A short story about birds for children. Tales about birds. M. Zoshchenko "Smart bird"

In one pretty Little Russian village there were so many gardens that it all seemed like one big garden. The trees bloomed and were fragrant in spring, and in the dense greenery of their branches many birds fluttered, announcing the surroundings with sonorous songs and cheerful chirping; in autumn, many rose apples, yellow pears and blue-purple plums appeared between the leaves. But here are some evil boys, having gathered in a crowd, destroyed the bird's nests. The poor birds left the gardens and never returned to them again. Autumn and winter passed, a new spring came; but the gardens were quiet and mournful. Harmful caterpillars, which birds used to exterminate by the thousands, now bred without hindrance and devoured not only flowers, but also leaves on the trees: and now the bare trees in the middle of summer looked sadly, as if in winter. Autumn came, but there were no rose apples, no yellow pears, no purple plums in the orchards; cheerful birds did not flutter on the branches; the village was not resounding with their ringing songs.

cuckoo

The gray cuckoo is a homeless sloth: it does not build nests, lays testicles in other people's nests, gives its cuckoos to feed, and even laughs, boasts in front of the hubby

- "Hee-hee-hee! Ha-ha-ha! Look, hubby, how I laid an egg for joy in oatmeal."

And the tailed hubby sits on a birch tree, unfolded his tail, lowered his wings, stretched out his neck, sways from side to side, calculates years, cheats stupid people.

Martin

In the fall, the boy wanted to destroy the swallow's nest stuck under the roof, in which the owners were no longer there: sensing the approach of cold weather, they flew away.
“Don’t destroy the nests,” the father said to the boy, “in the spring the swallow will fly again, and she will be pleased to find her former house.
The boy obeyed his father.
Winter passed, and at the end of April a pair of sharp-winged, pretty birds, cheerful, chirping, flew in and began to rush around the old nest.
Work began to boil; the swallows dragged clay and silt from a nearby stream in their spouts, and soon the nest, which had deteriorated a little during the winter, was refinished. Then the swallows began to drag fluff, then a feather, then a stalk of moss into the nest.
A few more days passed, and the boy noticed that only one swallow flies out of the nest, and the other remains in it constantly.
“It can be seen that she applied the testicles and is now sitting on them,” the boy thought.
In fact, after about three weeks, tiny heads began to peep out of the nest. How glad the boy was now that he had not ruined the nest!
Sitting on the porch, he watched for hours at a time how caring birds rushed through the air and caught flies, mosquitoes and midges. How quickly they scurried back and forth, how tirelessly they got food for their children!
The boy marveled at how the swallows did not get tired of flying all day long, without crouching for almost a single minute, and expressed his surprise to his father. The father took out a stuffed swallow and showed his son:
- Look how long, large wings and tail the swallow has in comparison with a small, light body and such tiny legs that it has almost nothing to sit on; that's why she can fly so fast and for so long. If the swallow could speak, then she would tell you such curiosities - about the southern Russian steppes, about the Crimean mountains covered with grapes, about the stormy Black Sea, which she had to fly through without sitting down even once, about Asia Minor, where everything bloomed and turned green when we already had snow, about the blue Mediterranean Sea, where she had to rest once or twice on the islands, about Africa, where she built her nest and caught midges when we had Epiphany * frosts.
* (Epiphany. Epiphany is an old winter holiday. Usually there were severe frosts at baptism.)
“I didn’t think swallows flew so far,” said the boy.
- Yes, and not only swallows, - continued the father, - larks, quails, blackbirds, cuckoos, wild ducks, geese and many other birds, which are called migratory, also fly away from us for the winter to warm countries. For some, even such warmth as in winter in southern Germany and France is enough, for others it is necessary to fly over high snowy mountains in order to take shelter for the winter in flowering lemon and orange groves in Italy and Greece; the third need to fly even further, to fly over the entire Mediterranean Sea.
“Why don’t they stay in warm countries for a whole year,” the boy asked, “if it’s so good there?”
“It looks like they don’t have enough food for the kids, or maybe it’s too hot. But here's what you wonder: how swallows, flying four thousand miles, find their way to the very house where they built their nest?

Eagle

The gray-winged eagle is the king of all birds. He builds nests on rocks and on old oaks; flies high, sees far, looks at the sun without blinking.

The nose of the eagle is a sickle, the claws are hooked; wings are long; bulging chest - youthful.

The eagle flies in the clouds: it looks out for prey from above.

He will fly into a pintail duck, a red-footed goose, a deceitful cuckoo, only feathers will fall.

Woodpecker

Knock-Knock! In a dense forest on a pine tree, a black woodpecker works as a carpenter.

It clings with its paws, rests with its tail, taps with its nose, it scares goosebumps and goats from behind the bark; He will run around the trunk, he will not look through anyone.

Ants scared:

"These orders are not good!"

They squirm with fear, hide behind bark, do not want to go out.

