Grow up with a book!

Is it a lie and a hint,
good fellows a lesson
and reproach fools -
figure it out yourself!

My good reader!

I'm glad you decided to read this book because it was written for you.
"Three stories about the present" in your hands, so I'm calm. After all, when you carefully read them, your life can change for the better. If you don't want to change anything about it, that's fine too. Then, you will probably note with satisfaction that, it turns out, many of your thoughts and feelings are in tune with what is happening on the pages that are impatiently waiting for their reader.
All three stories are about right strength. Sometimes this strength is mistaken for weakness because of its kindness, but it may seem so only at first glance. And then only to those who believe that good should be with their fists. I am always sincerely surprised and upset when I hear this common statement. In response, I confidently declare that goodness simply must exist, and certainly not with fists, but only with wings! Implanting the truth with fists is worthless. Ardent defenders of justice may be puzzled: how, without fists, to protect the weak and disadvantaged from evil?! Of course, one must be able to stand up for justice, there should be no doubt here! This, in my opinion, is the correctness of force - to teach justice to offenders. Help them become kinder, awaken in them the desire to find wings instead of fists.

Evil to punish! ... Or maybe better
tell,
to show his wickedness to him?
For evil to be ashamed, and not again
pissed off
in a new anger, a snake hid!

The courageous span of strong wings of goodness should be more convincing than any fists. That's what my stories are about, not evil. I just don't want to write about him.
So, in the "Pink World" tells about three days of the life of one amazing boy. His subtle experience of the surrounding world allows the young dreamer to see everything in pink colors. This is not just an unusual perception of flowers, but the ability to feel the wonderful essence of the universe, the secret mysteries of which are full of nature, and even our seemingly boring everyday life. To possess such a gift is not at all easy.
The second story with the unpretentious name "The creak of the floorboard" reveals the inner world of the simplest things that we encounter in our everyday life. These things are so ordinary and featureless that it never occurs to anyone to think about their fate. Maybe they really do not deserve special attention, because the heroine of this story is just a worn floorboard. How common it is is up to you, reader. I will say one thing - the fate of this piece of wood is unique!
The book ends with a story about a difficult, but infinitely interesting and necessary for others journey through unknown distances. From discovery to discovery, the main character of this story grows, matures, and in his understanding of the world he shares light warmth with everyone who needs it. This, in fact, is the idea of ​​the whole book.
The first story helps to open the eyes of those who are just knocking at the School; the second is addressed to those who diligently study in it; the third suggests worthy guidelines for those who have been mastering student work for far from the first year, who have learned to learn and are preparing for adulthood.
Or maybe all three stories are addressed primarily to adults? To those who grew up forgetting to learn to trust their hearts. Who in his adult daily life does not remember what he discovered day by day in the children's world full of mysteries. I studied in order to live a life where they do not forget to answer those questions that haunt us in childhood.
Why only children want to read adult books? Why adults are not interested in children?
That's interesting - how interesting are the adults themselves?
Reader, are you interested?
Your smart author
Tibet, Lhasa
autumn 2006

Pink world.

I dedicate this book to my Dasha
and I apologize for
that he shared with the reader her secret in the hope of a more tolerant and kinder world.

