave peasant’s yard and watched, not without fear, as he shook out of a bag some unprecedented bird, shaggy, with ears, with big red eyes. She clicks her crooked beak, moves her eyes, and tears at the ground with sharp claws; Crows, magpies and jackdaws, as soon as they saw the monster, began to rush over it, raising a terrible cry and uproar.

- Owl! - one old man shouted here. - After all, I told you, stupid ones, that the owl was doing all this mischief.

Konstantin Ushinsky “Viper”

Around our farm, in the ravines and wet places, there were many snakes. I’m not talking about snakes: we are 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 wallow in the fragrant hay until the women chased you away so that you wouldn’t break the haystack.

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.

Leo Tolstoy "Swans"

The swans flew in a herd from the cold side to the warm lands. They flew across the sea. They flew day and night, and another day and another night, without resting, they flew over the water. Was in the sky full month, and the swans saw blue water far below them. All the swans were exhausted, flapping their wings; but they did not stop and flew on. Old, strong swans flew in front, and those who were younger and weaker flew behind. One young swan flew behind everyone. His strength weakened. He flapped his wings and could not fly any further. Then he, spreading his wings, went down. He descended closer and closer to the water; and his comrades further and further became whiter in the monthly light. The swan descended onto the water and folded its wings. The sea rose beneath him and rocked him. A flock of swans was barely visible as a white line in the bright sky. And in the silence you could barely hear the sound of their wings ringing. When they were completely out of sight, the swan bent its neck back and closed its eyes. He did not move, and only the sea, rising and falling in a wide strip, raised and lowered him. Before dawn, a light breeze began to sway the sea. And the water splashed in white breasts swan The swan opened his eyes. The dawn reddened in the east, and the moon and stars became paler. The swan sighed, stretched out its neck and flapped its wings, rose up and flew, clinging to the water with its wings.

He rose higher and higher and flew alone over the dark, rippling waves.

Vitaly Bianchi "Snow Book"

They wandered around and were followed by animals in the snow. You won’t immediately understand what happened here.

To the left, under a bush, a hare trail begins. The trail from the hind legs is elongated and long; from the front - round, small.

A hare trail followed across the field. On one side of it there is another footprint, a larger one; There are holes in the snow from claws - a fox track. And on the other side of the hare’s trail there is another trail: also a fox’s, only it leads back. The hare circled the field; fox too. The hare to the side - the fox behind him.

Both tracks end in the middle of a field.

But to the side there is another hare trail. It disappears, goes on... It goes, goes, goes - and suddenly it breaks off - as if it went underground! And where it disappeared, the snow was crushed there, and it was as if someone had smeared it with their fingers.

Where did the fox go? Where did the hare go? Let's sort it by warehouse. There is a bush. The bark has been torn off. It’s trampled under the bush, followed. Rabbit tracks. Here the hare was fattening: he was gnawing bark from a bush. He will stand on his hind legs, tear off a piece with his teeth, chew it, step on his paws, and tear off another piece nearby.

I was full and wanted to sleep. I went looking for somewhere to hide.

And here is a fox trail, next to a hare one. It was like this: the hare went to sleep. An hour passes, then another. A fox is walking through the field. Look, a hare's footprint in the snow! Fox nose to the ground. I sniffed - the trail was fresh!

She ran along the trail. The fox is cunning, and the hare is not simple: he knew how to confuse his trail. He galloped and galloped across the field, turned, turned a large loop, crossed his own trail - and to the side.

The trail is still smooth, unhurried: the hare walked calmly, without sensing trouble.

The fox ran and ran and saw: there was a fresh trail across the trail. I didn’t realize that the hare had made a noose.

She turned sideways - following a fresh trail; runs, runs - and stops: the trail is broken! Where to now?

And the point is simple: this is a new bunny trick - deuce.

The hare made a loop, crossed its trail, walked a little forward, and then turned around and back along its trail.

He walked carefully, foot to foot.

The fox stood, stood, and then went back. I came to the crossroads again. I tracked down the whole loop.

She walks, walks, sees that the hare has deceived her, the trail leads nowhere!

She snorted and went into the forest about her business.

And it was like this: the hare made a deuce - he walked back along his trail.

I didn’t reach the loop and waved through the snowdrift to the side.

He jumped over a bush and lay down under a pile of brushwood.

He lay there while the fox followed his trail.

And when the fox left, he burst out from under the brushwood and into the thicket!

Jumps wide - paws to paws: racing trail.

He rushes without looking back. Stump on the road. The hare is passing by. And on the stump... And on the stump sat a big eagle owl.

I saw a hare, took off, and followed him. He caught up and hit me in the back with all his claws!

The hare poked into the snow, and the eagle owl settled in, beat the snow with its wings, and lifted it off the ground.

Where the hare fell, the snow was crushed there. Where the eagle owl flapped its wings, there were marks in the snow from feathers, as if from fingers.

Vitaly Bianki "Terenty-Teterev"

He lived in the forest Teterev, his name was Terenty.

In the summer he had a good time: he hid in the grass, in the thick foliage from evil eyes. And winter has come, the bushes and trees have fallen off - and there is nowhere to hide.

So the forest animals, angry, began to argue about who would get Terenty-Teterev for dinner now. The fox says - to her. The marten says - to her.

Fox says:

- Terenty will sit down to sleep on the ground, in the bush. In the summer you can’t see him in the bush, but now here he is. I earn a living from below, I will eat it.

And Kunica says:

- No, Terenty will sit down to sleep on a tree. I make a living at the top, I’ll eat it.

Terenty-Teterev heard their argument and got scared. He flew to the edge of the forest, sat on the top of his head, and let’s think about how to deceive the evil animals.

If you sit on a tree, the marten will catch you; if you fly to the ground, the fox will grab you. Where to spend the night?

I thought and thought and thought and thought, but came up with nothing and dozed off.

He dozed off and in his dream he saw that he was not sleeping on a tree, not on the ground, but in the air. A marten can’t reach it from a tree, and a fox can’t reach it from the ground: if you just tuck your legs under you, it won’t even be able to jump.

Terenty tucked his legs in his sleep and banged from a branch!

And the snow was deep, soft, like fluff. The Fox sneaks silently along it. He runs to the edge of the forest. And above, along the branches, the Marten is jumping and also to the edge. Both are in a hurry after Terenty-Teterev.

So Marten was the first to gallop up to the tree and look at all the trees, climb all the branches - no Terenty!

“Oh,” he thinks, “I’m late! Apparently he was sleeping on the ground in a bush. The fox probably got it."

And the Fox came running, looked around the entire edge of the forest, climbed all the bushes - no Terenty!