Knock-Knock! The black woodpecker knocks with its nose, hollows out the bark, launches a long tongue into the holes: goosebumps, as if dragging a fish.

goose and crane

A goose swims in a pond and talks loudly to itself:
What a wonderful bird I am! And I walk on the earth, and I swim on the water, and I fly through the air: there is no other bird like it in the world! I am the king of all birds!
The crane overheard the goose and said to him:
“You stupid bird, goose!” Well, can you swim like a pike, run like a deer, or fly like an eagle? It is better to know one thing, yes, well, than all, but badly.

Goblin

The inhabitants of a secluded village were in great anxiety, especially the women and children. In the nearby forest, beloved by them, where boys and girls constantly snooped now for berries, now for mushrooms, a goblin wound up. As soon as night falls, laughter, whistling, meowing will go through the forest, and at times terrible screams are heard, as if someone is being strangled. As he zaukaetsya and laughs, the hair stands on end. The children, not only at night, but also during the day, were afraid to go to their beloved forest, where before only the singing of nightingales and the drawn-out cries of the oriole were heard. At the same time, young chickens, ducks and goslings began to disappear more often in the village than before.

Tired of this at last, one young peasant Yegor.
“Wait a minute, women,” he said, “I’ll bring you the goblin alive.”

Egor waited for the evening, took a bag, a gun and went into the forest, despite the requests of his cowardly wife. The whole night he wandered in the forest, the whole night his wife did not sleep and listened in horror as the goblin laughed and hooted until the light.

Only in the morning Yegor appeared from the forest. He was dragging something large and alive in a bag, one of Yegor's hands was wrapped in a rag, and blood was visible on the rag. The whole farm ran to the yard of the brave peasant and watched, not without fear, as he shook out of the bag some unprecedented bird, shaggy, with ears, with big red eyes. She clicks with her crooked beak, moves her eyes, tears the ground with sharp claws; crows, magpies and jackdaws, as soon as they saw the monster, so began to rush over him, raised a terrible cry and din.

Owl! shouted an old man. “After all, I told you, stupid, that this is all a mischief owl.

Stories about the life of birds. Birds are our friends.

Kovrigin Artyom, 1st grade, MAOU Gymnasium No. 25 of the city of Kostroma, Kostroma Region
Supervisor: Kuznetsova Ekaterina Alekseevna, MAOU Gymnasium No. 25 of the city of Kostroma, Kostroma Region
Description: Artyom composed and drew these mini-stories and drawings on his own, as he loves to read and watch birds.
Purpose: Mini-stories can be of interest to educators, elementary school teachers, teachers of additional education, and used in the lesson of the world around.
Target: the formation of ideas about birds through reading a story.
Tasks:
- Tell about the life of birds;
- Develop attention, curiosity, memory;
- To cultivate a sense of kindness, sympathy, mercy for all living organisms, for retelling.

Pink flamingo.

A bird from the flamingo order. The color of these birds is pale pink, the wings are purple-red.
The body length is 130 cm, body weight is 3-4 kg. Pink flamingos usually live in large salt water lakes, in sea lagoons.
They feed in shallow water, in hard-to-reach places.
The nests of these birds are cone-shaped (hill) made of clay and silt. Birds nest in colonies of up to a thousand pairs with each other. The clutch usually contains 1-3 eggs. The duration of the flamingo is 83 years.

Eagle.

The eagle is a large bird of prey. Eagles have long, sharp claws and a strong beak. The color of the eagles is dark brown, black. The tail and head are white, the beak and claws are yellow. The eagle has sharp eyesight, thanks to them he looks out for small prey (snakes, mice, lizards) from a great height.
In the air, he soars high, notices the smallest movements on the ground. If he sees something edible, he dives down for prey. Eagles live away from humans, choosing mountainous areas.

Owl.

One of my favorite birds is the owl. The owl is a very beautiful, unusual bird. The owl has big eyes and big ears, a curved beak, sharp claws. Owls range in size from the smallest to the largest bird species. The smallest is the sparrow owl. The largest is the owl. These birds are nocturnal, have sharp eyesight and hearing. Owls are birds of prey. They feed on small animals: rats, voles, small snakes, fish and other birds. Owls also bring benefits, they destroy harmful insects and rodents.
They breed their offspring once a year. The chicks hatch blind and deaf. Both parents feed the chicks. Owls never gather in flocks. Birds (owls) hear four times better than a cat.
I love these birds.

Bullfinch.

The bullfinch is rather small in size, slightly larger than the sparrow. Length-15 cm, body weight-34 gr. Bullfinches are dark gray, blue, with black plumage around the beak and eyes. Belly and sides are red. Bullfinches live in coniferous forests; you can see them in city parks and gardens. Bullfinches are shy birds. Birds feed on kidney seeds of plants, berries. Life expectancy is 2-4 years.