Let's immediately agree that you will accept this tale, otherwise it is not worth telling. If you are ready to believe what happened, then let's begin.
So, in one city, big and beautiful, there lived a boy named Tishka. The boy was the same as all his peers - he went to school in the same way, he was naughty at the breaks in the same way, and even, it happened, he got deuces. In one thing, he was not like the others: Tishka saw houses, trees, the sky, and in general everything around him in pink. No, the boy was not color blind, as the adults called him. He understood and felt that the leaves on the trees were green, that the sun was red. Tishka distinguished every single color, only saw everything around pink. It was not easy for him to live with such a feature. Just think for yourself - is it easy to convince boys and girls that the elephant in the zoo is pink, that the rain is pink, that we ourselves are pink. And even ice cream, the most ordinary white ice cream, is not white at all, but rosy. The guys laughed at Tishka, the adults shrugged their shoulders and took the boy to the doctors, who also shrugged their shoulders in surprise and immediately prescribed all sorts of potions, powders, and pills with an air of importance. In vain! Nothing helped. From day to day, Tishka continued to walk along the pink street to his pink school and smiled amiably at the pink passers-by walking towards him with pink shopping bags and briefcases.
The teachers at the school, of course, knew Tishkin's peculiarity and nodded their heads with restraint when, in the classroom, a diligent student enthusiastically talked about pink mountains and seas or about what pink birds live in pink forests. The art teacher had the hardest time. Imagine what it's like to put fives for Tishkin's drawings! It saved me that they were all drawn with such love and so skillfully that even pink snowdrifts and pink Christmas trees looked very much like real ones.
Tishka himself was not at all upset about this. The boy loved the pink world and happily lived his pink life. Although he was still upset by the reproaches of adults and the endless ridicule of the children. I got fed up, in the end, walking along the pink streets alone. Even pink ice cream doesn't taste as good when you eat it without friends. And I really didn’t want to make paper boats alone to drive them later through pink puddles. Because with whom do you share the delight when the pink sails are filled with a successful gust of wind and the boat rushes forward, scaring away the pink doves and sparrows floundering there?
Once at school, all the guys got their homework - to choose and draw some kind of city view. Tishka was always responsible for the implementation of the assigned lessons. So today he came home, quickly changed clothes, washed himself, ate pink porridge and, taking a pink album with him, ran into the city to find something suitable for a drawing. Tishka knew his city well. The boy often walked along its pink squares and alleys, along busy streets and quiet lanes. And now I didn't have to look for a long time. Rather, from the very beginning, Tishka knew where to go to draw. He had long fallen in love with the old house, which stood heavily on the bank of the canal. It always seemed to Tishka that this House was alive. Yes, alive. Old, sometimes a little gloomy, but still very kind House. The boy was just sure that it was so. Why shouldn't the house be alive? Is the stone dead? Not at all. He lives his own life, if not similar to ours, human, but life all the same. And when people lay the living stones as they see fit, then life at home can turn out to be quite similar to the life of people. Only for this, the builders need to try very hard. Then they respectfully say about such people that they put their soul into their work. And this soul fills the whole house with life. Of course, Dom doesn't need to go to school, there's no one to scold him for bad grades, and no one constantly measures his temperature. Ha, imagine what a thermometer would be needed for this! The house doesn't even go anywhere for a walk. He can't. Why, you ask? Yes, because suddenly one of the residents will need to urgently return home. The eccentric will run to the place where his house should be, and what? Not home! Scandal. Adults love to make scandals for any reason. And they will definitely use this opportunity for another hype. And why, tell me, is there a scandal for the elderly, respected House? Yes, even from their own tenants. Therefore, our House led a domestic lifestyle, as befits all respectable houses. Sometimes, however, such a life bored him. Tishka immediately noticed when the old Dom couldn't sit at home. Then this grumbler began to creak, angrily frowned his canopies-eyebrows, and his windows-eyes gleamed with a displeased light. On such days, Tishka sympathized with his friend Dom and was ready to offer him to run away somewhere together. Take a bus, a tram or ... well, if the House didn't fit anywhere, then just walk along the streets, frolic on the pink lawns of the neighboring park. What places would Tishka be able to show the House then! But the boy understood the full responsibility of the position of the House, felt sorry for him and did not pester him with questions and suggestions. But Tishka came to admire the living House very often. The boy also liked that none of the passers-by noticed the grumpy Dom. Rather, everyone noticed, but no one saw that this House was alive. Tishka was proud of his secret and promised the House long ago that he would keep their secret. The boy agreed that the old House did not need the noisy life of celebrity. After all, how would the House become famous if people knew that it was alive! Everyone would go to look at him, everyone would pester him with conversations, and the tenants would torture the House with constant requests. No, Tishka will not tell anyone that this House is alive. Here you can draw it - it's possible.
The young artist settled down on the bank of the canal, laid out his pink paints and began to paint the House. The pink brush quickly and confidently glided over the paper, leaving behind the outlines of a good friend. Massive carved doors appeared, windows sparkling in the sun, important columns, on which spacious balconies carefully leaned. The pink tiles of the high roof with bizarre chimneys have already begun to emerge. It seemed that a funny chimney-sweep, covered with soot, in a satin hat, with a ladder and a whisk under his arm, was about to appear on its steep slopes ...
Tishka was so carried away by his occupation that he did not notice how the girl approached him. She wrinkled her forehead and looked at the picture for a long time: a pink house, a pink street and a pink canal, through which water flowed cheerfully playing with pink reflections. Then she said:
- My name is Ann. And who are you?
Tishka turned to the girl and blushed. He was a little shy, our Tishka. And he immediately liked this girl very much. She was wearing such a beautiful pink bow...
- Silence. My name is Tishka, - the boy answered shyly.
Anya again looked at the drawing, then at the house itself and asked:
- I wonder if you really see the house as pink, or is it just an artist's trick?
- How is it - the artist's reception? - Tishka did not understand.
- Well, this is when what they want to draw is deliberately portrayed as distorted or unnatural.
- Why? - the boy was surprised.
- For greater effect.
Anya pronounced the word "effect" very expressively. It can be seen that she liked such an obscure, but important sounding word. Tishka was offended:
- I don't draw for any effect! And I see everything in pink.
The girl squealed in surprise and opened her eyes wide.
- Oh, even me?
- Even you.
“Even that policeman over there?” - Anya pointed to an angry fat guard with a purple nose like a plum, who was standing at the traffic light.
- I already said - I see everything pink.
- How interesting!.. Aren't you cheating? - the girl looked incredulously into Tishka's eyes.
The boy was offended even more:
"So why would I lie to you?" If you don't like my picture, you don't have to look at it.
Anna waved her hands impatiently.
- What are you, what are you! Like it very much! So spectacular... Oh, well, I just can't believe it! The girls will burst with envy when they find out that I met such a boy. ...Listen, Tishka, shall we go for a walk?
Tishka, accustomed to ridicule and still a little offended, cautiously asked:
- Where are we going to walk?
Anya laughed loudly and twirled on her toes, waving her pink dress with an umbrella.
- Yes, somewhere! Show me your pink world, otherwise it's so boring to live in the ordinary.

creaking floorboards
...

Stories about animals by Tolstoy, Turgenev, Chekhov, Prishvin, Koval, Paustovsky

Leo Tolstoy "The Lion and the Dog"

In London, they showed wild animals and took money or dogs and cats for food for wild animals.

One man wanted to look at the animals: he grabbed a dog in the street and brought it to the menagerie. They let him watch, but they took the little dog and threw it into a cage to be eaten by a lion.

The dog tucked its tail between its legs and snuggled into the corner of the cage. The lion walked up to her and sniffed her.

The dog lay on its back, raised its paws and began to wag its tail.

The lion touched her with his paw and turned her over.

The dog jumped up and stood in front of the lion on its hind legs.

The lion looked at the dog, turned its head from side to side and did not touch it.

When the owner threw meat to the lion, the lion tore off a piece and left it for the dog.

In the evening, when the lion went to bed, the dog lay down beside him and laid her head on his paw.

Since then, the dog lived in the same cage with the lion, the lion did not touch her, ate food, slept with her, and sometimes played with her.

Once the master came to the menagerie and recognized his little dog; he said that the dog was his own, and asked the owner of the menagerie to give it to him. The owner wanted to give it back, but as soon as they began to call the dog to take it out of the cage, the lion bristled and growled.

So the lion and the dog lived for a whole year in one cage.

A year later, the dog fell ill and died. The lion stopped eating, but kept sniffing, licking the dog and touching it with his paw.

When he realized that she was dead, he suddenly jumped up, bristled, began to whip his tail on the sides, threw himself on the wall of the cage and began to gnaw the bolts and the floor.

All day he fought, tossed about in the cage and roared, then lay down beside the dead dog and fell silent. The owner wanted to carry away the dead dog, but the lion would not let anyone near it.

The owner thought that the lion would forget his grief if he was given another dog, and let a live dog into his cage; but the lion immediately tore her to pieces. Then he hugged the dead dog with his paws and lay like that for five days.

On the sixth day the lion died.

Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy "Bird"

It was Seryozha's birthday, and many different gifts were presented to him; and tops, and horses, and pictures. But more than all the gifts, Uncle Seryozha gave a net to catch birds.