“Oh,” he thinks, “I’m late! Apparently he was sleeping in a tree. The marten apparently got it."

The Fox raised her head, and Marten - there she was: sitting on a branch, baring her teeth.

The fox got angry and shouted:

“You ate my Terenty, here I am for you!”

And Marten to her:

“You ate it yourself, and you’re talking about me.” Here I am for you!

And they started to fight. They fight hotly: the snow melts under them, shreds fly.

Suddenly - bang-ta-ta-tah! - Something black will come out from under the snow!

The Fox and the Marten are in their heels with fear. They rushed in different directions: Marten - into a tree, Fox - into the bushes.

And it was Terenty-Teterev who jumped out. He fell from a tree and fell asleep in the snow. Only the noise and the fight woke him up, otherwise he would probably be asleep right now.

Since then, all the black grouse sleep in the snow in the winter: they are warm and comfortable there and safe from evil eyes.

Vitaly Bianchi "Masters without an axe"

They gave me a riddle: “The hut was built without hands, without an axe.” What's happened?

It turns out it's a bird's nest.

I looked - right! Here is a magpie's nest: like a log, everything is made of branches, the floor is smeared with clay, covered with straw, in the middle is the entrance; roof made of branches. Why not a hut? And the magpie never held an ax in her paws.

Here I deeply felt sorry for the bird: it is difficult, oh how difficult it is, for them, the unfortunate ones, to build their homes without hands, without an axe! I began to think: what can I do here, how can I help them?

You can't help them.

But an ax... You can get an ax for them.

I took out a hatchet and ran into the garden.

Lo and behold, a nightjar is sitting on the ground between the hummocks. Me to him:

- Nightjar, nightjar, is it difficult for you to make nests without hands, without an axe?

- And I don’t even build nests! - says the nightjar. “Look where I’m hatching my eggs.”

A nightjar fluttered up, and under it there was a hole between the hummocks. And in the hole lie two beautiful marble eggs.

“Well,” I think to myself, “this doesn’t need either hands or an axe. I managed to get along without them.”

He ran out to the river. Look, there the titmouse is jumping along the branches and bushes, collecting fluff from the willow with its thin nose.

- What do you need fluff, remez? - I ask.

“I’m making a nest out of it,” he says. “My nest is downy, soft, like your mitten.”

“Well,” I think to myself, “this little hatchet doesn’t need anything either - collecting fluff...”

He ran to the house. Lo and behold, a killer whale swallow is busy under the ridge, making a nest. He crushes clay with his nose, chops it in the river with his nose, carries it with his nose.

“Well,” I think, “and my little hatchet has nothing to do with it. And it’s not worth showing it.”

What a lovely nest: the outside is decorated with green moss, the inside is smooth as a cup.

- How did you make such a nest for yourself? - I ask. - How did you decorate it so well inside?

“I made it with my paws and nose,” answers the song thrush. — I coated everything inside with cement made from wood dust and my own spittle.

“Well,” I think, “I ended up in the wrong place again. We need to look for birds that do carpentry.”

And I hear: “Knock-knock-knock! Knock-knock-knock-knock!” - from the forest.

I'm going there. And there's a woodpecker.

He sits on a birch tree and does carpentry, makes himself a hollow to take the children out.

- Woodpecker, woodpecker, stop poking your nose! Guess I've had a headache for a long time. Look what kind of instrument I brought you: a real axe!

The woodpecker looked at the ax and said:

“Thank you, but I don’t need your instrument.” I’m fine with carpentry anyway: I hold myself up with my paws, lean on my tail, bend in half, swing my head, and hit my nose! Only splinters and dust fly!

The woodpecker confused me: apparently all birds are masters without an axe.

Then I saw an eagle's nest. A huge pile of thick branches on the tallest pine tree in the forest.

“Here,” I think, someone needs an ax to chop branches!

I ran up to that pine tree and shouted:

- Eagle, eagle! And I brought you an axe!

Discord and the eagle wings and screams:

- Thank you, boy! Throw your ax into the pile. I’ll pile more branches on it - it will be a strong building, a good nest.

Vitaly Bianki “Kuzyar-Chipmunk and Inoyka-Bear”

Before, Kuzyar-Chipmunk was all yellow, like a pine nut without a shell. He lived - he was not afraid of anyone, he did not hide from anyone, he ran wherever he wanted. Yes, once at night I argued with Inoika the Bear. And the small ones with the big ones - you know how to argue: even if you argue, you lose.

They had a dispute: who is first in the morning? Sunbeam will he see?

So they climbed onto the hillocks and sat down.

Monk-Bear sat down facing the direction where the sun would rise from behind the forest in the morning. And Kuzyar-Chipmunk sat down facing where the sun set behind the forest in the evening. They sat back to back and sat and waited.

Before Kuzyar-Chipmunk high mountain rises. In front of Inoyka-Bear lies a smooth valley.

Foreign Bear thinks:

“What a stupid Kuzyar! Where did you sit down? You won’t see the sun there until evening.”

They sit, remain silent, and do not close their eyes.

Now the night began to brighten and the sky became clear.

In front of the Inoyka-Bear a black valley lies, and the sky above it brightens, brightens, brightens...

The foreigner thinks:

“Now the first ray of light will fall on the valley, and I won. Right now..."

But no, there is still no ray. Inoika is waiting, waiting...

Suddenly Kuzyar-Chipmunk shouts behind him:

- I see, I see! I am the first!

The Inoyka-Bear was surprised: in front of him the valley was still dark.

He turned over his shoulder, and behind him the tops of the mountains were burning like the sun and shining like gold!

And Kuzyar-Chipmunk dances on his hind legs - he rejoices.

Oh, how annoying Inoika-Bear became! You bet on the kid!

He quietly extended his paw - whoop! - by the collar of Kuzyar-Chipmunk, so that he wouldn’t dance or tease him.

Yes, Kuzyar-Chipmunk rushed, and all five bear claws ran down his back. Five straps were torn out from head to tail.

Kuzyar-Chipmunk slipped into the hole. He healed and licked his wounds. But the marks from the bear claws remained.

From then on, Kuzyar-Chipmunk became timid. He runs away from everyone, through hollows, and hides in burrows. All you will see is: five black straps flash on the back - and it’s gone.

Vitaly Bianchi “Small, but mighty”

Genka walked through the swamp. Look, it's coming out of the reeds.

He grabbed the nose and pulled out a bird: a long neck, a long nose, long legs - it looked like a heron, but as tall as a jackdaw.

“Chick!” - thinks. I put it in my bosom and ran home.

