Forest hiding places (autumn)

1. September 2. Autumn is on the threshold 3. On the great path 4. Spider 5. Time 6. Birds 7. Squirrel fly agaric 8. Winged shadow 9. The forgotten owl 10. Sly dandelion 11. Friends and comrades 12. Forest rustles 13 October 14. Sewing 15. Scary Invisible Man 16. Pheasant Bouquet 17. Trees Creak 18. The Mystery of the Birdhouse 19. Old Acquaintance 20. Magpie Train 21. Autumn Christmas Tree 22. Stubborn Finch 23. Forest Rustle 2 24. November 25. Plochemu November piebald th ? 26. Resort “Icicle” 27. Magic shelf 28. Powder 29. Wagtail letters 30. Desperate hare 31. Tit stock 32. Starlings have arrived 33. Forest rustles 3

September

Autumn tedious rain is falling. The bushes and trees were soaked to the last leaf. The forest became silent and frowned. And suddenly the autumn silence is broken by the furious, almost spring muttering of a black grouse! The song thrush responded and whistled its song. A droplet bird, a chiffchaff, was shading. Bird voices were heard both at the edge and in the depths of the forest. These are farewell songs of birds. But joy can also be heard in farewell songs. The forest is strange in September - spring and autumn are close together. Yellow leaf and green blade of grass. Faded grasses and blooming flowers. Sparkling frost and butterflies. Warm sun and cold wind. Withering and flourishing. Songs and silence. Both sad and happy!

“Autumn” - a summary for the reader’s diary

“Autumn” by Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov is a work about how the inhabitants of the forest were preparing for the onset of a cold and stormy autumn. Each of them had their own, long-proven method.

Genre of the work

- story.

Theme of the work.

Theme of the story by N.I. Sladkova - the natural world, or rather precisely the moment when forest inhabitants are preparing for the autumn period.

The idea of the work.

The author of the story “Autumn” wants to show that animals always prepare in a timely manner for the next change of season, and it is definitely not possible to take them by surprise.

Problems of the work.

Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov on the pages of the story “Autumn” raises the problem of timeliness. If you prepare in advance for the cold season, then nothing is scary - neither wind, nor bad weather, nor the first frost. Nature made sure that the forest inhabitants could survive in the cold weather. The main thing is that everything has its time.

The main characters of the work.

Raven is a forest bird, which is distinguished by wisdom and care for other forest inhabitants. Cautious, caring, attentive.

Forest inhabitants are animals and birds that inhabit the forest.

The plot of the work.

One day, the wise Raven noticed the signs of autumn and realized that it was already at the doorstep. Alarmed, he asked the forest inhabitants: “Is everyone ready for her arrival?”

This question did not take the forest inhabitants by surprise. Everyone was ready.

Raven reminded that with the arrival of autumn it will become cold. But this did not inspire fear in the forest inhabitants. Everyone had their own way to escape the cold. Squirrels, hares and foxes have warm fur coats, which they will immediately put on. Badgers and raccoons planned to hide in warm holes with the onset of autumn cold. Wood mice wanted to while away this difficult time in hibernation. But the migratory birds had nothing to worry about at all: they were getting ready to fly to warmer countries. The sedentary people didn’t worry either: down jackets could protect them from the cold.

But the wise Raven did not let up. He knew all the signs of autumn and warned that the cold was not the only danger it posed. The second misfortune is the lack of insects, the main food of birds. But Raven didn’t scare anyone with this either. The birds knew what food they could still use for food in the fall - pine cones, rowan berries and weeds. The rest of the forest inhabitants were completely happy that there would be no more insects. Without flies and mosquitoes, you will sleep much more peacefully.

Only Raven continued to torture the forest dwellers. The wise bird insisted that autumn would still pester the inhabitants of the forest. And the last argument was autumn boredom with dreary winds and dull rains. But the autumn bad weather could not frighten the animals and birds at all. Well-fed, in warm fur coats, they were not afraid of winds, rains, or boredom. They were definitely ready for fall. Meanwhile, she was already quietly making her way through the forest, leaving her marks.

What does the work teach?

Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov’s story “Autumn” teaches you to love any time of the year, in particular autumn. In addition, the work teaches you to be prepared for various changes, to be prudent, to take all necessary measures in time so as not to be taken by surprise.

