An entertaining tale about wintering and migratory birds“How Sparrow looked for Africa”, and also funny educational films for children about migratory and wintering birds, pictures and speech games.
— Dear mothers, fathers, grandparents, teachers! I recommend dividing this fairy tale and your “home” or “non-home” activities, conversations or games with children into two parts. And not read these parts of the tale one after another in one day, and take a break for several days. Why?
But our task is completely different - to awaken interest in knowledge and develop the child’s abilities! And for this, a child needs not just a computer monitor, but needs a main figure - a mediator - an adult who will help him see the relationships in the film, comprehend them, look at known facts in a new way, be surprised by them, build prospects for the future - what else do I want to know and what else I want to learn. Without communication with you, the child will not be able to do this, which means that another opportunity in his advancement and development will be missed.
—When reading the first part of a fairy tale about migratory birds, it will be good if you show the countries to which the birds fly on a map or on a globe. To make it easier for your child to estimate the distances that migratory birds cover, show him the distance to those cities and places where he has already been and where he traveled by train or flew by plane. Birds most often fly much further than these places, and they have neither a train nor a plane, but only wings. And they fly in any weather!
Today I want to introduce you to my friend. And here he is. Do you hear?
"Hello guys. Nice to meet you. My name is Chick. And my last name is Chirik. That’s why everyone calls me that – Chik-Tchirik. Mom and dad tell me that when I grow up, everyone will call me as an adult, by my first name and patronymic - Chik Chirikych Chirik. You probably guessed what I like to do most? Of course, sit on a branch and sing funny songs: “Chick-chirp, chick-chirp, chick-chirkych, chick-chirp.”
You probably saw me on the street when walking with mom and dad. I am a little bird, grey, cheerful, active and very nimble. I jump from place to place all the time. Yes, I also love to jump. But I don’t like to walk and I don’t know how. I have short legs, it’s more convenient for me to jump than to walk.
They even wrote a riddle about me.”
Have you guessed who I am? I'm little Sparrow. The riddle specifically says about the boy so that you wouldn’t guess that I’m a bird. It's like I'm a boy. When I grow up they will call me “Sparrow”. In the meantime, I’m little, Mom Sparrow and Dad Sparrow affectionately call me “little sparrow.” And try to guess what they say.
Speech exercise “Call me kindly”
Formation of words with diminutive suffixes
I lived and lived in the summer, I didn’t grieve. And then suddenly autumn came, it became cold. Grandfather Sparrow told me that in the fall birds fly to Africa. It’s warm there, there’s a lot of food, and that’s where they spend the winter. How I wanted to find this Africa too and look at it at least with one eye! So I decided to fly to Africa and jumped out to look for it. I think it’s a simple matter to get to Africa. Now I will find migratory birds and fly with them.
Jump-jump, jump-jump, chirp-tweet, chik-tweet. And then I see - starlings They have gathered in a flock, are discussing something, and are planning to fly south. They keep the council - they decide who will fly after whom. And they talk to each other interestingly, as if they were saying “so-so”, “so-so”, “but now it’s not like that”, “like that”! How amazing! Now I’ll ask them about Africa and I’ll fly to Africa with them!
“Take me with you to Africa!” I say. And the oldest starling answers me:
- We’re not flying to Africa! We are going to Turkmenistan. It's also warm there in winter. First our kids will fly. They fly slowly, so they fly out first. And then we are old people. We are flying fast and will catch up with them. You ask other birds, maybe one of them is flying to Africa?
— Why are you flying away for the winter?
- There is no food here. And it’s warm there and there’s plenty of food. We fly because of the food! When spring comes, we'll come back.
- But how will we, sparrows, live in winter?
So you have food - fly to the village or to the city, there you will feed yourself with crumbs.
“Okay,” I think. “I’ll jump, fly, and chirp further.” Maybe I’ll find some other travel companions.”
Then a bird flew up to me - lentils and asks: “Where are you going, Sparrow? Why are you fussing today, jumping and flying and chirping with everyone?” Lentil is the name of this bird. It even turns out smoothly, like in poetry: a bird is a lentil! I love. And you?
“Yes, I want to fly to Africa, I’m looking for travel companions, otherwise it’s too cold here. Will you take me with you?"
“But we lentil birds don’t fly to Africa and don’t know the way there. We are flying to India for the winter. We’ll spend the winter there in the warmth and return back.”
- Tick-tweet, hello! Can I fly to Africa with you?
“We don’t fly to Africa for the winter,” answered the ducks. – We are flying closer to Europe, some to England, some to France, some to Holland. It's not Africa, of course, but it's warmer than here. We can't stay here. Soon all the rivers and lakes will freeze - how can we live here? But when spring comes and the ice melts, we will return.
“Yes... I’ll have to look for other travel companions,” I thought and continued jumping. He pecked the grain and flew off to look for fellow travelers.
Who is that sitting on the branch? My grandfather, the sparrow, told me about them that they fly to Africa for the winter and live well there in the winter!
- Aunt Cuckoo! Aunt Cuckoo!
- This is news! Sparrow! Why did you come here? I was already planning to fly to Africa.
- Aunt Cuckoo! Take me with you to Africa! I can fly!
- How can I take you with me? We cuckoos never fly to Africa together. Only one at a time. We don’t even take our children with us. First we will fly away ourselves, and they will remain here - they are still fed by their parents, to whom we threw the cuckoos. And time will pass, and after us our grown-up cuckoos will fly to Africa. And also one at a time.
- How do the cuckoos know the way?
- And this is our secret. Nobody knows her. And you find other birds that fly in flocks to Africa. They will take you with them.
And here is a flock of birds - warblers Yes flycatchers. You have already guessed why flycatchers are called that way: flycatchers are dexterous. Because they…? That's right, they catch flies! And not only flies, but also other insects. They are definitely flying to Africa.
-Where are you going?
- To Africa.
- Hooray! I want to go to Africa too! Where is this Africa?
- Far beyond the sea. Very far. It takes a lot of strength to reach it.
- Take me with you. What is the sea? Can I fly over it?
-Can you fly at night?
- No, I sleep at night.
- And we only fly at night. Otherwise the hawks and falcons will catch us. And you don’t even need to fly with us. We are migratory birds, and you are a wintering bird. You need to spend the winter here. Flying is a very dangerous business. Hurricanes, cold rains, and predators await us ahead. In the fog you can lose your way or crash into rocks. Not all of us will return here in the spring. And during the winter we don’t sing songs or build nests. When we come back in the spring, we’ll sing songs for you and hatch out the chicks. If there were flies, bugs, and other insects for food here in winter, we would stay here and not fly away. And here we have nowhere to go - we have to fly. Here we will die of hunger in the winter.
“Eh, why can’t I fly at night?” I was upset. I wouldn't be afraid of dangers. We sparrows are very brave! I'll have to stay and look for my Africa here. I’ll go and ask the wintering birds – where is our Africa? And where do they warm themselves and feed in winter?
In the meantime, Sparrow Chick-Chirik goes into the forest to look for wintering birds, let's take a look at the cheerful forest school and, together with fairy-tale characters, learn other forest news and see what other migratory birds are, how and where they travel.
Together with the fairy-tale characters a wolf cub, a cat and a mouse, kids will go to a forest school and learn a lot of interesting things about migratory birds:
After watching the movie, talk to your child. Ask him questions about the content of the film (the questions given above will help you with this), ask him what he liked most about it, what surprised him most, what else he wants to know about migratory birds. Try to find answers to your child's questions in an encyclopedia or on the Internet.
Tell your child that when people did not yet know how to study nature and birds, they often made mistakes. For example, more than 200 years ago there lived a naturalist who believed that birds fly away in the fall... you’ll never guess where :). To the moon!!! And that they hibernate there, and in the spring they return from the Moon. But now, thanks to scientists, people know exactly where each bird flies. Think about how scientists find out. If your child missed this fragment in the film, you can watch it again, using pauses if necessary.
Uffff, I finally got to Auntie Partridge. She probably spends the winter with us and knows where our Africa is, where you can warm up in winter.
- Auntie Partridge, Hello. Our Chik-chirik and greetings to you from my mother Chiriki and from my dad Chirikych. Are you a wintering bird? Are you not flying anywhere?
- Well, it’s wintering, of course. I'm not flying anywhere. I live here in winter. And why should I fly away? I'm fine here!
- How do you live in the cold? Are you cold and hungry? Perhaps you have found Africa here with us?
