Prishvin stories about nature for children. Fairy tales about nature are a pantry of kindness and wisdom. Mikhail Prishvin "Dead Tree"

Who doesn't remember their first books? Probably no such person exists. From the first thick pages of "baby" books, children begin to get acquainted with the world around them. They learn about the inhabitants of the forest and their habits, about domestic animals and their benefits to humans, about the life of plants and the seasons. Books gradually, with each page, bring kids closer to the world of nature, teach them to take care of it, to live in harmony with it.

special, unique place among literary works, intended for children's reading, are occupied by Prishvin's stories about nature. An unsurpassed master of the short genre, he subtly and clearly described the world forest dwellers. Sometimes a few sentences were enough for this.

Observation of a young naturalist

As a boy, M. Prishvin felt his vocation for writing. Stories about nature appeared in the first notes of his own diary, which began in the childhood of the future writer. He grew up as an inquisitive and very attentive child. The small estate where Prishvin spent his childhood was located in the Oryol province, famous for its dense forests, sometimes impenetrable.

Fascinating stories of hunters about encounters with the inhabitants of the forest early childhood excite the boy's imagination. No matter how the young naturalist asked to hunt, for the first time his desire was fulfilled only at the age of 13. Until that time, he was allowed to walk only in the district, and for such solitude he used every opportunity.

First forest impressions

During his favorite walks in the forest, the young dreamer listened with pleasure to the singing of birds, carefully looked at the slightest changes in nature and looked for meetings with its mysterious inhabitants. Often he got from his mother for a long absence. But the boy's stories about his forest discoveries were so emotional and full of delight that parental anger was quickly replaced by mercy. The little naturalist immediately wrote down all his observations in his diary.

It was these first recordings of impressions from meetings with the secrets of nature that entered the stories about the nature of Prishvin and helped the writer find those exact words that even kids could understand.

Attempt at writing

The writing talent of the young nature lover was first truly noticed at the Yelets Gymnasium, where the writer V. Rozanov worked as a geography teacher at that time. It was he who noted the attentive attitude of the teenager to native land and the ability to accurately, concisely, very clearly describe their impressions in school essays. The teacher's recognition of Prishvin's special powers of observation subsequently played an important role in the decision to devote himself to literature. But it will be accepted only by the age of 30, and all previous years his diary will become a treasury of naturalistic impressions. Many of Prishvin's stories about nature, written for young readers, will appear from this piggy bank.

Member of the expedition to the northern regions

The craving of the future writer for biology manifested itself first in the desire to acquire the profession of an agronomist (he studied in Germany). Then he successfully applied the acquired knowledge in agricultural science (he worked at the Moscow Agricultural Academy). But the turning point in his life was his acquaintance with academician-linguist A.A. Chess.

The general interest in ethnography prompted the writer to go on a scientific expedition to northern regions Russia for studying folklore and collecting local legends.

The nature of native places has overcome doubts

The virginity and purity of the northern landscapes made an indelible impression on the writer, and this fact became a turning point in determining his destination. It was on this journey that his thoughts were often carried away to childhood, when as a boy he wanted to escape to distant Asia. Here, among the untouched forest expanses, he realized that native nature became for him that same dream, but not distant, but close and understandable. “Only here for the first time did I understand what it means to live on my own and be responsible for myself,” Prishvin wrote on the pages of his diary. Stories about nature formed the basis of impressions from that trip and were included in the naturalistic collection "In the land of fearless birds." The wide recognition of the book opened the doors for its author to all literary societies.

Having received invaluable experience as a naturalist in his travels, the writer gives birth to books one after another. Travel notes and the naturalist's essays will form the basis of such works as "Behind the Magic Kolobok", "Light Lake", "Black Arab", "Bird Cemetery" and "Glorious Tambourines". In Russian literary circles It is Mikhail Prishvin who will be recognized as the “singer of nature”. The stories about nature written by this time were already very popular and served as an example for the study of literature in primary school gymnasiums.

nature singer

In the 1920s, Prishvin's first stories about nature appeared, marking the beginning of a whole series of short sketches about the life of the forest - children's and hunting. Naturalistic and geographical notes at this stage of creativity receive a philosophical and poetic coloring and are collected in the book "Calendar of Nature", where Prishvin himself becomes "a poet and singer of pure life". Nature stories are now all about celebrating the beauties that surround us. The kind, humane and easy-to-understand language of the narration cannot leave anyone indifferent. In these literary sketches, little readers not only discover new world forest dwellers, but also learn to understand what it means to be attentive to them.