Review of the work.

Boring, prolonged rains, piercing winds, cold weather and the first frosts are signs of autumn. But still, this time of year is wonderful in its own way. The forest inhabitants understand this and are not at all afraid of its onset. They are not afraid of the lack of food. They have been ready for anything for a long time. All this has happened more than once. Forest dwellers know how to wait out hungry and cold times. Everyone has their own proven method in which they are confident. Therefore, the wise Raven has nothing to worry about.

Autumn is on the doorstep

- Forest dwellers! - the wise Raven shouted one morning. — Autumn is at the threshold of the forest, is everyone ready for its arrival? Like an echo, voices came from the forest: “Ready, ready, ready...” “But we’ll check now!” - Raven croaked. - First of all, autumn will let the cold into the forest - what will you do? The animals responded: “We, squirrels, hares, foxes, will change into winter coats!” - We, badgers, raccoons, will hide in warm holes! - We, hedgehogs, bats, will fall into a deep sleep! The birds responded: “We, migratory birds, will fly away to warmer lands!” - We, sedentary people, will put on down padded jackets! “Secondly,” the Raven shouts, “autumn will begin to rip off the leaves from the trees!” - Let him rip it off! - the birds responded. - The berries will be more visible! - Let him rip it off! - the animals responded. - It will be quieter in the forest! “The third thing,” the Raven continues, “autumn will click the last insects with frost!” The birds responded: “And we, blackbirds, will fall on the rowan tree!” - And we, woodpeckers, will begin to peel the cones! - And we, goldfinches, will get to the weeds! The animals responded: “And we will sleep more peacefully without mosquito flies!” “The fourth thing,” the Raven buzzes, “autumn will become boring!” He will catch up with dark clouds, let down tedious rains, and incite dreary winds. The day will be shortened, the sun will be hidden in your bosom! - Let him pester himself! - the birds and animals responded in unison. - You won’t keep us bored! What do we care about rain and winds when we are wearing fur coats and down jackets! Let's be well-fed - we won't get bored! The wise Raven wanted to ask something else, but he waved his wing and took off. He flies, and beneath him is a forest, multi-colored, motley - autumn. Autumn has already crossed the threshold. But it didn’t scare anyone at all.

Nikolay Sladkov

Autumn is on the threshold of Sladkov

Sladkov Dancer

What a great weather! Rain, slush, cold, just - brrr!.. In such weather, a good owner will not let the dog out of the house. I decided not to release mine either. Let him sit at home and warm himself. And he took the gun, took the binoculars, dressed warmly, pulled the hood over his forehead - and went! It’s still interesting to see what the animal does in such bad weather. And as soon as I left the outskirts, I saw: a fox! Mouses - hunts for mice. It prowls through the stubble - its back is arched, its head and tail are towards the ground, well, a clean rocker. She lay down on her belly, her ears upright, and crawled: apparently she heard the voles. Now they crawl out of their holes every now and then to collect grain for the winter. Suddenly the fox jumped up in front, then fell with its front legs and nose to the ground, rushed - a black lump flew up. The fox opened its toothy mouth and caught the mouse in flight. And she swallowed it without even chewing it. And suddenly she started dancing! It bounces on all four, as if on springs. Then suddenly he jumps on his hind legs like a circus dog - up and down, up and down! She wags her tail and sticks out her pink tongue with zeal. I’ve been lying there for a long time, watching her through binoculars. My ear is close to the ground - I can hear her paws stomping. He was covered in mud himself. I don’t understand why she’s dancing! In this weather, just sit at home, in a warm, dry hole! And what kind of tricks does she pull out with her feet! I got tired of getting wet - I jumped up to my full height. The fox saw it and barked in fright. Maybe she even bit her tongue. Get into the bushes - I was the only one who saw her! I walked around the stubble and, like a fox, kept looking at my feet. Nothing remarkable: soil soaked from rain, rusty stems. Then I lay down like a fox on my stomach: wouldn’t I see something? I see: a lot of mouse holes. I hear mice squeaking in their holes. Then I jumped to my feet and let’s dance the fox dance! I jump up on the spot and stamp my feet. Just then the frightened field mice will jump out of the ground! They shy away from side to side, bump into each other, squeak piercingly... Eh, if I were a fox, so... But what can I say: I realized what a hunt I had ruined for the fox. She danced - she didn’t spoil her, she drove mice out of their holes... she would have had a feast here for the whole world! It turns out that there are some animal tricks you can recognize in this weather: fox dances! I would spit on the rain and the cold, I would go to observe other animals, but I would feel sorry for my dog. It’s a shame I didn’t take it with me. He's bored, I guess, in the warmth under the roof.

