Forest tales - Sladkov N. Who lives sweets in my house who lives in my house to print

- What a pretty hollow! - screamed the woodpecker. - Immediately you can see: my work! Someone now lives in it? Hey, respond!

In response, no sound. I knocked the woodpecker with the nose on the threshold of the hollow. And from the hollow - mouse! Nose sharp, eyes hang, ears naked. And mustache shine.

- Who knocks here - I do not give sleep?

The woodpecker staggered:

- Mouse in my house wound up! I would know - did not darkened the hollow.

- And I, after all, the woodpecker, not the mouse at all. Did you see my tail? Want to show your tail? - and fucked out of the hollow tail - fluffy! And in mice, as you know, tails are naked.

- So who are you, no mouse? - Does not believe the woodpecker.

- Sonya me. Garden Sonya. Rodent such.

- Garden, and live in the forest?

- Where I want to live there.

- Not for you, I DUCLE DOLLED, but for bird-duplenniks.

- What should I do? I'm Sonya, I love to sleep, and where is it better to sleep, how not in the voupel? It is not on the ground to lie to grab a cold.

Wood man does not know what to say.

And Sonya His:

- Think, in the wrappers of your birds live? Check! He herself from the hollow, if one birds are.

Woodpells flew to Osiennik: he has the most hidden hollows. Put to the extreme and shouted:

- Hey, the tenant, show! This is me, wood-house-building. I want to see who I was settled in a voupel.

Suggested out of the hollows incomprehensible - wing or flap? Leather something like on the spokes is cashed. What a bird?

- Yes, do not be afraid of you! - Lucky animals. - I'm just a flying mouse. Thank you for the hollow!

But the woodpecker was already far, he pounded in the third. Knocked and alerted: it is unknown who hugged there in Dupel!

- Not knocking, not deaf - I hear! - They say from the hollow. - Who it?

- And who are you? - The woodpecker asks. - Run or fly?

- I'm lazay. And I run and fly.

- Well, tenants! - Around the woodpecker. - Sony some kind of mice. Some mice, on birds similar. And now, do not disagree - the floats - climbs, runs and flies! And I fell for such a swollen!

"Do not regret, woodpecker, nose - better than us to praise," hearse from the hollow. - For birds-duples, birdhouses and doupels are postponed, and we have all the hope. And for the forest from us only benefit.

- Yes, you call you at least! - Osmpel Dwalle. - Or lean for a minute.

"I'm a night," deafly heard from the hollow. - I sleep now. Here in the evening, fly - you will see. And the name of me with a flyer, flying protein, and more often - heated. Falling the paws, I miss, stretching folds on the sides - and I plan. Everyone is surprising!

- Three hollows, and not a single bird! - Calcated the woodpecker.

Speed \u200b\u200bto the fourth, I wanted to clutch, and the heap ... buzzing! Angrily buzzing: do not come.

The bees in Dupel live. So it sinks at the entrance: there and here, there and here! From the hollows tsvevo and light, in the hollow, it is hard - with pollen-slipping. Now they are a hop. - Try Turn!

Unit and did not ask: and so clear. Do not beasts, not birds - insects settled. And also not useless: the flowers are pollinated, honey are collected. Let them live.

- You win! - shouted Woodel Sadovaya Sona. - And I thought that only bird-duplenotniks giving houses. And in the forest and other duples there are. Yes, what otherworthy: mice of volatile and volatile whites, bees, workers and lazy sony ...

"Maybe I'm lazy," Sonya was not offended, "but I do not worse than other, harmful beetles." And your housing deserved.

- Live! - shouted the woodpecker. - All live - do not feel sorry, I will foreshield for all houses! - Yes, how he began to knock - only the sins fell. It will be soon someone else's hollow-apartment. But to whom is still unknown. While the woodpecker himself does not know about that.

Who in my house lives - the story of Nikolai Sladkov, who causes interest among the guys is no longer one decade. In it, the builder of the woodpecker goes to check which birds live in the duples hesitated. Who does he find in the "houses created by him? What kind of residents are in them a builder meet, and that Woodpell decided at the end of his departure? Read about all the meetings of the woodpecker with the tenants in the hollows along with the guys in a fairy tale. The work will introduce them to the amazing variety of the animal world, will teach themselves generous, friendly, attentive and hardworking.

- What a pretty hollow! - screamed the woodpecker. - Immediately you can see: my work! Someone now lives in it? Hey, respond!

In response, no sound. I knocked the woodpecker with the nose on the threshold of the hollow. And from the hollow - mouse! Nose sharp, eyes hang, ears naked. And mustache shine.

- Who knocks here - I do not give sleep?

The woodpecker staggered:

- Mouse in my house wound up! I would know - did not darkened the hollow.

- And I, after all, the woodpecker, not the mouse at all. Did you see my tail? Want to show your tail? - and fucked out of the hollow tail - fluffy! And in mice, as you know, tails are naked.

- So who are you, no mouse? - Does not believe the woodpecker.

- Sonya me. Garden Sonya. Rodent such.

- Garden, and live in the forest?

- Where I want to live there.

- Not for you, I DUCLE DOLLED, but for bird-duplenniks.

- What should I do? I'm Sonya, I love to sleep, and where is it better to sleep, how not in the voupel? It is not on the ground to lie to grab a cold.

Wood man does not know what to say.

And Sonya His:

- Think, in the wrappers of your birds live? Check! He herself from the hollow, if one birds are.

Woodpells flew to Osiennik: he has the most hidden hollows. Put to the extreme and shouted:

- Hey, the tenant, show! This is me, wood-house-building. I want to see who I was settled in a voupel.

Suggested out of the hollows incomprehensible - wing or flap? Leather something like on the spokes is cashed. What a bird?

- Yes, do not be afraid of you! - Lucky animals. - I'm just a flying mouse. Thank you for the hollow!

But the woodpecker was already far, he pounded in the third. Knocked and alerted: it is unknown who hugged there in Dupel!

- Not knocking, not deaf - I hear! - They say from the hollow. - Who it?

- And who are you? - The woodpecker asks. - Run or fly?

- I'm lazay. And I run and fly.

- Well, tenants! - Around the woodpecker. - Sony some kind of mice. Some mice, on birds similar. And now, do not disagree - the floats - climbs, runs and flies! And I fell for such a swollen!

- Yes, you call you at least! - Osmpel Dwalle. - Or lean for a minute.

- Three hollows, and not a single bird! - Calcated the woodpecker.

Speed \u200b\u200bto the fourth, I wanted to clutch, and the heap ... buzzing! Angrily buzzing: do not come.

Unit and did not ask: and so clear. Do not beasts, not birds - insects settled. And also not useless: the flowers are pollinated, honey are collected. Let them live.

"Maybe I'm lazy," Sonya was not offended, "but I do not worse than other, harmful beetles." And your housing deserved.