N. Sladkov "Polite Jackdaw"

I have many acquaintances among wild birds. I know one sparrow. He is all white - an albino. You can immediately distinguish him in a flock of sparrows: everyone is gray, but he is white.

I know forty. I distinguish this one by impudence. In winter, it used to be that people hung food out the window, so she would immediately fly in and ruffle everything.

But I noticed one jackdaw for her politeness.

There was a blizzard.

In early spring there are special blizzards - solar. Snow whirlwinds curl in the air, everything sparkles and rushes! Stone houses look like rocks. There is a snowstorm at the top, from the roofs, as from mountains, snowy waterfalls flow. Icicles from the wind grow in different directions, like a shaggy beard of Santa Claus.

And above the eaves, under the roof, there is a secluded place. There, two bricks fell out of the wall. In this recess, my jackdaw settled down. All black, only on the neck is a gray collar. The jackdaw basked in the sun, and even pecked at some tidbit. Cubby!

If I were that jackdaw, I wouldn't give up this place to anyone!

And suddenly I see - another one, smaller and dimmer in color, flies up to my big jackdaw. Jump-jump on the ledge. Wag your tail! She sat opposite my jackdaw and looked.

The wind flutters it - so it wrings its feathers, so it whips with white grits!

My jackdaw grabbed a piece of her beak - and walked out of the recess onto the cornice! I gave way to a stranger's warm place!

And someone else's jackdaw grabs a piece from my beak - and into her warm little place. She pressed someone else's piece with her paw - she pecks. Here is shameless!

My jackdaw on the ledge is under the snow, in the wind, without food. The snow cuts her, the wind wrings her feathers. And she, stupid, endures! Does not kick out the little one.

“Probably,” I think, “someone else’s jackdaw is very old, so they give way to her place. Or maybe this is a well-known and respected jackdaw? Or maybe she is small, but daring - a fighter. I didn't understand anything...

And recently I see: both jackdaws - mine and someone else's - are sitting side by side on an old chimney and both have twigs in their beaks.

Hey, they're building a nest! Here everyone will understand.

And the little jackdaw is not at all old and not a fighter. Yes, and she is not a stranger now. And certainly not respected by everyone.

And my friend big jackdaw is not a jackdaw at all, but a gal!

But still my friend gal is very polite. I see this for the first time.

M. Prishvin "Guys and ducklings"

A little wild duck, the whistling teal, finally decided to transfer her ducklings from the forest, bypassing the village, into the lake to freedom. In the spring, this lake overflowed far, and a solid place for a nest could be found only three miles away, on a hummock, in a marshy forest. And when the water subsided, I had to travel all three miles to the lake.

In places open to the eye of a man, a fox and a hawk, the mother walked behind, so as not to let the ducklings out of sight even for a minute. And near the forge, when crossing the road, she, of course, let them go ahead. Here the guys saw them and threw their hats. All the time while they were catching ducklings, the mother ran after them with her beak open or flew several steps in different directions in the greatest excitement. The guys were just about to throw their hats on their mother and catch her like ducklings, but then I approached.

- What will you do with the ducklings? I asked the guys sternly.

They got scared and answered:

- Let's go.

- Here's something "let go"! I said very angrily. Why did you have to catch them? Where is mother now?

- He's sitting there! - the guys answered in unison.

And they pointed me to a close mound of a fallow field, where the duck really sat with its mouth open from excitement.

“Quickly,” I ordered the guys, “go and return all the ducklings to her!”

They even seemed to rejoice at my order and ran with the ducklings up the hill. The mother flew off a little and, when the guys left, she rushed to save her sons and daughters. In her own way, she said something quickly to them and ran to the oat field. Ducklings ran after her - five pieces. And so through the oat field, bypassing the village, the family continued their journey to the lake.

Joyfully, I took off my hat and, waving it, shouted:

— Good luck, ducklings!

The guys laughed at me.

“What are you laughing at, fools? I said to the guys. “Do you think it’s so easy for ducklings to get into the lake?” Quickly take off all your hats, shout "goodbye"!

And the same hats, dusty on the road while catching ducklings, rose into the air; All the children shouted at once:

- Goodbye, ducklings!

M. Prishvin "Zhurka"

Once we had it, we caught a young crane and gave it a frog. He swallowed it. Gave another - swallowed. The third, fourth, fifth, and then we didn’t have more frogs at hand.

- Clever! my wife said and asked me:

How much can he eat? Ten maybe?

“Ten,” I say, “maybe.”

- What if it's twenty?

“Twenty,” I say, “hardly...

We clipped the wings of this crane, and he began to follow his wife everywhere. She is milking a cow - and Zhurka is with her, she is in the garden - and Zhurka needs to go there, and also goes to field collective farm work with her, and for water. The wife got used to him as to her own child, and without him she is already bored, nowhere without him. But only if it happens - he is not there, only one thing will shout: "Frou-frou", and he runs to her. Such a smart one!

This is how the crane lives with us, and its clipped wings keep growing and growing.

