The readers really like it, first of all, because of the main character and the magic doll, who helped her in everything. They are especially attracted by Vasilisa's journey to Baba Yaga and the description of her possessions.
Vasilisa is seen as a Russian beauty with a long blond braid, blue eyes, ruddy, friendly. She is wearing a green sundress decorated with intricate embroidery, a cherished doll in her pocket, and some kind of handicraft in her hands. But the girl is good not only in her face: she is hardworking, patient, respects the elders. In addition, she is a needlewoman: she has woven such a thin canvas that it can be threaded into a needle, and no one except her can sew shirts from this canvas ... So, not only for her beauty was she called that.
The stepmother and her daughters disliked Vasilisa. She is more beautiful than them and grooms are constantly wooing her, and no one pays attention to her stepmother's daughters. Vasilisa easily copes with any work, and it only benefits her. She humbly accepts everything that is entrusted to her, does not reread in anything. This is what infuriates envious women.
According to the text: "... the stepmother and sisters envied her beauty, tortured her with all kinds of work, so that she would lose weight from work, and turn black from the wind and sun - there was no life at all!"
Analysis of the fairy tale "Ivan the Peasant Son and the Miracle Yudo"
| Artist Mitya Ryzhikov |
Let us recall the main characters of the fairy tale "Ivan the Peasant Son and the Miracle Yudo": Ivan, brothers, the Miracle Yudo.
Why do you think, if there are three brothers, only one is mentioned in the title, only he has a name?
Only one of the brothers fought with Miracle Yud, which is why he is named in the title.
And the name he has alone is not accidental. In ancient times, the name had to be earned by some act, and the children did not have names until a certain time, only after reaching the age of 11-12 years, tests were arranged for them, in which everyone could prove themselves. That's when they got their names. In the tale, we probably find a reflection of this ancient custom. The older brothers did not show themselves in anything special, therefore they remain nameless ...
The hero of the tale, in addition to his name, also has a nickname - a peasant's son. And this nickname sounds almost like a middle name. After all, it used to be like that: Ivan, Petrov's son, or Andrey, Sergeev's son, etc. From here, by the way, the surnames later appeared. Ivan is called a peasant's son, which means that it is important that he is one of the peasants.
In the legends, two main thematic groups can be distinguished: historical and toponymic legends. The first tells about the events and persons that left a mark in the memory of the people, and the second - about the founding of cities, the origin of the names of settlements, places, rivers.
Fairy tale "Moth"
He looked around: the flowers sat on their stalks quietly, as befits a young lady who has not yet been wedded. But it was terribly difficult to choose, there were so many of them growing here.
The moth got tired of thinking, and he fluttered to the field daisy. The French call her Margarita and assure that she knows how to bewitch, and she really knows how to bewitch. Lovers take it and cut off petal by petal, saying: "Loves? Doesn't love?" - or something like that. Everyone asks in their native language. So the moth also turned to the chamomile, but did not pick off the petals, but kissed them, believing that it is always better to take it with a weasel.
Outside the city, by the road, there was a dacha. Have you seen her? There is still a small garden in front of her, surrounded by a painted wooden lattice.
Not far from the dacha, at the very ditch, a chamomile grew in the soft green grass. The sun's rays warmed and caressed her along with the luxurious flowers that bloomed in the flower beds in front of the dacha, and our chamomile grew by leaps and bounds. One fine morning she blossomed completely - yellow, round like the sun, her heart was surrounded by the radiance of dazzling white small rays-petals. Chamomile did not care at all that she was such a poor, unpretentious flower that no one sees or notices in the thick grass; no, she was pleased with everything, eagerly reached for the sun, admired it and listened to a lark singing somewhere high, high in the sky.
Chamomile was so cheerful and happy, as if today was Sunday, but in fact it was only Monday; while all the children quietly sat on the school benches and learned from their mentors, our chamomile also quietly sat on its stalk and learned from the clear sun and from the whole surrounding nature, learned to know the goodness of God.
In nature, there are many species of birds from the pheasant family. One of the most famous species in our country is a bird called "wood grouse". This bird has rather big dimensions - it is comparable in size to a turkey. The head and tail of the male are black, while the female has variegated plumage with shades of yellow, red and brown.
The wood grouse lives in the coniferous forests of both the European and Asian parts of our country. In winter, these birds prefer spruce forests, because the main type of their winter food is spruce needles.
Sing, wood grouse, sing
From frost, wood grouses hide in snowdrifts, but prefer to sleep on a tree. Their strong paws are able to securely hold onto icy spruce branches. In winter, wood grouses live alone, rarely gathering in small flocks. But closer to spring, they begin to gather at the currents. Tokovische is a special place for wood grouses in the forest, where males sing songs for females and perform dances for them. If one of the males seems attractive to any female, she calls him back with a song. Grousing in wood grouses usually passes peacefully, but it so happens that two males simultaneously accept the call of the female at their own expense, and then a fight begins between them. They jump at each other, flap their wings and shout loudly, not noticing anything around. And the female at this time leaves the current with the third chosen one. Fighting is not to her liking!
Deaf grouse
During the current, the capercaillie at a certain moment of the performance of its song for a few seconds completely loses its hearing, for which this bird was called the capercaillie. This feature of the bird is used by hunters to get closer to their prey. Hunting for wood grouses has been very popular at all times. It got to the point that in Great Britain this bird was completely exterminated. And only after some time, it was possible to restore the population of wood grouses in this country at the expense of individuals brought from other countries.
Grow up kids
Male wood grouses do not take any part in raising chicks. After a period of mating, they begin to molt, plumage changes, and the bird cannot fly for some time. Therefore, at the time of molting, males reliably hide in remote places of the forest.
Only the female wood grouse is engaged in raising offspring. She herself looks for a place for a nest, lays eggs and incubates them patiently. Moreover, he treats this process so responsibly that at the last stage of incubation it can be taken with bare hands.
After the chicks appear, mommy's worries are added. She often has to take her family in search of food. Little wood grouses need animal food - bugs, worms and various forest insects. To quench their thirst, they eat the succulent stems of plants. As they grow older, the chicks switch to plant foods. They like berries very much, especially lingonberries. When all the offspring master the art of flying, young wood grouses begin to get food for themselves in the fields and in aspen forests, plucking foliage from aspens.
The matured wood grouse chicks eventually leave the family and begin an independent life. Ahead of them awaits the first winter in their life, which they will spend in deep spruce forests, eating only needles.
Sneaking, snooping, and then offended and said:
Yes, banish this Woodpecker from above! I'm tired of my knocking. Tits work without rest, pikas are working as hard as they can, I, Nuthatch, am struggling with my last strength, and he - look! - plays with toys ... I will not tolerate a slacker in our artel!
And the Woodpecker pecked out all the insects and flew away himself.