- Africa? Why do we need Africa? We, the partridges, are not cold at all! By winter we become white as snow. We are not visible in the snow. We are very pleased with this! And our new winter white feathers are much warmer than the summer pockmarked feathers, which is why we don’t freeze. And here's what else we came up with - partridges. For the winter, we put circles on our paws - like snowshoes. They are like real ski poles for us; it’s so comfortable to walk in the snow in these snowshoes! And we don’t even fall into the snow! And we extract food from under the snow with our claws. Why should we fly somewhere if we feel good here too! So I don’t know where your Africa is! And I don’t want to know!
- How can I live in winter? I don’t have white winter feathers and I don’t have snowshoes on my paws either. I'll have to ask someone else. I flew on. I see a parrot sitting on a branch! Not a real one, but a northern parrot. That's what we call crossbills.
- Jumping gallop! Tick-tweet! Hello crossbill! How are you? Don't you dream of Africa?
- I live well. There are a lot of cones around, my house is a warm nest. The chicks will appear in winter, we will feed them spruce porridge from cones. What else do you need? Come live with us on the spruce tree and you will also eat cones.
- Thanks for the invitation! Yes, with my beak I won’t chew the pine cone - I’ll remain hungry. I will fly further to look for my Africa. Someone seems to be ahead and has already noticed me. Oh, how big and scary it must be! I'll fly and meet you.
- Chick-chirp. And who are you?
- I'm a hazel grouse.
- Uncle Ryabchik, how are you spending the winter? Why didn’t they fly to southern countries?
- Why should I fly away? Here I have a fluffy warm snow blanket - I sleep under the snow.
- What will you eat in winter?
“And we are smart birds, we swallow small pebbles, they will grind any food inside us.” So we won’t go hungry - we’ll eat both pine needles and buds from the branches in winter. And you can live with us in winter - eat pebbles, crawl under the snow.
- No, uncle hazel grouse. I won’t crawl under the snow and I won’t eat pebbles. This is not a sparrow's business. I’ll fly further to look for sparrow Africa. Maybe I’ll find Africa from the wood grouse.
- Grandfather Capercaillie! Hello!
— I can’t hear something well. Say it louder!
- Hello, grandfather Capercaillie! Do you know where we have Africa in winter, where you can warm up in the cold and frost?
- How can you not know? I know of course.
-Will you tell me?
- I’ll tell you and even show you. Africa is with us - with wood grouse in a snowdrift! You can't find a better place in Africa!
- What kind of Africa is it if the snow is cold?
“The snow on top is cold, but inside the snowdrift it’s warm and cozy.” We are resting in a snowdrift. Sometimes we sit in it for three days.
- How do you eat?
— We eat little in winter. We’ll walk to the tree trunk, fly up onto a branch, and eat the pine needles. Let's eat enough - and again - dive - and into the snow. Let's walk a little forward under the snow so that we won't be found and sleep in peace and warmth. And you come to us - we will find a place for you in the snowdrift.
- Thank you, but we - sparrows - don’t sleep in a snowdrift. We probably have a different Africa.
Want to know if Sparrow has found his Africa? Of course I found it. That's what it is!
It's cold, it's cold!.. The sun doesn't warm.
To Africa, to Africa, birds, quickly!
It's hot in Africa! In winter, like in summer,
In Africa you can walk naked!
Everyone flew over the blue sea...
Only one Chik-Tweet on the fence.
Sparrows jump from branch to branch -
Chik-Chirik is looking for Africa in the garden.
Looking for Africa for his mother,
For both brothers and friends.
He lost sleep, forgot about food -
He is looking, but Africa is not in the garden!
He flew around and searched early in the morning
In the distant forest behind the clearing there is a clearing:
Rain and wind under every bush,
It's chilly and damp under every leaf.
So Chick-Chirik returned with nothing,
Sad, upset, and says:
- Mom, where is our Africa with you?
- Africa?.. Here - behind the chimney! (G. Vasiliev)
So I stayed to live with you guys. And I found my Africa - I warm myself behind the chimney. And thank you for not forgetting about us sparrows in the winter - putting food in the feeders. Without you, we would be completely lost in winter! So I fly near your houses and tweet: “Am I alive? Alive, alive, chirp, chirp, chirp!”
And now I’ll fly to get food for myself. Winter has already come, it has become cold. While it’s light outside, you need to have time to eat your fill, otherwise you’ll freeze at night. Chik-tweet! You guessed it, in sparrow parlance this is called “goodbye.”
And as a parting gift, I will give you riddles - special, sparrow ones.
This game develops the child’s linguistic sense, developing the ability to accurately use adjectives in gender, number, and case. The child learns to focus on the endings of adjectives in his speech and to highlight them.
If the baby makes a mistake, ask him: “Is that what we say - a cozy home. How do we talk about home? What is he like? Cosy. And what is coziness...?”
A very common mistake children make is when they say something in between that is neither masculine, feminine, nor neuter. For example: “cozy” or “small”. Do not imitate your baby or repeat his mistakes. He needs the right sample. Clearly pronounce the correct endings of adjectives, highlighting them in your voice, and ask them to repeat the correct answer.
If the child often makes mistakes, then such a game of riddles should be played with him every day until we consolidate the necessary skills. For example, while walking or on the way to the store, ask riddles, clearly highlighting the endings of words in them: “Guess what I see? WHITE NEW – is this a window or a house?”, “Tall, beautiful – is this a tree or a turret?”, “I bought delicious sweets in the store – is it candy or marmalade?”
Now let's watch a video for children about Chik-Chirik's friends - other birds that spend the winter next to us.
In this entertaining video lesson for kids in a forest school, children will learn what birds are called wintering birds, see a woodpecker (greater, lesser, yellow and even a green woodpecker!), a nuthatch, a kinglet and other wintering birds in the forest.
And in conclusion of the story about migratory and wintering birds, I want to remember and watch with you another old children's fairy tale about birds - about a duck who could not fly away with everyone else to warm countries and remained to spend the winter in a snowy forest - the fairy tale "Gray Neck" D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak.
You can read more about wintering and migratory birds for children:
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"Speech development from 0 to 7 years: what is important to know and what to do. Cheat sheet for parents"
Educational fairy tale “Curious Sparrow” for children 5-7 years old
Description of material: This fairy tale is written for children of preschool and primary school age. This fairy tale has instructive moments, so it will be of interest to kindergarten teachers and primary school teachers. After reading this fairy tale, children will understand that they cannot leave home without their parents’ consent.
Curious sparrow
Once upon a time there lived a yellow-throated sparrow, his name was pudik. He lived above the window of the house in a warm nest. He couldn't fly well. Pudik had parents. Every day the father brought different insects to the nest. Pudik was inquisitive, he always asked his mother about everything, why does the wind blow and the trees sway? But he didn’t understand much, because he was still small. Pudik always stuck out of the nest and looked at everything. One day the following story happened to him.
“One day he got bored and went traveling. His mother was sleeping in the nest at that time. Pudik flew out of the nest and quickly sank to the ground. When he was jumping around the yard, the cat noticed him, but he rose sharply and did not fly skillfully. Pudik flew to the nearest forest and landed on the branch of a large old oak tree. Suddenly it began to get dark, and a light rain began to fall. He saw a small hollow in a tree and hid in it. At this time, Pudik’s mother had long since woken up, but he was not around. She was very excited for her son and flew to look for him. She looked for him over the forest and in the field, but never found him. The next morning, Pudik was awakened by a ray of sunshine. Waking up, he flew out of the hollow and began to catch midges. The sun was shining brightly and the voices of birds could be heard everywhere. On this day, a sparrow flew up to Pudik. He was older than him and therefore knew how to fly well. They became friends, and Pudik told him what happened to him. At this time, the mother flew to look for her son in the nearest forest. Pudik really wanted to return home, but he did not know the way back. His friend suggested flying, and he readily agreed. Mom, meanwhile, flew to the forest, and, descending, sat down on a young birch tree. In the evening, Pudik and his friend flew over the trees, and one of them turned out to be this birch tree.
Stories for reading in elementary school. Stories about a sparrow, a story about a smart titmouse, a story about a sparrow, a story about a swift.
The Sparrow was chirping on the dung heap - and he was jumping up and down! And the Crow Hag croaks in her nasty voice:
- Why, Sparrow, were you happy, why were you chirping?