Sladkov Forest Service Bureau

Cold February arrived in the forest. He made snowdrifts on the bushes and covered the trees with frost. And although the sun is shining, it is not warming. Birds and animals became sad: how to continue to live? The ferret says: - Save yourself as best you can! And Soroka chirps: “Everyone for himself again?” Alone again? There is no way for us to unite against a common misfortune! And that’s what everyone says about us, that we only peck and squabble in the forest. It’s even insulting... Here the Hare got involved: - That’s right, the Magpie is chirping. There is safety in numbers. I propose to create a Bureau of Forest Services. For example, I can help partridges. I tear the snow on the winter fields to the ground every day, let them peck the seeds and greens there after me - I don’t mind. Write me, Soroka, to the Bureau as number one! - There is still a smart head in our forest! - Soroka was happy. - Who is next? - We're next! - the crossbills shouted. “We peel the cones on the trees and drop half of the cones whole.” Use it, voles and mice, don’t mind! “The hare is a digger, crossbills are throwers,” wrote Magpie. - Who is next? “Sign us up,” the beavers grumbled from their hut. “We piled so many aspen trees in the fall—there’s enough for everyone.” Come to us, moose, roe deer, hares, gnaw on the juicy aspen bark and branches! And it went, and it went! Woodpeckers offer their hollows for the night, crows invite them to carrion, crows promise to show them their dumps. Soroka barely has time to write down. The Wolf also trotted out at the noise. He pricked his ears, glanced at him with his eyes and said: “Sign me up for the Bureau too!” - Are you, Volka, at the Service Bureau? What do you want to do in it? “I will serve as a watchman,” answers the Wolf. -Who can you guard? - I can guard everyone! Hares, moose and roe deer near the aspen trees, partridges in the greens, beavers in the huts. I'm an experienced watchman. He guarded the sheep in the sheepfold, the chickens in the chicken coop... - You are a robber from the forest road, not a watchman! - Magpie shouted. Pass by, you rascal! We know you. It’s me, Soroka, who will guard everyone in the forest from you: when I see you, I’ll raise a cry! I will write down not you, but myself as a watchman in the Bureau: “Magpie is a watchman.” Am I worse than others, or what? This is how bird-animals live in the forest. It happens, of course, that they live in such a way that only fluff and feathers fly. But it happens, and they help each other out. Anything can happen in the forest.

On the great path

We were in a hurry to get into the forest before nightfall, but we didn’t have time. We spent the night in the field. The tent was tied to a telephone pole. Because the clouds in the sky are boiling: there will be a storm! And just as we settled in, it started to blow. The walls of the tent began to spring and hum. The wires overhead also hummed. It’s scary on a night like this in the bare steppe. It buzzes around, roars, whistles, howls. And suddenly we hear voices! Strange voices. It’s as if someone sighs heavily: “Oh! Oh! Oh!" And the other urged angrily: “But! But! But!" Got out of the tent. It’s like diving into a black whirlpool: twisting, pushing, not allowing you to breathe. But I still made it out - voices from heaven! The birds are screaming. Birds fly south and scream in the dark so as not to lose each other. Big and strong fly high. And the small fry are different - squeaky voices, wet wings rattling! — they rush over the very ground. A whirlwind drives them away like torn leaves. Can't tell by the voices - what kind of birds are they? On migration, birds call in special, “road” voices, not similar to their usual call. The wind tore the tent all night. Wires hummed. And the birds screamed in the darkness. And in the morning there is silence. No clouds, no wind. The sun is peeking through. But nothing living is visible. But the fox is running along the pillars. Yes, some kind of wonderful one - she runs and bows! He runs and bows, he runs and he bows. Bow - nose to the ground. She reached us - stop! She opened her mouth, swerved, and walked along the ground so much that it seemed like she flew over the ground! And when she swerved, she dropped a black lump from the pastiche. I went to have a look. And I see - a bird! And then there’s more under the wires. We hit the wires at night! So that's why the fox bowed! A fox bow to every dead little bird. How many birds are there! The red-breasted dawns fell on the dry weeds, and the weeds bloomed with orange flowers. The Easter cake fell into a puddle - the broken wing sticks up. The wind blows the dead sandpiper like a boat under sail. There is a heater near the puddle. Thin fingers clenched into fists, apparently in pain... The bird's path is far, far and difficult. Many more birds will be lost in the dark and will not respond to the call of flying flocks. A lot will fall into the teeth of foxes and the claws of hawks. But even more will arrive. They will definitely arrive. Happy journey to them!