The last sliver fell, a pile of rotten dust remained under the birch.
And immediately the work of tits, pikas and Nuthatch ended.
Why would?
LYNX, CAKEEPER, HARE AND ROE
A lynx, a forest cat, gray with yellow spots, long tassels on the ears, sat on a fallen tree, basking in the sun.
The spring sunshine gives a noticeably pleasant warmth. Lynx relaxed, screwed up her honey eyes, purrs under her breath.
A bearded Capercaillie flew to the tree, sat down on a branch, looking down warily.
Found a stupid cancer! - Capercaillie answers. - I'll go down, and only feathers will remain from me. How much you have ruined our brother, the wood grouse, your shameless eyes!
Ugh! - says the Lynx. - How, your beak turns to say such words! Ignorant.
She turned on the other side, squinting her honey eyes from the sun, purring under her breath.
A skinny Hare gallops through the fir-tree, looks around in fright. I saw the Lynx - he pressed his ears, he was about to ask the goad!
Wait, Hare, - Lynx says. - Come closer ... I softened in the sun, I want affection. Stroke my fur!
No matter how it is! - the Hare answers. - If you come up to you, you won't take your legs! How much you have worn out our brother, a hare, your shameless eyes!
Fu, says the Lynx. - What a stupid beast, some rudeness on his mind!
She turned away from the Hare, screwed up her honey eyes again, purring under her breath.
Roe deer gallops across the clearing, a forest goat, crouches for fear, trembles with its short tail.
Roe, Roe, - Lynx says, - I softened in the sun, I want affection! Stroke my fur!
No, - the Roe answers, - I don't want to get into your claws! How much you have destroyed our sister, roe deer, your merciless eyes!
Phew, - says the Lynx, - to what the animals have pampered! So they are rude, and so rude!
She turned away from Roe, offended.
And then the sun went down behind the forest. Twilight is approaching, pulling cold.
The Lynx got up on long legs, arched its back, meowed.
Well, here, - he says, - you live, you live, but you can't wait for affection. Eh, beasts!
She sharpened her claws on the tree, pricked up her tassels on her ears, lit green lights in her eyes.
There is nothing to do, - he says. - I'll go and eat someone.
ELK AND MOUSE
What are you doing, Elk, are you puffing?
The river overflowed. I swam through it, almost drowned ... Ugh!
Just think, bitter! I have worn out more than you.
Why did you suffer?
And at my mink a puddle spilled. All my dwelling was flooded, I cut off all the paths ... I am swimming on a bitch for the third day!
SPARROW AND FROG
Frog, frog, where are you jumping?
Ku-a-ku-a! Bathe! And where are you going?
And I swim! Where are you, Frog, swimming?
Where, where ... In the ditch!
Who is swimming in the ditch ?!
And where to swim, then?
In the sand, in a dry place, on a hillock!
HARE AND HEDGEHOG
- Hedgehog, all animals molt in the spring - badgers, and foxes, and squirrels, and we, hares ... And only you, poor Hedgehog, walk in an old fur coat!
You stupid, Hare. I don't wear an old fur coat, but only old thorns. I need them both in the spring and in the fall!
WOLF, ELK, HARE AND GREEN
Elk, Elk, I'll eat you!
And I was from you, Wolf, in a pure pole, and I was like that!
Hare, Hare, I'll eat you!
And I was from you, Wolf, in clean bushes, and I was like that!
Grouse, Grouse, I'll eat you!
And I was from you, Wolf, on a tall tree, and I was like that!
What should I do, dear ones? How to fill your belly ?!
Gnaw, Wolf, your sides!
FOX AND FORTY
Apchhi! ..
Be healthy, Fox!
You will be healthy here, The snow is wet everywhere, the streams are overflowing, it is dripping from the trees. Not just the paws - the tail is soggy through and through. At least squeeze it on a bush!
ERNE AND ROE
Where are you, Roe, running?
Into the clearing, Ermine. There is a stack of hay, I want to crunch a senz.
Hee hee! I was already late ... During the winter, the mice cut off all the hay, only dust remained!
What are you happy about?
This is what I am glad about. There were mice, apparently invisibly, so fat, so tasty!
DROZD AND THE WOOKER
Why are you, Drozd, pretend to whistle, tease in vain?
I'm not teasing.
Well, of course: the whole evening you call: "Woodpecker, let's go have tea, let's go have tea!" - Where's your tea?
No tea.
Why on earth are you calling?
I don’t call. I'm asking for tea myself!
NETTLE AND MOTHER
Scatter, Cows! How dare you rip-pinch me, bite the leaves ?!
Why not bite.
I’m a Nettle! I will burn your ruins, I will cut off the heathen!
Even though you are Nettle, you are still young to threaten. The shooters have not grown!
HEAD AND ROCKER
It's not good, Chub: you gawk at your eyes, but don't say hello. As if I had taken water in my mouth!
Fu-uh-bul-bul! Oh wait. I didn’t take water, but accidentally swallowed air. I can't catch my breath now!
PUNOCHKA AND BARSUK
Oh-oh, what is this bird in front of me?
I am Punochka the plantain. And who are you?
And I'm a Badger-Digger. Why haven't I seen you before?
Do not know. I flew here in the fall.
Well, I fell asleep in the fall. Now I’m climbing out of the hole for the first time.
And this is the last time I run here. My stay with you is over, I am flying north. Goodbye to the new winter!
FILIN AND FINLIK
Sit down, don't be afraid ... I won't touch you, Chaffinch. I want to ask you.
About what, Owl?
I have a grudge. Well, you know, spring has come, joyfully. All the birds began to sing. And everyone likes their songs.
And the tits are praised for their singing, and the oatmeal, and you, Finch.
And what, I have a good song! Few-few-few - di-didi - la-la-la-viciu!
Let it be good. But I also sang in the spring, and I try. And no one wants to listen to me ...
How do you sing?
Yes, very nice, very nice: Poo-gu! .. Poo-gu! .. Wait, where are you ?! And this one flew away ... Why don't you like my song ?!
OAK AND VERBA
Listen, Oak. I woke up and did not understand: is it spring or autumn?
Of course, Verbochka, spring. Early, but spring.
Why are you standing in yellow leaves, just like in autumn?
You are still tiddly, that's why you don't know ... I am not a simple Oak, I am a winter one. I don’t shed my leaves for the winter, I wear a golden fur coat. And my leaf fall - in the spring.
Well, how uninteresting! Everybody dresses in the spring, and you undress. You will stand naked.
No, I will not. Why do old leaves fall? Under them, young kidneys began to stir, begin to swell, they demand a place for themselves. I will take off last year's fur coat and immediately put on new greens. Even though I am winter, I will not miss the spring either.