The moral core of M. Prishvin's children's stories

Having received a certain baggage of knowledge in the first years of life, children continue to replenish it, having crossed the threshold of the school. Thrift to natural wealth of the earth is formed both at the stage of cognition and in the process of their creation. Man and nature in Prishvin's stories are the very basis for the education of moral values, which should be laid from early childhood. And a special effect on the fragile feelings of children has fiction. It is the book that serves as a platform of knowledge, a support for the future integral personality.

The value of Prishvin's stories for the moral education of children lies in his own perception of nature. The main character on the pages short stories becomes the author himself. Reflecting his childhood impressions through hunting sketches, the writer conveys to the kids an important idea: it is necessary to hunt not for animals, but for knowledge about them. He went hunting for starlings, quails, butterflies and grasshoppers without a gun. Explaining this strangeness for experienced foresters, he said that his main trophy was finds and observations. The hunter for finds very subtly notices any changes around, and under his pen, between the lines, nature is filled with life: it sounds and breathes.

Live pages with sounds and breath

From the pages of the books of the writer-naturalist you can hear the real sounds and dialect of forest life. The inhabitants of the green spaces whistle and cuckoo, yell and squeak, buzz and hiss. Grass, trees, streams and lakes, paths and even old stumps - all live real life. In the story "Golden Meadow" simple dandelions fall asleep at night and wake up at sunrise. Just like people. A mushroom familiar to everyone, with difficulty lifting foliage on its shoulders, is compared with a hero in Strongman. In "The Edge", children through the eyes of the author see a spruce tree, similar to a lady dressed in a long dress, and her companions - fir-trees.

Prishvin's stories about nature, so easily perceived by children's imagination and forcing kids to look at the natural world with the eyes of joy and surprise, undoubtedly indicate that the writer kept the world of the child in his soul until old age.

This stories about late autumn about the onset of winter. Stories about the last autumn days and the first winter days. Stories about the first snow, about the winter forest.

Air track. Author: N. I. Sladkov

The river froze over at night. And as if nothing had changed: as it was quiet and black, it remained quiet and black. Even the domestic ducks were deceived: with a quack they fled down the hill, immediately rushed and rolled on the ice on their stomachs!

I walked along the shore and looked at the black ice. And in one place I noticed an incomprehensible white stripe- from the coast to the middle. How Milky Way in the night sky - from white dots-bubbles. When I pressed on the ice, the bubbles crawled under it, stirred, began to overflow. But why did the air bubbles run in such a narrow and long path?

The answer didn't come right away. Only on the third day, and in a completely different place, did I see an animal swimming under the ice: air bubbles marked its path! The air path was immediately explained. There was a muskrat hole under the shore; while diving, the muskrat “breathed” its amazing trail from the air!

Time to sleep.

Grunting angrily, a fat badger hobbled into his hole. He is dissatisfied: damp in the forest, dirty. It's time to go deeper underground - to a dry, clean sandy lair. Time to fall asleep.

Little disheveled forest crows - kukshas - fought in the thicket. Wet colors flicker coffee grounds. Shouting with sharp crow voices.

An old raven croaked muffledly from the top: he saw carrion in the distance. It flew, shining with the varnish of blue-black wings.

Quiet in the forest. Gray snow falls heavily on the blackened trees, on the brown earth. A leaf rots on the ground.

The snow is thicker, thicker. It went in big flakes, covered the black branches of trees, covered the ground ...

Whisper of snow. Author: I. D. Poluyanov

Snow is falling on the brown thickets of meadowsweet and green juniper with a bluish blue. Snow rustles, rustles, as if whispering, colliding in slow flight with tree branches. A rustle in the forest. The rustle of snowflakes. It merges into an incessant whisper, quiet and a little sad.

Each tree has its own way of meeting snow. Having smelled the needles like fur coats, the spruces stretch out towards the snowflakes the very tips of the heavy furry paws. Well, hello, hello ... Fly past! They make it clear: we are fine without you, snow, in winter!