The stories of the Writer-Natikolai Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov (1920-1996) about forest posikhis, singing versal, bird conversations, cinema pantry, lives in Bobrova Hatt are known to many guys.

He managed to combine cognitive stories with the educational idea of \u200b\u200bthe careful and attentive attitude towards everything in nature: forest, meadow, river, deserted inhabitants of our planet. He found the original form for his fairy tales, filled the "animal" dialogues with subtle humor and lyrism.

To tell Nikolai Ivanovich is about what. After all, he won the nature of many countries, was in India, Tanzania, Uganda, Sudan, Egypt, Iran, looked at her attentive eye writer. Books Nikolai Ivanovich wrote a lot: "White Tigers", "I am in the woods", "Unusual Beast", "Supils of Fairy Tales", "Forest Invisible", "Whistle Wild Wings", "Behind the Blue Bird Feather", "under the cap- invisible. " All books are not listed! And even journal publications in Murzilka, "Kostora", "Sparkling", "Young Naturalist".

Nikolai Ivanovich recalled: "... In my writing fate, I mean a lot of acquaintance with Vitaly Valentinovich Bianki. How did it happen? It was at the Zoological Institute of the Academy of Sciences a circle of young zoologists, where I was engaged. And now three people came there: the writer Bianki and artists Vasnetsov and Charushin. We, Yunnata, with all three of them became acquainted. Then we have come to Vitaly Valentinovich to all the circle. We went to the forest with him, on the hunt with him were. "

"... There is, in my opinion, two ways to know life - there is science and there is art. So, scientist for knowledge of life has tools: say, telescope and microscope. Writer himself tool! You, with my own personality, your character, your life will learn life! And depict it as it seems to you. So the writer does not need a telescope nor a microscope. He himself - and a telescope, and a microscope ... "N. Sladkov

Then - war. Bianki was in evacuation, sweets in the Transcaucasian front, they corresponded. And after the war, the acquaintance continued, this acquaintance played a lot in the future life of the writer, in working on his books about nature.

When the first Silver Tail was released in 1953, I noticed our wonderful writer Mikhail Mikhailovich Svtain. He still did not know the young writer, but he saw attentive artist, a connoisseur and an amateur of nature.

"... a lot of joys in the work of the writer, although it is not necessary to think that this is a lot of work - I sat down, wrote you, you were printed, you were informed about you, you are on the surface ... No, writing requires a lot of work and permanent status to answer today's time ... well, the main thing: your books are what you yourself ... "N. Sladkov

The writer in his youth loved to go hunting, but confessed that the hunt for him had a double meaning, because it was a way to communicate with nature, the way to recognize it. And then, the hunt prompted the plots. Many stories are cases that have occurred with Nikolai Ivanovich in reality. Of course, the case is not just described, but the case comes to writing a story. The hunt was more likely to hunt for knowledge, discoveries, and not for a child.

"I think there are two types of writing about the nature of people. Some write what they themselves know that they themselves found out, felt and survived. Others rewrite from the literature - this is the retelling of other information mined by other people. No emotions, it is pure cognitive literature, it also makes sense. But it is not artistic, not emotional. She does not act on feelings. " N. Sladkov

With Nikolai Ivanovich, there were a lot of fun incidents. In the book "Underwater Gazeta" a mistake happened: in the printing houses confused signatures under two photos. In the photos were shells. One ordinary, which often decorate the shelves in a glazed closet, and on the other - the rarest, which are just two or three all over the world and which costs tens of thousands of rubles. So it was written under the photos. But the signatures were confused by places ...

The book was published, and letters began to come to her author. And from children, and from adults. But here is focus! Adults wrote like this: "Comrade Sladkov! That, dear shell, about which you write, I have. Where can I pass and where to get money urgently? " And the children wrote differently: "We have a long and rare sink that you tell about the chest of a long time. I can send it to you or scientists so that this shell comes in handy for science ... "

Sweets remember another funny case: "I wrote a story. I reread and confused me. Something worried. I reread once again and postponed on the table. Then suddenly, after a while browsing one of my first books, written twenty-five years ago, I see this very story! Well, yes, this is the most that I just wrote and hid on the table ... when you work a lot, no wonder forget about your own story, printed twenty five years ago ...

It happens. But this is not the case! Surprisingly there was another! When I got a story out of the table and put it next to the one printed once in the book, I saw that now, that is, a quarter of a century, I wrote this story word for the word! To the point, to the comma. As if I was rewritten from the book ... That's what is surprising. And I thought: it means that this story was sitting in me. As she was born once from what I was surprised and what I remember, and sits - forever. Mysterious thing literature ... "

Let's now read the stories of the Sladkov writer!

N. Sladkov

We will only see!

We will only see how the bird is a nest!

We looked, the bird was frightened, threw the started nest.

We just take a look like this bird is sitting on the nest!

Looking, scared, stopped the bird stopped.

We will just look at what color in the nest of the testicles!

Wrap, the bird was raised. Crow the crow and when everyone went away, the testicles swallowed.

We only count how many chicks in the nest!

We only serve a forest chick and let go!

Half, stroked, and the aunt of other chickens was already far away. Lost sleevera!

So much in the districts of the bird nests - no one left! Summally seen that and look no longer on what ...

Peresavenniki

Ducks Cryachut, Owls Bubnit, gri on the bass. And there is nothing about small birds, they spring from dawn to dawn!

And there are such that they are not only singing, but also other messengers. Syrychy Syrych walked and quietly procused by church. Garden Kamyshevka in all the drokes dragged on a notch: at the singer of whitebirobovka, in the Ryabinnik. And the Skvortz of his song is not enough, so it is strangers in alien. Sits on the birch, brilliant and black, as if going to the lubricated or in the resin dipped, sings and his own wings are conducted. She also climbs the beak like a hairdresser with scissors. Thus, she won, then Oriole. Then the clarification is shaking, then Bekas bleats. For different voices for yourself and for others.

Another bird lives in the forest, which without stopping the reinforcement and unresponsing others. The whole song of her from strangers is woven. You listen to one, and it seems, the whole choir sings! You hear Drozda and Oriwall, Finch and Tsitna, Kulichka and Dyatla, Vesnetka and Gorikhvostka, Galka and Sparrow. She even starching shrinking! For this, it is called her foam-crossing.

Streams

There are craftsmen who are kept in the cells of even the most capricious and gentle birds: Korolkov, food, caps. And these are not enduring chihiki-pyzhiki, bullfinches and cinemas, which, and languages \u200b\u200bdo not want to survive somehow. But no in the light of such a connoisseur, who would have survived the string in the cage! That the most ordinary haircut that is worn with a screech in the evening sky. There was no and never will be.

And why? Not because the haircut catches thousands of small midges - birds and midges will find a replacement. Not because the haircut even drinks on the fly, rushing, leaving the wings above the water, and then catching the rain on the fly. Books and such would fail. And therefore ...