The grid is made in such a way that a plank is attached to the frame, and the grid is thrown back. Pour the seed on a plank and put it out in the yard. A bird will fly in, sit on a plank, the plank will turn up and slam itself shut.

Seryozha was delighted, ran to his mother to show the net. Mother says:

- Not a good toy. What do you want birds? Why would you torture them?

I'll put them in cages. They will sing and I will feed them.

Seryozha took out a seed, poured it on a plank and put the net into the garden. And everything stood, waiting for the birds to fly. But the birds were afraid of him and did not fly to the net. Seryozha went to dinner and left the net. I looked after dinner, the net slammed shut, and a bird was beating under the net, Seryozha was delighted, caught the bird and carried it home.

- Mother! Look, I caught a bird, it must be a nightingale! And how his heart beats!

Mother said:

- This is a siskin. Look, do not torment him, but rather let him go,

No, I will feed and water him.

Seryozha chizh put him in a cage and for two days he sprinkled seed on him, and put water on, and cleaned the cage. On the third day he forgot about the siskin and did not change the water. His mother says to him:

- You see, you forgot about your bird, it's better to let it go.

— No, I won't forget, I'll put water on and clean the cage.

Seryozha put his hand into the cage, began to clean it, but the chizhik was frightened, beating against the cage. Seryozha cleaned out the cage and went to fetch water. The mother saw that he had forgotten to close the cage, and she shouted to him:

- Seryozha, close the cage, otherwise your bird will fly out and be killed!

Before she had time to say, the siskin found the door, was delighted, spread his wings and flew through the upper room to the window. Yes, he did not see the glass, he hit the glass and fell on the windowsill.

Seryozha came running, took the bird, carried it to the cage. The chizhik was still alive, but lay on his chest, spreading his wings, and breathing heavily. Seryozha looked and looked and began to cry:

- Mother! What should I do now?

“Now you can’t do anything.

Seryozha did not leave the cage all day and kept looking at the chizhik, but the chizhik still lay on his chest and breathed heavily and quickly. When Seryozha went to sleep, the chizhik was still alive. Seryozha could not sleep for a long time; every time he closed his eyes, he imagined a siskin, how he lies and breathes.

In the morning, when Seryozha approached the cage, he saw that the siskin was already lying on its back, tucked up its paws and stiffened. Since then, Seryozha has never caught birds.

Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev "Sparrow"

I was returning from hunting and walking along the alley of the garden. The dog ran ahead of me.

Suddenly she slowed down her steps and began to creep, as if sensing game ahead of her.

I looked along the alley and saw a young sparrow with yellow around the beak and down on the head. He fell from the nest (the wind shook the birches of the alley strongly) and sat motionless, helplessly spreading his barely sprouting wings.

My dog ​​was slowly approaching him, when suddenly, plunging from a nearby tree, an old black-breasted sparrow fell like a stone in front of her very muzzle - and all disheveled, distorted, with a desperate and pitiful squeak, jumped twice in the direction of her toothy open mouth.

He rushed to save, he shielded his offspring with himself ... but his whole little body trembled with horror, his voice grew wild and hoarse, he froze, he sacrificed himself!

What a huge monster the dog must have seemed to him! And yet he could not sit on his high, safe branch ... A force stronger than his will threw him out of there.

My Trezor stopped, backed away... Apparently, he also recognized this power. I hurried to call the embarrassed dog away and left, reverent.

Yes, don't laugh. I was in awe of that little heroic bird, of its love impulse.

Love, I thought, is stronger than death and the fear of death. Only it, only love keeps and moves life.

Anton Pavlovich Chekhov "White-browed"

The hungry wolf got up to go hunting. Her wolf cubs, all three of them, were fast asleep, huddled together, and warmed each other. She licked them and went.

It was already the spring month of March, but at night the trees cracked from the cold, as in December, and as soon as you stick out your tongue, it begins to pinch strongly. The she-wolf was in poor health, suspicious; she shuddered at the slightest noise and kept thinking about how someone at home without her would offend the wolf cubs. The smell of human and horse tracks, stumps, piled firewood and a dark manured road frightened her; it seemed to her as if people were standing behind the trees in the darkness, and somewhere behind the forest dogs were howling.

She was no longer young, and her instincts had weakened, so that it happened that she mistook a fox's track for a dog's, and sometimes even, deceived by her instincts, lost her way, which had never happened to her in her youth. Due to poor health, she no longer hunted calves and large rams, as before, and already far bypassed horses with foals, but ate only carrion; she had to eat fresh meat very rarely, only in the spring, when, having come across a hare, she took away her children or climbed into the barn where the lambs were with the peasants.

Four versts from her lair, by the postal road, there was a winter hut. Here lived the watchman Ignat, an old man of about seventy, who kept coughing and talking to himself; he usually slept at night, and during the day he wandered through the forest with a single-barreled gun and whistled at hares. He must have been a mechanic before, because every time he stopped, he shouted to himself: “Stop, car!” and before going any further: "Full speed!" With him was a huge black dog of an unknown breed, named Arapka. When she ran far ahead, he shouted to her: "Reverse!" Sometimes he sang, and at the same time he staggered strongly and often fell (the wolf thought it was from the wind) and shouted: “I went off the rails!”

The she-wolf remembered that in summer and autumn a ram and two ewes grazed near the winter hut, and when she ran past not so long ago, she thought she heard bleating in the barn. And now, approaching the winter hut, she realized that it was already March and, judging by the time, there must certainly be lambs in the barn. She was tormented by hunger, she thought about how greedily she would eat the lamb, and from such thoughts her teeth clicked and her eyes shone in the darkness like two lights.

Ignat's hut, his barn, barn and well were surrounded by high snowdrifts. It was quiet. The arapka must have been sleeping under the shed.

Through the snowdrift, the wolf climbed onto the barn and began to rake the thatched roof with her paws and muzzle. The straw was rotten and loose, so that the she-wolf almost fell through; she suddenly smelled warm steam and the smell of manure and sheep's milk right in her muzzle. Down below, feeling cold, a lamb bleated softly. Jumping into the hole, the wolf fell with her front paws and chest on something soft and warm, probably on a ram, and at that moment something suddenly squealed in the barn, barked and burst into a thin howling voice, the sheep shied against the wall, and the wolf , frightened, grabbed what was first caught in the teeth, and rushed out ...