Absent-mindedly, in detached thoughtfulness, the pines take on the snow, and it accumulates between the smoky needles. The mountain ash, from which the thrushes did not peck all the berries in autumn, shows a crimson frozen bunch: please, fall asleep, there is a snowball, one is left ... The birches lowered their flexible branches. Dry, sharp snow flies, barely touching them, and accumulates in the forks of branches. Snow falls and falls. And the birches do not move, the branches have dropped. They let us down, prompting: here ... here more rashes, cover our legs. Chill, cover them warmer!

And the young Christmas tree exposes all its paws to the snow. Like snow again. Surrenders, she looks at his spiky crystals. Snow whispers, and she whispers: good-sh-sho ... good!

Snowfall in the forest. Whispers in the forest. What do white snowflakes want to tell the world?

Les is listening. The fields are frozen and listening. In a lonely hut on a hillock, windows flashed - as if eyes were opened on a forest, on a field with hedges, stacks of straw. The hut is listening, her eyes are wide open; she will understand, old, with a rickety porch, what the snows whisper about!

Whisper, whisper... Snowflakes fall gently, gently on the fields and trees, on the blades of grass and on the roof of the hut. They go down and whisper. And I think I understand this whisper: if you touch the trees, grasses and the white roof of the hut, then you need to touch it as carefully as snowflakes in a soft winter snowfall.

Interesting stories about forest animals, stories about birds, stories about the seasons. Fascinating forest stories for middle school children.

Mikhail Prishvin

FOREST DOCTOR

We wandered in the spring in the forest and observed the life of hollow birds: woodpeckers, owls. Suddenly in the direction where we had previously planned interesting tree we heard the sound of a saw. It was, we were told, cutting firewood from deadwood for a glass factory. We were afraid for our tree, hurried to the sound of the saw, but it was too late: our aspen lay, and around its stump there were many empty fir cones. The woodpecker peeled all this over the long winter, collected it, wore it on this aspen, laid it between two bitches of his workshop and hollowed it out. Near the stump, on our cut aspen, two boys were only engaged in sawing the forest.

- Oh, you pranksters! - we said and pointed them to the cut aspen. - You were ordered dead trees, and what did you do?

“The woodpecker made holes,” the guys answered. - We looked and, of course, sawed off. It will still disappear.

They all began to examine the tree together. It was quite fresh, and only in a small space, no more than a meter in length, did a worm pass through the trunk. The woodpecker, obviously, listened to the aspen like a doctor: he tapped it with his beak, understood the void left by the worm, and proceeded to the operation of extracting the worm. And the second time, and the third, and the fourth... The thin aspen trunk looked like a flute with valves. Seven holes were made by the "surgeon" and only on the eighth he captured the worm, pulled out and saved the aspen.

We carved this piece as a wonderful exhibit for the museum.

“You see,” we said to the guys, “the woodpecker is a forest doctor, he saved the aspen, and it would live and live, and you cut it off.

The boys marveled.

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 autumn, ate them right away - I found the shells. Then she ran a dozen meters, dived again, again left the shell on the snow and after a few meters she made the third climb.

What a miracle You can't think that she could smell a nut through a thick layer of snow and ice. So, since the fall, she remembered her nuts and the exact distance between them.

But the most amazing thing is that she could not measure centimeters, as we do, but directly by eye with accuracy determined, dived and pulled out. Well, how could you not envy squirrel memory and ingenuity!

Georgy Skrebitsky

FOREST VOICE

Sunny day at the very beginning of summer. I wander not far from home, in a birch copse. Everything around seems to be bathed, splashing in golden waves of heat and light. Birch branches flow above me. The leaves on them seem either emerald green or completely golden. And below, under the birches, on the grass, too, like waves, light bluish shadows run and stream. And bright bunnies, like the reflections of the sun in the water, run one after another along the grass, along the path.

The sun is both in the sky and on the ground... And it becomes so good, so fun that you want to run away somewhere far away, to where the trunks of young birch trees sparkle with their dazzling whiteness.

And suddenly, from this sunny distance, I heard a familiar forest voice: "Ku-ku, ku-ku!"

Cuckoo! I've heard it many times before, but I've never even seen it in a picture. What is she like? For some reason, she seemed to me plump, big-headed, like an owl. But maybe she's not like that at all? I'll run and take a look.

Alas, it turned out to be far from easy. I - to her voice. And she will be silent, and here again: “Ku-ku, ku-ku”, but in a completely different place.

How to see it? I stopped in thought. Maybe she's playing hide-and-seek with me? She hides, and I'm looking. And let's play the other way around: now I'll hide, and you look.