"CAPTAIN"
The Capercaillie was born in a deaf chap, under the spruce branches overhanging the roof over the nest. He, like a dark ball, rolled to the side on weak white legs, lay down on the ground with his chest and looked around for the first time. Above his head, dark thorny branches stretched out, spots of light gleamed between the branches, and on the side, next to him ... something was turning and turning, big, black, and called:
"Ko-ko". The grouse, hearing the call, quickly got up, ran to the black one, stuck his beak into the soft feathers, the feathers parted in front of him, he stuck his head and crawled under his mother's wing. There was already someone fiddling around, small, soft, warm. The grouse squeaked: "Piu-piu" and again heard the same sounds: "Ko-ko." Then the wing opened, the mother got to her feet, and the capercaillie hastily ran away from her to the sides. She, stepping carefully, and with every step kookhcha, went. Glukhariats - there were eight of them - ran after her, overtaking each other. They collided, knocked each other down and squeaked pitifully: "Piu-piu, pi-pi".
The Capercaillie with the children went out into a small clearing surrounded on all sides by tall trees. There was so much light here that the capercaillie stopped, closed his eyes and stood for a whole minute, swaying. But the mother called, and the capercaillie ran along with the others. The Capercaillie walked along the edge of the forest with its head bowed to the ground, its wings half open. She stopped from time to time, raised her head high up, looked in all directions, listened. And the little wood grouse, huddled at her feet, stood motionless. At the edge, near an old broken pine-tree, a tall ant heap was blackened.
The Capercaillie flapped its wings, flew up to the top of the heap and began to scatter it with their feet. Small sticks, needles, pieces of earth and with them ants and ant eggs flew in all directions. The Capercaillie hastily flew off the heap, grabbed a white testicle in its beak and called: "Ke-ke." The Capercaillie, along with other wood grouses, rushed to the mother, to her beak, and the first, since he ran faster than the others, grabbed the egg and swallowed it. And the mother had already lifted another egg, shouted again, the capercaillie vying with each other, pushing one another away, grabbed the white sweet eggs and swallowed them. It was a fun bustle.
The ants dragged the eggs back to the anthill. Capercaillie two more times flew into a heap and tore it apart. The grouse was already full, he ran more lazily to her call, it became hard for him. He dropped his chest to the ground, because his weak legs could no longer carry him. Two more, the weakest capercaillies, were running after their mother.
They now got all the food.
Then the capercaillie with a loud and drawn-out "ko-ko" called the children with her, walked along the edge of the forest, again from time to time raising her head high and listening to see if the enemy was sneaking.
A large stump of a pine tree, upturned by the storm, stuck out in the clearing.
Thin roots rose up like the fingers of a monster, and earth was stuck between them. Under the root could be seen yellow sand, slightly covered with last year's leaves and needles from above, Mother tore up the leaves, clung to the warm sand with her chest, spread her wings, and the chicks, one by one, crawled to her warm body. The sand tenderly warmed their delicate legs, the capercaillie huddled far into the feathers to the very side of the mother; all curled up into a ball and dozed off. He heard other capercaillies fumbling to the left and right, how the mother's body sometimes trembled - it was good to doze in the warmth. The mother turned, pushed the capercaillie, he stopped dozing, stretched and, stepping on the feathers, looked out from under the wing. The sun blinded him again. He closed his eyes for a moment, then, thrusting his head far between the feathers, he looked for a long time in all directions. Mother looked at him with big round eyes.
The grouse jumped out from under the wing, ran around his mother. He diligently looked at the ground, with a small yellow beak fingering pebbles, pieces of wood and pine needles. He was looking for ant eggs, as he remembered them - white, round.
Other wood grouses also crawled out from under the mother's wings, stretched, spread their wings, swayed, fell, rose. They ran over the yellow sand, over the leaves. They squeaked, already hungry. Mother called them affectionately, not allowing them to run far. Then she got to her feet, three capercaillies still dozing under her. The Capercaillie, raising its legs high, went. And behind her - a fussy crowd of wood grouse.
The forest has already changed: the tops of the trees are reddened. It was cold. On the other side of the clearing, a shadow lay at the roots of the trees. The Capercaillie brought the children back to the ant heap, scattered it and, calling the children, fed it from its beak. The grouse was waiting for her cry. The first ran to her with all his might, pushing the others away. Then he realized something: he himself found an ant egg on the ground, stopped over it, not daring to eat it. He squeaked plaintively: "Piu-piu", - the mother came up; took the egg, said: "Ke-ke."
The Capercaillie took an egg from its beak and swallowed it. And then, running away, he found the egg on the ground himself and, no longer waiting for his mother, ate it. Mother said curtly and uneasily:
"Ko" - and quickly walked away from the anthill. She led the brood to the nest.
Here she stood motionless for a long time, her head raised high, listened, waited.
It was quiet all around. Capercaillie sat on the nest, spread its wings. Capercaillies made their way through the feathers to her body, fiddled, peeped and calmed down, falling asleep.
The Capercaillie woke up early, as soon as the dawn turned red in the forest, rose to its feet, stretched out its wings, which had stiffened during the night, and the hungry wood grouse squeaked shrilly. She quickly took the chicks to the edge of the forest, led them to the anthills, fed them, and led them from the anthills to the clearing, where many insects were busy at the roots of felled trees in the young grass. She called the children, pointed out to everyone what they could eat. There was a lot of food, the capercaillie were fed quickly. The capercaillie herself also ate a lot, ate insects, last year's withered berries, white grass roots, and when she was full, she walked with the chicks to the sand, into the sun.
The chicks diligently hid in her warm feathers, dozed, rested and, having rested, again crawled out into the light, ran around their mother, like cheerful moving balls. And the forest around the clearing was still the same dark. Sometimes large birds flew over the clearing, the capercaillie stretched out and sternly, abruptly said: "Ko" - and all the chicks scattered into the grass, leaned tightly against the stumps, and froze motionless, and were and looked like dark hummocks in those minutes. The bird flew by, the capercaillie said soothingly:
"Ko-ko," and the chicks ran after her again.
The chicks grew quickly, and already on the sixth night the capercaillie did not lead them to the nest, but remained to spend the night near the fallen pine tree under the roots. The grouse was larger than his brothers and sisters.
His head grew fat, he was darker than the others, he ran faster and farthest from his mother, and his mother called him with particular concern every time. At noon, basking in the sun, he had already stopped crawling under his mother's wing, and dug a hole in the sand, lay down in it sideways, spread his wings, now one thing or the other, spreading feathers, barely outlined, stretched out his legs with widely spread fingers. Looking at him, soon the other chicks began to dig a hole for themselves in the sand and sat in them, while the mother, raising her head, was anxiously guarding.