“The wings itch, Crow, the nose itches,” Sparrow answers. - The passion to fight is the hunt! Don’t croak here, don’t spoil my spring mood!
- But I’ll ruin it! — Crow doesn’t lag behind. - How can I ask a question?
- I scared you!
- And I'll scare you. Did you peck crumbs in the trash bin in winter?
- Pecked.
— Did you pick up grains from the barnyard?
- I picked it up.
— Did you have lunch at the bird canteen near the school?
— Thanks to the guys, they fed me.
- That's it! - Crow bursts into tears. - With what
Are you thinking of paying for all this? With your chirping?
— Am I the only one who used it? - Sparrow was confused. - And the Tit was there, and the Woodpecker, and the Magpie, and the Jackdaw. And you, Vorona, were...
- Don’t confuse others! — Crow wheezes. - You answer for yourself. If you borrowed money, pay it back! As all decent birds do.
“The decent ones, maybe they do,” Sparrow got angry. - But are you doing it, Crow?
- I’ll cry before anyone else! Do you hear a tractor plowing in the field? And behind him, I pick out all sorts of root beetles and root rodents from the furrow. And Magpie and Galka help me. And looking at us, other birds are also trying.
- Don’t vouch for others either! - Sparrow insists. “Others may have forgotten to think.”
But Crow doesn’t let up:
- Fly over and check it out!
Sparrow flew to check. He flew into the garden, where the Tit lives in a new nest.
— Congratulations on your housewarming! - Sparrow says. “In my joy, I suppose I forgot about my debts!”
- I haven’t forgotten, Sparrow, that you are! - Titmouse answers. “The guys treated me to delicious salsa in the winter, and in the fall I’ll treat them to sweet apples.” I protect the garden from codling moths and leaf-eaters.
- For what need, Sparrow, did you fly to my forest?
“Yes, they demand payment from me,” Sparrow tweets. - And you, Woodpecker, how do you pay?
“That’s how I try,” answers the Woodpecker. — I protect the forest from wood borers and bark beetles. I fight them tooth and nail! I even got fat...
“Look,” Sparrow thought. - I thought...
Sparrow returned to the dung heap and said to Crow:
- Yours, hag, the truth! Everyone is paying off winter debts. Am I worse than others? How can I start feeding my chicks mosquitoes, horseflies and flies! So that the bloodsuckers don't sting these guys! I'll pay back my debts in no time!
He said so and let’s jump up and chirp on the dung heap again. There is still free time. Until the sparrows in the nest hatched.
In the spring, the white-cheeked tits sing loudest of all: they ring their bells. In different ways and manners. Some people just hear: “Twice two, twice two, twice two!” And others whistle smartly: “Four-four-four-four!”
From morning to evening, titmouses cram the multiplication table.
“Twice two, twice two, twice two!” - some shout.
“Four-four-four!” - others answer cheerfully.
Arithmetic titmice.
Song under the window
In spring, masters of songs sing in the forests and fields: nightingales and larks. People listen to them with bated breath. I know a lot of bird songs. I’ll hear it and I’ll immediately tell you who’s singing. But now I didn’t guess.
I woke up early. Suddenly I heard: outside the window, behind the curtain, some bird was fussing in the bushes. Then a voice, but so pleasant, as if two crystals had hit each other. And then just like a sparrow: “Chiv! Chiv!”
A crystalline - a sparrow, a sparrow - a crystalline. Yes, everything is hotter, faster and louder!
I went through all the bird songs in my memory - no, I’ve never heard one like this.
But the invisible bird does not stop: with a crystal - a sparrow, with a sparrow - with a crystal!
You can’t even lie under a warm blanket here! I jumped up, pulled back the curtain and saw: an ordinary sparrow sitting on a bush! Old friend! Chiv - Pinched Back of the Head. He flew to my windowsill all winter for crumbs. But now Chiv is not alone, but with his girlfriend. The girlfriend sits quietly and cleans her feathers. But Chivu can’t sit still. He chirps at the top of his lungs and jumps like a clockwork around his girlfriend from branch to branch - from step to step. Thin branches beat against each other and ring with crystals. That's why they ring because rainwater has frozen on them in thin icicles.
"Chiv!" - sparrow. "Ding!" - icicle.
And so it turns out well and great, really, no worse than that of the honored singers - Nightingales and Larks.
Sparrow nights
The sparrow Chiv lived all winter in an old chimney. The terrible winter nights dragged on for a long time: the frost was shooting, the wind shook the chimney and sprinkled ice grains on top. The legs were chilly, frost grew on the feathers.
great day
Every day the sun is higher. Every night at least as fast as a sparrow, but in short.
And then it came - the Great Day: the sun rose so high that it looked into Chiv’s black chimney.
Icicle water
There are icicles on the roofs. During the day, water drips from the icicles. This is a special water - icicle. Chiv loves icicle water very much. It will bend over the ledge and deftly pick up with its beak an icicle droplet, similar to a droplet of the sun. After drinking water, Chiv begins to jump and chirp so desperately that passers-by stop, smile and say: “The smoking room has come to life!”
Cap! Cap!
The bushes were filled with water. There are garlands of drops on each branch. A sparrow lands - sparkling rain! He bends down to drink, and a drop comes from right under his nose - drip! Sparrow to the other, the other - drop!
Leap, hop sparrow, drip, drip droplets.
Spring ringing
The frost has taken hold. Each wet branch was dressed in an ice cap. A sparrow sat on an inclined branch and rolled down, as if down a hill. The tit also slipped and hung upside down. The crow flew into the thick of the branches - it made a noise!
Somersault
Every day there is news. There are insects in the air! Chiv flew up from the roof in a column, grabbed a bug in the air and, having somersaulted in the air, landed on the chimney. Chiv ate beetles and flies, and strange things began to happen to him. He suddenly grabbed his old friend Chirik by the scruff of the neck and began to torment him like a dog to a cat. The chirp screamed, kicked its legs, and beat its wings. But Chiv tore him and tore him until he tore out a tuft of feathers from him. And all winter they were friends. And they drank water from one icicle. And they washed themselves in the neighboring puddles. Only after Chirik the water became not black, but red. Because all winter Chirik slept in a crack in a brick pipe.
And now everything has gone topsy-turvy.
steps
The drooping branches of the willow look like green hair. There are knots and knots on every hair.
These are the kidneys.
Raindrops roll down the branches and happily jump from bud to bud. So the guys jump down the steps on one leg.
Willow sparkles and smiles.
Green butterflies
The buds on the poplars strained and burst. From each bud, like a butterfly from a chrysalis, a green leaf emerged.
The sparrows settled on the branches and began to peck at the sticky green butterflies. Help themselves; one peephole is up - is there a hawk, the other is down - is there a cat?
Brawlers
The sparrows went crazy from the icicle water and the sun, from the beetles and flies, from the fresh leaves. Fights here and there! Two people grapple on the roof - a dozen are rushing towards them. They cling to each other, flutter, scream and fall like a feathered garland from the roof onto the heads of passers-by.
tree of songs
In the evening, all the sparrows - beaten and unbeaten - flock to a special tree - the tree of songs. They say goodbye to the day in a friendly chorus. So, with a song, they say goodbye to every day of spring.
Passers-by listen to the sparrow choir with pleasure and smile.
Trouble
Chiv and his mate Chuka built a nest in a crack under the eaves. They lined it with feathers, hair, cotton wool, hay and rags. And Chuka brought a candy wrapper and two tram tickets: pink and blue. It turned out very cozy. Chiv remembered his chimney and regretted that he had not thought of meeting Chuka earlier.
And suddenly - creaking, creaking, creaking! The plasterer climbed up to the cornice in a cradle. He stood up and began to seal the cracks under the eaves with his spatula.
What started here! All the sparrows are jumping towards him! They jump along the very edge of the roof, scolding the plasterer at the top of their voices. But the plasterer does not understand the sparrow’s language: he covers up the cracks and brushes off the sparrows with a spatula. And he threw away Chiva and Chuka’s nest. Feathers, cotton wool, hair, hay and rags flew in the wind. And the candy wrapper and tickets fell down.
Crib house
Chiv and Chuka occupied the birdhouse. The wind swayed the pole, and their new house swayed along with the pole. Chiv got seasick and nodded off. Chuka did not doze: she again carried feathers, cotton wool and dry blades of grass into the nest. And again she brought a candy wrapper and tram tickets.