I climbed into a hazel bush and also cuckooed once, twice. The cuckoo fell silent, maybe looking for me? I sit silently and I, even my heart is pounding with excitement. And suddenly somewhere nearby: "Ku-ku, ku-ku!"

I am silent: look better, don't shout at the whole forest.

And she is already very close: "Ku-ku, ku-ku!"

I look: some kind of bird flies through the clearing, the tail is long, it is gray itself, only the breast is covered with dark spots. Probably a hawk. This one in our yard hunts for sparrows. He flew up to a neighboring tree, sat down on a branch, bent down and shouted: "Ku-ku, ku-ku!"

Cuckoo! That's it! So, she is not like an owl, but like a hawk.

I will cuckoo her from the bush in response! With a fright, she almost fell off the tree, immediately rushed down from the branch, sniffing somewhere in the thicket, only I saw her.

But I don't need to see her anymore. Here is what I figured out forest riddle, and besides, for the first time he himself spoke to the bird in its native language.

So the sonorous forest voice of the cuckoo revealed to me the first secret of the forest. And since then, for half a century now, I have been wandering in winter and summer along deaf, untrodden paths and discovering more and more new secrets. And there is no end to these winding paths, and there is no end to the secrets of native nature.

Konstantin Ushinsky

FOUR WISHES

Vitya rode on a sledge from an icy mountain and skated on a frozen river, ran home ruddy, cheerful and said to his father:

How fun in winter! I wish it was all winter!

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

Mitya wrote.

Spring came. Mitya ran plenty of colorful butterflies across the green meadow, picked flowers, ran to his father and said:

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

Father again took out a book and ordered Mitya to write down his wish.

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

"I've had a lot of fun today!" I wish there was no end to summer!

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

Autumn has come. In the garden they picked fruits - ruddy apples and yellow pears. Mitya was delighted and said to his father:

Autumn is the best of all seasons!

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

Vera Chaplin

WINGED ALARM CLOCK

Serezha is happy. He moved with his mom and dad to new house. Now they have a two-room apartment. One room with a balcony, parents settled in it, and Seryozha in the other.

Seryozha was upset that there was no balcony in the room where he would live.

“Nothing,” Dad said. - But we will make a bird feeder, and you will feed them in the winter.

“So only sparrows will fly,” Seryozha objected with displeasure. - The guys say they are harmful, and they shoot them with slingshots.

- Don't repeat stupid things! the father got angry. - Sparrows are useful in the city. They feed their chicks with caterpillars, and hatch chicks two or three times during the summer. See how useful they are. The one who shoots birds from slingshots will never be a real hunter.

Seryozha was silent. He didn't want to say that he, too, shot birds with a slingshot. And he really wanted to be a hunter, and be sure to be like dad. Just shoot accurately and just recognize everything in the footsteps.

Dad fulfilled his promise, and on the first day off they set to work. Seryozha gave nails, planks, and dad planed and knocked them together.

When the work was completed, dad took the feeder and nailed it under the very window. He did this on purpose so that in winter he could pour food for the birds through the window. Mom praised their work, but there’s nothing to say about Seryozha: now he himself liked his father’s idea.

— Dad, will we start feeding the birds soon? he asked when everything was ready. Because winter hasn't come yet.

Why wait for winter? Dad replied. - Now let's start. You think how you poured food, so all the sparrows will flock to peck it! No, brother, you need to teach them first. Although the sparrow lives near a person, the bird is cautious.

And rightly so, as dad said, so it happened. Every morning Seryozha poured various crumbs, grains into the feeders, and the sparrows did not even fly close to her. They sat at a distance, on a large poplar tree, and sat on it.

Seryozha was very upset. He really thought that, as soon as he poured the food, the sparrows would immediately flock to the window.

“Nothing,” his dad consoled him. “They will see that no one offends them, and they will stop being afraid. Just don't hang around the window.

Seryozha carried out all the advice of his father exactly. And soon he began to notice that every day the birds became bolder and bolder. Now they were already sitting on the nearby branches of the poplar, then they completely took courage and began to flock to the table.

And how carefully they did it! They will fly by once or twice, they will see that there is no danger, they will grab a piece of bread and soon fly off with it to a secluded place. They peck there slowly so that no one takes it away, and again they fly to the feeder.