At the beginning of the second week, the capercaillie felt a sweet languor in his shoulders and in the folds of his wings. He waved them and, waving tactfully, ran across the sand. It was new, it thrilled.
He squeaked merrily, ran far into the grass, stumbled. He did not understand what was calling him and what made him run like this and flap his wings like that. His mother, frightened, called him with a drawn-out cry, he turned, ran to her and again flapped his wings as he ran.
The grouse now independently searched for food, devoured both worms and tender white roots of grasses that his mother pulled out of the ground with her powerful paws. His legs darkened slightly, began to scrape. Among the delicate down, feathers appeared, dark, with a steel sheen.
From a small clearing, the capercaillie led the children through the forest to the flogging. The transition was difficult and terrible. The family walked very carefully. The Capercaillie stopped every minute and listened. It was gloomy and cool in the forest, in some places swamps were visible, and large flies were crowding above them. The capercaillie understood the danger and walked in silence. The forest grew darker and darker. It was necessary to get through the deadwood. The chicks broke up singly and in pairs, ran to the side, lost sight of their mother and suddenly raised a desperate cry: "Piu-piu".
The frightened mother came back, took them, walked on. A light flashed between the trees, and the brood came out into a spacious, large clearing, in which individual trees were seen here and there.
But before everyone had time to go out into the clearing, even at the very edge, the capercaillie suddenly shouted: "Ko" - and noisily flew up into the air.
The capercaillie scattered threw themselves into the grass, to the most secluded corners, and froze. Someone big with a crash crawled through the deadwood, then went on, even further and, finally, went away. The sound of large wings rang out overhead - it was the mother flying. She sank into the grass, called, the capercaillie got together, let's go. There was even more food in the chute, flies hovering over the little pothole. The grouse jumped up, caught them on the fly, it amused him, and again, taking a nap on the sand, he spread his wings, ran, waving them. He felt his whole body become lighter - his feet barely touched the ground.
It was on the twelfth day when the capercaillie took off for the first time. He took off from the ground and so, with legs extended downward, flew half a meter and fell with a swing into the grass. He was in pain, and at the same time his whole being was overflowing with joy. He quickly jumped up, ran, immediately forgot the pain, again, flew and, carried away by his small flights, ran far from his mother, lost sight of her, got scared, screamed shrilly. The Capercaillie ran to him, grunting angrily.
More and more anxiety was in her. One by one the chicks climbed onto the wings. They forgot to be careful, flew out of the grass, they could be seen from afar. Birds of prey flew over the clearing and over the forest.
The Capercaillie was now afraid of every shadow and often forced the chicks to hide.
From time to time, she flew into the air by herself and, invitingly kawhcha, flew over the stumps, very low above the ground, above the grasses, and the chicks, one after another, rose behind her, flew, waving their wings often and diligently. Only two, having flown a little, fell into the grass, began to scream desperately. The Capercaillie made a circle in the air, returned to them.
Mother took the wood grouses to spend the night in the wilderness, and all night long she listened warily to see if the enemy was sneaking. They left their lodging for the night as soon as dawn broke, and wandered through the clearing until the sun rose in a columnar. and the heat did not cut the chicks.
Once a capercaillie saw: a yellow animal with black big eyes was crawling along the edge of the forest. Mother immediately became alert, shouted, took off. The capercaillie flew after her, but the yellow fox - it was a fox - jumped convulsively once or twice, and one capercaillie, the one that lagged behind the others, squeaked pitifully.
The entire brood in horror flew swiftly through the clearing.
The worried mother left everyone in the grass and, rising high in the air, flew back to the place where the fox was.
She cackled anxiously when she saw how the fox with a capercaillie in its teeth ran into the forest.
Then the mother quickly flew over the clearing, made one circle, another, went down to the chicks, walked around each one, fell off and flew into the forest, where the fox had disappeared. And at night she woke up and called restlessly.
The nights were short, warm now — dawn converging with dawn. The whole forest is full of birdsong. Dragonflies were hovering over the swamps, birds were everywhere.
One evening, the mother climbed a tree, sat on the thickest branch, and called the children. All seven wood grouses flew up to her and scattered on the branches not far from her. They waited-: here's the mother again descend to the ground, because it was dusk, darkness was falling, they were all tired. But the mother did not come down.
The grouse tenaciously grabbed hold of a thin branch and so, in a sensitive doze, held out all night, shuddering and afraid to fall. This was the first night in a tree. That night one capercaillie broke loose, fell down, beat heavily on a branch in the darkness and shouted. Mother called alarmingly, but did not move from her place, blinded by the darkness. The grouse spent the night alone under a tree.
In the morning, when they had eaten, the capercaillie loved to fly from branch to branch along the edge. They could see the whole clearing from above. Birds were busy in the meadow in the grass.
Over there, a capercaillie brood, a capercaillie, quite similar to their mother, leads their children. Large gray birds fly low over the marshes. You need to hide in the branches so that the birds do not notice. Sometimes a fox made its way through the clearing. She hid in the grass, clung to the roots and stumps, -
lay motionless for a minute, looking out vigilantly. Then all the birds - and-
the capercaillie, and chicks, and magpies, and small white birds with black tails that live in the broom above the swamps - everyone raised a cry, alarming, as if warning each other: "Beware, fox, it is coming."
Once a capercaillie saw a large brown bear. The bear tore up a bunch of ants, put its front legs in the very middle of the anthill and licked the ants crawling along its legs with a long pink tongue. It was raining that day, and I didn't want to fly. Glukhariats sat on the thin branches of a young pine tree, not far from the trunk. The bear fiddled with the anthill, went further along the clearing. He turned the leaves and twigs with his paw, looked for snails under them, ate them, munching loudly, pulled out some grass, and also ate them. He raised his muzzle, looked around at the forest and saw the wood grouses. He stopped chewing and munching, went to the pine tree.
The Capercaillie said loudly: "Ko". The grouse froze. The bear, raising its muzzle high, walked around the pine for a long time! The capercaillie and mother looked at him uneasily from above. The bear hugged the tree with its paws and shook it violently.
The branches trembled, the capercaillie firmly clung to the branch with his fingers, opened its wings, ready to take off. The bear shook again, twice, the capercaillie could not resist, fell down and, almost above the ground, heavily flapping its wings wet from the rain, flew away. The bear quickly and dexterously, in leaps, rushed after him. The Capercaillie screamed shrilly, flew after the bear, overtook him, darted over his head, turned to the side, falling into the grass. The bear ran after her, but the mother, right in front of his nose, got up again, heavily, and lazily flew over the grass to the swamp. The bear chased her, water sprayed from under his feet. There was more water, more, the bear tumbled, fell. Then the capercaillie rose high up, quickly flew back, and the bear remained in the middle of the swamp.
The berries ripened in mid-June. The cuttings and edges of the forest turned red and red.