Once the wife went down to the swamp for water, and Zhurka followed her. A small frog sat by the well and jumped from Zhurka into the swamp. Zhurka is behind him, and the water is deep, and you can’t reach the frog from the shore. Mach-mach wings Zhurka and suddenly flew. The wife gasped - and after him. Mah-mah with his hands, but he can't get up. And in tears, and to us: “Ah, ah, what a grief! Ahah!" We all ran to the well. We see - Zhurka is far away, sitting in the middle of our swamp.

— Fru fru! I shout.

And all the guys behind me are also shouting: “Fru-fru!”

And so smart! As soon as he heard this our “frou-frou”, now he flapped his wings and flew in. Here the wife does not remember herself for joy, she tells the guys to run after the frogs as soon as possible. This year there were a lot of frogs, the guys soon scored two caps. The guys brought frogs, began to give and count. They gave five - swallowed, gave ten - swallowed, twenty and thirty ... Yes, and so he swallowed forty-three frogs at a time.

L. Voronkova "Swans and Geese"

Suddenly grandfather stopped digging, tilted his head to one side and listened to something.

Tanya asked in a whisper:

— What is there?

Do you hear the swans trumpeting?

Tanya looked at her grandfather, then at the sky, then again at her grandfather and smiled:

“Well, do swans have a trumpet?”

- What a pipe! Grandpa laughed. “It’s just that they scream so long, that’s why they say they trumpet. Well, do you hear?

Tanya listened. Indeed, somewhere high, high, distant drawling voices were heard.

“You see, they are flying home from over the sea,” said grandfather. - How they communicate. No wonder they are called whoopers. And over there, they flew past the sun, they became visible ... See?

- See see! Tanya was delighted. - They fly with a rope. Maybe they'll sit somewhere?

“No, they won’t sit down here,” grandfather said thoughtfully, “they flew home!”

- How - home? Tanya was surprised. - Don't we have a house?

“Well, they don’t have a home, then.

Tanya was offended:

- Swallows - a home, larks - a home, starlings - a home ... And they don't have a home?

“And their house is closer to the north. There, they say, there are many swamps and lakes in the tundra. There they nest, where it is quieter, where there is more water.

“Do we have enough water for them?” There is a river, there is a pond ... After all, it’s better with us anyway!

“Whoever was born where, he came in handy there,” said grandfather. “To each his own is better.

At that moment the geese came out of the yard, stopped in the middle of the street, raised their heads and fell silent.

“Look, grandfather,” Tanya whispered, tugging at his sleeve, “and our geese are also listening to swans!” No matter how they flew into the tundra!

- Where are they! grandfather said. - Our geese are heavy on the rise! And he started digging again.

The swans fell silent in the sky, disappeared, melted into the distant blue. And the geese cackled, creaked, and waddled along the street. And the goose tracks were clearly imprinted on the damp road in triangles.

V. Veresaev "Brother"

At the corner of my dacha stood a tub full of water. Nearby is an elderberry bush. Two young sparrows sat side by side on an elderberry tree, still very young, with down through their feathers, with bright yellow sinuses at the edges of their beaks. One briskly and confidently fluttered to the edge of the tub and began to drink. He drank - and kept looking at the other and calling to each other in his own ringing language. Another - a little smaller - was sitting on a branch with a serious look and cautiously squinting at the tub. And apparently he wanted to drink - his beak was gaping from the heat.

And suddenly I saw clearly: that one, the first one, had already been drunk for a long time and was simply encouraging the other by his example, showing that there was nothing terrible here. He continuously jumped along the edge of the tub, lowered his beak, grabbed water and immediately dropped it from his beak, and looked at his brother - called him. The brother on the branch made up his mind, flew to the tub. But as soon as he touched the damp, green edge with his paws, he immediately fluttered frightened back onto the elderberry. And he began to call him again.

And finally got it. The little brother flew over to the tub, sat down uncertainly, fluttering his wings all the time, and got drunk. Both flew away.

V. Bianchi "Foundling"

The boys ruined the heater's nest, broke her testicles. Naked, blind chicks fell out of broken shells.

Only one of the six testicles I managed to take away from the boys whole.

I decided to save the nestling hidden in it.

But how to do that?

Who will bring him out of the egg?

Who will feed?

I knew nearby the nest of another bird, the chiffchaff. She just laid her fourth testicle.

But will the mockery accept a foundling? The wheatear egg is pure blue. It is larger and does not look like mocking testicles at all: they are pink with black dots. And what will happen to the wheatear chick? After all, he is about to emerge from the egg, and little chuckles will hatch out only in another twelve days.

Will mockery feed a foundling?

The mocking nest was placed on a birch so low that I could reach it with my hand.

When I approached the birch, the chuckle flew off the nest. She fluttered along the branches of neighboring trees and whistled plaintively, as if begging not to touch her nests.