Do you remember the fairy tale about the lazy man, who even rested after sleep? And was it really afraid of the work? And the most pleasant for him was idleness from morning to night? So, the string is the opposite! He is unbearable idleness, he cannot live without a case. Without work, it can slide.

In pursuit of midges, strife takes a day to a thousand kilometers! This is twice the Black Sea to fly. It's all for a large flight: wings, muscles, heart. Space and speed. And suddenly it is impossible!

What is the bird in the cell of the case? Sit on the pranchka and drem. Two jumps forward, two ago. Water and food under the nose. And wings and do not turn around. And the wings are incomeless, and the heart breaks away from idleness. The cell is an enviable place for the loaf, for a free-free cell - prison.

And no birds, even the most skillful, will no longer help. It does not have a black sea under his hand, there is no immensity sky and a blue horizon. No and can not be.

How not and can not be without them for a haircut of life.

Who lives in Dupel?

Thunderstorm behind the forest rattles - all birds are alerted. One day at least that. He supracted a lot in the forest, there is where from the rain to hide.

Flying to the most neighbor - and the hollow is busy! The Gorichvost in the Dupel lives, a red tail with a swirl is shaking, angrily looks angrily.

In the neighboring hollow, the woodpecker rushed, and in it, Horchni is buzzing. How did the hollow crawled, as they sentenced, as they lagged. Dweath from them in all wings!

I flew to the third dupel with a lightly, knocked quietly at the entrance. And from the hollow, the owl of Lup-porosis as a convincing! Cover, like teeth, click!

And the thunder is already tossing over the head, threatening, this is - here the shower rushes! Died the woodpecker to the fourth hollow, and in it bat hangs up his legs! Shooting viciously, sharp teeth scalps.

Woodpecker to the hollow, that in IWA, and there is a fudge: nod nods, Khokhl plays, the beak shill threatens.

Dunked the woodpecker in the hollow, which was in Osin, and redhead protein from the hollow! She began to have fallen, was shot, the tail flies shakes. In the hollow does not allow.

All hope is now at the dyatlah on the old hollow in Bereza, which has long walked over. But it, although the dilapidated, is also employed! Duck-Gogol in the Dupel settled. Fully hooked duck fluff, and in the fluff of eggs. On the testicles, a big duck is sitting, hung in a snake, white eyes look at the woodpecker.

Where to fly, where to save from rain? Other wrappers wept, and without a roof over his head remained. Flying to housing, climbed into an empty birdhouse. I barely managed - dropped on the roof of the drop. Thanks to the guys, they reversed the student, did not leave in the rain.

Bobrow Pond

A chick in the forest of the stream, from the heat drying almost, even stopped. Nobody lived on the stream: nor in water, no water. Bored was in the forest.

But came on the Creek Beaver and built a dam. Spilled behind the dam large beaper pond.

Dragonflies are multicolored in the tricks over Russian, they are chasing the mosquitoes. Sleeps the otter, at night I catches, day with a steep slide on the stomach straight into the water rolls - plays.

The frogs were settled and the pond: that neither the evening is now - then the funny concert frog!

Swallows fly to the pond swim, chims into the breast toward water, picked up the beak droplets. Twitched from joy!

Fish in the pond wound up, play and splashing in transparent jets.

The ducks arrived, the nests of the skin, ducklings brought. Cryat now from morning to evening, we ducklings convene.

A black stork arrives - on one leg in the water to build. A frog concert listen to fish to admire. Worm to climb. Fun in the forest, noisy and lively! And all the beaver - thank you. All forest residents pleased. And I did not forget myself!

Good bird

I lived in my house Lazowka and bullfinch. I liked the bullf yet. Lazowka is also nothing, but wakes up painfully early. And I do not like it. Some sow outside the window, and she is already jumping on the Zhird: there and here, there and here! Also down his head hangs.

And by the spring and to wake up before, it became dark outside the window, and she already jumps. Sleep does not give. I deeply broke to the spring.

But the bullfight is still the same good!

He gets up even later. Will he wake up, in the pyrshki will sleep. And again falls. And with him I. Such a good bird!

The weather is waged together - and breakfast. I eat chicks, he is a whirlwind, I drink tea - he is a clock. And there is no walking anywhere: not that this restless Ladzogue!

What about the scentful bird, this my bullfinch! And mom says:

Approximately approximate, but only I am afraid for it. Your bullfinch eats yes sleeping - it obesomed at all. Even in the ackle, he was lazy to ride. It stopped it. And the eyes of something will look, and has already started bald. No matter how

Here I strained a little! Ran into the bathroom, immediately in two mirrors began to watch. Nothing terrible: the eyes still do not seem to be watched, and did not start bald. And that a little coming into the way, it may be, and will pass.

With fog, we now live the soul in the soul. And I released Ladzoevka. Only bad without it. Boring ...

Lyshushka

Outside the window I have a shelf - Bird feeder. Tits and sparrows arrive at the feeder. What are they curious about? If the window is not frozen - necessarily the neck stretched and look: what am I there, in the room, do?

All in the same caps: Sparrows in gray, cinemas - in black. But once the cinema flew without a hat - bald! Someone her pads on the top screamed. And so unhappy and beaten, and it is still all with feeders, it is not allowed to peck.

Lyzushka sat on the sidelines and waits when everyone is touched. Only rains them, no matter how! And if we rains, so there is nothing on the feedushka, one husk remained.

So I felt sorry for this lady - I almost cry! It would be manual, I would have sewed a black hat. Puffin, hungry, frightened. Nobody will regret, all pushed, take away, go. It is impossible so, in fact! What they all were only taught in the forest!

Chicks in the kitel

How many my brother with the belly of these swallow chicks passed! Once the swallows were blinded under the roof, caught chicks. And then the rain washed the nest, the chicks are lying around.

Tolery and I took the old basket, put the hay, feathers in her, and the chicks were planted from above. And hung under the roof where there was a nest. Swallows were delighted and immediately became chicks to feed. So chicks and grown.

And the others we raised in the soldier's bowler. Also the rain washed off the nest: one chick was killed, and three were still breathing. Swallows are chosen over them, verse. What to do, where to give? Well, we collected them - and in the bowler! And the bowler under the roof. Yes, the hurry hits incomparably joined, the swallows do not go to the chicks.

They were concerned, they got sick and flew away. We thought threw the chicks, and we look - the whole flock flies! And right to our bowler. Here the porridge was brewed: the thrust, twitter, squeak! But the flock did not come up with anything.

In the evening we removed the bowler, chicks fed flies. And again under the roof hung, but already so that you could squeeze.

At night, we do not sleep, everyone thinks: will fly or do not arrive? Straight it was to the morning. In the morning we look - flew! On the kitte, they are sitting and kids are fed. And you just give, in the soldier's bowler grow - additives are asked!