The grouse ate so much that it was hard for them to walk.
But an alarm came: people appeared in the glades, voices were heard all day, and in the evenings and at night, bonfires were burning here and there, and the smell of smoke filled the forest. The Capercaillie took the children away into the wilderness, inaccessible to man, and took them out to large glades only at dawn.
In August, the capercaillie already had its last fluff. The whole body was covered with black feathers with a steel sheen. The tail was decorated with a white border. The mother was less worried, sometimes flew away from the children for a long time, and the capercaillie remained together for the time being.
The nights are longer. The rains are frozen. In the morning dawn, the capercaillie already flew alone over the glades, over the forest, listened, looked out - and the world seemed to him big and joyful.
Glukhariats spent the night on the same tree for a long time, settling on different branches. But when they arrived at the clearing, everyone scattered in different directions.
Everyone lived an independent life. The young capercaillie most of all stayed with his two brothers. After eating lingonberries and cranberries, the young males flew to the three pines that grew over the ravine. The pines were old, hollow, with dark, dense branches. A young capercaillie climbed onto branches to the very trunk, and in the rain sat motionless, with his head drawn into the wing. Usually two slept and one listened. The ravine was deaf, very deep, it was possible to see from above how a bear sometimes passed by the roots. Hares were running along the edge of the forest, an owl was screaming from somewhere in the distant forest. Sometimes in the morning a distant bell rang.
Autumn has piled strong and restless. A fine mesh of rain was constantly fluttering over the forest, the sky hung low-low, there was no sun, and these days the wet and rain penetrated the body, and did not want to fly, did not want to move. Then it began to freeze, the cold saturated the air - the young wood grouses were very chilly.
Once - it was after a fine night - in the morning a young capercaillie saw that the clearing was covered with white frost from edge to edge. At dawn the frost disappeared, by noon it began to rain again, and snowflakes flashed like white flies in the rain. On this day, capercaillie flew only to a nearby swamp to nibble on cranberries. We returned soon and sat dozing all day. By the evening there were more white flies, the forest rustled sadly, prolonged.
At night, thick snow fell and covered the entire land.
In the morning the wood grouses flew to the familiar swamp. Everything has changed around. They circled over the glades, not knowing where to sit, and frightened by this unfamiliar white land. They saw: two large white capercaillie walking along the edge. The young ones went down not far from them. The old ones grunted angrily, but did not touch the young ones.
So all five grazed, tearing the snow with strong paws, looking for berries.
In the forest, rising high above the pines and firs, a huge larch grew. The old wood grouses sat down on it, began to collect the fallen needles, already grabbed by Frost. The young people tried the pine needles - they liked it very much.
And from that day on they flew to the larch to feed, collecting needles on the ground.
Every morning, flying over the forest and over the glades, they looked out for where the old wood grouses were grazing. Noticing them, the young went down not far, did the same as the old ones. They learned to look for berries - mountain ash and viburnum. They liked these berries more than needles.
And the winter grew stronger, the snow fell. deep. Food could no longer be found on earth. Now the wood grouses led a very boring life, flew little, sat more and more on the same pines, dozed, lazily looked down to see if the enemy was sneaking. In strong snowstorms the forest rustled menacingly, the trees broke, and then it seemed that someone terrible was sneaking up. A fat branch once in a blizzard broke off next to the wood grouses and flew down with a noise and crash.
The wood grouses rose at once, flew for a long time, and the wind tore their feathers.
They were exhausted. It seemed to them that the blizzard would never end and that they would die. But then the wind died down, the wood grouses calmed down, rested, flew back to the larch and there they saw the old wood grouses. They fed together and flew with them for the night, leaving their familiar place. Old wood grouses also lived above the ravine and spent the night in the dense branches of a tall spruce. The young people settled in the neighborhood, also on a thick spruce, nearby.
Winter is firm. Severe frosts wrapped up.
At night, the capercaillie froze so that his heart ached.
One day the old wood grouses went down into the snow before evening, walked around the roots of the pines and began to bury themselves. They disappeared into the snow completely with their heads, and from above it was impossible to discern where they Young wood grouses looked closely, flew into the snow and buried themselves.
It was warmer in the snow than outside, but the young capercaillie was still worried, waiting for someone in the snow to come up now, (grab. He listened sensitively. He knew that the old ones were somewhere nearby, here, if they flew - will be heard. He waited, waited a long time and fell asleep. The old ones stirred, flew away. The young man crawled out of the snow in fright. It was already day, it was quite light.
Capercaillies, all five, flew to the larch.
The days were very short. In the morning and evening, the wood grouses flew off to feed, ate only pine needles. And this meager food made them sluggish.
Winter has broken, the sun has become warmer, the days have increased markedly. From their familiar places, which were near the trunks of fir trees, the wood grouses climbed out onto thin branches exposed to the sun, and here, spreading their wings, half-sitting, reclining on the branches, remained from morning to evening, warming themselves. In the evening they again hammered into the trunk. The old ones flew longer, strangely worried; the young ones flew after them, did not understand why the old ones were worried. The old ones left their familiar place, they did not spend the night every night.
Once the young ones flew after them. Not far above the bog grew a small forest, in which glades still gleamed, and here and there, in a young forest, large seed-bearing pines rose far from each other. Here, in a small clearing, the old men sank down on the snow and walked like that for a long time, one in front of the other, spreading their wings, and drawing the snow with feathers. They walked in silence, important, lush, with their tails spread out. The eyebrows of the old people turned red, poured, and thick. The young wood grouses felt an incomprehensible anxiety gripping them. Just recently, in winter, they knew that they only needed to eat, they needed to hide from enemies, they needed to sleep. They ate, slept, hid. They didn't need anything else. Now I wanted something else. Capercaillies flew to the currents, sat in the trees, looked at the current wood grouses from a distance, were silent. But their silent gaze for some reason now bothered the young capercaillie. The old men stayed more and more in the clearing every morning, walked pompously in front of each other, hastily drew snow with their wings. The young capercaillie also descended on the snow, also spread its wings, walked awkwardly through the snow, stretching out his neck, straining all over, and some strange feeling, hitherto not experienced, suddenly seized him. He took a few steps, stopped, looked around.
Other wood grouses walked in silence not far from him.
The young man went again, made a circle, his neck involuntarily stretched out, an incomprehensible feeling called him. He wanted to scream, but his throat didn’t make a sound. His eyebrows were swollen and thick. So all five - two old and three young - every morning, right from their overnight stay, flew into the clearing, walked in front of each other for a long, long time.
They woke up earlier and earlier. The sky was still beating black, only a white line was visible in the east. A bright star shone overhead -
Matins, and at this early hour the forest was already awakening, ducks rushed high above the forest, whistling with their wings, and somewhere in the sky a heavenly bell was ringing: cranes were flying. Young wood grouses still kept close to the old ones: they felt that the old ones knew some secret of life ... So dawn after dawn and day after day passed.