I put a blue egg to her raspberry ones, walked away and hid behind a bush.

The mingling did not return to the nest for a long time. And when, finally, she flew up, she did not immediately sit down in it: it was clear that she was looking at someone else's blue egg with distrust.

But still, she sat in the nest. So, she took someone else's egg. The foundling became a foster child.

But what will happen tomorrow when the little wheatear hatches from the egg?

When I approached the birch the next morning, a spout was sticking out on one side of the nest, and a laughing tail on the other.

When she flew off, I looked into the nest. There were four pink testicles and next to them a naked, blind chick of a wheatear.

I hid and soon saw how a mocking caterpillar in its beak flew in and put it in the mouth of a little wheatear.

Now I was almost sure that the laughing would feed my foundling.

Six days have passed. Every day I went up to the nest and each time I saw the beak and tail of the mockingbird sticking out of the nest.

I was very surprised how she keeps up and feed the heater and incubate her eggs.

I quickly moved away so as not to interfere with her in this important matter.

On the seventh day, neither the beak nor the tail stuck out above the nest.

I thought, “It's over! The mocking has left the nest. The little Kamenka starved to death."

But no, there was a live wheatear in the nest. She slept and did not even pull her head up, did not open her mouth: it means she was full.

She has grown so much during these days that she covered with her little body the pink testicles that were barely visible from under her.

Then I guessed that the adopted child thanked his new mother: with the warmth of his body, he warmed her testicles - hatched her chicks.

So it was.

Mocking fed the adopted child, the adopted child hatched her chicks.

He grew up and flew out of the nest in front of my eyes.

And just by this time, the chicks hatched from pink eggs.

Mocking began to feed her own chicks and fed them well.

Issues for discussion

Who is N. Sladkov's story "The Polite Jackdaw" about?

Why did the jackdaw give up its warm spot to another bird?

Listen to the story of M. Prishvin "Guys and ducklings." Can we call this work a fairy tale? Why? (There are no fairy-tale characters in it and no miracles happen.) Can you say that this is a poem? (No, there is no melody, melodiousness in it, the endings of words in the lines do not rhyme, it does not differ in figurativeness.) Who is this story about? Why did the teal duck end up on the road? Where did she go with the ducklings? Why do you think the guys started catching ducklings? How did the duck behave at this time? (She ran after them with her beak open or flew in different directions in the greatest excitement.) Why was she so worried? Who saved the ducklings? What did the duck do when the ducklings were returned to her? How did the story end? What has the author taught you?

About whom is the story of M. Prishvin "Zhurka"? Why is it called that? How did a young crane get to people? Could he fly when his wings were clipped? What did he start doing? How did the hunter's wife call him to her? Tell me what happened when the crane grew clipped wings. How did the story end? Who do you like in the story? Why?

What do you know about swans? What are these birds? Where do they live? And what are geese? Do swans fly away for the winter? When do they return home? Do domestic geese fly south? Listen to how L. Voronkova tells about domestic geese and about swans returning from across the sea to her home. What can you say about how swans cry? Why does Grandpa compare their cry to the sound of a trumpet? So what are the swans doing? (They shout, trumpet, call to each other.) What is another name for swans? Where do the swans fly? Why? Can geese fly into the tundra?

About whom is the story of V. Veresaev "Brother"? What were the sparrows? (Young, small, with fluff showing through feathers.) Were they similar or different? Which of the sparrows did you like more? Why? What was the first sparrow? (Brave, courageous, lively, self-confident.) And what was the second sparrow like? (Shy, timid, cowardly, timid, cautious.) Tell me how the sparrow called his little brother to drink water.

This page of the site contains stories for preschoolers and primary school students about migratory birds.

Vitaly Bianchi. Night alarm

Almost every night on the outskirts of the city - alarm.

Hearing a noise in the yard, people jump out of bed, stick their heads out the windows. What is it, what happened?

Down in the yard, birds flap their wings loudly, geese cackle, ducks call. Had a ferret attacked them, had a fox crept into the yard?

But what kind of foxes and ferrets are in the stone city, behind the iron gates of houses?

The owners are visiting the yard, visiting the poultry houses. Everything is good. There is no one, no one could get through strong locks and bolts. It's just that the birds had a bad dream. Now they are calming down.

People lie down in bed, fall asleep peacefully.

And an hour later - again cackle and quack. Turmoil, anxiety. What?

What's there again?

Open the window, hide and listen. Golden sparks of stars twinkle in the black sky. Everything is quiet.

But now, as if someone's elusive shadow glides above, in turn eclipsing the golden heavenly lights. A slight intermittent whistle is heard.

Yard ducks and geese wake up instantly. For a long time, it seemed, having forgotten their will, the birds in a vague impulse beat their wings in the air. They rise on their paws, stretch their necks, scream, scream sadly and sadly. From the high black sky, free, wild sisters answer them with a call. Flock after flock of winged wanderers pull over stone houses, over iron roofs. Duck wings whistle. The guttural roll call of wild geese and geese rings:

Go! th! th! On the road, on the road!