Everyone came to us to admire the swallows in the bowler. And we were praised. One visitors photographer even removed us with a bowler. Promised to send, but forgot, probably. And I would have shown you.

Yolteropuz

Once we went with the guys behind the Tutovnik. Everyone climbed onto a tree, and I climbed. But just stretched out his hand over the berries, as I hear: "Ssssssss!" I thought that these guys warn that, they say, the mistress goes, and this is a snake!

Lies on a bitch, the head raised and the language is superimposed. I like a boss: "Snake!" The guys are so looked from the tree. And I'm stuck.

Snake sued me even lower, so tongue and tease. Guys below yell, the tips are given, but do not fit closely. Then they rushed behind the stones. Well, of course, the hostess was given themselves.

The aunt of Nuren was first angry, and then he says: "Do not beat the stones, and then we still someone." This means me. Especially, he says there is not a snake there, and yellowopuses are a good lizard. My acquaintance. He wakes my tutu. If you betray - you will not be happy: how to give the tail! "

Here YOLTOPUZ himself fell: everything is again where!

Aunt Nyura says: "Once the yellowopuses gave the tail on the back alone, that even a fuffy boy burst!"

I look - and I burst. Did he really manage me with a mimolet? Or, when I fell, for the bitches clinging?

And the aunt Nuren will not calm down: "You will shake my tutu, he will disappear all the fuzzy. Will not look like you are from our village! "

My trap

Here it is - my favorite forest path! In the calf, the sun bunnies will jump over it, goldfish are fighting in the bushes on the roads, and over her head, in the tops of trees, solar fire-birds flashes. That will pull you with heat of heated needles, it will be with a swinging cool birch and Osin. And you want for all this somehow repay the forest.

In the middle of the path of the big puddle. All covered with moths! Some already loosely melted, others still twitch and tremble, overclocking circles.

Save them - it's not cunning. You only need to bring the twist from the bottom: wet butterfly wings adhere to it themselves. And then the shakes of the butterfly on the hotel: Soon she will get warm, dried and fly away. That's all the salvation of drowning!

On the way another news: the wind dumped the Sukhonene, and she pressed the Christmas tree. There was a lany and slim - and here in the arc jarred, burst into the ground. So it dries now or will grow as a freak. But if for this vitchene to take, it is possible to dangle, you can write it from the Christmas tree and shove it. And the Christmas tree will again become slim and fine. And it will grow no worse than the festive New Year!

Behind the turn of the path - a swamp. In the spring, there is still a frog in her chorus - Icra Metali. And now the swamp remained from the swamp, and in her piles of semi-sick headastrics: hoarsely, yulyat, suffocate.

And next to the traces of the Vorony - the crows are not worn!

There is nothing to think about: pull out the headastrics with his palm in a plastic bag and release into the near stream or river. Let there grow there. And they will become frogs - they will calculate: they will take a bussy midges and mosquitoes!

At the trails of Spring: once I found him here and cleared. I spread the knots and trash, deepened stock - the water went so transparent that it was not visible: pebbles, like lacquered, shine. Berrésta laid laid laid for passersby. Drink water in the heat - removes all fatigue! I walked, sat in the shadows - I walk on. I go to the lake.

Sandy beach, high cane, fish splashing. Suddenly splashes, a blow - fish fan jumped out of the water - and straight on the sand! This is their pike scared: they are fighting on the shore, everything in the sand and trunk. A little more and suffocate. We grab them and throw away from the shore. And from Pike.

Behind the lake - field. Still last summer in the holidays, I put a pole with a crossbar on it. This is a watchdog for feathered watch. In the afternoon, on duty on him of Kestrak, Sarych, at night, Owl and Owl. Field of the watchman from mice and voles.

Now - home. And tomorrow morning in the chill again on the cherished path. There are cases - there would be only hunting!

Who where!

Thought that at least the winter holidays will spend without worries, so according to the task! It is designed to find out where the insects went to the winter? Returning birds are understandable to south flew away. And where are the bugs-spiders, bugs and cocks? All summer flew, jumping, crawled, buzzed and shredded - where are they all now?

And here I am in the forest. Filed up the bushes and trees. Silence and frost. Neither midges nor a mosquito. And where to look for them - unknown ...

So I would not know anything if it were not ... Tit! "Pin Pin-Tararh!" She stated and hung down his head on the branch. And supervised!

Tynitsy, what kind of bird, I cut down, she is insectivore! Insects eats. But to eat, they need to find them first! And it means that she knows where insects are hiding in winter. He knows and tell me if I turn to her. Easy and easy: forward, tit, and I am for you!

The cinema from the tree spleled on the snow. Here the boars saved, the snow was shuffled, the rods were shouted, the leaves were scattered. The cinema is kept in the communions and something crushes something there. What?

And I had kicked up, I found some kind of beggars, snowcloths, cockokers, choking moth. There is soil!

And most importantly, a reliable way to search for wintering insects - insectivore birds will be my guides! I will look for birds, and they will search for me insects-wintering workers.

Listened - Pukhlyachok beeps. Insectivore too. For three steps, I was allowed, I see him well. Harting it to a dry duff, which sticks out of the snow, and her diligently drops it. Saved the hole and took out something. The second one came, the third - and all something from the holesockock. The twin has already become a flute.

And I found such a dudka, pulled out, broke it along, and inside who is only not! Komariki, spiders, cockokers, larvae, whose eggs. How in a pipe winter! Added trophies in my box

Ski run, the hat removed the birds better to hear. The long-haired sinickeys drove off, trembled birch, fumbled on the finest twigs - just like circuschi! Twitter, flush, fuss. All twigs were examined, checked - and got out. I broke out of the branches of the branches and all the twists carefully examined. Collected in a box of tool, pauses, shields and different sheetoblishes there. That's who on thin branches winter! All winter swing in the wind, like on a swing. Do not show the heads - myself would not guessed!

Attached to the ear of the palm: the woodpecker is knocking somewhere - like nails into the tree is smuggling. Check this pouch!

It turned out that the black woodpecker is desirable with a dry birch bark bears with layers, slightly to the goal section. I noticed me, looked at the white eye, flashed with a red hat and flew, shouting barely.

So winter - under the layers of dry bark! Beetles, spiders, moths, cocoons and larvae. Even flies and mosquitoes. I had to get the second box.

So this is: winter insects in a forest litter under the snow, on branches and in dulls, under the layers of dry bark. Where else?

Through the crust of the thick tree creeps up the close of the smoking mouse and makes a mouse. Cleverly cling to curls behind the bark and in all the grooves nose fuss. And her nose is not at all mouse, but a bird: a thin key, curved by a shiny! And no mouse is, the bird is food. Also insectivore. Lucky and smaller. I looked at Corra - there is no one, and she survived all sorts of cracked! And I showed me.

So here. We look around - empty and bare, nor flies, nor a mosquito. As if, in fact, all insects together with migratory birds flew to the south. And they are all here! Only who were hurt. And where - some birds know. And now I am.