Magpie chatter. September.

SEPTEMBER
The month of September. It's time for colorful leaves. The leaves are flying, spinning, falling, jumping. They cover the earth and water with such a colorful carpet that your eyes ripple and your head spins.

Throughout the forest there are rustles, rustles, whispers.

Everything is repainted: birches and maples - yellow, rowan trees and aspens - scarlet. And the whole forest stands like a fabulous firebird: gold, purple, bronze, and malachite!

It's good in the autumn forest!

Who is this smart guy? Hedgehog, of course. I slept peacefully after a night hunt and did not smell trouble. And then they pushed him with their foot and covered him with a hat, like some kind of cabbage butterfly! There is only one salvation: to shrink and spread the thorns. Maybe they'll quit.

Mushrooms also hide: some under a fern leaf, some under a spruce paw. They are looking for warm hiding places. And those who were standing in plain sight had already been gathered.

New meeting - squirrel!

This autumn is not afraid. No matter the wood, it’s a self-assembled tablecloth. There are cones on fir trees and pines, berries on rowan trees, nuts on hazels, and acorns on oak trees. He runs around, plays enough, eats his fill - and sleeps in the “gayno”. It will curl up on a moss feather bed and cover itself with its tail, like a blanket.

Fallen leaves rustle underfoot. Tits squeak in the branches. And overhead, right under the clouds, cranes fly south. And their farewell voices sound loudly over the bright and colorful month of September.

WHITE PARTridge AND CRANBERRY

- Fathers, this is how Cranberry is! Cheeks, what cheeks! Red, shiny - so everything shines!

- So I’m shining - my turn has come! Previously, all you could hear in the forest was: oh, strawberries, oh, blueberries, oh, raspberries! And now, in the fall, I am the most important berry. I, Swamp Cranberry!

FOX AND HARE

- Have you heard, Hare, what the hunters call my fox tail? Pipe! Hee hee hee.

“And the hunters called my hare’s tail a flower.” Flower, flower, flower.

- But but but! I know your fox breed! You smell the flower, but you bite off the leg. Come in, come in with your pipe!

SORAKA AND AUTUMN

“Did you hear, Autumn, that the Swan, Cancer and Pike conspired to drive you out of the forest?” Just let her poke her nose in, they boasted, we’ll show her where the crayfish spend the winter!

- Uh, Soroka, this isn’t the first year they’ve been threatening me! They conspire, they conspire, and when I arrive, who will go where: the Swan - into the clouds and to the south, the Cancer will retreat into a hole, and the Pike will hide in the depths. And I won’t hear anything about them until spring!

Buzzard and Snake Eater

- You know, Wasp Eater, you and I, brother, are heroes!

- What kind of heroes are there, Snake Eater - birds like birds.

- Well, don’t tell me! Everyone runs away from snakes and wasps into the bushes, but you and I grab them by both cheeks and don’t even flinch. We are heroic, brother, eaters with you!

FLY AKOMOR

MOURNEY

The butterfly is big and beautiful. Easily soars and flutters in the streams of the spring wind. Already in April she flies out of her winter hiding places. Either it flies around in quiet meadows, or, with its wings spread, it basks on warm stumps and fallen trees. But most of all he likes to sit on wounded maple trees and drink sweetish juice. First, he checks the juice with his paw: is it tasty? And only then he unfolds his proboscis and sucks.

Well, in the fall, when there is no tree sap, it flies to fallen broken apples and sucks fruit juice. Can't live without sweets!