One morning a young wood grouse was awakened by a strange sound.
Someone shouted from a nearby tree: "Chok-chok." The wood grouse looked closely, he saw: below, on a branch, an old wood grouse was walking.
He fluffed his tail, opened his wings, stretched his neck, it was he who shouted:
Chok-chok. The young also spread his tail and wings, stretched his neck, wanted to shout and could not. The Capercaillie flew about heavily, provoked. And the forest around and the nearby glade were full of inviting sounds. The partridges screamed squeakily, the black grouse purred, the whole air was full of passion, and this passion captured the young capercaillie, he funny walked on the bitch, imitating the old one.
The dawn was flaring up. The forest stood, permeated with a reddish light. Now it was easy to distinguish each tree separately. Everywhere in the trees and under the trees in the clearing, birds were busy fiddling, fiddling in a special way, as the young capercaillie had never seen or heard. The deafs with languid screams ran around the tree where the current was flowing, and, listening to their flight, the old capercaillie sang stronger and more fervently. Sometimes, having fallen off the bitch, like a heavy lump, he flew to the side after the deaf ears, stayed there for a short time, returned to the same branch again, sat listening, straightening his feathers with his beak. And the sun was already rising, the forest was turning golden. The wood grouse sang a song for a short time, less and less often, he opened his wings, stretched them far back, stretched out his paws, first one, then the other, opened his mouth wide, sighed, as if after hard labor.
Once on such a morning the old capercaillie walked up and down the branch, spreading its wings, and sang. The young one heard: branches crackled somewhere nearby. Who goes?
Bear or fox? The young man was alert. He stretched his neck anxiously, gave a frightened grunt, and the old one sang, not listening to the crackling of the twigs or the grunt of the young one.
The young man thought that there was no danger, if the old one was singing, he hid and waited. He saw between the dark trunks of pines below, on the ground, someone moving, black, two-legged. The young capercaillie found out: this man is the most terrible beast, capercaillie always escaped from him headlong. Why does the old wood grouse not fly away now? A man jumped: he will jump once, twice, stop and wait for something. A deaf person flew in, saw a man, flew away with a frightened cry. The man was already jumping nearby. Jumping, he filled the whole forest with a crackle, then immediately stopped, the crackle stopped, and the old capercaillie sang more and more fervently. When the old capercaillie stopped the song and listened to the silence of the forest, the man stood motionless. Then, when the song began again, the man rushed forward with all his might, towards the tree on which the capercaillie sang. Already all the deafs flew far away, already in the distant trees the frightened capercaillies at first fell silent, then flew away too. The man jumped once more to the song of the wood grouse and froze. Here the old capercaillie began to sing again - and immediately thunder shook the whole forest, a fire flashed between the trees. The young capercaillie spurred convulsively and flew over the forest. And the old one, breaking branches, fell down from the pine tree with a crash.
The young capercaillie spent a day, and two, and three in anxiety.
He waited cautiously: a man would appear again, fire will flash again, thunder will rumble. He did not fly on the current, during the day he sat at the very top of the tree.
And the forest was the same. The birds were noisy, the black grouse was humming, the snipe was tapping in the swamps, and the wood grouses were also playing on other currents.
And again a strange feeling pushed the wood grouse to the currents, where, imitating the old people, he walked on a branch, stretched his neck, timidly tried to sing. At first, his song did not come out. Then, somehow straining all his strength, he sang:
"Te-ke, te-ke". And as soon as he sang, a deaf woman noisily sat down on a nearby twig, humming in a strange voice, as if calling. A young capercaillie flew up to her. The deafening fell off, flew down into a small clearing, the capercaillie flew after it, with its wings spread out. Suddenly the old capercaillie -
huge and predatory - he rushed at the young one, hit him with his paws and beak in the chest. The young man turned over and flew away in fright.
Spring was on fire. The snow was already melting, it remained only in the deep thickets at the roots of the trees - purple and hard. There were swamps in the glades, the evenings were blue, streams rustled all day in the ravines, the wind was warm and gentle. “The hills were smoking with steam. The birds were screaming less on the currents, the hares stopped crying in the forests, the old wood grouses moved to the thicket and the young with them. The heaps of ants came to life.
Insects moved in the grass near the stumps, life became easier, food was plentiful. The young capercaillie noticed how tired and exhausted the old capercaillies were. He walked between them proud and strong, as if combed, he was ready to fight with them, he was full of enthusiasm. Once, angry, he threw himself at the old capercaillie, hit him, knocked him down, and the old capercaillie obediently ran into the grass, away.
Now he was young in stature already from the old, his chest and shoulders were leveled, feathers were shiny, he felt an indomitable strength in himself. From the thicket he flew to the glades, where there was more grass and where heaps of ants met on the edges. He now knew how the forest lived. Sitting on high branches, he more than once saw a fox sneaking through the grass, or a bear crawling through the dry branches, He was not afraid of them, because he knew: he was high - neither the bear nor the fox could reach him. He was afraid only of man, he was afraid of his fire and thunder. Seeing a man from afar, he flew away hastily. Many birds fussed around their nests and chicks. The young capercaillie were again hatched, the capercaillie saw the broods graze. Already partridges were diving in the grass with their chicks. In the distant wide glades, terrible human voices rang out, and in the evenings it smelled of smoke. They were 4 mowers from the villages. And, fearing a human voice, the capercaillie flew into the thicket and sat there, hiding with others.
The wood grouse flew over the coast for a long time, looking for a man, then went down to the sand and here, lying on its side and stretching out its legs, basked in the sun.
The berries have ripened, the wood grouses have already fattened up. Now there was no need to fly long for food. The wood grouse chose a clearing not far from the river and spent the whole day here: feeding, lying in the sand, basking in the sun. But again the rains froze, the sun dimmed, the forest rustled gloomily and restlessly.
There were fewer birds in the forest, ducks flew away in rows to the south, and it happened that the whole night the capercaillie listened to their melancholy cries in the air. A deep swamp in the forest was populated every day by new travelers, sometimes they were ducks; noisy and restless, they fed on the banks, quarreled. Sometimes gray geese, large, giggling thickly, stopped here.
In the evening dawns, they invariably soared to the sky and carried away to the south.
The young capercaillie felt a strange uneasiness: in loneliness he was now uncomfortable. He found other male wood grouses, courted them for a long time and began to live with them. With the cold weather, the flights of birds decreased, life in the forest died out.
Frost soon hit, white flies circled in the air.
The wood grouses huddled in a flock - there were eight of them - again settled on two pines that grew over a deaf ravine, completely overgrown with alder, birch and young spruce.