I go out to the edge of the forest. In the field of hay stack, on a stack - shoika. He shouted with a chicken voice and flew away, a glimmer bright white ability. But not in vain she sat on a stack!

I had kicked up in the Seine - Bumblebee found, some kind of caterpilts, choking flies, a butterfly gloomy. They knew where it is better for the winter to shove: gently, warm, not blowing.

That's probably all wintering. It's time to turn to home. Full box of wintering workers: there is something to report to the teacher. It remains at home to disassemble and decompose on the conversion.

Rook to the house, I have fun looking around. And I see: from a snowdrift, a bird tail sticks out! Skintened and the hand has already extended, and from under the snow bowls woodpecker green with a gray head - bright like a parrot! What a news. Under the snow, the anthill, the woodpecker Sedoy somehow saw him, proceeded through the snow, in the anthill a hole picked up - it seems that Muravyov was looking for either wintering insects in an anthill. So another wintering is an anthill. But the woodpecker, the woodpecker - how is he recognized about him?

The river on the way, the water is crushed on the rapid ride. On the boulder in the middle of the water of the Bird of the Kriguzaya fuss - Olenyka - Water Sparrow. Sats, bowed, twist-spin - and head into the water! I think about myself: once, two, three ... to thirty counted - Olenipa spoke out of the water, no matter how it happened! And something falls on the boulder.

I found on Tom Valun, a cover from the cerebrals, the obscury of water beetles, shells, skewers from the dragonfly larvae. More wintering - underwater! The smallest: frosts are not under water. If it were not for Olenipa - it would not have guessed it!

And here and my house is already my wintering! However, as it turned out, not only mine ...

I had no rush at home sorted by the collected wintering workers in their wintering. Earthy wintering and wood, snowy and underwater, in anthills and stacks. Suddenly - knock on the window! Again the tit, maybe the same thing that the first wintering showed me. He opened the window - she is in the room and straight on my collection! Bare saved. Then she is in the corners and slots, under the shop and for the Russian stove. And there, it turns out, wintering! Winter flies, spiders, mosquitoes, moles, cockroaches and crickets. Without leaving home, you could collect the collection! So the tit showed me in winter - and then shows the last one. No, not last! I spoke into the yard, all the logs on the house checked, all the smells in the fence recalculated, the flight was cold. And where nose neither TCNET - everywhere wintering officers. Insectivore birds have known for a long time - the inquisitive guys will now know. Such as me!

Who walks on the road at night?

I go on the day day; At night I sleep at home. And at night, who walks on the road? And for what?

I took the earliest lessons and, as it was dark, took a flashlight and went to the forest. The road, so well my friend, at night I was completely different. Pits are some and cords, bushes cling to branches, on the sides of the forest, like a black wall. I go and think about myself: what if I first hear the steps - Top, Top, Top? Or eyes will fall in the dark?

I'm not a coward, but I'm afraid! Because everything around some kind of unfamiliar, unusual. And darkness. I do not go, but as skiing overgrow, putting hands forward. And everything is waiting.

And waited! Suddenly, someone: top top top! Catch up. Get closer and closer. Something big and black comes. I sighed - so I can not exhale. And the big one already - you can thorough with a cap. Suddenly, as a sneezes - yes, alive in the bushes! Only crash, splash and crunch. And then silence. And my heart knocks on the rubble. He exhaled, finally stood, passed back and turned on the flashlight. On the mud big traces similar to the cow. This is a cow, only forests - elk. I thought about it and I did not pick it up a little. I would only admire it for him, and now from fear fear as cotton. Light from the flashlight jumps - the hands still tremble. But I learned who walks on the road while I sleep.

Maybe come back, not too late? Does anyone else on the road meeting? No legs, no hands are visible. Each puddle as an open window in a starry sky: Togo and look to the hell. But curious. A, was not! I go, I go, suddenly - puff! - The wind has led the wind. Something flashed, "PEC, PEC!" cried and chopped in the palm! I do not know what to think, never heard anything like that. Along the road, I studied - two gems and rubyno shine on the side of the road! I closer to them, closer - soared, flashed with a red zigzag, there were cotton and cry "PEC, PEC!" But now I caught a lantern Chattered shadow - it was a bird-goat! We were told about her at school: called the goat, although the goats do not do. But what the wings-palm creates on the fly - they did not say. I now opened it now. Although it was smaller. But I will never forget.

The weather snapped, dug, fucked. As a motorcycle far, far away. And it turned out - at the very feet! A little on her hedgehog did not come. He immediately rolled his kolobkom, spinless spiny. Puffs displeased, waiting when I leave. On the road, he is not by chance, it's easier for him to catch frogs, beetles, snails and worms. Industles while I sleep.

Behind the turn gently flooded: I catch a ray - two pink rounds rose on the road and jump like on Ughab! The hare buried his eyes in the beam glow like two pink coal. He is something on the road to do? From mosquitoes, probably saves on the breeze. It saves, and their bats catch.

I'm already far away - it's time ago. Maybe, of course, and someone else would meet someone else. But not yet at one time! And on other nights it is necessary to leave. Maybe someone from class feed. Merry together. And not so scary ...

Who lives in my house? (read with illustrations)

Nikolay Sladkov
Who lives in my house?

What a nice hollow! - screamed the woodpecker. - Immediately you can see: my work! Someone now lives in it? Hey, respond!

In response, no sound. I knocked the woodpecker with the nose on the threshold of the hollow. And from the hollow - mouse! Nose sharp, eyes hang, ears naked. And mustache shine.

Who knocks here - I do not give to sleep?

The woodpecker staggered:

Mice in my house wound up! I would know - did not darkened the hollow.

And I, after all, the woodpecker, not at all the mouse. Did you see my tail? Want to show your tail? - and fucked out of the hollow tail - fluffy! And in mice, as you know, tails are naked.

So who are you, just a mouse? - Does not believe the woodpecker.

Sonya me Garden Sonya. Rodent such.

Garden, and live in the forest?

Where I want, I live there.

Not for you, I hung hollow, but for bird-douplenniks.

What should I do? I'm Sonya, I love to sleep, and where is it better to sleep, how not in the voupel? It is not on the ground to lie to grab a cold.

Wood man does not know what to say.

And Sonya His:

Do you think your birds do you live in the vaplahs? Check! He herself from the hollow, if one birds are.

Woodpells flew to Osiennik: he has the most hidden hollows. Put to the extreme and shouted:

Hey, tenant, show! This is me, wood-house-building. I want to see who I was settled in a voupel.

Suggested out of the hollows incomprehensible - wing or flap? Leather something like on the spokes is cashed. What a bird?

Yes, do not be scared! - Lucky animals. - I'm just a flying mouse. Thank you for the hollow!

But the woodpecker was already far, he pounded in the third. Knocked and alerted: it is unknown who hugged there in Dupel!