At home, he let the heron fall on the floor and fell asleep himself.

“Tomorrow,” he thinks, “I’ll feed you.”

In the morning, I lowered my legs from the bed and began to pull on my pants. And the heron saw the finger and thought it was a frog. Yes bale with your nose!

- Oh oh! - Genka shouts. - You fight! Zhuchka, Zhuchka, here!

Bug on a heron, heron on a Bug. With his nose, like scissors, he cuts and stabs - only the wool flies.

The bug tucked its tail and tore. The heron behind her on straight legs, like on knitting needles, scratches and scratches - get out of the way, watch out!

Genka after the heron. Yes, where is it: a heron flap-flop its wings - and through the fence.

Genka opened his mouth:

- That's it, little bird! Small and smart...

And the heron was an adult, only of such a small breed.

She flew to her swamp - there the chicks in her nest were hungry for a long time, their mouths were open, asking for frogs.

Vasily Sukhomlinsky “Old Dog”

The Man had a faithful friend - the Dog. For many years he guarded the Man's household.

Years passed. The dog got old and began to see poorly.

One day on a clear summer day he did not recognize his owner.

When the owner returned from the field, he ran out of his booth and barked as if at a stranger.

The owner was surprised and asked:

“So you don’t recognize me anymore?”

The dog wagged his tail guiltily. He poked his leg and whined softly. He wanted to say: forgive me, and I don’t know how it happened that I didn’t recognize you! A few days later, the Man brought a small Puppy from somewhere.

He built another, small one next to the old Dog’s booth, and said to the Puppy:

- Live here.

The Old Dog asked the Man:

- Why do you need another dog?..

“So that you don’t get bored,” said the Man and affectionately patted the old Dog on the back.

Then the Man turned, sighed quietly and left.

The dog could not sigh, he whined pitifully, and a tear rolled down from one of his eyes to the ground.

And the Puppy was tumbling and playing on the grass.

Konstantin Paustovsky "Hare's Paws"

Vanya Malyavin came to the veterinarian in our village from Lake Urzhenskoe and brought a small warm hare wrapped in a torn cotton jacket. The hare was crying and blinking his eyes red from tears often...

-Are you crazy? - the veterinarian shouted. “Soon you’ll be bringing mice to me, you bastard!”

“Don’t bark, this is a special hare,” Vanya said in a hoarse whisper. - His grandfather sent him and ordered him to be treated.

- What to treat for?

— His paws are burned.

The veterinarian turned Vanya to face the door, pushed him in the back and shouted after him:

- Go ahead, go ahead! I don't know how to treat them. Fry it with onions and grandpa will have a snack.

Vanya didn’t answer. He went out into the hallway, blinked his eyes, sniffed and buried himself in the log wall. Tears flowed down the wall. The hare quietly trembled under his greasy jacket.

- What are you doing, little one? - the compassionate grandmother Anisya asked Vanya; she took her only goat to the vet. “Why are you two shedding tears, dear ones?” Oh what happened?

“He’s burned, grandpa’s hare,” Vanya said quietly. “He burned his paws in a forest fire, he can’t run.” Look, he's about to die.

“Don’t die, darling,” Anisya mumbled. “Tell your grandfather that if he really wants the hare to go out, let him take him to the city to see Karl Petrovich.”

Vanya wiped his tears and walked home through the forests, to Lake Urzhenskoe. He did not walk, but ran barefoot along the hot sandy road. A recent forest fire went north near the lake. It smelled of burning and dry cloves. It grew in large islands in the clearings.

The hare moaned.

Vanya found fluffy leaves covered with soft silver hair along the way, tore them out, put them under a pine tree and turned the hare around. The hare looked at the leaves, buried his head in them and fell silent.

-What are you doing, gray? - Vanya asked quietly. - You should eat.

The hare was silent.

The hare moved his ragged ear and closed his eyes.

Vanya took him in his arms and ran straight through the forest - he had to quickly let the hare drink from the lake.

There was unheard-of heat over the forests that summer. In the morning, strings of white clouds floated in. At noon, the clouds quickly rushed upward, towards the zenith, and before our eyes they were carried away and disappeared somewhere beyond the boundaries of the sky. The hot hurricane had been blowing for two weeks without a break. The resin flowing down the pine trunks turned into amber stone.

The next morning the grandfather put on clean boots and new bast shoes, took a staff and a piece of bread and wandered into the city. Vanya carried the hare from behind. The hare became completely silent, only occasionally shuddering with his whole body and sighing convulsively.

The dry wind blew up a cloud of dust over the city, soft as flour. Chicken fluff, dry leaves and straw were flying in it. From a distance it seemed as if a quiet fire was smoking over the city.

The market square was very empty and hot; The carriage horses were dozing near the water shed, and they had straw hats on their heads.

Grandfather crossed himself.

- Either a horse or a bride - the jester will sort them out! - he said and spat.

They asked passersby for a long time about Karl Petrovich, but no one really answered anything. We went to the pharmacy. Thick an old man wearing pince-nez and a short white robe, he shrugged his shoulders angrily and said:

- I like it! Quite a strange question! Karl Petrovich Korsh, a specialist in childhood diseases, has stopped accepting patients for three years now. Why do you need it?

The grandfather, stuttering from respect for the pharmacist and from timidity, told about the hare.

- I like it! - said the pharmacist. — There are some interesting patients in our city. I like this great!

He nervously took off his pince-nez, wiped it, put it back on his nose and stared at his grandfather. Grandfather was silent and stood still. The pharmacist was also silent. The silence became painful.

- Poshtovaya street, three! — the pharmacist suddenly shouted in anger and slammed some disheveled thick book shut. - Three!

Grandfather and Vanya reached Pochtovaya Street just in time - a high thunderstorm was setting in from behind the Oka River. Lazy thunder stretched across the horizon, like a sleepy strongman straightening his shoulders and reluctantly shaking the ground.

Gray ripples went down the river. Silent lightning surreptitiously, but swiftly and strongly struck the meadows; Far beyond the Glades, a haystack that they had lit was already burning. Large drops of rain fell on the dusty road, and soon it became like the surface of the moon: each drop left a small crater in the dust.

Karl Petrovich was playing something sad and melodic on the piano when his grandfather’s disheveled beard appeared in the window.

A minute later Karl Petrovich was already angry.

“I’m not a veterinarian,” he said and slammed the lid of the piano. Immediately thunder roared in the meadows. “All my life I’ve been treating children, not hares.”