From cold and hunger! On the road, on the road!

The sonorous cackle of migratory birds fades in the distance, and in the depths of the stone courtyard, domestic geese and ducks, long unaccustomed to flight, rush about.

FAREWELL SONG

The foliage on the birches has already thinned out. Lonely sways on a bare branch, a house long abandoned by the owners - a starling house.

Suddenly - what is it? - two starlings flew up. The female slithered into the cowshed, busily swarming in it. The male sat on a branch, sat, looked around ... and sang! But he sang softly, as if to himself.

Here finished. The female flew out of the birdhouse, - rather back to the flock. And he follows her. It's time, it's time: not today tomorrow - on a long journey.

We said goodbye to the house where the guys were brought out in the summer.

They will not forget it, and in the spring they will settle in it again.

From the youngster's diary

THE FIRST TELEGRAM FROM THE FOREST

All songbirds in bright and colorful outfits have disappeared. We did not see how they set off on their journey, because they fly off at night.

Many birds prefer to travel at night: it's safer that way. in the dark they are not touched by falcons, hawks and other predators that have climbed out of the forests and are waiting for them on the way. And migratory birds will find their way to the south even on a dark night.

Flocks of water birds appeared on the Great Sea Route: ducks, divers, geese, waders. Winged travelers make stops at the same places as in spring.

Leaves turn yellow in the forest. The hare brought six more rabbits. These are the last hares this year - leaf fallers.

On the muddy shores of the bays, someone puts crosses at night. All mud is dotted with crosses and dots. We made ourselves a hut on the shore of the creek and want to see who is naughty.

SECOND TELEGRAM FROM THE FOREST

We spied who puts crosses and dots on the mud along the shore of the bay.

It turns out that these are waders.

In the muddy bays they have taverns. They stop here to rest and eat. They walk with their long legs on the soft mud and leave on it the imprints of their three widely spaced fingers. And the dots remain where they stick their long noses into the mud to pull out some small living creatures from it for their breakfast.

We caught a stork that lived all summer on our roof and put a light metal (aluminum) ring on its leg. The inscription is embossed on the ringlet: Moscow, Ognitolog, Committee A, No. 195 (Moscow, Ornithological * Committee, series A, No. 195). Then we released the stork. Let it fly with a ring. If anyone catches him where he will winter, we will find out from the newspapers where our storks' winter quarters are.

The foliage in the forest was completely painted and began to fall.

* Ornithology is the science of birds.

THIRD TELEGRAM FROM THE FOREST

(From our special correspondents)

Cold mornings hit.

On some bushes, the foliage was cut off like a knife. Leaves fall from the trees like rain.

Butterflies, flies, beetles hide in all directions.

Singing migratory birds hurriedly make their way through groves and copses: they are already getting hungry.

Only thrushes do not complain about starvation. They pounced in flocks on bunches of ripe mountain ash.

A cold wind whistles through the bare forest. The trees fall into a deep sleep. No more songs are heard in the forest.

DEPARTURE OF BIRDS FOR THE WINTER

AUTUMN FROM THE SKY

To look at our boundless country from the sky. In autumn. To rise on a stratospheric balloon above a standing forest, above a walking cloud - would be thirty kilometers above the ground. You still won’t see the end-edge of our earth, but see what is visible all around, it’s huge from there. Unless, of course, the sky is clear, a solid cloud does not cover the earth from the eyes - a shell.

And it will seem from such a height that our whole earth is in motion: something is moving over forests, steppes, mountains, seas ...

These are birds. Countless bird flocks.

Our migratory ones leave their homeland - they fly for wintering.

Some, of course, remain: sparrows, pigeons, jackdaws, bullfinches, siskins, tits, woodpeckers and other trifles. All wild chickens except quails. Large goshawk, large owls. But even these predators have little work to do in winter: most of the birds, after all, fly away from us for the winter. Departure begins from the end of summer: the first to fly are those that arrived last in the spring. And it lasts all autumn, until the waters are covered with ice. The last to fly away from us are those that first appeared in the spring: rooks, larks, starlings, ducks, gulls ...

WHO WHERE

Do you think that flying from the stratospheric balloon to wintering is a continuous flow of bird flocks from north to south? Now it's gone!

Different types of birds fly away at different times, most fly at night: it's safer that way. And not everyone is flying to spend the winter from north to south. There are birds that fly from east to west in autumn. Others, on the contrary, from west to east. And we also have those that fly straight to the north for the winter!

Our special correspondents telegraph us by wireless telegraph, transmit by wireless mail - by radio - where someone is flying and how the winged wanderers feel on the way.

FROM WEST TO EAST

"Whose! Whose! Che-th!" - so the red lentil canaries spoke in a flock. They began their journey from the shores of the Baltic Sea, from the Leningrad and Novgorod regions back in August. They fly slowly: there is enough food everywhere - where to rush? They fly not to their homeland - curl nests, bring out kids.