Eviction
The owners of the birdhouse returned from the south - serious black starlings. Silently, working busily, they threw out first Chiva and Chuka and finally their entire nest from the birdhouse. Again feathers, cotton wool, blades of grass, candy wrappers and tram tickets flew in the wind.
Petal Blizzard
A blizzard whistles. A white mist of apple tree petals flows through the streets. And in the dead ends there are whirlwinds. White swirls of apple petals.
Once!
I heard Chiva. He was sitting at his old nest - on an abandoned old pipe. He sat and tweeted in a voice that was not his own. Because in its beak there was a caterpillar sticking out like a cigarette. And he chirped without opening his mouth, “through his teeth.” Once!
The sparrow spring is over. My mouth is full of trouble!
Remember the fairy tale about Heinz? Heinz was such a lazy person that he rested even after sleep. And, most importantly, nothing bad was done to him because of his laziness.
“Probably there is no harm in being lazy!” - I decided.
But it happened - it happens!
I love birds very much - I always fuss with them. My house is full of cages. And in the cages there are not just any siskins, bullfinches or tap dancers. Siskin-finches - preschool level for bird lovers. Any little boy can hold them.
I live with our most delicate birds - kinglets, wrens, and long-tailed titmice. If you can handle these, it means you are a top-class birder!
That's what everyone thought of me as. And I received honor and respect from all lovers. When meeting, it happened that they took off their hats and pointed a finger in the back: “There goes the expert!”
But suddenly a stranger comes to me. He looked at my birds and grinned:
— Kings and wrens are not the limit. The highest class is the swift! - and left.
It was a challenge. The next day I caught a swift. Catching them is easy. They lived in my own house, under the eaves.
The swift did not eat or drink anything. He lay motionless at the bottom of the cage. I had to let him out.
I caught the second one. I force-fed this one. He gave water precisely at those hours when free swifts flew to the lake and, in flight, folding their sharp wings over their backs, grabbed the water with their beaks. I also force-fed the swift. I fed him the same mosquito flies that I found in his mouth when I caught him. Swifts do not carry one mosquito to the nest at a time, but collect a whole lump of them in their mouths.
And I placed the cage with the swift on the roof, in the fresh air. And he built a cave with a nest for him to sleep at night. Everything is like free swifts!
The swift ate, drank, restlessly climbed the net, and by morning he was so weak that he had to be released.
Then I put two in a cage at once. Maybe they, like my kinglets and longtails, cannot live alone?
I had to be released a day later. Both were barely alive.
I love birds. And although I was sad, I couldn’t put any more swifts in the cage. I decided to use the free swifts to unravel their secret. I tied a paper ribbon to the swift's paw and released it. And he took binoculars, climbed out onto the roof and began to follow.
The swift flew out to hunt at dawn. I flew to the bell tower, then to the factory chimney, then to the lake. And back - feed the chicks. From the nest to the bell tower, from the bell tower to the chimney, from the chimney to the lake and back - five kilometers. The swift hunted until sunset. And it turned out that he flew more than half a thousand kilometers per day! And it’s like that every day!
I realized that even I, an old bird catcher, could not stand a swift in a cage. And even more so for you guys!
Everyone knows that you can drive a horse. Even a hare can be driven if you chase it without interruption. He falls, kicks his paws - and he’s ready! It's similar to the swift's. Just the opposite. His heart, lungs, muscles - everything is adapted for long flight. And suddenly - it’s impossible! Suddenly - a cage! And the swift weakens and dies from... rest.
Well, how can we not remember the lazy Heinz? If only he knew about swifts, he would be afraid to rest after sleep!
I have many acquaintances among wild birds. I know only one sparrow. He is all white - an albino. You can immediately tell him apart in a flock of sparrows: everyone is gray, but he is white.
I know Soroka. I distinguish this one by its impudence. In winter, it used to be that people would hang food outside the window, and she would immediately fly in and ruin everything.
But I noticed one jackdaw for her politeness.
There was a snowstorm.
In early spring there are special snowstorms - sunny ones. Snow whirlwinds swirl in the air, everything sparkles and rushes! Stone houses look like rocks. There is a storm at the top, snowy waterfalls flow from the roofs as if from mountains. Icicles from the wind grow in different directions, like the shaggy beard of Santa Claus.
And above the cornice, under the roof, there is a secluded place. There, two bricks fell out of the wall. My jackdaw settled in this recess. All black, only a gray collar on the neck. The jackdaw was basking in the sun, and even pecking at some tasty morsel. Cubby!
If this jackdaw were me, I would not give up such a place to anyone!
And suddenly I see another one, smaller and duller in color, flying up to my big jackdaw. Jump and jump along the ledge. Twist your tail! She sat down opposite my jackdaw and looked.
The wind flutters it - it breaks its feathers, and whips it into white grain!
My jackdaw grabbed a piece of it in his beak - and walked out of the recess onto the cornice! She gave up the warm place to a stranger!
And someone else's jackdaw grabs a piece from my beak - and goes to her warm place. I pressed someone else's piece with my paw and it pecked. What a shameless one!
My jackdaw is on the ledge - under the snow, in the wind, without food. The snow whips her, the wind breaks her feathers. And she, stupid, endures! Doesn't kick out the little one.
“Probably,” I think, “the alien jackdaw is very old, so they give way to it. Or maybe this is a well-known and respected jackdaw? Or maybe she’s small and remote—a fighter.” I didn’t understand anything then...
And recently I saw: both jackdaws - mine and someone else's - sitting side by side on an old chimney and they both had twigs in their beaks.
Hey, they're building a nest! Everyone will understand this.
And the little jackdaw is not at all old and not a fighter. And she’s no stranger now. And, of course, not respected by everyone.
And my friend the big jackdaw is not a jackdaw at all, but a gal!
But still, my gal friend is very polite. This is the first time I've seen this.
The little wild teal duck finally decided to move 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 only be found about three miles away, on a hummock, in a swampy forest. And when the water subsided, we had to travel all three miles to the lake.
In places open to the eyes of man, fox and hawk, the mother walked behind so as not to let the ducklings out of sight for a minute. And near the forge, when crossing the road, she, of course, let them go ahead. That’s where the guys saw them and threw their hats at them. All the time while they were catching the ducklings, the mother ran after them with an open beak or flew several steps in different directions in the greatest excitement. The guys were just about to throw hats at their mother and catch her like ducklings, but then I approached.
- What will you do with the ducklings? - I asked the guys sternly.
They chickened out and replied:
- Let's go.
- Let’s “let it go”! - I said very angrily. - Why did you need to catch them? Where is mother now?
- And there he sits! - the guys answered in unison.
And they pointed me to a nearby hillock of a fallow field, where the duck was actually sitting with her mouth open in excitement.
“Quickly,” I ordered the guys, “go and return all the ducklings to her!”
They even seemed to be delighted at my order and ran up the hill with the ducklings. The mother flew away a little and, when the guys left, rushed to save her sons and daughters. In her own way, she quickly said something to them and ran to the oat field. Five ducklings ran after her. And so, through the oat field, bypassing the village, the family continued its journey to the lake.
I joyfully took off my hat and, waving it, shouted:
- Bon voyage, ducklings!
The guys laughed at me.
-Why are you laughing, you fools? - I told the guys. - Do you think it’s so easy for ducklings to get into the lake? Quickly take off all your hats and shout “goodbye”!
And the same hats, dusty on the road while catching ducklings, rose into the air; the guys all shouted at once:
- Goodbye, ducklings!
Once we had it - we caught a young crane and gave it a frog. He swallowed it. They gave me another and I swallowed it. The third, fourth, fifth, and then we didn’t have any more frogs at hand.
- Good girl! - my wife said and asked me:
- How many of them 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 milks the cow - and Zhurka goes with her, she goes to the garden - and Zhurka needs to go there, and she also goes to collective farm field work with her, and to fetch water. The wife got used to him as if she were her own child, and without him she is already bored, she can’t live without him. But only if it happens - he’s not there, only one thing will shout: “Fru-fru,” and he runs to her. So smart!
This is how the crane lives with us, and its clipped wings keep growing and growing.
Once the wife went down to the swamp to fetch water, and Zhurka followed her. A small frog sat by the well and jumped from Zhurka into the swamp. The frog is behind him, and the water is deep, and you can’t reach the frog from the shore. Zhurk flapped his wings and suddenly flew away. His wife gasped and followed him. He waved his arms, but he couldn’t get up. And in tears, and to us: “Oh, oh, what grief! Ahah!" We all ran to the well. We see Zhurka sitting far away, in the middle of our swamp.