“A child, a hare, it’s all the same,” muttered the grandfather stubbornly. - It’s all the same! Heal, show mercy! Our veterinarian has no jurisdiction over such matters. He horse-rided for us. This hare, one might say, is my savior: I owe him my life, I must show gratitude, but you say - quit!

A minute later, Karl Petrovich, an old man with gray ruffled eyebrows, worriedly listened to his grandfather’s stumbling story.

Karl Petrovich eventually agreed to treat the hare. The next morning, the grandfather went to the lake, and left Vanya with Karl Petrovich to go after the hare.

A day later, the entire Pochtovaya Street, overgrown with goose grass, already knew that Karl Petrovich was treating a hare that had been burned in a terrible forest fire and had saved some old man. Two days later everyone already knew about it Small town, and on the third Day a long young man in a felt hat came to Karl Petrovich, introduced himself as an employee of a Moscow newspaper and asked for a conversation about the hare.

The hare was cured. Vanya wrapped him in a cotton rag and took him home. Soon the story about the hare was forgotten, and only some Moscow professor spent a long time trying to get his grandfather to sell him the hare. He even sent letters with stamps in response. But the grandfather did not give up. Under his dictation, Vanya wrote a letter to the professor:

“The hare is not for sale, alive soul, let him live in freedom. With this I remain Larion Malyavin.”

This fall I spent the night with Grandfather Larion on Lake Urzhenskoe. Constellations, cold as grains of ice, floated in the water. The dry reeds rustled. The ducks shivered in the thickets and quacked pitifully all night.

Grandfather couldn't sleep. He sat by the stove and mended a torn fishing net. Then he put on a samovar - it immediately fogged up the windows in the hut and the stars turned from fiery points into cloudy balls. Murzik was barking in the yard. He jumped into the darkness, flashed his teeth and jumped back - he fought with the impenetrable October night. The hare slept in the hallway and occasionally, in his sleep, loudly tapped his hind paw on the rotten floorboard.

We drank tea at night, waiting for the distant and hesitant dawn, and over tea my grandfather finally told me the story about the hare.

In August, my grandfather went hunting on the northern shore of the lake. The forests were as dry as gunpowder. Grandfather came across a little hare with a torn left ear. The grandfather shot at him with an old gun tied with wire, but missed. The hare ran away.

The grandfather realized that a forest fire had started and the fire was coming straight towards him.

The wind turned into a hurricane. The fire raced across the ground at an unheard of speed. According to the grandfather, even a train could not escape such a fire. Grandfather was right: during the hurricane, the fire moved at a speed of thirty kilometers per hour.

Grandfather ran over the bumps, stumbled, fell, the smoke ate his eyes, and behind him a wide roar and crackle of flames could already be heard.

Death overtook the grandfather, grabbed him by the shoulders, and at that time a hare jumped out from under the grandfather’s feet. He ran slowly and dragged his hind legs. Then only the grandfather noticed that the hare’s hair was burnt.

The grandfather was delighted with the hare, as if it were his own.

As an old forest dweller, grandfather knew that animals are much more better than man they sense where the fire is coming from and are always saved. They die only in those in rare cases when fire surrounds them.

Grandfather ran after the hare. He ran, cried with fear and shouted: “Wait, honey, don’t run so fast!”

The hare brought the grandfather out of the fire.

When they ran out of the forest to the lake, the hare and grandfather both fell from fatigue. Grandfather picked up the hare and took it home. The hare's hind legs and stomach were singed. Then his grandfather cured him and kept him with him.

“Yes,” said the grandfather, looking at the samovar so angrily, as if the samovar was to blame for everything, “yes, but before that hare, it turns out that I was very guilty, dear man.”

- What have you done wrong?

- And you go out, look at the hare, at my savior, then you will know. Take a flashlight!

I took the lantern from the table and went out into the hallway. The hare was sleeping. I bent over him with a flashlight and noticed that left ear the hare's is torn. Then I understood everything.

Konstantin Paustovsky “Cat Thief”

We were in despair. We didn't know how to catch this red cat. He stole from us every night. He hid so cleverly that none of us really saw him. Only a week later it was finally possible to establish that the cat’s ear was torn and a piece of his dirty tail was cut off. It was a cat who had lost all conscience, a cat - a tramp and a bandit. Behind his back they called him Thief.

He stole everything: fish, meat, sour cream and bread. Once he even dug into the closet tin can with worms. He didn’t eat them, but the chickens came running to the opened jar and pecked our entire supply of worms. The overfed chickens lay in the sun and moaned. We walked around them and argued, but fishing was still disrupted.

We spent almost a month tracking down the ginger cat. The village boys helped us with this. One day they rushed over and, out of breath, said that at dawn a cat had rushed, crouching, through the gardens and dragged a kukan with perches in its teeth. We rushed to the cellar and discovered that the kukan was missing; on it were ten fat perches caught on Prorva. This was no longer theft, but robbery in broad daylight. We vowed to catch the cat and beat him up for gangster tricks.

The cat was caught that same evening. He stole a piece of liverwurst from the table and climbed up a birch tree with it. We started shaking the birch tree. The cat dropped the sausage and it fell on Reuben's head. The cat looked at us from above with wild eyes and howled menacingly. But there was no salvation, and the cat decided on a desperate act. With a terrifying howl, he fell from the birch tree, fell to the ground, bounced up like a soccer ball, and rushed under the house.

The house was small. He stood in a remote, abandoned garden. Every night we were awakened by the sound of wild apples falling from the branches onto his plank roof. The house was littered with fishing rods, shot, apples and dry leaves. We only spent the night in it. We spent all our days, from dawn to dark, on the banks of countless streams and lakes. There we fished and made fires in the coastal thickets. To get to the shores of the lakes, one had to trample down narrow paths in the fragrant tall grasses. Their corollas swayed above their heads and showered their shoulders with yellow flower dust. We returned in the evening, scratched by rose hips, tired, burned by the sun, with bundles of silvery fish, and each time we were greeted with stories about new tramp antics of the red cat. But finally the cat was caught. He crawled under the house into the only narrow hole. There was no way out.

We blocked the hole with an old fishing net and began to wait. But the cat didn't come out. He howled disgustingly, like an underground spirit, howled continuously and without any fatigue. An hour passed, two, three... It was time to go to bed, but the cat howled and cursed under the house, and it got on our nerves. Then Lyonka, the son of the village shoemaker, was called. Lenka was famous for his fearlessness and agility. He was tasked with getting a cat out from under the house. Lyonka took a silk fishing line, tied a fish caught during the day to it by the tail, and threw it through the hole into the underground. The howling stopped. We heard a crunch and a predatory click as the cat grabbed the fish’s head with its teeth. He held on with a death grip. Lyonka was pulled by the fishing line. The cat desperately resisted, but Lyonka was stronger, and, besides, the cat did not want to let go delicious fish. A minute later, the cat’s head with flesh clamped in its teeth appeared in the hole of the manhole. Lenka grabbed the cat by the collar and lifted him above the ground. We took a good look at it for the first time.