Do not knock, not deaf - I hear! - They say from the hollow. - Who it?

And who are you? - The woodpecker asks. - Run or fly?

Lazay me. And I run and fly.

Well, tenants! - Around the woodpecker. - Sony some kind of mice. Some mice, on birds similar. And now, do not disagree - the floats - climbs, runs and flies! And I fell for such a swollen!

Do not regret, woodpecker, nose - better than us, I am heard from the hollow. - For birds-duples, birdhouses and doupels are postponed, and we have all the hope. And for the forest from us only benefit.

Yes, you call you at least! - Osmpel Dwalle. - Or lean for a minute.

Night me, - Ducho hears from the hollow. - I sleep now. Here in the evening, fly - you will see. And the name of me with a flyer, flying protein, and more often - heated. Falling the paws, I miss, stretching folds on the sides - and I plan. Everyone is surprising!

Three hollows, and not a single bird! - Calcated the woodpecker.

Speed \u200b\u200bto the fourth, I wanted to clutch, and the heap ... buzzing! Angrily buzzing: do not come.

Unit and did not ask: and so clear. Do not beasts, not birds - insects settled. And also not useless: the flowers are pollinated, honey are collected. Let them live.

You win! - shouted Woodel Sadovaya Sona. - And I thought that only bird-duplenotniks giving houses. And in the forest and other duples there are. Yes, what otherworthy: mice of volatile and volatile whites, bees, workers and lazy sony ...

Current page: 4 (In total, the book is 5 pages) [Available excerpt for reading: 1 pages]

Mysterious beast

Cat catches mice, seagull eats fish, flies - flies. Tell me what you eat, and I will tell who you are. And I hear the voice:

- Guess who am I? I eat beetles and ants!

I thought and firmly said:

- So I did not guess! I also eat OS and bumblebees!

- Yeah! You are a bird of sieved!

- NOT OSED! I also eat caterpillars and larvae.

- caterpillars and larvae love thrush.

- And I'm not thrown! I also gnaz the horns dropped by elms.

- Then you probably have a forest mouse.

- And not the mouse at all. I feel even mice myself!

- Mice? Then you, of course, a cat.

- then the mouse, then the cat! And you really did not guess.

- Show yourself! - I shouted. And he began to peer into the dark fir, where he was heard from the voice.

- I'll show you. Only you recognize yourself defeated.

- Early! - I replied.

- Sometimes I eat lizards. And occasionally fish.

- Maybe you are her heron?

- not heron. I catch chicks and stuck from the bird nest eggs.

- It looks like you are a cunnant.

- Do not tell me about the cunits. The cuckor is my old enemy. And I eat more kidneys, nuts, seeds of Christmas trees and pines, berries and mushrooms.

I got angry and shouted:

- Most likely you - Pig! You blast everything. You're a wild pig that climbed on the Christmas tree!

The branches swung, spread out, and I saw ... Squirrel!

- Remember! - she said. - Cats eat not only mice, seagulls catch not only fish, flies swallow not to some flies. And the proteins nibble not only nuts.

Mystery of the Bedroom

Martherners daws live, in the sinybirds - Tits. And in the birdhouses, it is clear, the starlats. Everything is clear and easy. But in the forest it is rarely easy ...

I knew one birdhouse in which I lived ... Pine bump! She turned out of the fly and moved. When I approached the nesting room, the bump in the fly fell and hid!

I also hid behind the tree and began to wait. In vain! Forest secrets like that, gently do not solve. Forest secrets are hiding behind rains and fogs, hide behind the swamps and burlyas. Each family locks hidden. And to get, you need patience.

But what is the patience, when the bump in the flyer turns like a living!

I climbed onto a tree. The birdhouse on the very pilot was naked with pine cones! And there was nothing more in it. And there was no lively bump: everyone lie still. I threw a bump from the birdhouse and split down the tree down.

Yesterday I came to this tree again. This time settled in the nesting ... Birch leaf! I began to peering, the leaf was alert, froze and ... hid!

I climbed a tree again. Now the nesting room was packed with dry birch leaves! And nothing more. And there is no living leaf ...

And here I am here today. No one can see anyone in the flyer. I was put back to the next tree and waiting.

Runs autumn forest. The leaves fall, flush, circling, fall on the head, on the shoulders, on boots. I stood, stood and suddenly disappeared! So it happens: you go - and everyone see you, but got up - and disappeared. Now you see those who go past you.

... The woodpecker clung to the lea to the nesting room, how caught! And from it, from this mysterious housing a lively bump and living leaf, jumped up and flew ... mice! No, not bats, but forest. They spread on the side of the paws and flew down, as if on the parachutes. Slammed to the ground and ran away.

So who, am surprisingly, moved a bump and leaf in the flyer! They arranged in the bunch of their storeroom and bedroom. In the meantime, I climbed into them, managed to flick imperceptibly. And the woodpecker fell as snow on his head, sheared and dispersed!

So what on the tree: a birdhouse or a maddle? Maybe, in the tickeners with the cinema, too, do not alone siny and daws live? Well, go, let's see, maybe, and find out ...

Friends-comrades

With Miscellaneous my eyes, stupid my head, deaf my ears! - Take a bear, in despair, winding the head.

- Strangely strong see in weakness! - sculpt naked Filin. - What happened to you, Bear?

- Do not ask, Filin, not beemed wound! One I stayed in misfortune and grief. Where are my faithful friends and comrades?

Filin, though terrible in appearance, but his heart is responsive. He says a bear:

Previously, the bear on Filin and did not look, and now, as one stayed, descended.

"You," say, you know me. I am the strongest in the forest. And I had a lot of friends. Wherever I turn - everyone looked into the eyes. And suddenly you immediately! How the wind blew.

"Strange, the bear is very strange," Filin sympathizes.

- And it's a shame like! Previously, it happened, forty slightly light forest news on the tail brought. Crows about my strength and generosity on the whole forest of the Karkali. The heel mice in a dream tickled. Mosquitoes PUB SONGS DOWN. And now ...

- And all the faithful friends were? - Filin asks.

- Open friends comrades! - Bear shed. - How to start in vain: "You have the smartest, you are the most kind, the strongest and most beautiful." Heart sang! And now they fled ...

- Well, no need it is not necessary! - Filin blinked his eyes. - Do not kill so! I call me your best friends, maybe I find out.

- Called already: raven, forty and mouse. Where are you?..

"Although you don't know me in friends," Filin promises, "but I will listen to you." I'll find everyone, I graduate. And you wait for me here!

He waved the Filin wide soft wings and soared silently. Woven his shadow on the bushes and trees. And himself bears like a shadow: the branches will not fall, the wing will not creak. Two orange eyes look piercingly. Immediately Soroki saw.

- Hey, forty, are you friends with the bear?

- You never friendly with whom I was friends ... - Carefully meets forty.