She ran, straining her strength, and at that time Arapka, who had already sensed the wolf, howled furiously, disturbed chickens clucked in the winter hut, and Ignat, going out onto the porch, shouted:

- Full speed! Went to the whistle!

And he whistled like a machine, and then - ho-ho-ho-ho! .. And all this noise was repeated by the forest echo.

When, little by little, all this calmed down, the she-wolf calmed down a little and began to notice that her prey, which she held in her teeth and dragged through the snow, was heavier and, as it were, harder than lambs usually are at this time; and it seemed to smell differently, and some strange sounds were heard ... The she-wolf stopped and put her burden on the snow to rest and start eating, and suddenly jumped back in disgust. It was not a lamb, but a puppy, black, with a large head and high legs, of a large breed, with the same white spot all over his forehead, like Arapka's. Judging by his manners, he was an ignoramus, a simple mongrel. He licked his rumpled, wounded back and, as if nothing had happened, waved his tail and barked at the she-wolf. She growled like a dog and ran away from him. He is behind her. She looked back and clicked her teeth; he stopped in bewilderment and, probably deciding that she was playing with him, stretched out his muzzle towards the winter quarters and burst into sonorous, joyful barking, as if inviting his mother Arapka to play with him and with the she-wolf.

It was already dawn, and when the she-wolf made her way to her thick aspen forest, each aspen tree was clearly visible, and the black grouse was already waking up and beautiful roosters often fluttered, disturbed by the careless jumps and barking of the puppy.

"Why is he running after me? thought the wolf with annoyance. “He must want me to eat him.”

She lived with wolf cubs in a shallow hole; about three years ago, during a strong storm, a tall old pine tree was uprooted, which is why this hole was formed. Now at the bottom of it were old leaves and moss, bones and bull horns, which the wolf cubs used to play, lay right there. They were already awake, and all three, very similar to each other, stood side by side on the edge of their pit and, looking at the returning mother, wagged their tails. Seeing them, the puppy stopped at a distance and looked at them for a long time; noticing that they, too, were looking at him attentively, he began to bark at them angrily, as if they were strangers.

It was already dawn and the sun had risen, the snow was sparkling all around, but he still stood at a distance and barked. The cubs sucked their mother, shoving her with their paws into her thin stomach, while she gnawed at the horse bone, white and dry; she was tormented by hunger, her head ached from the barking of dogs, and she wanted to rush at the uninvited guest and tear him apart.

Finally the puppy got tired and hoarse; seeing that they were not afraid of him and did not even pay attention to him, he began timidly, now crouching, now jumping, to approach the cubs. Now, in daylight, it was easy to see him. His white forehead was large, and there was a bump on his forehead, such as happens in very stupid dogs; the eyes were small, blue, dull, and the expression of the whole muzzle was extremely stupid. Approaching the cubs, he stretched out his broad paws, put his muzzle on them and began:

“Mya, me… nga-nga-nga!..

The cubs did not understand anything, but they waved their tails. Then the puppy hit one wolf cub on the big head with its paw. The wolf cub also hit him on the head with his paw. The puppy stood sideways to him and looked askance at him, wagging his tail, then suddenly rushed from his place and made several circles on the crust. The cubs chased him, he fell on his back and lifted his legs up, and the three of them attacked him and, squealing with delight, began to bite him, but not painfully, but in jest. The crows sat on a tall pine tree and looked down on their struggle. And they were very worried. It got noisy and fun. The sun was already hot in the spring; and the roosters, now and then flying over a pine tree that had been felled by a storm, seemed emerald green in the glare of the sun.

Usually, she-wolves teach their children to hunt, letting them play with their prey; and now, looking at how the cubs were chasing the puppy across the crust and wrestling with him, the she-wolf thought: "Let them get used to it."

Having played enough, the cubs went into the pit and went to bed. The puppy howled a little with hunger, then also stretched out in the sun. When they woke up, they started playing again.

All day and evening the she-wolf remembered how the lamb bleated in the barn last night and how it smelled of sheep's milk, and from appetite she kept clicking her teeth and did not stop nibbling greedily on the old bone, imagining that it was a lamb. The cubs suckled, and the puppy, which wanted to eat, ran around and sniffed the snow.

“Take it off…” the wolf decided.

She approached him and he licked her face and whined, thinking she wanted to play with him. In the old days, she ate dogs, but the puppy smelled strongly of dog, and, due to poor health, she no longer tolerated this smell; she became disgusted, and she moved away ...

By night it got colder. The puppy got bored and went home.

When the cubs were sound asleep, the she-wolf again went hunting. As on the previous night, she was alarmed by the slightest noise, and she was frightened by stumps, firewood, dark, solitary juniper bushes that looked like people from a distance. She ran away from the road, along the crust. Suddenly, far ahead, something dark flashed on the road ... She strained her eyesight and hearing: in fact, something was moving ahead, and measured steps were even audible. Isn't it a badger? She carefully, breathing a little, taking everything aside, overtook the dark spot, looked back at him and recognized him. It was slowly, with a step, a puppy with a white forehead was returning to its winter hut.

“No matter how he doesn’t interfere with me again,” thought the wolf and quickly ran forward.

But the winter hut was already close. She again climbed onto the barn through a snowdrift. Yesterday's hole had already been patched up with spring straw, and two new slabs were stretched along the roof. The she-wolf began to quickly work her legs and muzzle, looking around to see if the puppy was coming, but as soon as she smelled warm steam and the smell of manure, a joyful, flooded bark was heard from behind. It's the puppy back. He jumped to the wolf on the roof, then into the hole and, feeling at home, warm, recognizing his sheep, barked even louder... with her single-barreled gun, the frightened wolf was already far from the winter hut.

- Fuyt! Ignat whistled. - Fuyt! Drive at full speed!

He pulled the trigger - the gun misfired; he lowered again - again a misfire; he fired it a third time, and a huge sheaf of fire flew out of the barrel, and there was a deafening “boo! boo!". He was strongly given in the shoulder; and, taking a gun in one hand and an ax in the other, he went to see what was causing the noise ...

A little later he returned to the hut.

“Nothing…” replied Ignat. - Empty case. Our White-fronted with sheep got into the habit of sleeping in warmth. Only there is no such thing as to the door, but strives for everything, as it were, into the roof.