- Fru-fru! - I shout.
And all the guys behind me also shout: “Fru-fru!”
And so smart! As soon as he heard our “fru-fru”, he immediately flapped his wings and flew in. At this point the wife can’t remember herself with joy and tells the kids to run quickly after the frogs. This year there were a lot of frogs, the guys soon collected two caps. The guys brought frogs and began giving and counting. They gave me five - I swallowed them, they gave me ten - I swallowed them, twenty and thirty... And so I swallowed forty-three frogs at one time.
Suddenly grandfather stopped digging, tilted his head to the side and listened to something.
Tanya asked in a whisper:
- What's there?
- Do you hear the swans trumpeting?
Tanya looked at her grandfather, then at the sky, then again at her grandfather and smiled:
- So, do swans have a trumpet?
- What a pipe there is! - Grandfather laughed. “They just scream so long, so they say they are trumpeting.” Well, do you hear?
Tanya listened. Indeed, somewhere high, high, distant, drawn-out voices were heard.
“Look, they’re flying home from overseas,” said grandfather. - How they call each other. No wonder they are called whoopers. And there, they flew past the sun, they became visible... Do you see?
- See see! - Tanya was delighted. - They fly like a rope. Maybe they'll sit here somewhere?
“No, they won’t sit here,” said grandfather thoughtfully, “they flew home!”
- How - home? - Tanya was surprised. - Don’t we have a house?
- Well, that means it’s not a home for them.
Tanya was offended:
- Swallows have a home, larks have a home, starlings have a home... But they don’t have a home?
— And their house is closer to the north. There, they say, there are a lot of swamps and lakes in the tundra. That’s where they nest, where it’s quieter and where there’s more water.
- Don’t we have enough water for them? There’s a river, there’s a pond... After all, we’re better off anyway!
“Whoever was born where is useful there,” said grandfather. - To each his own region is better.
At this time, 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 the swans!” As if they didn’t fly to the tundra!
- Where can they go? - said grandfather. - Our geese are heavy to lift! - And he began to dig the ground again.
The swans fell silent in the sky, disappeared, and melted into the distant blue. And the geese cackled, creaked and waddled down the street. And goose tracks were clearly imprinted in triangles on the damp road.
At the corner of my dacha there was a tub full of water. Nearby is an elderberry bush. On an elder tree sat side by side two young sparrows, still very young, with down showing through their feathers, with bright yellow sinuses along the edges of their beaks. One boldly and confidently fluttered onto the edge of the tub and began to drink. He drank and kept glancing at the other and calling to him in his ringing language. Another - a little smaller - sat on a branch with a serious look and cautiously glanced sideways at the tub. And apparently he was thirsty - his beak was agape from the heat.
And suddenly I saw clearly: the first one, he had been drunk for a long time and was simply encouraging the other by example, showing that there was nothing terrible here. He continuously jumped along the edge of the tub, lowered his beak, grabbed the water and immediately dropped it from his beak, and looked at his brother and called him. The little brother on the branch made up his mind and flew to the tub. But as soon as he touched the damp, green edge with his paws, he immediately fluttered back into the elderberry tree in fear. And he started calling him again.
And finally achieved it. The little brother flew onto the tub, sat down uncertainly, fluttering his wings all the time, and drank. Both flew away.
The boys destroyed the wheatear's nest and broke its testicles. Naked, blind chicks fell out of the broken shells.
I managed to take only one of the six testicles from the boys intact.
I decided to save the chick hidden in it.
But how to do that?
Who will hatch it from the egg?
Who will feed?
I knew the nest of another bird nearby - the mocking warbler. She just laid her fourth egg.
But will the remnant accept the foundling? The wheatear egg is pure blue. It is larger and does not at all look like mocking eggs: they are pink with black dots. And what will happen to the wheatear chick? After all, he is about to come out of the egg, and the little mockers will hatch only in another twelve days.
Will the mockingbird feed the foundling?
The mockingbird's nest was placed so low on the birch tree that I could reach it with my hand.
When I approached the birch tree, the mocking bird flew off its nest. She fluttered along the branches of neighboring trees and whistled pitifully, as if begging not to touch her nest.
I placed the blue egg with her crimson ones, walked away and hid behind a bush.
Mockingbird did not return to the nest for a long time. And when she finally flew up, she didn’t immediately sit down in it: it was clear that she was looking at someone else’s blue egg with disbelief.
But still she sat in the nest. This means she accepted someone else's egg. The foundling became an adopted child.
But what will happen tomorrow when the little wheatear hatches from the egg?
When I approached the birch tree in the morning the next day, a nose was sticking out on one side of the nest, and a mocking tail was sticking out on the other.
When she flew off, I looked into the nest. There were four pink eggs and next to them - a naked, blind wheatear chick.
I hid and soon saw a mocking bird fly in with a caterpillar in its beak and put it into the little wheatear’s mouth.
Now I was almost sure that the mocking would feed my foundling.
Six days have passed. Every day I approached the nest and every time I saw the mockingbird’s beak and tail sticking out of the nest.
I was very surprised how she managed to feed the wheatear and hatch her eggs.
I quickly moved away so as not to interfere with her in this important matter.
On the seventh day, neither beak nor tail stuck out above the nest.
I thought: “It's over! The mockingbird has left the nest. The little wheatear died of hunger.”
But no, there was a live wheatear in the nest. She was sleeping and didn’t even lift her head up or open her mouth: that meant she was full.
She had grown so much these days that she covered the pink testicles barely visible from underneath with her body.
Then I guessed that the adopted child thanked his new mother: with the warmth of his little body he warmed her testicles and hatched her chicks.
And so it was.
Mockingbird fed her fosterling, and the fosterling hatched her chicks.
He grew up and flew out of the nest before my eyes.
And just by this time the chicks hatched from the pink eggs.
Mockingbird 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 her warm place to another bird?
Listen to M. Prishvin's story “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 or melodiousness in it, the endings of the words in the lines do not rhyme, it is not distinguished by imagery.) Who is this story about? Why did the teal duck end up on the road? Where was she going 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 did the author teach you?
Who is M. Prishvin’s story “Zhurka” about? Why is it called that? How did the 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 back its clipped wings. How did the story end? Who did you like in the story? Why?
What do you know about swans? What kind of birds are these? Where do they live? What types of geese are there? Do swans fly away somewhere for the winter? When do they return home? Do domestic geese fly south? Listen to how L. Voronkova talks about domestic geese and swans returning from overseas to their home. What can you say about the way swans cry? Why does grandfather compare their scream 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 to the tundra?
Who is V. Veresaev’s story “Brother” about? What were the sparrows like? (Young, small, with fluff showing through the feathers.) Were they similar or different? Which sparrow did you like best? Why? What was the first sparrow? (Brave, courageous, lively, self-confident.) What was the second sparrow like? (Timid, fearful, cowardly, timid, cautious.) Tell me how the sparrow called his little brother to drink water.
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Coat of arms
Rural settlement
Smirnovskoe
The Sparrow was chirping on the dung heap - and he was jumping up and down! And the Crow Hag croaks in her nasty voice:
Why, Sparrow, was he happy, why was he chirping?
“The wings itch, Crow, the nose itches,” Sparrow answers. - The passion to fight is the hunt! Don’t croak here, don’t spoil my spring mood!
But I'll ruin it! - Crow does not lag behind. - How can I ask a question?
I scared you!
And I'll scare you. Did you peck crumbs in the trash bin in winter?
Did you pick up grains from the barnyard?
Picked it up.
Did you have lunch in the bird cafeteria near the school?
Thank you guys for feeding me.
That's it! - Crow bursts into tears. - With what
Are you thinking of paying for all this? With your chirping?
Am I the only one who used it? - Sparrow was confused. - And the Tit was there, and the Woodpecker, and the Magpie, and the Jackdaw. And you, Vorona, were...
Don't confuse others! - Crow wheezes. - You answer for yourself. Borrowed - give back! As all decent birds do.
Decent ones, maybe they do,” Sparrow became angry. - But are you doing it, Crow?
I'll cry before anyone else! Do you hear a tractor plowing in the field? And behind him, I pick out all sorts of root beetles and root rodents from the furrow. And Magpie and Galka help me. And looking at us, other birds are also trying.
Don't vouch for others either! - Sparrow insists. - Others may have forgotten to think.