The cat closed his eyes and laid back his ears. He tucked his tail under himself just in case. It turned out to be a skinny, despite the constant theft, fiery red stray cat with white markings on his stomach.

Having examined the cat, Reuben thoughtfully asked:

- What should we do with him?

- Rip it out! - I said.

“It won’t help,” said Lyonka. “He’s had this kind of character since childhood.” Try to feed him properly.

The cat waited, closing his eyes. We followed this advice, dragged the cat into the closet and gave him a wonderful dinner: fried pork, perch aspic, cottage cheese and sour cream. The cat ate for more than an hour. He came out of the closet staggering, sat down on the threshold and washed himself, looking at us and at the low stars with green, impudent eyes. After washing, he snorted for a long time and rubbed his head on the floor. This was obviously supposed to signify fun. We were afraid that he would rub the fur on the back of his head. Then the cat rolled over onto his back, caught his tail, chewed it, spat it out, stretched out by the stove and snored peacefully.

From that day on, he settled in with us and stopped stealing. The next morning he even performed a noble and unexpected act. Chickens climbed onto

table in the garden and, pushing each other and quarreling, began to peck buckwheat porridge from the plates. The cat, trembling with indignation, crept up to the chickens and jumped onto the table with a short cry of victory. The chickens took off with a desperate cry. They overturned the jug of milk and rushed, losing their feathers, to run away from the garden.

A long-legged rooster, a fool, nicknamed “Hoarlach,” rushed ahead, hiccupping. The cat rushed after him on three legs, and with the fourth, front paw, hit the rooster on the back. Dust and fluff flew from the rooster. Inside him, with each blow, something thumped and hummed, as if a cat was hitting a rubber ball. After this, the rooster lay in a fit for several minutes, his eyes rolled back, and moaned quietly. He was doused cold water, and he walked away. Since then, chickens have been afraid to steal. Seeing the cat, they hid under the house, squeaking and jostling.

23 books about animals that any child will love

What should a young sapiens read, who is drawn to the living with all his soul? Or - so that the soul would rather reach out to him?

We have already recalled how “The Extraordinary Adventures of Karik and Valya”, “In the Land of Dense Herbs”, “KOAPP! COAPP! KOAPP!”, stories by Vitaly Bianki. But there are still many books in the world that make a person human by telling about his animal relatives.

FOR LITTLE CHILDREN

Ondrej Sekora “Ferda's Ant”

A very kind and sweet, but at the same time not at all pink and snotty reading for little ones about the life of small interesting boogers. Snails, grasshoppers, and beetles live a completely human life, but at the same time the child receives information about their real names and features. The main character, the ant Ferda, is, as expected, a kind, brave and sweet character.

Evgeny Charushin “Stories about animals”

“Wolf”, “Yashka”, “Maruska the Cat”, “Tupa, Tomka and Magpie”... Remember? How we loved them! Perhaps Charushin's stories are a little sentimental and old-fashioned in style for modern children. But many will probably love them. And Charushin’s drawings – it’s simply impossible not to be enchanted by them!

Felix Salten “Bambi”

The most famous fawn in the world, his timid and noble relatives, as well as various forest friends (and, indirectly, dangerous enemies) teach the child to be surprised by the world and coexist with his neighbors. Did you know that this cute children's book was once banned by Hitler?

Alvin Brooks White "Charlotte's Web"

Touching books about small but very nice characters. From the literary parent of the famous mouse Stuart Little - this time a story about a pig who was friends with everyone around him, from a girl to a spider. And for whom friendship helped a lot in the difficult life of a pig.

Vera Chaplina “Funny Animals”

The writer Vera Chaplina worked at the Moscow Zoo all her life, from the age of sixteen. She fed orphaned animals, organized a playground for young animals - and knew everything in the world about her pets, and shared this knowledge with human cubs.

Olga Perovskaya “Guys and animals”

Children of people and children of animals - they are always drawn to each other. Perovskaya's book describes several stories of their mutual friendship. This harmless book, written almost a hundred years ago, and even filmstrips based on Perovskaya about little animals were not published in the forties and fifties, because the writer was repressed. And yet several generations have successfully grown up on it - this book.

Konstantin Paustovsky “Hare's Paws”

Simple and clear, lyrical and observant – Paustovsky’s texts do not deteriorate over time. Everything is so familiar, so familiar – and at the same time unknown. The writer said that everything he described is from own experience, and at the same time, every case, every story revealed something new about nature for him.

FOR MIDDLE SCHOOL AGE

Rudyard Kipling "The Jungle Book"

Kipling tried to write instructively and educationally, but he turned out to be unusually exciting - you can’t hide his talent. Mowgli and his brutal company, motley and motley, from the exotic jungle, as well as the small but brave Rikki-Tikki-Tavi are favorite children's heroes of Forev.

Anton Chekhov “Kashtanka”

“A young red dog - a cross between a dachshund and a mongrel - with a very similar face to a fox” touched our hearts when we ourselves were schoolchildren. How we worried about Kashtanka-Aunt, how we sympathized with her dog’s fate! And in the end they experienced mixed feelings, not knowing whether to be more happy about returning to the “family” - or the loss of their career, talent and caring “impresario”...

Richard Adams "The Extraordinary Adventures of the Rabbits" (or "Dwellers of the Hills")

If for some reason you missed this amazing book as a child, then when you see it, be sure to grab it: you yourself will probably get no less pleasure than your descendants. Cool adventures in the plot, charming characters each with their own bright personalities, inimitable “rabbit language” and folklore... A lot of fun.

Gerald Durrell “My Family and Other Animals”

Darrell Jr. is, of course, our everything. And a child, whose soul is drawn to everything living, from a centipede to an elephant, will inevitably read everything from him - and for a while he will wander into it and forget about everything else. And you can start immersing yourself in Darrell’s world with “My Family.” The story of how a boy grew into a great naturalist, the divine nature of Corfu... Well, the family is very colorful and funny.

Bernhard Grzimek “Australian Studies”

Grzimek, like his colleague Darrell, had close contact with animals all his life and wrote a lot about them: “Our Little Brothers”, “From Cobra to Grizzly Bear”, “Animals are My Life”... We chose from his legacy a book about the fauna of Australia , because for us these are all some kind of fabulous, fantastic lands: there are jumping kangaroos, cute koala bears, strange platypuses and wombats. You won't get bored with such a company!