- Silly.

- Yes, the spring in the brain burst. Death does not like stupid people! Ignat sighed, climbing onto the stove. “Well, man of God, it’s still early to get up, let’s sleep at full speed…”

And in the morning he called White-fronted to him, patted him painfully by the ears, and then, punishing him with a twig, kept saying:

- Go to the door! Go to the door! Go to the door!

Mikhail Prishvin "Fox bread"

Once I walked in the forest all day and returned home in the evening with rich booty. He took off his heavy bag from his shoulders and began to spread his goods on the table.

- What kind of bird is this? Zinochka asked.

"Terenty," I replied.

And he told her about the black grouse: how he lives in the forest, how he mumbles in the spring, how he pecks at birch buds, picks berries in the swamps in autumn, warms himself from the wind under the snow in winter. He also told her about the hazel grouse, showed her that he was grey, with a tuft, and whistled into a pipe in a hazel grouse and let her whistle. I also poured a lot of porcini mushrooms on the table, both red and black. I also had a bloody stoneberry in my pocket, and blueberries, and red lingonberries. I also brought with me a fragrant lump of pine resin, gave the girl a sniff and said that trees are treated with this resin.

Who is treating them there? Zinochka asked.

“They are curing themselves,” I replied. - Sometimes a hunter comes, he wants to rest, he will stick an ax into a tree and hang a bag on an ax, and he will lie down under a tree. Sleep, rest. He takes out an ax from a tree, puts on a bag, leaves. And from the wound from the ax made of wood, this fragrant tar will run and this wound will be tightened.

Also on purpose for Zinochka, I brought various wonderful herbs by leaf, by root, by flower: cuckoo's tears, valerian, Peter's cross, hare cabbage. And just under the hare cabbage I had a piece of black bread: it always happens to me that when I don’t take bread to the forest, I’m hungry, but I take it, I forget to eat it and bring it back. And Zinochka, when she saw black bread under my hare cabbage, was stunned:

“Where did the bread come from in the forest?”

- What's so amazing about that? After all, there is cabbage there!

- Hare...

- And the bread is lisichkin. Taste.

Carefully tasted and began to eat:

- Good fox bread!

And ate all my black bread clean. And so it went with us: Zinochka, such a copula, often doesn’t even take white bread, but when I bring fox bread from the forest, she always eats it all and praises:

- Chanterelle's bread is much better than ours!

Mikhail Prishvin "Inventor"

In one swamp, on a hummock under a willow, wild mallard ducklings hatched. Shortly thereafter, their mother led them to the lake along a cow trail. I noticed them from afar, hid behind a tree, and the ducklings came up to my very feet. I took three of them for my upbringing, the remaining sixteen went further along the cow path.

I kept these black ducklings with me, and soon they all turned gray. After one of the gray ones came out a handsome multi-colored drake and two ducks, Dusya and Musya. We clipped their wings so that they would not fly away, and they lived in our yard with poultry: we had chickens and geese.

With the onset of a new spring, we made hummocks for our savages from all sorts of rubbish in the basement, as in a swamp, and nests on them. Dusya put sixteen eggs in her nest and began to hatch ducklings. Musya put fourteen, but did not want to sit on them. No matter how we fought, the empty head did not want to be a mother.

And we planted our important black hen, the Queen of Spades, on duck eggs.

The time has come, our ducklings have hatched. We kept them warm in the kitchen for a while, crumbled their eggs, and took care of them.

A few days later, very good, warm weather set in, and Dusya led her little black ones to the pond, and the Queen of Spades to the garden for worms.

— Swish-swish! - ducklings in the pond.

- Quack-quack! - answers the duck.

— Swish-swish! - ducklings in the garden.

- Kwoh-kwoh! the chicken answers.

The ducklings, of course, cannot understand what “quoh-quoh” means, and what is heard from the pond is well known to them.

"Swiss-swiss" - this means: "ours to ours."

And “quack-quack” means: “you are ducks, you are mallards, swim quickly!”

And they, of course, look there, to the pond.

- Yours to yours!

- Swim, swim!

And they float.

- Kwoh-kwoh! - an important chicken rests on the shore. They all swim and swim. They whistled, swam, joyfully accepted them into her family Dusya; according to Musa, they were her own nephews.

All day long a large combined duck family swam in the pond, and all day the Queen of Spades, fluffy, angry, cackled, grumbled, dug worms on the shore with her foot, tried to attract ducklings with worms and cackled to them that there were too many worms, so good worms!

- Dirty-dirty! the mallard answered her.

And in the evening she led all her ducklings with one long rope along a dry path. Under the very nose of an important bird, they passed, black, with big duck noses; no one even looked at such a mother.

We collected them all in one tall basket and left them to spend the night in a warm kitchen near the stove.

In the morning, when we were still sleeping, Dusya got out of the basket, walked around on the floor, screamed, called the ducklings to her. In thirty voices, whistlers answered her cry.

The walls of our house, made of a sonorous pine forest, responded to the duck cry in their own way. And yet, in this commotion, we heard separately the voice of one duckling.

- Do you hear? I asked my guys. They listened.

- We hear! they shouted. And we went to the kitchen.

It turned out that Dusya was not alone on the floor. One duckling ran next to her, was very worried and whistled continuously. This duckling, like all the others, was the size of a small cucumber. How could such and such a warrior climb over the wall of a basket thirty centimeters high?

We began to guess about it, and then a new question arose: did the duckling itself come up with some way to get out of the basket after the mother, or did she accidentally touch him somehow with her wing and throw it away? I tied the duckling's leg with a ribbon and put it into the common herd.

We slept through the night, and in the morning, as soon as the morning duck's cry was heard in the house, we went to the kitchen.

On the floor, along with Dusya, a duckling with a bandaged paw was running.

All the ducklings imprisoned in the basket whistled, rushed to freedom and could not do anything. This one got out.

I said:

- He's up to something.

He is an inventor! Leva shouted.

Then I decided to see how

In the same way, this "inventor" solves the most difficult task: to climb a sheer wall on his duck's webbed feet. I got up the next morning before light, when both my children and ducklings were sleeping soundly. In the kitchen, I sat down near the light switch so that I could turn on the light immediately, when necessary, and examine the events in the back of the basket.