- And what forgot him now and threw it?

- I never know who I throw and forget ... and the bear is to blame! I'm not a simple friend, but a confidence friend. Trusted him all the secrets. He reported where the sheep looked around and fell off from her herd, in which Honey's hid swell hid, when the fish on spawn shoals went. The bear, it happened, ordered in his own way, in a bearish, you look - and something will fall to me. And now his hunters from our forest hijacked. Out of sight, out of mind!

- Hello, Raven! What are you friends with the bear stopped?

- Is it with what? Which hunters from our forest driven? And what is he now? I'm not a simple friend, but a friend dining. It happened, after the bear and the bones remained. And now I suppose others get. Let others and groan about it. And I once, I'm looking for another bear!

He, although the usual thing, did not see immediately: it was very clever that was hidden.

- Hey, mouse, are it?

- Not me, not me! - squeaks the mouse.

- Yes, do not be afraid you, do not refuse myself from yourself! I just ask: why did you stop the bear to tickle?

The mouse has come to feel:

- How can I tickle them if the bear from our forest is demolished? The heels only sparkle! Commas and not to catch up. We now serve the moose. Mosquitoes Blood suck, I collect linic wool for the nest. Ringing for blood, wool for ticking. We are friends are calcined. One friend, but do not be stupid!

"Live so far," Filin grunted. - It is a pity that I have no time ... - and hurried to the bear.

- Are you Filin? - a bear was delighted. - Do not Tomi, what happened to friends?

- You have more friends! - says Filin. - Yes, never happened!

- How so, and forty, and raven?

- Friend - when just a friend. And these…

- It is clear: the trouble is on the door, and friends outside the door! All double, all insignificant. Scounds! A-ah! Y-U-y!

And Filin does not calm down, Filin thinks. And says:

- Delivered to me that you, bears, other friends and can not be. Do not friends you need, but ashy. It hurts you, bears, on the praise of weak. "Tell me who your friends and I will say who you are!" You, Bear, also mouse. Only strong ...

The bear clenched angrily, squirmed a terrible eye, became a bark to the claws to drag. But Filin no longer looked at him. Filin thought again.

"The faithful friend will learn in trouble," Philin thought. - Does not fall in my feet. Long ago, this is said, but also you ... "

- Listen, Bear! - said Filin. "I will say that you will accept you at a friend:" Not the one friend who makes mesh, but the one who will tell the truth. " Understood?

- Still would! - a bear was delighted. - Honey, Medoc, Medovuha ... Sweesting any truth!

"I did not understand," Filin said to himself and closed his eyes tiredly, - Bear ... "

Who lives in my house?

- What a pretty hollow! - screamed the woodpecker. - Immediately you can see: my work! Someone now lives in it? Hey, respond!

In response, no sound. I knocked the woodpecker with the nose on the threshold of the hollow. And from the hollow - mouse! Nose sharp, eyes hang, ears naked. And mustache shine.

- Who knocks here - I do not give sleep?

The woodpecker staggered:

- Mouse in my house wound up! I would know - did not darkened the hollow.

- And I, after all, the woodpecker, not the mouse at all. Did you see my tail? Want to show your tail? - and fucked out of the hollow tail - fluffy! And in mice, as you know, tails are naked.

- So who are you, no mouse? - Does not believe the woodpecker.

- Sonya me. Garden Sonya. Rodent such.

- Garden, and live in the forest?

- Where I want to live there.

- Not for you, I DUCLE DOLLED, but for bird-duplenniks.

- What should I do? I'm Sonya, I love to sleep, and where is it better to sleep, how not in the voupell? It is not on the ground to lie to grab a cold.

Wood man does not know what to say.

And Sonya His:

- Think, in the wrappers of your birds live? Check! He herself from the hollow, if one birds are.

Woodpells flew to Osiennik: he has the most hidden hollows. Put to the extreme and shouted:

- Hey, the tenant, show! This is me, wood-house-building. I want to see who I was settled in a voupel.

Suggested out of the hollows incomprehensible - wing or flap? Leather something like on the spokes is cashed. What a bird?

- Yes, do not be afraid of you! - Lucky animals. - I'm just a flying mouse. Thank you for the hollow!

But the woodpecker was already far, he pounded in the third. Knocked and alerted: it is unknown who hugged there in Dupel!

- Not knocking, not deaf - I hear! - They say from the hollow. - Who it?

- And who are you? - The woodpecker asks. - Run or fly?

- I'm lazay. And I run and fly.

- Well, tenants! - Around the woodpecker. - Sony some kind of mice. Some mice, on birds similar. And now, do not disagree - the floats - climbs, runs and flies! And I fell for such a swollen!

- Yes, you call you at least! - Osmpel Dwalle. - Or lean for a minute.

- Three hollows, and not a single bird! - Calcated the woodpecker.

Speed \u200b\u200bto the fourth, I wanted to clutch, and the heap ... buzzing! Angrily buzzing: do not come.

Unit and did not ask: and so clear. Do not beasts, not birds - insects settled. And also not useless: the flowers are pollinated, honey are collected. Let them live.

"Maybe I'm lazy," Sonya was not offended, "but I do not worse than other, harmful beetles." And your housing deserved.

Dancer

Well, the weather, so that neither the bottom of the tires! Rain, slush, cold, straight - Br - Rr! .. In this weather, a good owner does not release a dog from the house.

I decided and I did not release myself. Let the house sits, heats up. And he himself took binoculars, dressed warmer, pulled the hood on his forehead - and went! It is still curious after all to look at that in such bad weather a beast does.

And only came out for the Occolic, I see - Fox! Mushchets - industries mice. I dig on the felting: the back of the arc, the head and the tail to the ground - well, the pure rocker.

Here lay down on the belly, the ears with a bitter - and crawled: it can be seen, the mice-stayed glanced. Now they are still getting out of the mink - they collect grain for the winter.

Suddenly the brick threatened with everything before, then fell the front paws and the nose to the ground, rushed - the black lumps took off. Lisa revealed the toothy pastry, caught the mouse on the fly. And swallowed, not even ragging.

Yes, suddenly dug! Rocked on all four, as on the springs. That suddenly on the same rear jumps like a circus dog: up-down, up-down! The tail is waving, the pink tongue from the diligence sues.

I have been lying around for a long time, I watch her binoculars. The ear at the land itself - I hear the legs of the paws. All in the mud itself smeared. And what she dances - I do not understand!

In such weather only at home sit, in the warm dry hole! And she won won, what are the focuses, what legs will be posted!

I'm tired of mocking - I jumped up in full growth. Lisa saw - yawned with fright. Maybe even tongue bites. Shack the bushes - only I saw it!

I walked around and, like a fox, I looked at my feet. Nothing remarkable: Earth splashing from rain, severe stems. Loe then just on the stomach: will I see so what? I see: a lot of mouse minks. I hear: in mink minks are pegging. Then I jumped on my feet and let's dance fighters! I jump on the spot, I flip my legs.