Ernest Seton-Thompson "Tales of Animals"

Wolves and foxes, deer and mustangs - these are the main characters here. They love, suffer, seek happiness. Canadian Seton-Thompson talks about animals like people - with love and attention. Generations of writers later learned this close and caring look at the “wild world” - and readers, of course, too.

Jack London “White Fang”

It turns out that being a dog is not always as good and carefree as a child might imagine. In any case, half dog, half wolf, like White Fang. London is a surprisingly honest writer, so reading how different people are and how they treat dogs is not useful. And in any case, incredibly interesting. The book reads like a detective story, with the victory of good over evil at the end, as it should be.

James Curwood "Bums of the North"

“He spent half his life in wild places, and the rest of the time he wrote about what he saw,” Curwood wrote, clearly about himself. A descendant of Indians from the Mohawk tribe, Kerwood traveled the length and breadth of Northern Canada - and brought priceless trophies - his stories - from the forest wilds. So when he talks about the friendship between a bear cub and a puppy, this is not an allegory or a metaphor at all. Everything there is truer, more alive, more real.

Sheila Barnford "The Incredible Journey"

Canadian Sheila Barnford learned to love nature and write about it from Seton-Thompson and Curwood. The main characters of her book are two hunting dogs and Siamese cat- We went to look for the owner. Their musketeer motto “One for all and all for one!”, loyalty and courage lead the merry furry company across the whole country...

Gray Owl “Sajo and her beavers”

Gray Owl is a name, yes! This fact should already charm the child. An Indian name, much more interesting than Archibald Stansfeld Bilaney. The Canadian author accepted him, marrying an Indian woman and settling with the Indians. And Gray Owl talks about how the girl Sajo and her brother Shepian made friends with beavers - and about the beauty of the nature of North America.

Yuri Koval “Under Sand”

The best children's book of all time - that's what this book is. And the underdog is a teenager of a northern animal, an arctic fox named Napoleon the Third. Arctic foxes and dogs, schoolchildren and preschoolers, adults and night constellations are described in the way that only all living things can be described: with tender love. And it is inevitably transmitted to the reader.

Paul Gallico "Thomasina"

Thomasina is a cat. And she remembers well her divine origin. And the cat has a girl. And the girl has a father, and her father has a spiritual wound... In general, the story is sad and touching. Yes, about cats: I must say that the author knew cat life thoroughly: in his own house there were as many as 23 of them (twenty-three!).

Gabriel Troepolsky “White Bim Black Ear”

We thought long and hard before including this book on our list. The book is good. The book touches the soul. But how we cried over her, oh our unfortunate childish psyche! Can such experiences be wished upon anyone else? But it’s true: “If you write only about happiness, then people will stop seeing the unhappy and in the end will not notice them”...

FOR TEENAGERS

James Herriot “Of All Creatures, Beautiful and Wonderful”

The child will swallow the book of the British veterinarian Herriot without stopping, forgetting about all other matters. And then he asks for more. After all, not only cats and dogs, horses and pigs are interesting, but also how they get sick, how they are treated, how they are raised. And how they raise their owners. Be careful, the book has side effect: after it, the child will want a pet so much that it is impossible to resist.

Terry Pratchett “The Cat Without Decoration” (“The Cat Without Fools”)

Cats are not only valuable fur and fluffy purrs, but also hooligans. But it’s divine. “In the beginning there was a word, and that word was Cat. This unshakable truth was announced to the people by the cat god through his obedient disciple Terry Pratchett...” It’s witty and playful, and will surely appeal to all your domestic hooligans – both tailless and tailed.

James Bowen “A Street Cat Named Bob” and “The World According to Bob the Cat”

“street cat Named Bob” is an autobiographical book that last year took 7th place on the list of the most inspiring teen books. The author really grew up as a hooligan, became a drug addict and became homeless. And then one day a homeless man met a homeless red cat. I thought he would only take it for a while, to help. But he did not lag behind. And both of their lives changed a lot. Now they are stars. They are recognized on the streets of London, all of YouTube, Facebook and Twitter know them. So mutual understanding with smaller brothers can really work wonders!

Photo at the announcement – ​​Shutterstock

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V. Bianchi “Cat’s Pet”

Our cat had kittens in the spring, but they were taken away from her. Just on this day we caught a small hare in the forest.

We took it and placed it on the cat. The cat had a lot of milk, and she willingly began to feed the bunny.

So the little bunny grew up on cat milk. They became very good friends and even always sleep together.

The funniest thing is that the cat taught the foster bunny to fight with dogs. As soon as the dog runs into our yard, the cat rushes at it and scratches it furiously. And then a hare runs up behind her and drums her front paws so hard that the dog’s fur flies in clumps. All the dogs around are afraid of our cat and her pet hare.

Issues for discussion

Who did you like more in V. Bianchi’s story: the cat or her pet? Why? Tell me how the cat fed the bunny. How did the cat and the bunny live? What did the cat teach her pet hare? Tell me how the hare defended himself from the dogs. What does the author call the hare in the story “The Cat's Pet”? (Adopted, pet). Why is it called that?

N. Sladkov “Purlyka”

Once upon a time there lived a cat with my grandmother. The cat's name was Purr. More than anything in the world, Purr loved milk.

In the summer the cat respected cold milk. It's like something out of a foggy jar. As soon as grandma gets the jug out of the well, Purr is right there! The tail sticks out and purrs so much that the whiskers rattle.

Drink some cold milk and you're done. Paws up, eyes open - cold belly warms in the sun.

But in winter, give Murlyka baked milk. First he will eat the foam, then he will lap it up until it drops.

It will steam, relax, and scratch at the door. A hot belly immediately onto the snow - it cools down.

Day and night - a day away. The purr either warms the stomach or cools it. And in free time laps milk. He has no time to catch mice.

Whether long or short, my grandmother died. Murlyka began to live with his grandmother’s granddaughter.

Want to know what he's doing now?

Then look out the window. If it’s summer outside, that means the cat Purr warms the belly, and if it’s winter, it cools it down.

He lives without any pain. Doesn't catch mice. And he purrs so much that his mustache rattles. And the tail is a pipe.

K. D. Ushinsky “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.”

Issues for discussion

Listen to the story of K. D. Ushinsky “Bishka”. Who is it talking about? How does a dog tell you what it does for a person?

K. D. Ushinsky “Cow”

The cow is ugly, but she gives milk. Her forehead is wide, her ears are to the side; there is a lack of 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.”