With the winter came a nap, the blood flowed more lazily, did not want to fly far.
Frost made its way under the feathers, rummaged through the body, the capercaillie pulled its head into the shoulders, clenched its wings tighter.
In severe frosts and blizzards, capercaillie hid in the snow, sat there for days, they again ate only needles and young shoots of alder. Sometimes, on sunny warm days, they flew to the hills, tore the snow with their paws, and got berries. And the winter seemed long, long, and as if it would never end.
Once on the bank of the ravine barking was heard. The alarmed wood grouses raised their heads, looked closely, - a hare was carrying a sow across the clearing. At the very edge of the forest, he made a huge leap to the side, disappeared into the forest, and immediately a dog jumped out of the forest in his tracks, rushed after him with a hoarse bark. The hare circled near the ravine, the dog did not lag behind. Somewhere to the side there was a crash, and the capercaillie saw a man walking on skis. He could not bear it, he broke off, flew away. Behind him, thunder immediately thundered, something flew with a squeal overhead, the capercaillie darted to the ground and, touching the branches of the pine trees, flew to the side. And from that time on, hearing the barking of a dog, he flew further into the thicket, hiding, hidden by the darkest branches. He calmed down and flew out again only at dusk, when the barking had stopped and the man was leaving the forest.
And another case: in half-asleep, a young capercaillie heard someone climbing a tree trunk, jumping from branch to branch. He woke up, looking down, stretching out his head. A long animal climbed up the tree. The wood grouse thought it was a squirrel.
He saw squirrels often, but was not afraid. The animal cautiously made its way to the old large capercaillie sleeping on the lower branches, and suddenly jumped on him. The wood grouse shouted, lunged, flew up, above the tree. The animal clung tightly to it, but something happened, the capercaillie fell like a stone into the snow and fluttered for a long time. The animal briskly jumped on it. The whole flock of wood grouses rose and flew away, although there was still darkness all around.
And the days were getting warmer and longer. Already violent blizzards on soft blowing wide wings swept over the forest.
Again the old wood grouses, and after them, and in the young evenings, they began to fly over to the current tree, where (the young wood grouse knew this) they walked last year.
For four dawns, the young wood grouse together with the old ones, spreading their wings, drawing feathers over the snow, silently walked through the clearing, circling as if dancing. On the fifth dawn, the old capercaillie flew onto a branch, stuck it, and a young capercaillie immediately flew up behind him, sat down nearby, on a pine tree, walked from end to end on a thick branch, and the song itself burst out of his throat.
So every dawn they flew in two, sat down not far from one another and toddled. Deaf deafs with noisy cries rushed around. The old capercaillie flew away after them. There were a lot of deafs, they sat on nearby branches, sat motionless and silently, as if indifferently, watched the young capercaillie talk. And the young man, having sung a song, stretched out all over, froze, listened, waited.
He saw the deaf people getting closer and closer to him.
Sometimes the deafness broke off, flew down to the ground, shouted in a calling voice.
The young capercaillie, not understanding, looked at her.
Then some force tore him off the bitch, he rushed down to the deaf, all shaking from a strange feeling. The deaf-deaf ran along the ground and lay down on the moss at the roots of a pine tree, looked around, and began to gurgle softly.
The wood grouse noisily flapped its wings, frenziedly began to trample the deaf with his feet.
Returning to the tree, he sang louder and happier. It was a hymn to life, the same hymn that the forest, and birds, and all living things sing in the spring. He stopped eating, all day and night thinking only about the morning dawns, became more anxious, angrier.
With all the dawns he sang, called; the deaf ears were running around him, he chased after them ... But the deaf ears remained less and less on the currents, they flew busily, staying with the capercaillie not for long.
So this spring passed. Exhausted and exhausted, the capercaillie, along with others, climbed into the forest thicket and here diligently fattened the whole summer. In the fall, he again felt the same strength and enthusiasm and, remembering spring, with cool dawns again flew to the place of the current and sang, sang fervently, and called, and waited, but not a single deaf ear arrived.
Autumn rolled on quickly - with rains, dull noise, then winter - with snowstorms and frosts. The wood grouse lived with only one concern - not to die of hunger, to live, he did not think about anything else. Only at night he sometimes remembered about the dawns, about the springs, and he fancied a cry of deafness.
But the sun was shining brighter, pulled by a new wind, and the old feeling of enthusiasm awakened the wood grouse. Before the old people, already alone, he flew to the current.
For three dawns he walked in the snow in silence, spreading his wings and drawing with feathers, then he climbed on a branch, went in, sang and in the song forgot about everything. His ears were closing, his eyes were closing, he was trembling all over with the exertion. When he heard the old wood grouse singing on the neighboring pines, he fervently rushed into battle, drove the old man away, returned himself and began to sing with even greater triumph.
After each song, he froze, listened to the deaf, - here they are not far, he felt them, sometimes he saw them, and then fervently, with greater passion, he began to sing again. More and more deaf people flocked to him.
One day at dawn, five of them gathered at once, they sat and listened. The wood grouse sang without seeing or hearing anything. Having finished the song, he saw how the deafs flew away with an uneasy cry. He did not understand why they flew. He sang again, with even greater passion. He called them back. I sang song after song and after each I heard screams. The deafs were already somewhere in the distance, and the forest hid and froze. The wood grouse began to sing again. Suddenly something with terrible force hit him in the side, he jerked, wanted to fly and, breaking branches, fell down to the roots of the trees. With crazy eyes, stretching out his neck, he looked around and then he saw a terrible human face. The man ran towards him. The wood grouse darted, jumped once, twice, ran away with all his might, hiding between the trunks, but again thunder crashed from behind, and the wood grouse hit the ground with his chest. The man grabbed his rough legs and lifted him. The wood grouse quivered with every feather, a ball rolled up to his throat, making it difficult to breathe. The wood grouse jerked convulsively and died.
Alexander Stepanovich Yakovlev - GLUKHAR, read text
See also Yakovlev Alexander Stepanovich - Prose (stories, poems, novels ...):
Man
The days of difficult transitions began. In the morning they did not know where they would be at lunchtime and where ...
OCTOBER - 01
I It was quite cloudy when Vasily's mother woke up. She bent down ...
GLUKHARI
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Here is the story of the remarkable Russian writer Ivan Sergeevich Sokolov-Mikitov "Glukhari". The story "Capercaillie" as well as other literary works of the writer, apart from a high artistic level, is also of practical interest for hunting wood grouse. The habits of the wood grouse and the hunting of the wood grouse are described.