While it was autumn, Seryozha fed the sparrows with bread, but when winter came, he began to give them more grain. Because the bread quickly froze, the sparrows did not have time to peck it and remained hungry.

Seryozha was very sorry for the sparrows, especially when they began very coldy. The poor fellows sat disheveled, motionless, tucking their frozen paws under them, and patiently waiting for a treat.

But how happy they were for Seryozha! As soon as he went to the window, they, chirping loudly, flocked from all sides and hurried to have breakfast as soon as possible. On frosty days, Seryozha fed his feathered friends several times. After all, it is easier for a well-fed bird to endure the cold.

At first, only sparrows flew to Seryozha's feeder, but one day he noticed a titmouse among them. Apparently, the winter cold also drove her here. And when the titmouse saw that it was possible to profit here, she began to fly in every day.

Seryozha was glad that the new guest was so willing to visit his dining room. He read somewhere that tits love lard. He took out a piece, and so that the sparrows would not drag it away, he hung it on a thread, as dad taught.

Titmouse instantly guessed that this treat was in store for her. She immediately clung to the fat with her paws, pecks, and she herself, as if on a swing, swings. Long pecked. It is immediately clear that this delicacy was to her taste.

Seryozha fed his birds always in the morning and always at the same time. As soon as the alarm clock rings, he gets up and pours food into the feeder.

The sparrows were already waiting for this time, but the titmouse was especially waiting. She appeared out of nowhere and boldly sat down on the table. In addition, the bird turned out to be very savvy. It was she who first figured out that if Seryozha's window banged in the morning, we must hurry to breakfast. Moreover, she never made a mistake and, if the window of the neighbors knocked, she did not fly.

But this was not the only thing that distinguished the quick-witted bird. Once it happened that the alarm clock went bad. No one knew that he had gone bad. Even my mother didn't know. She could oversleep and be late for work, if not for the titmouse.

A bird flew in to have breakfast, sees - no one opens the window, no one pours food. She jumped with sparrows on an empty table, jumped and began to knock on the glass with her beak: “Let's, they say, eat soon!” Yes, she knocked so hard that Seryozha woke up. I woke up and could not understand why the titmouse was knocking on the window. Then I thought - she must be hungry and asks for food.

Got up. He poured food for the birds, looks, and the hands on the wall clock are already showing almost nine. Then Seryozha woke up his mother, father and quickly ran to school.

From that time on, the titmouse got into the habit of knocking on his window every morning. And knocked something like - exactly at eight. It was as if I could guess the time by the clock!

Sometimes, as soon as she tapped her beak, Seryozha would rather jump out of bed - he was in a hurry to get dressed. Still, after all, until then it will be knocking until you give it food. Mom - and she laughed:

- Look, the alarm clock has arrived!

And dad said:

- Well done, son! You will not find such an alarm clock in any store. It turns out you've been hard at work.

All winter the titmouse woke Seryozha, and when spring came, she flew into the forest. After all, there, in the forest, tits build nests and hatch chicks. Probably, Seryozha the titmouse also flew to breed chicks. And by the fall, when they are adults, she will again return to Seryozha's feeding trough, yes, perhaps not alone, but with the whole family, and again she will wake him up in the morning for school.

To portray bright world nature for the youngest readers, many writers turned to such a genre of literature as a fairy tale. Even in many folk tales main actors natural phenomena, forest, frost, snow, water, plants act. These Russian fairy tales about nature are very fascinating and informative, they talk about the change of seasons, the sun, the moon, various animals. It is worth recalling the most famous of them: "The winter hut of animals", "Sister Chanterelle and Grey Wolf", "Mitten", "Teremok", "Kolobok". Tales about nature were also composed by many Russians and it is worth noting such authors as K. Paustovsky, K. Ushinsky, V. Bianki, D. Mamin-Sibiryak, M. Prishvin, N. Sladkov, I. Sokolov-Mikitov, E. Permyak Fairy tales about nature teach children to love the world around them, to be attentive and observant.

The magic of the surrounding world in the fairy tales of D. Ushinsky

Russian writer D. Ushinsky, like a talented artist, wrote fairy tales about natural phenomena, different times of the year. Children from these small works will learn about how the stream rustles, clouds float and birds sing. The most famous tales of the writer: "The Raven and the Magpie", "Woodpecker", "Goose and Crane", "Horse", "Bishka", "Wind and Sun", as well as a huge number of stories. Ushinsky skillfully uses animals and nature to reveal to young readers such concepts as greed, nobility, betrayal, stubbornness, cunning. These fairy tales are very kind, they are recommended to be read to children before going to bed. Ushinsky's books are very well illustrated.