We saw them on the flight through the Volga, through the Ural low range, and now we see them in Baraba - the West Siberian steppe. Day after day they move all the way to the east, all to the east - in the direction where the sun rises. They fly from grove to grove: the whole Baraba steppe is in pegs - birch groves.

They try to fly at night, and during the day they rest and feed. Although they fly in flocks and each bird in the flock looks both ways, so as not to get into trouble, it still happens: they don’t guard themselves, and a hawk will grab one or two of them. There are too many of them here, in Siberia: sparrow hawk, falcons - white-throated hobbies, merlin ... Swift-winged - passion! As long as you fly from peg to peg - how many will be snatched out! Still better at night: fewer owls.

Here, in Siberia, bundles of lentils: through the Altai mountains, through the desert of Mongolia, - how many more of them, little ones, are dying on a difficult journey! - in hot India. They winter there.

BRIEF HISTORY OF THE RING # F-197357

A light metal ring No. F-197357 was put on the leg of a polar tern chick - a slender gull - by one of our young Russian scientists. It was in the Kandalaksha Reserve on the White Sea - beyond the Arctic Circle - on July 5, 1955.

At the end of July of the same year, as soon as the chicks took to the wings, the Arctic terns gathered in a flock and set off on their winter journey. We headed first to the north - to the throat of the White Sea, then to the west - along the northern coast of the Kola Peninsula, then to the south - along the coasts of Norway, England, Portugal, all of Africa. They rounded the Cape of Good Hope and moved east: from the Atlantic Ocean to the Indian.

On May 16, 1956, a young Arctic tern with ring No. 197357 was caught by one Australian scientist on the western coast of Australia near the city of Fremantle - 24 thousand kilometers in a direct direction from the Kandalaksha Reserve.

Her stuffed animal with a ring on a leg is stored in the Australian Zoological Museum in Perth.

FROM EAST TO WEST

Clouds of ducks and whole clouds of gulls hatch every summer on Lake Onega. Autumn comes - these clouds and clouds move to the west - to sunset. A flock of pintail ducks, a flock of gray gulls set off on their way to winter quarters. We will follow them by plane.

Do you hear a sharp whistle? Behind him is the splash of water, the sound of wings, the desperate quacking of ducks, the cries of seagulls! ..

It was pintails and gulls that settled down to rest on a forest lake, and the peregrine falcon migratory falcon overtook them here. As a long shepherd's whip whistled through the air, swept over the very back of a duck rising into the air - cut it with the claw of the back finger, sharp as a curved knife. Having dangled its long neck with a whip, the wounded bird did not have time to fall into the lake, when the swift falcon turned sharply, clawed it just above the water, killed it with one blow of its steel beak to the back of the head, and took it away for lunch.

This peregrine falcon is the unfortunate misfortune of a duck flock. Together with her, he set off from Lake Onega, with her he passed Leningrad, the Gulf of Finland, Latvia ... When he is full, he looks indifferently, sitting somewhere on a rock or tree, how seagulls fly over the water, how somersaults on the water duck head down. How they rise from the water and, having gathered in a bunch or stretched out like a rein, continue their journey to the west - to where the sun sinks in a yellow ball into the gray waters of the Baltic Sea. But, as soon as the peregrine falcon gets hungry, he quickly catches up with his flock, and snatches a duck out of it.

So he will fly after them along the shores of the Baltic, North, German seas, fly over the British Isles after them - and only near their coast, perhaps, this winged wolf will finally get rid of them. Here, our ducks and gulls will stay for the winter, and if he wants, he will fly south for other flocks of ducks - to France, Italy, across the Mediterranean Sea to sultry Africa.

TO THE NORTH, TO THE NORTH - TO THE END OF MIDNIGHT!

Eider ducks - the very ones that give us such amazingly warm and light fluff for fur coats - calmly bred their chicks on the White Sea - in the Kandalaksha Reserve. Eiders have been guarded here for many years, and students and scientists ring them: they put light metal rings with numbers on their legs in order to know where eiders fly away from the reserve, where they winter, how many eiders return back to the reserve, to their nesting grounds and various other details of the life of these wonderful birds.

And then we learned that eiders fly from the reserve almost directly to the north - to the midnight region, to the Arctic Ocean, where harp seals live and beluga whales sigh loudly and long.

The White Sea will soon be covered with thick ice, and eiders have nothing to feed on here in winter. And there, in the north, the water is open all year round, seals and huge white whales fish there.

Eiders pluck mollusks from rocks and algae - underwater shells. For them, the northern birds, the main thing is that it is satisfying. And even if there is a terrible frost, and water all around, and pitch darkness, it is not scary for them: they have fur coats on eiderdown, on impenetrable for the cold, the warmest down in the world! Yes, every now and then there are flashes - wonderful northern lights in the sky, and a huge moon, and clear stars. What is it that the sun does not look out of the ocean for several months? Polar ducks are still good, satisfying and free to spend the long polar winter-night there.