But Crow doesn’t let up:
Come and check it out!
Sparrow flew to check. He flew into the garden, where the Tit lives in a new nest.
Congratulations on your housewarming! - Sparrow says. - In my joy, I suppose I forgot about my debts!
I haven’t forgotten, Sparrow, that you are! - Titmouse answers. “The guys treated me to delicious salsa in the winter, and in the fall I’ll treat them to sweet apples.” I protect the garden from codling moths and leaf-eaters.
For what reason did Sparrow fly to my forest?
“But they’re demanding payment from me,” Sparrow tweets. - And you, Woodpecker, how do you pay?
That’s how I try,” answers the Woodpecker. - I protect the forest from wood borers and bark beetles. I fight them tooth and nail! I even got fat...
Look, thought Sparrow. - I thought...
Sparrow returned to the dung heap and said to Crow:
Yours, hag, the truth! Everyone is paying off winter debts. Am I worse than others? How can I start feeding my chicks mosquitoes, horseflies and flies! So that the bloodsuckers don't sting these guys! I'll pay back my debts in no time!
He said so and let’s jump up and chirp on the dung heap again. There is still free time. Until the sparrows in the nest hatched.
In the spring, the white-cheeked tits sing loudest of all: they ring their bells. In different ways and manners. Some people just hear: “Twice two, twice two, twice two!” And others whistle smartly: “Four-four-four-four!”
From morning to evening, titmouses cram the multiplication table.
“Twice two, twice two, twice two!” - some shout.
“Four-four-four!” - others answer cheerfully.
Arithmetic titmice.
In spring, masters of songs sing in the forests and fields: nightingales and larks. People listen to them with bated breath. I know a lot of bird songs. When I hear it, I’ll tell you right away who’s singing. But now I didn’t guess.
I woke up early. Suddenly I heard: outside the window, behind the curtain, some bird was fussing in the bushes. Then a voice, but so pleasant, as if two crystals had hit each other. And then just like a sparrow: “Chiv! Chiv!”
A crystalline - a sparrow, a sparrow - a crystalline. Yes, everything is hotter, faster and louder!
I went through all the bird songs in my memory - no, I’ve never heard one like this.
But the invisible bird does not stop: with a crystal - a sparrow, with a sparrow - with a crystal!
You can’t even lie under a warm blanket here! I jumped up, pulled back the curtain and saw: an ordinary sparrow sitting on a bush! Old friend! Chiv - Pinched Back of the Head. He flew to my windowsill all winter for crumbs. But now Chiv is not alone, but with his girlfriend. The girlfriend sits quietly and cleans her feathers. But Chivu can’t sit still. He chirps at the top of his lungs and jumps like a clockwork around his girlfriend from branch to branch - from step to step. Thin branches beat against each other and ring with crystals. That's why they ring because rainwater has frozen on them in thin icicles.
"Chiv!" - sparrow. "Ding!" - icicle.
And so it turns out well and great, really, no worse than that of the honored singers - Nightingales and Larks.
The sparrow Chiv lived all winter in an old chimney. The terrible winter nights dragged on for a long time: the frost was shooting, the wind shook the chimney and sprinkled ice grains on top. The legs were chilly, frost grew on the feathers.
Every day the sun is higher. Every night at least as fast as a sparrow, but in short.
And then it came - the Great Day: the sun rose so high that it looked into Chiv’s black chimney.
There are icicles on the roofs. During the day, water drips from the icicles. This is a special water - icicle. Chiv loves icicle water very much. It will bend over the ledge and deftly pick up with its beak an icicle droplet, similar to a droplet of the sun. After drinking water, Chiv begins to jump and chirp so desperately that passers-by stop, smile and say: “The smoking room has come to life!”
The bushes were filled with water. There are garlands of drops on each branch. A sparrow lands - sparkling rain! He bends down to drink, and a drop comes from right under his nose - drip! Sparrow to the other, the other - drop!
Leap, hop sparrow, drip, drip droplets.
The frost has taken hold. Each wet branch was dressed in an ice cap. A sparrow sat on an inclined branch and rolled down, as if down a hill. The tit also slipped and hung upside down. The crow sank into the thick of the branches in mid-flight - it made a noise!
Every day there is news. There are insects in the air! Chiv flew up from the roof in a column, grabbed a bug in the air and, having somersaulted in the air, landed on the chimney. Chiv ate beetles and flies, and strange things began to happen to him. He suddenly grabbed his old friend Chirik by the scruff of the neck and began to torment him like a dog to a cat. The chirp screamed, kicked its legs, and beat its wings. But Chiv tore him and tore him until he tore out a tuft of feathers from him. And all winter they were friends. And they drank water from one icicle. And they washed themselves in the neighboring puddles. Only after Chirik the water became not black, but red. Because all winter Chirik slept in a crack in a brick pipe.
And now everything has gone topsy-turvy.
The drooping branches of the willow look like green hair. There are knots and knots on every hair.
These are the kidneys.
Raindrops roll down the branches and happily jump from bud to bud. So the guys jump down the steps on one leg.
Willow sparkles and smiles.
The buds on the poplars strained and burst. From each bud, like a butterfly from a chrysalis, a green leaf emerged.
The sparrows settled on the branches and began to peck at the sticky green butterflies. Help themselves; one peephole is up - is there a hawk, the other is down - is there a cat?
The sparrows went crazy from the icicle water and the sun, from the beetles and flies, from the fresh leaves. Fights here and there! Two people grapple on the roof - a dozen rush towards them. They cling to each other, flutter, scream and fall like a feathered garland from the roof onto the heads of passers-by.
In the evening, all the sparrows - beaten and unbeaten - flock to a special tree - the tree of songs. They say goodbye to the day in a friendly chorus. So, with a song, they say goodbye to every day of spring.
Passers-by listen to the sparrow choir with pleasure and smile.
Chiv and his mate Chuka built a nest in a crack under the eaves. They lined it with feathers, hair, cotton wool, hay and rags. And Chuka brought a candy wrapper and two tram tickets: pink and blue. It turned out very cozy. Chiv remembered his chimney and regretted that he had not thought of meeting Chuka earlier.
And suddenly - creaking, creaking, creaking! The plasterer climbed up to the cornice in a cradle. He stood up and began to seal the cracks under the eaves with his spatula.
What started here! All the sparrows are jumping towards him! They jump along the very edge of the roof, scolding the plasterer at the top of their voices. But the plasterer does not understand the sparrow’s language: he covers up the cracks and brushes off the sparrows with a spatula. And he threw away Chiva and Chuka’s nest. Feathers, cotton wool, hair, hay and rags flew in the wind. And the candy wrapper and tickets fell down.
Chiv and Chuka occupied the birdhouse. The wind swayed the pole, and their new house swayed along with the pole. Chiv got seasick and nodded off. Chuka did not doze: she again carried feathers, cotton wool and dry blades of grass into the nest. And again she brought a candy wrapper and tram tickets.
The owners of the birdhouse returned from the south - serious black starlings. Silently, working busily, they threw out first Chiva and Chuka and finally their entire nest from the birdhouse. Again feathers, cotton wool, blades of grass, candy wrappers and tram tickets flew in the wind.
A blizzard whistles. A white mist of apple tree petals flows through the streets. And in the dead ends there are whirlwinds. White swirls of apple petals.
I heard Chiva. He was sitting by his old nest - on an abandoned old pipe. He sat and tweeted in a voice that was not his own. Because in its beak there was a caterpillar sticking out like a cigarette. And he chirped without opening his mouth, “through his teeth.” Once!
The sparrow spring is over. My mouth is full of trouble!
Only the well-fed do not fly to the garbage heap in winter. But there are few well-fed people in winter. Hungry bird eyes see everything. Sensitive ears hear everything. Do you think that since bird ears are not noticeable, they are not sensitive? No matter how it is! The door creaks quietly - and the birds hear. The hostess will throw out the slop from the bucket - they will immediately see it. If he leaves, they will be right there. They are crows, jackdaws, magpies and jays. Birds are smart, careful, cunning. They know a person and know when to be afraid of him. Most of all they love those who do not pay attention to them. But it’s hard not to pay attention to them.
The crows fly in, rustling with damp wings, and blinking funny, flickering their white eyelids. It's like they're rolling their eyes with pleasure.
Magpies have snowflakes sparkling on their black velvet backs. And the tails and wings seem to be painted with oil: they are cast in green, purple and yellow.