Here, how to skate from under the ground, frightened mouse-boxes! From the side towards shake, they are stuck with each other, piercingly ... Eh, I would be a fox, so ...

What is happening here: I understood what hunt spoiled a chanterelle.

Danced - did not indulge, mice out of their mink kicked up ... I would have a feast here for the whole world!

It turns out that what kind of animal things can be found in this weather: Fox dances! I would spit on the rain and on the cold, would go other animals to watch, but my dog \u200b\u200bregretted my dog. In vain did not take her with me. It misses, look, in a warm under the roof.

Hare in his pants

Plured beef legs at the hare. There is no snow yet, and he has white steel. As if white pants put on. Previously, the brown hare did not notice in the clearing, and now he is sitting behind a bush. All like Belmo on the eye! Ylannik beat - the sitsy saw. Surrounded and come on to squeak:

Togo and Lisa will hear. Slap the hare in the Osiennik. Only under Osinka Zaleg - Soroki saw! How to shrink:

- Hare in the pants, hare in the pants!

Togo and looked wolf will hear. Woven the hare in Gustelle. There, the Christmas tree whirlpowed. The tree lay down the tree on the stump. As a shalashik, the stump covered. Blowled the whites on the stump and arrive. "Here," thinks, "now I hid!"

The hunter walked through the forest and sees: in the busiest, it seems to be a peephole on the sky. And what is the sky there, if behind the forest is black. Looking a hunter in the forest eye - hare! Yes, closely - you can poke a gun. Beating hunter whisper. And the hare - there is nowhere to go - shack right on the hunter!

The hunter was repaid, confused by his feet in the dog and fell. And when jumped out, only the white pants of the bunny flashed away.

Again saw a siny hare, saw:

- Hare in the pants, hare in the pants!

Soroki saw, raced:

Hare in pants, hare in pants! And the hunter screams:

- Hare in the pants!

Here pants: neither hide, neither change or reset! At least I would be snowing up to anxiety.

Blue reserve

Collect the reserve - it means to save. Everyone saves themselves on their own way. The Suslik grain steals and hides in his hole. Even special storerooms are digging for threaded grain. Water rat clogs a palpist of potatoes. Before PUP, it happens, it spins. The owl for the winter freezes in the voupel, as in the refrigerator, mice and birds. One such stuffing owl was found once two kilograms of forest mice! And one starshind lay down five water rats, seven straps, cinema, viper, lizard, triton, frog and swimming!

All this is a black day.

Soak as they can, where they can. Everything is different, but everything for myself: in his storage room, in his hupe, in its Nore.

And only some funny cinema-halakes collect reserves not at all. Although they are funny, but they have black days. And therefore they are reserved. Bug, spider, flies - suitable. Seed, grain, berry - suitable. They do not have their own storage rooms: neither mink nor swollen. There would be a comfortable crack in the crust, especially under the bitch, where neither the rain nor the wind is trying.

Hundreds of trees, thousands of storerooms. But don't you remember them?

And they do not need to memorize: the storerooms are these for everyone! Is it all equal, whose stock will you find: your own or someone else? You whose splashed, and your someone took. You are for everyone, and everything is for you.

Black day to everyone suffer: everyone needs to have a stock. And you can collect it in different ways. You can like rat - only yourself. Or as a crested-hitch - for yourself and for everyone.

What is the hare of length?

What is the hare of length? It depends. For a person - with Birch Fillet. And for fox or dog hare kilometer long in two. And even even longer! Because for them, the hare begins not when they grab it or see it, and when they teach a hare trail. Short trail - two or three jumps - and the beast is small. And if the hare managed to legate, stroke, it becomes longer than the longest beast on Earth. Oh, how difficult it is to seek in the forest!

From all his strength, the hare is trying to become shorter. The trace in the swamp will drown, then it will break his discount on the discount. The dream of a hunger - to finally be, with the Birch Fillet. He lives and dreams, as if to rip, hide, as if him, unsuccessful, to shorten, break, discard.

Higher's life is special. All from rain and blizzard little joy, and they benefit from the hare: the trail is washed away and notice. And there is no worse for him when the weather is quiet, warm: the next hot and the smell holds for a long time. In such weather, the hare is longer. Wherever hid - no rest: Maybe Lisa, though two more kilometers, and already keeps you for the tail!

So it's hard to say which hare length. In quiet weather and smart hare is stretched, and in the blizzard and shower - and stupid is shortened.

Not a day - the length of the hare is different.

And it is very rare when it's very cool, it happens the hare of that length - with the Birch Fillet, - what we see it. And they know about it all, who has a better nose work. Dogs know. Lisers and wolves know. Know and you.

Underwater hedgehog

Top, as in the hedgehog, more visible - spines. Head, tail, in the middle of the barbs - that's all the whole rosh. And also the eyes: Lilavoy blue, big, like a frog.

Rising Russh with the Misinchik. And if with an index finger, then this is already a hero old man.

They frightened me these old men. I swim and see: the bottom moved and stared at me with dots of dark eyes. This is Yershi - an old man to the old man! It is unnoticed by yourself: tails, heads, spines - all the same spotted as the bottom. Some eyes are visible.

I hung over the rams, flippers. Yershi was alerted. Fucking suddenly began to fall on the bottom, to bend and deliberately lift the cloud of mud. And the angry and brave risers were embarrassed on the perebuchi barbs: do not approach!

As a hawk above the sparrows, I began to circle over the hero. Yershi waited. I began to jump into the breathing tube. Yershi was not afraid. I pushed my eyes - they would at least say that! Then I ... I almost said: "I spat on the ram" ... no, I did not spit, after all, they don't stick, but waved on the herself a last and swam away.

Yes, it was not here! From a sharp wave floppy seed from the bottom and swung a torment. All the rams rushed to her: after all, with a torment, tasty worms and larvae rose from the bottom!

The faster I worked with flippers, in a hurry to float, the more I raised it from the bottom. Clouds clouded behind me as dark thunderstorm clouds. For clouds stretched flocks of heres.

Loaded the rash only when I flew to depth. But at the depth, I was not in my own. I'm not used to depth, it was still my first steps under water.

The bottom went deeper and deeper. And it seemed to me that I was flying over the earth and soaked more and higher. So I wanted to grab something in order not to rush from this height!

I turned back.

Here again overgrown. In the thickets of Yershi. It seems and fun - all living souls! Ershi Misinches floodwards, and old men - at the bottom. Now I havendenly raised the torment with flips. "Old people" and "Misinists", like Sparrows on millet, rushed to her. I am no longer scaring the horse: I'm not hoarse in the phone, I do not get the eyes on them. Just looking. And therefore, even the most gugly no longer falling the side to raise the torment from the bottom and hide in it. And the most angry will not pick up spines on the humps.

Good guys. Sophisticated!