L. Voronkova “The Cock’s Word”

The herd was resting near the river, under the willows. The cows stood in the cold, dozing.

But soon the milkmaids came and woke up the cows. The milkmaids saw Vanya and began to ask the grandmother:

- Well, Zakharovna, is this our new milker?

- Or did you come to hire yourself as a shepherd?

“What are you talking about,” answered the grandmother, “this is my granddaughter Vanya.”

The milkmaids joked and laughed, as if they didn’t know that Vanya was his grandmother’s granddaughter.

Then grandma said:

- I'll milk it. And you, Vanya, go to the river and take a swim. Yes, pick a burdock on your head, otherwise the sun will bake you.

Vanya went down to the river. I took a swim. Played with the fish. In a shallow place where the sun warms the water to the bottom, small fish always crowd. If you scare them, they will immediately crumble, scatter like silver arrows. And if you stand quietly in the water, they will gather around your feet again. They are playing.

In the river Vanya picked green sedge. I found a burdock in the bushes and put it on my head instead of a hat. And he sat down under the willows. Sits and weaves a whip from sedge.

And the shepherd Uncle Andrei lies right there in the cold, covers his face with a cap and sleeps.

Suddenly something happened. The milk pan rattled, the milkmaid Matryona screamed and began to scold:

- Oh, disgusting! Oh, you are worthless to be eaten by wolves.

And she hit her cow. The cow ran away from her. Runs, snorts, tail like a pipe...

Grandma had just finished milking Buryonka.

- Matryosha, is it possible to beat a cow?

- How can you not beat her? - Matryosha answered with annoyance. “I hit the bucket with my foot and spilled the milk!” And now she’s running - catch her! You won't catch it. And he won’t give milk, he won’t give it for anything. So disgusting!

“It’s not good, it’s not good,” said the grandmother, “we need to sort this out!” She was bitten by a horsefly, she wanted to drive the horsefly away and accidentally hit the bucket. Why scold her? Not on purpose, after all. You need to understand.

Matryosha wanted to approach the angry cow.

- Stop, Pestrushka, stop!

But Pestrushka glanced sideways at her, sniffled and ran away again.

“She doesn’t believe you,” said the grandmother, “she hit you once, you can hit her again.” Let me talk to her.

Grandmother came up to Pestrushka, caressed her, scratched her behind the horns - cows love this very much. Then she took a clean rag from her pocket and wiped the tears from her eyes, because Pestrushka was crying out of resentment.

- Well, that’s all, my little cow, that’s the end of it.

Doru. Don't be angry, don't be offended. Need to be milked. Well, go, Matryosha. Pestrushka is no longer angry with you. And be kind to her.

Matryosha came up, stroked Pestrushka and sat down to milk. The milkmaids surrounded the grandmother.

- Zakharovna, tell us why the cows listen to you?

Then the shepherd Uncle Andrey pulled his cap off his face and said in a sleepy voice:

“She knows a cock’s word.”

- Oh, Zakharovna! - the milkmaids shouted. - Say this word to us too. Is it magical, or what?

“And this word is very simple,” the grandmother answered them. — You need to understand cows, you need to respect them. And most importantly, you have to love them. That's all my magic.

Questions to discuss with children

What did you learn about the cow from the story of K. D. Ushinsky? Which healthy food does a cow give to people? What does a cow look like? What does she eat in summer and what does she eat in winter? What is the name of the cow house? What does a cow call its owner? Draw a cow grazing in a meadow

Tell me where the cow grazes in the summer. Who herds the cows? What does a shepherd do to get the cows to come to him?

K. D. Ushinsky “Goat”

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, hoarded milk for the children; and the kids, little kids, sucked milk, climbed the fence, fought with their horns.

Issues for discussion

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

What did you learn about goats from the story of K. D. Ushinsky? What does a goat look like? What does he call goats with kids? What do goats and kids do in the garden? How do little goats play in the garden? Who is called the bearded owner in the story: a man or a goat?

Stories about wild animals for children 3-4 years old

G. Snegirev “The Cunning Chipmunk”

I built myself a tent in the taiga. This is not a house or a forest hut, but simply long sticks folded together. There is bark on the sticks, and logs on the bark so that pieces of bark do not get blown away by the wind.

I began to notice that someone was leaving pine nuts in the tent.

I couldn’t guess who was eating nuts in my chum without me. It even became scary.

But then one day a cold wind blew, drove up the clouds, and during the day it became completely dark.

I quickly climbed into the tent, but my place was already taken.

A chipmunk sits in the darkest corner. A chipmunk has a sack of nuts behind each cheek.

The cheeks are thick, the eyes are slits. He looks at me, afraid to spit out the nuts on the ground: he thinks I’ll steal them.

The chipmunk endured it, endured it, and spat out all the nuts. And immediately his cheeks became thinner.

I counted seventeen nuts on the ground.

The chipmunk was afraid at first, but then he saw that I was sitting calmly and began to stuff the nuts into the cracks and under the logs.

When the chipmunk ran away, I looked - nuts were stuffed everywhere, large, yellow. Apparently, the chipmunk has built a storage room in my tent.

How cunning this chipmunk is! In the forest, squirrels and jays will steal all his nuts. And the chipmunk knows that not a single thieving jay will get into my tent, so he brought his supplies to me. And I was no longer surprised if I found nuts in the plague. I knew that a cunning chipmunk lived with me.

Issues for discussion

Did you like G. Snegirev’s story “The Cunning Chipmunk”? How did the story begin? Tell me how the hero of the story met the uninvited guest? Where did the chipmunk hide the nuts?

V. Bianchi “Bathing bear cubs”

Our familiar hunter was walking along the bank of a forest river and suddenly heard a loud cracking of branches. He got scared and climbed a tree.

A large brown bear came ashore from the thicket, with her two cheerful bear cubs and a nurse - her one-year-old son, the bear's nanny.

The bear sat down.

Pestun grabbed one bear cub by the collar with his teeth and started dipping it into the river.

The little bear squealed and floundered, but the nurse did not let him go until he had thoroughly rinsed him in the water.

The other little bear got scared cold bath and started to run away into the forest.

Pestun caught up with him, slapped him, and then - into the water, like the first.

He rinsed and rinsed it and accidentally dropped it into the water. How the little bear will scream! Then, in an instant, the bear jumped up, pulled her little son to the shore, and gave the nurse such a splash that he, poor thing, howled.

Finding themselves back on the ground, both cubs were very pleased with their swim: the day was hot, and they were very hot in their thick shaggy fur coats. The water refreshed them well. After swimming, the bears disappeared into the forest again, and the hunter climbed down from the tree and went home.