Black jackdaws wear gray collars, their eyes are white and surprised.
The jay is the most elegant of all: a red crest, blue on the wing - like ripples on the water. Okay, clever. It will fill your mouth full, even your throat will swell. And quickly into the forest: put them in the corners. It disperses and flies again. It's scary, but it flies. Out of fear, even his mouth opens and the little crest stands on end. He even mutters something under his breath. But hunger is even worse.
Hunger drove the disabled jackdaw. Some hunter shot off the lower half of its beak. Neither peck, nor take, nor clean the feathers.
She sat down, strangely thin-nosed, disheveled, emaciated, with icicle feathers on her belly. Come what may.
She put her head on the snow and grabbed the piece sideways. A piece is a day of life. Will it be there tomorrow too? Birds are visible and invisible around the home.
The door knocked: friend or foe? With a bucket or with a gun? It would be better to hide, but we have to fly. Only the well-fed one does not fly to the garbage heap in winter. And there are few well-fed people in winter.
When I was ten years old, I lived the whole winter in the village.
I ran through the forest, tracked birds and learned various interesting details of their life. This was my favorite pastime, and I really missed it when anything interfered with my walks.
But then the February frosts hit. A strong snowstorm arose.
My father did not let me leave the house for a long time. Time passed terribly slowly.
Finally, a few days later, I woke up in the morning and saw a clear blue sky through the window.
I immediately asked my father for leave, got dressed and ran out into the yard.
It was frosty outside, but quiet. The sun shone brightly. The shine of the white snow hurt my eyes.
There was no point in even thinking about getting into the forest. There were such drifts of loose snow that I fell waist-deep at every step.
We had to head along the river. On the contrary, the wind swept away almost all the snow, so that in some places bluish ice was visible.
There were no birds anywhere. A long white strip of river stretched in front of me. To the right and to the left, a snow-covered forest stood silently on its steep banks. Even the squeaking of tits could not be heard in it.
I thought: “That’s right, the birds don’t feel well after such a long snowstorm.” Soon I saw a black spot in the snow in front of me.
It turned out that it was a dead crow. She lay with her head buried in a snowdrift, her wings knocked down by the wind outstretched.
I picked it up and examined it from all sides. She was already numb. Nowhere on her entire body was there a trace of a wound or bruise.
I realized that the frost had killed the crow.
I felt very sorry for this big strong bird, frozen here in the middle of the snowdrifts. I consoled myself with the thought that not all the birds died these days. I’ll probably be able to catch some half-dead bird today. I will take her home, warm her, feed her and keep her until spring.
As if in response to my thoughts, a quiet chirping was heard not far away.
I looked up. There was an ice hole ahead. Along its edge, right next to the water, a white-breasted bird was jumping. She twitched her short tail and burst into song in every possible way. “That's crazy! - I thought. “How can she be happy in such cold weather?” The white-breasted bird did not pay any attention to me. I wanted to take a closer look at her. But as soon as I took a few steps towards it, the bird threw itself headfirst into the hole. For one moment I still saw how she quickly moved her wings, as if flying in water. Then she disappeared under the ice.
I was left standing there with my eyes bulging and my mouth open. “Drowned!” - A terrible thought suddenly flashed through my mind. I rushed to the ice hole. The shallow water flowed very quickly here. The drowned woman was nowhere to be seen.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I ran home to my father, with a dead crow in my hands and with an amazing story about a white-breasted drowned bird.
My father told me to throw the crow away right away, and he laughed at my story for a long time. I didn’t understand what was funny about it, and I was very angry with my father. - Fool! - he said. - After all, it was a dipper. She didn’t drown at all, but is now jumping on the ice again and is glad that she deceived you. - Not true! - I got excited. - She went crazy and drowned herself.
I myself saw how she was pulled under the ice. The current there is so fast...
Well, that’s it,” my father stopped me, “run again to the place where you saw her.” She will be there. And if it’s not there, it means that there is a second one not far from the first hole. The dipper jumped out through it, diving under the ice from you.
I ran to the river again. My father loved and knew birds well. If he says that the dipper rushed into the hole on purpose, then there is still hope that my white-breasted bird is alive.
There was no dipper at the ice hole. But further on the river I saw a second ice hole, went to it and suddenly noticed my drowned woman on the steep bank of the river. She was alive and well, running through the snow and singing her quiet song, similar to the splashing and murmur of a stream.
I ran to her. She flew to the ice hole, swayed on her thin legs, as if she was bowing to me, and when I approached, she plunged into the water, like a frog into a swamp.
Standing above the ice hole, I saw how she rowed under the water with her wings, like a swimmer with her hands. Then she ran along the bottom, clinging with her curved claws to all its irregularities. In one place she even lingered a little, before my eyes she turned over a pebble with her beak and pulled out a water beetle from under it.
And half a minute later she jumped out of another hole. I could hardly believe my eyes. I still wanted to take a closer look at her. Several times in a row I forced her to throw herself into the water.
I was very surprised that under water it glittered like a silver fish. I didn’t know then that the dipper’s feathers are lubricated with a thin layer of fat. When a bird dives into water, the air bubbles on its fat feathers and glistens.
Finally she got tired of diving. She rose into the air, flew over the river straight, as if on a thread, and in one minute disappeared from my eyes.
Almost two months have passed since my first meeting with the dipper. During this time I fell in love with her very much. In good weather, I went to the river to keep an eye on her. She always managed to sneak away from me into the hole. And she always looked so cheerful, as if we were playing cat and mouse.
The whole village knew this funny little bird. The peasants called her the water sparrow.
At the end of winter, frosts began to crackle again, even stronger than those in February. These days my dipper no longer sang.
Now I had to look for her for a long time before I found her somewhere under the icy canopy of the shore. There she sat, ruffled. She looked sad and dissatisfied.
When I approached her, she would silently take off and fly away somewhere far away, always in the same direction.
And then, finally, the day came when she flew away from this place: the ice holes froze. The ice prevented the dipper from diving into the water for beetles.
I was very worried about my white-breasted friend. “Maybe,” I thought, “she is now lying somewhere in the snow, like that crow that I found on the river after the snowstorm.” At home, my father told me: “Most likely, your dipper fell into the claws of some predator.” Or rather, she simply went to look for another place on the river, where the water does not freeze even in the harshest frosts.
The next morning the sun came out again, and I went in search of the dipper.
Having passed the familiar ice holes, I climbed onto a steep bank and walked along the river.
Soon a small river blocked my path. It quickly rushed down the hill and dropped steeply from the bank along which I was walking into a large river.
It was a real waterfall. The river gushed in a wide stream from the cliff and foamed below, spinning in a stormy whirlpool. At this place on the large river there was a wide opening.
I've never seen a waterfall before. With delight and fear I looked at the frenzied stream, ready to crush anyone who carelessly approached it.
Suddenly I noticed two birds flying straight towards the waterfall. My little dipper rushed ahead, her white chest sparkling. A gray hawk quickly overtook her from behind.
Before I had time to come to my senses, the crazy bird disappeared into the rapid flow of the waterfall.
The hawk soared sharply upward in front of the falling wall of water, hung in the air for an instant, turned and slowly flew away. The prey escaped his clutches.
The hawk did not know what happened to the dipper. But I saw how she rushed headlong through the wall of the waterfall, made a small semicircle and how. Nothing had happened and she sat down on a stone under a cliff from which water was falling.
Her voice could not be heard through the noise of the waterfall. But from her movements I realized that she was singing her cheerful song.
I was returning home from a walk, skipping. Now I was sure that my brave little friend was not afraid of either the talons of a hawk, or the cold, or the hunger of winter.
Yes, winter didn’t have long to torment the birds. The day was warm like spring. The sun was hot, and the snow was falling around me with a slight ringing sound. It was already the end of February. The frost was soon to end.
I ran home with such cheerful thoughts. At a familiar ice hole, it suddenly occurred to me: it would be nice to try to see if the water in which the dipper loves to swim is very cold.
Without thinking twice, I ran up to the ice hole and stomped my foot hard on the thin ice.
I just wanted to break the ice so that I could test the water with my hand. But the thin ice that covered the hole has already melted. It easily broke under my blow, I flew into the hole with a swing, first with one leg, and then, without keeping my balance, with my whole body.
Fortunately, the water in this place was only knee-deep.
As if scalded, I jumped out onto the ice and, teeth chattering from the cold, rushed home headlong. The water in which the dipper loved to swim turned out to be very cold.