Creations by D. Mamin-Sibiryak for children

Man and nature is a very urgent problem for modern world. Mamin-Sibiryak devoted many works to this topic, but the collection "Alyonushka's Tales" should be especially singled out. The writer himself raised and cared for a sick daughter, and this book was intended for her. interesting collection. In these fairy tales, children will get acquainted with Komar Komarovich, Ersh Ershovich, Shaggy Misha, Brave Hare. From these entertaining works, children learn about the life of animals, insects, birds, fish, plants. Since childhood, almost everyone has been familiar with a very touching cartoon filmed based on the fairy tale of the same name by Mamin-Sibiryak "The Gray Neck".

M. Prishvin and nature

Short tales about the nature of Prishvin are very kind and fascinating, they tell about the habits of forest inhabitants, about the grandeur and beauty of their native places. Little readers will learn about the rustle of leaves, forest smells, the murmur of a stream. All these stories end well, evoke in readers a feeling of empathy for the smaller brothers and a desire to help them. Most famous stories: "Pantry of the sun", "Khromka", "Hedgehog".

Tales of V. Bianki

Russian fairy tales and stories about plants and animals are presented by another wonderful writer - Vitaly Bianki. His fairy tales teach children to unravel the mysteries of the life of birds and animals. Many of them are intended for the youngest readers: "The Fox and the Mouse", "Cuckoo", "Golden Heart", " Orange neck"," The First Hunt "and many others. Bianchi was able to observe the life of nature through the eyes of children. Some of his tales about nature are endowed with tragedy or humor, they contain lyrical meditation and poetry.

Forest fairy tales by Nikolai Sladkov

Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov wrote more than 60, he was also the author of the radio program "News from the Forest". The heroes of his books are kind, funny little animals. Each story is very sweet and kind, tells about funny habits and Little readers will learn from them that animals can also experience and grieve as they store food for the winter. Sladkov's favorite fairy tales: "Forest Rustles", "Badger and Bear", "Polite Jackdaw", "Hare Dance", "Desperate Hare".

Pantry of fairy tales by E. Permyak

Fairy tales about nature were composed by the famous playwright and writer Yevgeny Andreevich Permyak. They are representatives of the golden fund. These small works teach children to be hardworking, honest, responsible, to believe in themselves and their strengths. It is necessary to highlight the most famous tales of Evgeny Andreevich: " Birch Grove", "Smorodinka", "How Fire Married Water", "The First Fish", "About a Hasty Tit and a Patient Tit", "Ugly Christmas Tree". Permyak's books were very colorfully illustrated by the most famous Russian artists.

Has anyone seen a white rainbow? It happens in the swamps at the very good days. For this, it is necessary that mists rise in the morning hour, and the sun, showing itself, pierces them with rays. Then all the mists gather into one very dense arc, very white, sometimes with a pink tinge, sometimes creamy. I love white rainbow.

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 autumn, ate them right away - I found the shells. Then she ran a dozen meters, dived again, again left the shell on the snow and after a few meters she made the third climb.

What a miracle You can't think that she could smell a nut through a thick layer of snow and ice. So, since the fall, she remembered her nuts and the exact distance between them.

I heard in Siberia, near Lake Baikal, from one citizen about a bear and, I confess, I did not believe it. But he assured me that in the old days, even in a Siberian magazine, this case was published under the title: "The Man with the Bear Against Wolves."

There lived one watchman on the shore of Lake Baikal, he caught fish, shot squirrels. And once, as if he sees this watchman through the window, he runs straight to the hut A big bear followed by a pack of wolves. That would be the end of the bear. He, this bear, don’t be bad, in the hallway, the door behind him closed itself, and he also leaned on her paw himself.

Direct wet snow pressed down on the branches all night in the forest, broke off, fell, rustled.

A rustle drove the white hare out of the forest, and he probably realized that by morning the black field would turn white and that he, completely white, could lie quietly. And he lay down in the field not far from the forest, and not far from it, also like a hare, lay weathered over the summer and whitewashed. sunbeams horse skull.

I found amazing birch bark tube. When a person cuts a piece of birch bark for himself on a birch, the rest of the birch bark near the cut begins to curl up into a tube. The tube will dry out, curl up tightly. There are so many of them on birches that you don’t even pay attention.