Issues for discussion

Do you think V. Bianchi’s story is funny or sad? Who is this story about? How many bears were there? Why did the bears come to the river? Who bathed the cubs? Tell us how the nesting bear bathed the cubs. What happened when the nurse dropped the bear cub into the river? How did the story about the cubs bathe end? Who did you like the most in the story? Which part of the story did you find most interesting?

K. D. Ushinsky “Fox Patrikeevna”

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; vest on the chest; there is 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.

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 the fox were a good housewife to everyone, 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 a rabbit.

Issues for discussion

Who is K.D. Ushinsky's story about? What is it called? What does a fox look like? How does she walk on the ground? What can she do? What words does the author find for fox? (Godfather fox, fox, clever girl, godmother, Lisa Patrikeevna, little fox, robber fox.) Does the author like the fox, or does he think she’s bad? What word helped you understand this?

N. Sladkov “Bureau of Forest Services”

Cold February arrived in the forest. He made snowdrifts on the bushes and covered the trees with frost. And although the sun is shining, it is not warming.

Ferret says:

- Save yourself as best you can!

And Magpie chirps:

-Everyone for himself again? Alone again? No, so that we can work together against a common misfortune! And that’s what everyone says about us, that we only peck and squabble in the forest. It's even a shame...

Here the Hare got involved:

- That's right, the Magpie is chirping. There is safety in numbers. I propose to create a Bureau of Forest Services. For example, I can help partridges. I tear the snow on the winter fields to the ground every day, let them peck the seeds and greens there after me - I don’t mind. Write me, Soroka, to the Bureau as number one!

- There is still a smart head in our forest! - Soroka was happy. - Who is next?

- We're next! - the crossbills shouted. “We peel the cones on the trees and drop half of the cones whole.” Use it, voles and mice, don’t mind!

“The hare is a digger, crossbills are throwers,” wrote Magpie.

- Who is next?

“Sign us up,” the beavers grumbled from their hut. “We piled so many aspen trees in the fall—there’s enough for everyone.” Come to us, moose, roe deer, hares, juicy aspen bark Yes, chew the branches!

And it went, and it went!

Woodpeckers offer their hollows for the night, crows invite them to carrion, crows promise to show them their dumps. Soroka barely has time to write down.

The Wolf also trotted out at the noise. He straightened his ears, looked up with his eyes and said:

- Sign me up for the Bureau too!

The magpie almost fell from the tree:

- Are you, Volka, at the Service Bureau? What do you want to do in it?

“I will serve as a watchman,” answers the Wolf.

-Who can you guard?

- I can guard everyone! Hares, moose and roe deer near the aspen trees, partridges in the greens, beavers in the huts. I'm an experienced watchman. He guarded the sheep in the sheepfold, the chickens in the chicken coop...

- You are a robber from a forest road, not a watchman! - Magpie shouted. - Move on, you rascal! We know you. It’s me, Soroka, who will guard everyone in the forest from you: when I see you, I’ll raise a cry! I will write down not you, but myself as a watchman in the Bureau: “Magpie is a watchman.” Am I worse than others, or what?

This is how bird-animals live in the forest. It happens, of course, that they live in such a way that only fluff and feathers fly. But it happens, and they help each other out.

Anything can happen in the forest.

Issues for discussion

Who is N. Sladkov’s story “Bureau of Forest Services” about?

Who proposed organizing a “Bureau of Good Offices” in the forest?

Why didn’t Magpie register the Wolf in the “Bureau of Good Offices”?

N. Sladkov “Hare round dance”

Frost in the yard. Special frost, spring. The ear that is in the shade freezes, and the ear that is in the sun burns. There are droplets from the green aspens, but the droplets do not reach the ground, they freeze on the fly into ice. On the sunny side of the trees the water glistens, while the shady side is covered with a matte crust of ice.

The willow trees turned red, and the alder thickets turned purple.

During the day the snow melts and burns, at night the frost clicks.

It's time for rabbit songs. It's time for the night hare round dances.

You can hear the hares singing at night. And how they dance in a circle - you can’t see it in the dark.

But you can understand everything from the tracks: there was a straight hare path, from stump to stump, through hummocks, through fallen trees, under the white hare collars, and suddenly it spun in unimaginable loops! Figures of eight among the birches, round dance circles around the fir trees, a carousel between the bushes.

It was as if the hares' heads were spinning, and they began to zigzag and get confused. They dance and sing: “gu-gu-gu-guu! Goo-goo-goo-goo!”

Like blowing birch bark pipes. Even the lips are jumping!

They don’t care about foxes and eagle owls now. All winter they lived in fear, all winter they hid and were silent. Enough! March is just around the corner. The sun overcomes the frost. It's time for rabbit songs. Time for hare round dances.

Issues for discussion

What did you learn about the hare from N. Sladkov’s story? What color is a bunny's fur coat? What's good about it in winter? What does a bunny eat in winter? What does a bunny eat in summer? Draw a bunny in a winter coat. What color paint will you use? Does the bunny’s fur coat also be white in the summer?

I. S. Sokolov-Mikitov “Hedgehog”

Through stumps and logs, through high overgrown hummocks, through open forest glades, a hedgehog makes its way to its lair.

In autumn, hedgehogs have little prey. Worms hid in the ground, nimble lizards disappeared, slippery snakes and black snakes curled into balls. It's hard to find bugs and stupid frogs.

In the clear autumn days The busy worker hedgehog is preparing a warm winter shelter for himself. Night and day, he drags fragrant dry leaves and soft forest moss into a hole under an old stump to make a winter bed.

Soon the hedgehog will climb into his lair for the whole long winter. He will no longer run through the forest, catching worms and beetles.

When winter comes, a deep snowdrift will cover his hole.

Under a deep snowdrift, like under a thick fluffy blanket, the hedgehog feels warm. No one will find his lair, no one will wake him up.

Until the spring sun, the hedgehog will sleep all winter, and he will have forest hedgehog dreams.

Issues for discussion

Listen to the story “Hedgehog” by I. S. Sokolov-Mikitov. Tell me what time of year this story is about. What does a hedgehog eat in the fall? What is he preparing for the winter? Where will the hedgehog sleep all winter? What is the snowdrift that will cover the hedgehog's lair compared to in the story?

V. Bianki “Belkina Drying House”

The squirrel took one of its round nests in the trees for storage. She has hazelnuts and cones stacked there.

In addition, the squirrel collected mushrooms - boletus and birch mushrooms. She planted them on broken pine branches and dried them for future use. In winter, she will wander through the branches of trees and eat dried mushrooms.