WHO SLEEP HOW

- It turns out, friends, that I, the Bat, sleep more skillfully than all of you, rest more comfortably than all of you!

- How are you, Bat, sleeping and resting?

OAK AND ROWAN

- Oh, rowan-rowan, why are you sad?

- I, oak, was a thin rowan, but I became a dry snag. The kids ripped me off like crazy, butchered me like a nut. No berries on me, no twigs, no branches - even if I hit the fire with my head! If only you, oak tree, would protect me.

- What are you, what are you! Now, my dear, I’m the kind of person who would rather put it in a woodshed. All autumn they knocked acorns off me and hit me on the head with stones and sticks. Shaked out my whole soul! I was an oak tree, I became a club.

TAP AND BIBBISH

- Why are you, Tap Dancer, praising the birch all the time? An empty tree: no spruce or pine seeds for you.

- But, Klest, birch seeds. Have you eaten them?

ANGRY VOICES

We complain about the boy with the box of matches. He also walked along a forest path and set everything on fire. Dry juniper bushes flared up like fireworks, tufts of withered grass smoked, forest anthills smoked, and deposits of resin smoked on the trunks. The boy screamed and laughed, and we were choking with fear and smoke. When we asked the boy why he was doing this, the boy showed us his fist and did not answer anything.

Do whatever you want with us: cut into pieces, fry, boil, salt. Even marinate! But just don’t tear it up by the roots, don’t tear up the forest floor around it, and don’t spoil our mycelium.

If you don’t listen, we’ll stop growing altogether!

Source

Spider

A spider was descending from a tree on a cobweb. Yes, cleverly: he released a web and on it, like on a rope, he descended lower and lower. I walked over to get a better look at this acrobat. He hooked his finger on the cobweb thread above the spider, swung the spider in the air like a paper ball “scattered” on an elastic band, and began to lift it closer to his eyes. No such luck! I pull the spider up by the web, and it unwinds the web and falls down. I pull faster, he unwinds faster. I move my hands, only my fingers flicker, and he releases the web and slides down. It’s as if I’m pulling the spool up by the thread: I pull, I pull, the thread unwinds, but the spool doesn’t budge. It spins and spins, but not an inch upward! I pull with all my might, but the spider is still below! And then I thought that this way I’ll unwind the spider like a spool of thread! After all, it will dry up someday, will there be an end to its web? If he unwinds all over into a web, that’s the end of him. Why does the poor guy do this? I cut off the web thread and let the spider fall to the ground. He rushed with all his eight legs. It’s great, you can immediately see that he’s not completely exhausted yet. There are still cobwebs left for the net to catch mosquitoes. Let him catch it: mosquitoes bite great!

Time

I've never thought about time before. It goes silently, flows invisibly. Hour after hour, day after day. Look, it’s already Saturday, and then it’s Sunday. Well, it’s good that it’s Saturday and Sunday! Looking at the clock or looking at the calendar does not mean understanding time. Mice and woodpeckers taught me to think about time. I meet them in the forest all year round. Their whole life is before my eyes. Birds and animals also have their quirks. Here is a vole mouse. This one is incredibly clean. Wash after meals and before meals, wash before bed and after sleep. If he yawns, he will wash himself, if he sneezes, he will wash himself, if he scratches, he will wash himself. After a game he washes himself, after a fight he washes himself. In the heat it washes, in the cold it washes. He will wash himself and wash himself. Or a bat. This one loves to sleep. He sleeps soundly all winter for six months! Then he sleeps from sunrise to sunset. And at night, depending on your luck: a little rain - sleeps, the wind - sleeps, cold - sleeps. He gets enough sleep and dozes off. Well, woodpeckers are hard workers. They bury their nose in the tree and hammer away. Whether it’s winter or summer, they hammer away. From dawn to dawn. In the bucket and in bad weather. All year round; as soon as noses don't break! Some are washing, others are sleeping, others are hammering. Hour after hour, day after day. So imperceptible, but what if you think about it? And it turns out that a vole washes itself for half its life, a woodpecker spends three quarters of its life pecking, and a bat lives only the twentieth part of its mouse life—the rest of the time it sleeps! The mice made me count time. What if all I do is sleep and hammer. And very simple!

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