And then the window turned white. It began to get light.

- Quack-quack! Dusya said.

— Swish-swish! - answered the only duckling. And everything froze. The boys were sleeping, the ducklings were sleeping. The factory horn blew. The world has increased.

- Quack-quack! Dusya repeated.

Nobody answered. I understood: the "inventor" now has no time - now, probably, he is solving his most difficult task. And I turned on the light.

Well, that's what I knew! The duck had not yet risen, and its head was still level with the edge of the basket. All the ducklings slept warmly under their mother, only one, with a bandaged paw, crawled out and, like bricks, climbed up on the mother's feathers, onto her back. When Dusya got up, she lifted him high, to the level with the edge of the basket. A duckling, like a mouse, ran along her back to the edge - and somersault down! Following him, his mother also fell out on the floor, and the usual morning commotion began: screaming, whistling for the whole house.

Two days later, in the morning, three ducklings appeared on the floor at once, then five, and it went on and on: as soon as Dusya grunts in the morning, all the ducklings on her back and then fall down.

And the first duckling, who paved the way for others, my children called the Inventor.

Mikhail Prishvin "Children and ducklings"

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

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

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

They got scared and answered:

- Let's go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Good luck, ducklings!

The guys laughed at me.

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

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

- Goodbye, ducklings!

Mikhail Prishvin "Chicken on poles"

In the spring, the neighbors gave us four goose eggs, and we planted them in the nest of our black hen, called the Queen of Spades. The proper days for incubation passed, and the Queen of Spades brought out four yellow geese. They squeaked and whistled in a completely different way than chickens, but the Queen of Spades, important, ruffled, did not want to notice anything and treated the goslings with the same motherly care as to chickens.

Spring passed, summer came, dandelions appeared everywhere. Young geese, if their necks are extended, become almost higher than their mother, but still follow her. Sometimes, however, the mother digs up the ground with her paws and calls the geese, and they take care of the dandelions, poke their noses and let the fluffs fly into the wind. Then the Queen of Spades begins to glance in their direction, as it seems to us, with some degree of suspicion. Sometimes, fluffy for hours, with a cluck, she digs, and at least they have something: they only whistle and peck at the green grass. It happens that the dog wants to go somewhere past it, where is it! He will throw himself at the dog and drive him away. And then he looks at the geese, sometimes he looks thoughtfully ...

We began to follow the chicken and wait for such an event, after which she would finally realize that her children did not even look like chickens at all and it was not worth it because of them, risking their lives, to rush to the dogs.

And then one day in our yard an event happened. A sunny June day saturated with the aroma of flowers has come. Suddenly the sun went dark and the rooster crowed.

- Whoosh, whoosh! - the hen answered the rooster, calling her goslings under a canopy.

- Father, what a cloud it finds! the housewives shouted and rushed to save the hanging linen. Thunder roared, lightning flashed.

- Whoosh, whoosh! the Queen of Spades insisted. And the young geese, lifting their necks high like four pillars, followed the hen under the shed. It was amazing for us to watch how, at the order of the hen, four decent, tall, like the hen itself, goslings formed into small things, crawled under the hen, and she, fluffing her feathers, spreading her wings over them, covered them and warmed them with her motherly warmth.

But the storm was short-lived. The cloud broke, went away, and the sun shone again over our little garden.

When it stopped pouring from the roofs and various birds began to sing, the goslings under the chicken heard this, and they, the young ones, of course, wanted to be free.

- Free, free! they whistled.

- Whoosh, whoosh! the chicken replied.

And that meant:

- Sit a little, it's still very fresh.

- Here's another! the goslings whistled. - Free, free!

And suddenly they got up on their feet and lifted their necks, and the chicken rose, as if on four pillars, and swayed in the air high from the ground.

From that time on, everything ended with the Queen of Spades with the geese: she began to walk separately, and the geese separately; it was clear that only then she understood everything, and the second time she no longer wanted to get on the poles.

Post navigation

The boy Sasha, an ordinary yard boy who loves cars, once faced rudeness and rudeness towards his grandmother. The offender was older and stronger than the boy, but Sasha was not embarrassed. He protected his grandmother. Sasha knew that the truth was on his side. And the truth has a special power.

The continuation of Zheleznov's story "Knight" will tell us about the events that happened after an unpleasant conversation between the main characters of the story.

"Autumn in the Forest"
And autumn, meanwhile, cheerfully walks through the forest. Maybe someone forgot to buy an autumn outfit? The trees stand in gold and rusty crimson, there are few leaves on the bushes, but they still hold on. The moss turned yellow in places, shrank in places. Blueberry bushes - an unusual, red color. The blueberries themselves have long been harvested.

Even in the old days, a person needed to separate “own” from “alien”. Producing any material value, people invested their labor. Products of labor, goods, people exchanged.

A commodity is a product of labor that is produced not for own consumption, but for exchange. Exchange is the movement of goods from one producer to another.

© Ill., Semenyuk I.I., 2014

© AST Publishing House LLC, 2014

All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including posting on the Internet and corporate networks, for private and public use, without the written permission of the copyright owner.

© Electronic version of the book prepared by Litres (www.litres.ru)

Petya lived with his mother and sisters on the top floor, and the teacher lived on the bottom floor. That time my mother went to swim with the girls. And Petya was left alone to guard the apartment.

When everyone left, Petya began to try his homemade cannon. She was from an iron tube. Petya filled the middle with gunpowder, and there was a hole in the back to light the gunpowder. But no matter how hard Petya tried, he could not set it on fire in any way. Petya was very angry. He went into the kitchen. He put chips into the stove, poured them with kerosene, put a cannon on top and lit it: “Now it will probably shoot!”

The fire flared up, buzzed in the stove - and suddenly, how a shot would bang! Yes, such that all the fire was thrown out of the stove.

Petya got scared and ran out of the house. Nobody was at home, nobody heard anything. Petya ran away. He thought that maybe everything would go out on its own. And nothing faded. And it flared up even more.

The teacher was walking home and saw smoke coming from the upper windows. He ran to the post, where a button was made behind the glass. This is a call to the fire department.

The teacher broke the glass and pressed the button.