But today I wanted to see if there was anything in such a tube.

And in the very first tube I found a good nut, stuck so tightly that I could hardly push it out with a stick. There was no hazel around the birch. How did he get there?

“Probably, the squirrel hid it there, making its winter supplies,” I thought. “She knew that the pipe would curl up tighter and tighter and grab the nut tighter so it wouldn’t fall out.”

I know that few people sat in the swamps in early spring, waiting for the grouse current, and I have few words to even hint at all the splendor of the bird concert in the swamps before sunrise. Often I noticed that the first note in this concerto, far from the very first hint of light, is taken by the curlew. This is a very thin trill, completely different from the well-known whistle. Later, when the white partridges cry, the black grouse and the current grouse chirp, sometimes near the hut itself, it starts its mumbling, then it’s not up to the curlew, but then at sunrise at the most solemn moment you will certainly pay attention to the new curlew song, very cheerful and similar to dancing: this dancing is as necessary for meeting the sun as the cry of a crane.

When the snow ran down into the river in the spring (we live on the Moskva River), white chickens came out on the dark hot earth everywhere in the village.

Get up, Julie! I ordered.

And she came up to me, my beloved young dog, a white setter with frequent black spots.

I fastened a long leash wound on a reel to the collar with a carbine, and began to teach Zhulka how to hunt (train) first on chickens. This teaching consists in the fact that the dog should stand and look at the hens, but not try to grab the hen.

So we use this dog's pull so that it indicates the place where the game is hidden, and does not stick forward behind it, but stands.

A golden network of sunbeams trembles on the water. Dark blue dragonflies in reeds and horsetail herringbones. And each dragonfly has its own horsetail tree or reed: it will fly off and will certainly return to it.

Crazy crows brought out the chicks and now they are sitting and resting.

At night, with electricity, snowflakes were born from nothing: the sky was starry, clear.

The powder formed on the pavement not just like snow, but an asterisk over an asterisk, without flattening one another. It seemed that this rare powder was taken straight out of nothing, and meanwhile, as I approached my dwelling in Lavrushinsky Lane, the asphalt from it was gray.

Joyful was my awakening on the sixth floor. Moscow lay covered with stellar powder, and like tigers on the ridges of mountains, cats walked everywhere on the roofs. How many clear traces, how many spring romances: in the spring of light, all the cats climb onto the roofs.

Stories of Prishvin Mikhail Mikhailovich

Many parents are quite serious about the choice of children's works. Books for children must awaken good feelings in the gentle children's heads. Therefore, many people opt for short stories about nature, its splendor and beauty.

Whomever M. M. Prishvina love read our children, who else could create such wonderful works. Among the huge number of writers, he, although not so many, but what stories he came up with for little kids. He was a man of extraordinary imagination, his children's stories are truly a storehouse of kindness and love. M. Prishvin like his fairy tales already for a long time remains an unattainable author for many contemporary writers, since in children's stories he has practically no equal.

A naturalist, a connoisseur of the forest, a wonderful observer of the life of nature is a Russian writer Mikhail Mikhailovich Prishvin(1873 - 1954). His novels and stories, even the smallest ones, are simple and immediately understandable. The skill of the author, his ability to convey all the immensity surrounding nature truly admire! Thanks to stories about the nature of Prishvin children are imbued with sincere interest in it, cultivating respect for it and its inhabitants.

Small but filled with extraordinary colors stories by Mikhail Prishvin wonderfully convey to us what we so rarely encounter in our time. The beauty of nature, deaf forgotten places - all this today is so far from dusty megacities. It is quite possible that many of us are happy to go hiking in the forest right now, but not everyone will succeed. In this case, we will open the book of Prishvin's favorite stories and move on to beautiful, distant and dear places.

Stories by M. Prishvin designed to be read by both children and adults. A huge number of fairy tales, novels and stories can be safely started to read even to preschoolers. Other read Prishvin's stories possible, starting from the school bench. And even for the most grown-ups Mikhail Prishvin left his legacy: his memoirs are distinguished by a very scrupulous narrative and description of the surrounding atmosphere in the unusually difficult twenties and thirties. They will be of interest to teachers, lovers of memories, historians and even hunters. On our website you can see online a list of Prishvin's stories, and enjoy reading them absolutely free.