MYSTERIES OF FLIGHTS

Why do some birds fly straight to the south, others to the north, still others to the west, and fourth to the east"?

Why do many birds fly away from us only when the water freezes or snow falls, and they have nothing else to feed on, while others, for example, swifts, fly away from us at their own time - exactly on the calendar, even though there is as much food for them as you want ?

And most importantly, most importantly: how do they know where to fly in the fall, where their winter quarters are, and how to get there?

In fact: a bird hatched from an egg here - say, somewhere near Moscow or Leningrad. And it flies to South Africa or India for the winter. And we have such a fast-winged falcon - so he flies from Siberia to the ends of the world - to Australia itself. He will stay there a little, and then he will fly back to us in Siberia, by our spring.

He then calmed down, and then you could go out into the street and breathe a little fresh autumn air, and then he dispersed again, and then you didn’t want to go anywhere.
The hedgehog has been sitting at home for a whole week now. He looked out the window at the gray clouds that covered the sky, looked at the streams of rain flowing down from the tree under which his house was located. I did not want to go outside at all, but I wanted a little warmth and light, which seemed to be gone until next spring.
One autumn evening, the Hedgehog, after drinking tea with dried currants, went to bed. Under the measured sound of rain always slept well. The hedgehog quickly fell asleep and he had a wonderful dream about how summer had come, and he was walking through the forest and listening to birdsong, and butterflies and dragonflies were circling around, flowers were blooming. In the morning the Hedgehog woke up with a happy smile on his face. He lay on the bed for a long time and it seemed to him that the dream was continuing. It seemed to the hedgehog that the sun was shining brightly and the birds were singing. Finally, the Hedgehog woke up completely and noticed that a bright ray of sunlight was falling into the room through the window. The hedgehog even felt his warmth. Not believing his eyes, the Hedgehog jumped out of bed and ran to the window. Opening the window, he saw in the sky a bright and warm sun that was not like autumn. It illuminated the forest with its radiance, and the trees, imitating it, sparkled with golden leaves.
“What a beauty,” the Hedgehog whispered admiringly.
And then it seemed to the Hedgehog that he even heard the birds singing. He sat down on the windowsill and rested his head on his paws, closing his eyes. The singing shimmered with different voices and was so beautiful that the Hedgehog broke into a smile again. Suddenly, the Hedgehog realized that he did not imagine singing and, indeed, a bird was singing somewhere. The hedgehog could not explain how this could happen, because all the songbirds had long since flown south. He became very curious and quickly ran outside.
It was bright and warm outside. The bright sun warmed the earth. There was no wind. There was a pleasant autumn smell of fallen leaves in the air. Sunny bunnies played in the crowns of trees, and on the lower branch of the spruce some bird sat and sang. The hedgehog has never seen such birds. She was very unusual: her feathers were cast with a rainbow and gilding, her long tail was divided into two parts, her wings were blue, and a bright red bow burned on her chest. The bird sang, raising its head to the sun. On her head was a rainbow tuft. The bird of the ball is beautiful and sang amazingly too. Her singing reminded the Hedgehog of the singing of all the summer birds that had flown south long ago.
Noticing the Hedgehog, the bird stopped for a second and became alert, but, seeing an enthusiastic look, she immediately continued. The hedgehog sat on the grass and listened, smiling. It seemed to him that he was sleeping or that he was in a fairy tale, where summer is all year round. Soon a cool breeze blew, and the bird stopped singing. She looked up at the sky and spread her wings to take flight.
- Wait, - shouted the Hedgehog, - do not fly away.
The bird looked at the Hedgehog and smiled:
“I have to hurry,” she answered in a clear voice, “it will soon become quite cold.”
- Do you want me to give you tea and you will warm up? - Hedgehog suggested.
Thanks, but I'm in a hurry.
The hedgehog did not want to part with an unexpected miracle, but he understood that the bird really had no time.
- Tell me, who are you? Why have I never seen you before? - asked the Hedgehog, running closer.
“Because,” answered the bird, “I never stop here. In the summer I live in the north, and in the winter I fly south. Today, when I flew past the spruce and saw the sunrise, I so wanted to stop for a while and sing a song, even if no one would hear it.
- I heard your song, - the Hedgehog shouted joyfully, - I really liked it!
- And thank you, - the bird shouted, taking off.
She quickly fluttered and rushed over the forest. The hedgehog stood for a long time and looked after her. Soon the sky was covered with clouds again, and a light rain began to fall. The hedgehog went home. He sat at the window and thought about a strange miracle, about a bird that flew to distant lands and, stopping for a while, brought summer back. The bird flew away, taking the good weather with it, but it left part of its song in the Hedgehog's soul, which made him feel warm and joyful.