The fire brigade rang. They quickly rushed to their fire trucks and rushed at full speed. They drove up to the pole, and there the teacher showed them where the fire was burning. The firefighters had a pump on the car. The pump began to pump water, and firefighters began to fill the fire with water from rubber pipes. Firefighters put ladders to the windows and climbed into the house to find out if there were people left in the house. There was no one in the house. The firemen began to take things out.

Petya's mother came running when the whole apartment was already on fire. The policeman did not let anyone close, so as not to interfere with the firefighters. The most necessary things did not have time to burn down, and the firemen brought them to Petya's mother.

And Petya's mother kept crying and saying that, probably, Petya burned down, because he was nowhere to be seen.

And Petya was ashamed, and he was afraid to approach his mother. The boys saw him and forcibly brought him.

The firefighters put out the fire so well that nothing on the lower floor burned down. The firefighters got into their cars and drove away. And the teacher let Petya's mother live with him until the house was repaired.

On an ice floe

In winter, the sea is frozen. The fishermen of the collective farm gathered on the ice to fish. We took the nets and rode on a sledge on the ice. Andrey the fisherman also went, and with him his son Volodya. We went far, far away. And wherever you look, everything is ice and ice: the sea is so frozen. Andrei and his comrades drove the farthest. They made holes in the ice and began to launch nets through them. The day was sunny and everyone had fun. Volodya helped untangle the fish from the nets and was very happy that a lot was being caught.

Already large heaps of frozen fish lay on the ice. Volodin's father said:

"That's enough, it's time to go home."

But everyone began to ask to stay overnight and catch again in the morning. In the evening they ate, wrapped themselves more tightly in sheepskin coats, and went to bed in the sleigh. Volodya snuggled up to his father to keep him warm, and fell asleep soundly.

Suddenly at night the father jumped up and shouted:

Comrades, get up! Look, what a wind! There would be no trouble!

Everyone jumped up and ran.

- Why are we rocking? Volodya shouted.

And the father shouted:

- Trouble! We were torn off and carried on an ice floe into the sea.

All the fishermen ran on the ice floe and shouted:

- Tore off, tore off!

And someone shouted:

- Gone!

Volodya cried. During the day, the wind became even stronger, the waves splashed on the ice floe, and all around was only the sea. Papa Volodin tied a mast out of two poles, tied a red shirt at the end and set it up like a flag. Everyone looked to see if there was a steamer anywhere. From fear, no one wanted to eat or drink. And Volodya lay in the sleigh and looked into the sky: if the sun would peep. And suddenly, in a clearing between the clouds, Volodya saw a plane and shouted:

- Airplane! Airplane!

Everyone started shouting and waving their hats. A bag fell off the plane. It contained food and a note: “Hold on! Help is coming! An hour later, a steamboat arrived and reloaded people, sledges, horses and fish. It was the head of the port who found out that eight fishermen were carried away on the ice floe. He sent a ship and a plane to help them. The pilot found the fishermen and on the radio told the captain of the ship where to go.

The girl Valya was eating fish and suddenly choked on a bone. Mom screamed:

- Eat the peel soon!

But nothing helped. Tears flowed from Vali's eyes. She could not speak, but only wheezed, waving her arms.

Mom got scared and ran to call the doctor. And the doctor lived forty kilometers away. Mom told him on the phone to come as soon as possible.

The doctor immediately gathered his tweezers, got into the car and drove to Valya. The road ran along the coast. On one side there was the sea, and on the other side there were steep cliffs. The car raced at full speed.

The doctor was very afraid for Valya.

Suddenly, ahead of one rock crumbled into stones and covered the road. It became impossible to go. It was still far away. But the doctor still wanted to walk.

Suddenly a horn sounded from behind. The driver looked back and said:

“Wait, doctor, help is coming!”

And it was a truck in a hurry. He drove up to the rubble. People jumped out of the truck. They removed the pump machine and rubber pipes from the truck and ran the pipe into the sea.

The pump worked. He sucked water from the sea through a pipe, and then drove it into another pipe. From this pipe, water flew out with terrible force. It flew out with such force that people could not hold the end of the pipe: it shook and thrashed so. It was screwed to an iron stand and the water was directed straight at the collapse. It turned out as if they were shooting water from a cannon. The water hit the landslide so hard that it knocked clay and stones and carried them into the sea.

The entire collapse was washed away by water from the road.

- Hurry, let's go! the doctor shouted to the driver.

The driver started the car. The doctor came to Valya, took out his tweezers and removed a bone from his throat.

And then he sat down and told Valya how the road had blocked up and how the hydroram pump had washed away the landslide.

How one boy drowned

One boy went fishing. He was eight years old. He saw logs on the water and thought it was a raft: they lay so tightly one to the other. “I’ll sit on a raft,” the boy thought, “and from the raft you can cast a fishing rod far!”

The postman walked by and saw that the boy was walking towards the water.

The boy took two steps along the logs, the logs parted, and the boy could not resist, fell into the water between the logs. And the logs converged again and closed over him like a ceiling.

The postman grabbed his bag and ran with all his might to the shore.

He kept looking at the place where the boy had fallen, so that he knew where to look.

I saw that the postman was running headlong, and I remembered that the boy was walking, and I see that he was gone.

At the same moment I set off to where the postman was running. The postman stood at the very water's edge and pointed to one place with his finger.

All this would be funny
When would not be so sad.

In total, I had to give birth four times, but the third pregnancy and childbirth was the coolest. But first things first.

To begin with, it must be mentioned that at the end of December 1989, my two children aged 4 and 6, my sister and mother spent two weeks in a rest home near Moscow. Why mention it? Patience, this is important for further narration. Like that gun, which, according to the classic, should shoot. And it did shoot!

Having stormily and cheerfully met the new year 1990 with my family, that is, my husband, in late January and early February, I did not wait for my period. I must say that I love babies very much and I am always glad that I will become a mother once again. When they got married, the husband also said something like that about five children. But in response to my joyful message, I heard that the child was not his.

"It was you who worked up in the rest house!" - "Let's do a genetic examination on, make sure that dad is you." In response: "On New Year's Eve we drank wine, the child will be mentally retarded." I went to a geneticist who said the baby would be normal. "No," the husband answered, "one must prepare for the birth of a child, lead a healthy lifestyle, go in for sports, drink vitamins and consciously, in a certain favorable period, give birth to a child." - "True, but the child already exists!" - "This is the wrong child, you need to get rid of him, and then give birth to the right one." In short, the husband put the question point-blank - either an abortion or a divorce.