That same day I went to bed with a high fever. I was sick for two whole months. And when I recovered, I still got it from my father for swimming in the ice hole.
“Only crazy people,” said the father, “deliberately go into the water in winter.”
- And the dipper? - I interrupted.
My father laughed and didn’t scold me anymore.
The rook says to the rook: “Fly with the rooks to the doctor, It’s time for them to get vaccinated to strengthen their feathers.”
-Is it true that birds need to be vaccinated to strengthen their feathers?
To strengthen the feathers, birds need to be given: canary seed, hard-boiled egg, eggshells, fresh cabbage leaves, as well as special preparations (sold in pet stores) that will provide the bird’s body with microelements, vitamins and other vital substances necessary for the growth of new plumage and prevention of diseases during molting, will increase the mobility and activity of birds.
Purely talking
KO - ko - ko - winter is not easy for birds.
Orm - orm - orm - they are looking for food.
Tsam - tsam - tsam - help the birds.
Shki - shki - shki - hang up feeders for them.
The silence is extraordinary, “dead”
Rain - glass
Snow - first, clean, white
Bullfinches - ruffled
- Why did the bullfinches get ruffled?
- What do you know about bullfinches?
The bullfinch is a bird larger than a sparrow, but smaller than a starling. The body size is 15-17 cm with a wingspan of 22-29 cm.
The female lays 4 to 6 eggs and incubates them for 2 weeks. At this time, the male brings her food.
After birth, bullfinches are fed by both parents for a little more than 2 weeks. It should be noted that bullfinches feed on plant foods, and the chicks are also fed (from the crop) seeds of trees, herbs, young shoots, and buds. Insects are eaten very rarely.
Like most passerine birds, the Common Bullfinch has 2 clutches per year.
By early August, the fledglings have moulted and the males don their bright scarlet outfit and black cap. Females become a more uniform brown color and also try on a black “headdress”.
Look out the window. All the glass is painted with white patterns - the frost painted it that way. It's cold outside. Everything around is covered with snow - the ground and the roofs of houses, even on the trees there is snow.
January is the coldest month, the middle of winter. Ponds and rivers are frozen, fields and forests are covered with snow. The nights are long. At eight o'clock in the morning it is still dark, by nine the sun only rises. And the days in winter are very short. You can’t get around to going outside to run and play, and suddenly it’s dark again.
Look into the yard on a winter morning. Sparrows are jumping in the snow; from the cold they have become ruffled, fluffed up, and look like balls. They jump and pick up crumbs. It’s important here, crows waddle around, jackdaws scurry between them - just looking to see what they can profit from.
They bring out a bowl of food for the dog, they just put it down, and the jackdaws and crows are right there: the dogs are jumping around, trying to snatch a piece from right under their noses. The dog can’t stand it and rushes after the bird, while others are already climbing into the bowl. Some will grab the bread, some will grab a bone, and they will fly away.
In the village in winter, not only these birds can be seen near the house. Tits, buntings, and even wary magpies fly here. They are hungry in the forest in winter, so they fly closer to human habitation to feed.
Forest animals climbed into warm holes.
Wolves and foxes go hunting, and in the fall the bear lies down in its den and sleeps until spring.
In winter, everyone tries to hide from the frost, from the cold, icy wind, and everyone has adapted to winter in their own way.
A bird lives in our forest. She herself is black with white spots, and on the back of her head she has bright, red feathers. This bird is called a woodpecker.
In the summer, the woodpecker flies through the forest all day, looking for food. It will sit on a tree, not on a branch like other birds, but directly on the trunk and run up it, as if on a ladder. He runs, and taps the wood with his beak: knock-knock, knock-knock. It will take out a larva or bug from under the bark and eat it.
And winter came, it became cold. All the insects hid far away. What does a woodpecker feed on in winter? Look: there are many, many pine cones lying in the snow under the tree. What kind of tree is this? It's oak, not pine. Where did the pine cones underneath come from? Suddenly a woodpecker flew up to the oak tree; holds a cone in its beak. He stuck it into a crevice in a tree and began to peck it with his beak. He gouged it out, picked out the seeds and flew off to get another one. He brought another one, inserted it into the crevice, and pushed out the old lump. That's why there's a whole bunch of cones lying under the tree. This woodpecker feeds on their seeds in winter.
The trees are cracking because of the frost, and there is a nest on the tree, and in the nest the bird sits and warms its eggs.
This brave bird is the crossbill.
All birds build nests in the spring. Crossbills have their own rules. They hatch chicks when there is plenty of food. Winter, spring, summer - they don't care. It would be satisfying.
Crossbill food - seeds from spruce and pine cones. The cones hang on the tree all year round. Crossbills have enough food even in winter; there is enough to feed the chicks. It's warm in the nest. The clusterbill does not fly away from the nest; the male brings her food. The chicks hatch, and then the mother sits in the nest, warms the naked chicks, and warms herself from them.
Where there are a lot of cones, there are a lot of crossbills. There are few cones - no crossbills, they have nothing to do in such a forest: there is no food.
Crossbills have special noses - cross-shaped. This nose is very convenient for picking out seeds from cones.
If you want to see a crossbill, look for it in the spruce forest. Don’t look down, but look at the tops of the trees. You will see - there, high, high, near the cones, birds are climbing on the branches, near the cones, birds are climbing on the branches, hanging upside down - there they are, crossbills! And if you listen, you will hear: “kle-kle-kle.” These are the crossbills calling to each other.
It's cold and the birds are hungry in winter. It is difficult to get food from under the snow. Collect bread crumbs, leftover porridge, some grains, grains from the table.
Ask adults to place a board behind the window and pour food onto it: bread crumbs, leftover porridge, grains.
The sparrows will see your treat and fly in to peck it. And if you put a board in the garden, not only sparrows, but titmice and even the red-breasted bullfinch will be able to fly there. You can immediately recognize him from all the birds - his breast is bright red, and on his head it looks like he is wearing a black velvet cap.
The birds will get used to being fed here on the board and will come every day. And notice what birds are flying.
You probably see a crow and a jackdaw every day. But can you tell them apart? A crow is larger than a jackdaw. She herself is gray, her wings and tail are black and on her chest it’s like a black vest.
And the jackdaw is all black, only with gray feathers on its neck, it looks like it’s wearing a headscarf. And the jackdaw's eyes are light.
And crows and jackdaws scream in completely different ways. A crow will sit on a tree or on a fence, strain, stretch out its neck and shout: “Karrr-karrr...” And the jackdaws seem to call each other: “Jackdaw-jackdaw-jackdaw.” That's probably why they were called jackdaws.
The snow lies white, fluffy, and each snowflake is like a small star. It's easy to see. When it starts snowing, go out into the yard and see how beautiful the snowflakes land on your fur coat.
If you want to see how the snow continues to increase, plan out a long stick with a sharp end and make notes on it so that it can be seen from a distance; stick a stick into the ground in the yard, where no one walks, and watch how the snow will cover it higher and higher. Remember what note he gets to during the winter.
And spring will come, the snow will begin to melt and fall down the stick. When the snow melts, take a stick and measure how high the snow was in winter. Sometimes he attacks so much that he will grow taller than you over the winter.
In winter, the days are short and the sun shines little. And the closer to spring, the higher it rises in the sky and shines longer. You can check this yourself.
If the sun is shining in your room in the evening before sunset, notice more precisely where on the wall its last ray - the last sunbeam - was reflected. And a few more days will pass, mind you, and then another. So you will see that each time the bunny jumps further and further along the wall, each day it goes out later and later. This means that the sun shines in the sky longer and the days become longer. This means things are heading towards spring.
Birds are restless. Look how they jump from branch to branch, fly from tree to tree! But so can a squirrel or some other animal. But only birds, and not even all birds, can fly thousands of kilometers and then return again.
Thrushes and finches, larks and siskins, swallows and orioles, storks and cuckoos - they can. That's why they are called migratory. In the summer they live with us, build nests, and hatch chicks. And with the onset of cold weather, they fly away to hotter regions for the whole winter, only to return to their native places in the spring.
12/18/2015 Hits:2220 Psychological advice to parents Administrator
All parents dream that their children do not throw tantrums for any reason, do not be capricious, and grow up cheerful and positive. But how to achieve this? We are involved in the physical and intellectual development of a child literally from the cradle, but the emotional side, as a rule, is depreciated, “remains for...