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Only a few hunters had the opportunity to hunt wood grouse in the spring. I remember that Mikhail Mikhailovich Prishvin told me that he never managed to visit the capercaillie current. I was lucky in this respect. I hunted wood grouse a lot, I knew abundant current. I saw such currents near Leningrad, in the Kingisepp region. I saw and listened to them in the Urals and on the Kola Peninsula. I started hunting wood grouses at a young age. In my old story "Glushaki" my first hunt is described. My teacher and guide was the village hunter Titus. In the morning, after spending the night in the forest, he took me to the singing wood grouse. The first time I fired at a spruce branch swaying under the weight of a capercaillie. Titus shook his finger at me and with his rifle shot the capercaillie singing in the dark. Since then, I hunted a lot on wood grouse and happily met every spring, getting ready for an interesting hunt, filled the cartridges in advance. I have never been a greedy hunter, and even in the most abundant currents I have not killed more than two birds. When I stopped shooting, the forest nature approached me. I loved to visit the wood grouse all alone. An extra hunter only gets in the way here. I alone spent the night by the fire in the forest, listening to the quiet sounds of the night. These forest lodgings were my highest joy. I remember well one such hunt. Someone told me that a distant village, which I have never been to, has good capercaillie places. In the spring, when there was snow, I went to this village. It was necessary to walk many miles. I stopped and rested in the village, began to ask the peasants about capercaillie places. There were no hunters in that village then. They told me that they saw wood grouses in a large forest, and showed me the way. I remember how in the evening I went to the forest. At the edge of the village, male carpenters were finishing a building. With axes in hand, they sat astride the logs, looking in amazement at the stranger. Soon I entered the forest. I remember a tall Christmas tree at the edge of the forest, like a green bell tower. I walked along a winter road made by woodcutters. I reached a wide clearing. I did not find any signs of wood grouse. On a wide clearing I stopped to spend the night. Having cut down two dry trees with an ax, I made a node out of them. Without haste, I made a bed of fir branches in the snow. All night long I heard the familiar howl of wolves, which sounded beyond the clearing in the swamp. In the morning I crossed a large burnt-out swamp. It was necessary more than once to climb over the trunks of trees felled by fire. Crossing the swamp, in a pine forest, I found signs of a capercaillie current. Capercaillie small "play" droppings lay in the snow under some pines. Having familiarized myself with the place, I stayed until the evening to wait for the wood grouses by hearsay. Sitting under a pine tree, in the evening twilight, I heard wood grouses flocking to the current. A capercaillie sat on a pine tree not far from me. A green bough swayed under his weight. Waiting until nightfall, I quietly stepped aside and, having spent the night by the fire, before dawn returned to the current, shot one singing capercaillie. Towards evening the next day, a fine spring rain fell, and I had to leave the current. I walked across a wide field, hoping to find my way to the village. I remember getting lost in the dark and came across a dense juniper bush. Without taking off his gun and hunting bag, he fell on him like on a soft spring bed. My God, what blessed dreams I dreamed! I saw my desk, a kerosene lamp under a green shade, my rustic cozy room with log walls and a heated stove. I read and wrote something, and my soul was calm.
Subsequently, I knew many wood grouse currents. It happened that I came close to talking wood grouses. With friends, village hunters, I spent the night in the forest more than once and heard a lot of stories. The wood grouses sang on the pines and on tall bare aspens. You need the ability to listen and approach the singing wood grouse. His song is unlike any sound in nature. It begins with a quiet and rare click, turns into a small fraction and ends with a strange, mysterious grinding. Who knows, maybe such mysterious sounds were heard in those days when there was no man on earth. Undoubtedly, the wood grouse is one of the oldest birds on earth. This is evidenced by the way of his life and his appearance. Wood grouses usually live in dense pine forests and swamps. In winter, they feed on tough pine needles. Apparently, they lived in those distant times when there were no deciduous forests on the earth.
Preparing for winter, wood grouses fly to the banks of rivers and lakes, stuff their goiters with small round pebbles. These pebbles help wood grouse to grind tough pine needles in their crops. I noticed that not all pine trees peck at the needles of wood grouses. They choose individual pine trees they like for some reason. The pine tree, on which capercaillie fly out to feed in winter, seems completely naked. As far as I know, pine needles are the only food for wood grouses in winter. The wood grouse begins in the earliest spring. There are still deep snowdrifts in the forest, on which the capercaillie, beginning to toss, draw intricate patterns with their spread wings. Having heard the song of the wood grouse in the spring, you will never forget it. However, not every hunter knows how to hear a capercaillie song. I knew city hunters who did not know how to hunt wood grouse. One of these hunters, I remember, made wide "ears" out of cardboard. But even these "ears" did not help him to hear the capercaillie song. I remember we asked him to put on cardboard "ears" and laughed at him for a long time.
Capercaillies are unusually sensitive to weather changes. They anticipate fog and rain. Having flown in the evening on the current, in bad weather in the morning they do not sing at all. More than once I had to watch the duels of male wood grouse. They fight on the ground under the trees, flapping their wings and leaping menacingly against each other. The flapping of their mighty wings, their hoarse voices are heard in the distance. Watching the wood grouse fight, I could never understand why one wood grouse ran away, while the other, pursuing him, continued to click and gnash. It happened that a tapping wood grouse ran at my very feet. To do this, it was necessary to stand completely still, pressed against the trunk of a tree.
On capercaillie currents, I happened to come very close to the leaking birds. Sometimes they sat on the lower branches of trees, and it occurred to me to catch a live, walking wood grouse, tying a hair or wire loop to a stick, which can be put on his extended neck. I didn’t bother to do such a hunt, but each capercaillie hunt gave me great and joyful pleasure. I closely observed rare birds, listened to their singing and, as it were, merged with the forest nature around me.
Near Leningrad, in the Kingisepp region, I once knew rich wood grouse and every spring I went there to hunt for many days. There I walked a lot, watched and listened. It is good to spend nights in the spring awakening forest. Mysterious sounds are heard. There was a small house on one of the wood grouse currents. This house was once built by a wealthy landowner, a lover of capercaillie hunting. I was told that he sometimes came to the current, went out on the porch, drank coffee and listened to the wood grouse singing. This old crumbling house was repaired by my great friend Sergei Nikolaevich, who was in charge of the hunting sector. City hunters, except me, did not come to the distant wood grouse. In the forest house, I was a complete and omnipotent master. During the day I slept on a bunk, and spent the nights at the table brought out of the house under the trees. Here I drank tea boiled over a fire, listened to mysterious forest voices. Sometimes the spring nights were so quiet that the flame of the candle on the table hardly wavered. Having drunk tea, before dawn, I went out hunting. Once a mysterious adventure happened to me. Going on current, I left an empty mug on the table. I walked for a long time on the current, listened to the wood grouse singing and returned along a ditch filled with running water to the hut when the sun rose over the forest. To my greatest surprise, I saw that the mug from which I drank tea at night was filled with water. For a long time I could not solve the riddle.