There was something to think about. The four of us lived in my husband's one-room apartment, my husband always made good money, and I am a librarian, the salary is three kopecks. I don’t have my own housing, I’ll have to go to my parents, and there are two pensioners - my mother and an old grandmother, they always care about everything that does not concern them. You can go crazy in a month. Or less. In short, there is nowhere to live and nothing. I made an appointment over the phone for a mini-abortion.

But doubts gnawed at me, because. I am convinced that since the Lord gives a child, then we must take it. God alone can decide who lives and who does not. I am not the Lord God and I am not the executioner of my own child. And if a test is sent to us, then according to our strength. Therefore, all the arguments of my husband seemed like kindergarten babble. I didn't go anywhere. But the final decision has not yet been made.

But what am I all about the spiritual and the sublime? It is necessary to mention the material. Having become a large family, the children and I could relatively quickly get our own housing, because we were standing in line for an apartment (this happened later). The husband loves our older children, one could hope that he would go crazy and love the baby (it happened, but after a while). The last straw that shook the scales "for" were the words of my father - "remember that you have parents, in which case we will not leave you!". So I'm 12 weeks pregnant. The decision has been made, the cards have been thrown, the Rubicon has been crossed.

The husband behaved ... er ... as if softer ... badly. Despite all the assurances that I was faithful to him, as a Decembrist, he was talking - "not my child and that's it." See all the rest of his arguments above. I must say that if you quarrel with your spouse, then he can not talk for a very long time - for months. Ignore, in every possible way demonstrating your "fi" and, as they said in the old days, "not to fulfill your marital duty." It is impossible to reconcile with him, you have to wait until he goes crazy.

Such "swimming" had happened to him before. But this one was a record - 9 months + two years after. Good thing I didn't know about it at the time. This time, at first, he defiantly did not even eat what I cooked, and cooked for himself. The psychological pressure was very strong. I had to take the children and go to their parents. But a month later she returned. Still, the husband is at work all day, and two stubborn pensioners will poison the existence of anyone. In addition, I was urged to obey my husband.

I had to build my life so that as little as possible to intersect with each other. At work, I took all the second shifts, often agreed to work on Saturday. In May, my husband went on vacation with the children, and in June I was placed in custody. After spending a month in the pathology department, I left for the village with my children for two months. A house 160 km from Moscow was bought shortly before by my parents.

Generally speaking, it was a pure adventure, because. the roads there are bad, in the rain it is completely impassable. There is a railway nearby, but electric trains run 3 times a day, and there are no telephones at all. At that time, no one had heard of mobile communications. Happen something - and how you want, and get out. But my husband really got me! Even two pensioners who reproached me for not going to the well with a yoke to fetch water (yes... in the seventh or eighth month), even that annoyed me less.

In September, our eldest daughter went to first grade, so we had to return home at the end of August. At the end of September, the deadline was to give birth, but now the husband was leaving for the village for the weekend. On the one hand, I was glad about this - no one flickers with a gloomy face, and on the other hand, childbirth will begin, and with whom will the children remain? After all, he was away for two days. My mother at that time went to her friend in Taganrog for sunflower oil. Remember, at that time there was a total shortage and the complete absence of everything on sale.

Well, about my mom, a separate conversation ...

September 21st was Friday. The husband was going to leave early on Saturday morning. Already in the morning I didn’t feel well, I was pulling my lower back, my lower abdomen ached. In the evening, she found spotting (it opens the cervix), but did not pay attention to it, because the previous births began with the discharge of water. I drank 2 tablets of no-shpa, took advantage of the candles that removed, and went to bed. Two hours later I woke up and realized that here it was, it had begun. Contractions were in 25-30 minutes. I woke up my husband and heard that everything is always different for me, everything is always at the wrong time and in general, no ambulance will be called and I will not be taken anywhere. "I won't pick you up from the hospital and I won't take you!" Maybe he thought that the pregnancy itself would resolve itself over time?

I took a shower, shaved, called an ambulance. Contractions after 20 min. The midwife arrived, we argued for a long time due to the lack of any tests, although I handed over everything that was prescribed. She also told her husband that he would not succeed in not accompanying me to the maternity hospital, because he would need to take my clothes and my passport home. Contractions after 15 minutes. By the time we got to the hospital, the contractions were in 10 minutes. While we were filling out the documents, we slowly measured the pressure - contractions after 5 minutes. They did an enema, after that I felt that the contractions after 3 minutes. and smaller and very strong.

I was alone in the room, so I began to call someone. The nanny came to my desperate cries. Looking at me, standing, in what my mother gave birth, under a (for some reason cold) shower, she said "you will have a girl now." "I do not care!" - I yelled - "take me quickly upstairs to the roadblock, otherwise I'll give birth right here!" "Okay, let's go." They gave me a shirt up to the navel and took me to the prenatal room. There on the bed lay a woman and vilely, drawlingly howled.

There was no more soul, because the escort had left. It became very creepy. As soon as I lay down on the bed, something burst inside me and water splashed. And the contractions were such that wow. I was very scared. Maybe that's why the pain didn't feel so bad. I think I was more worried that I was giving birth, but there was no one. And what to do? She started screaming with all her might. The evil midwife came running. - "What are you yelling at?" "The waters have receded." - "What kinds?" - "Third..."

She looked, her face changed. "Quickly, climb onto the gurney, hold on!" And she took me running. Mommy, if only not to fall from this gibberish! We arrived. "Climb over the table, quickly!" And the fights are over. At this time, another midwife picked up scissors. I, in a panic, - "Don't cut me!". “What are you doing,” she tells me, like a mentally retarded one, “you see, I’m cutting off an oilcloth, to make tags for your child.” Yes, whatever you blurt out of fear. Soon after, a child was born. Girl. 3100 and 51 cm. I looked at my watch. From the moment I crossed the threshold of the maternity hospital, and until the birth of my daughter, 40 minutes passed. It was September 22, 4:45 am. It was worth staying somewhere for 10-15 minutes, I wonder where I would give birth?

You probably think that this is the end of it? Happy ending and the end of the story? I thought so too and I was wrong. There is a climax ahead.

Have you paid attention to the fact that everything in life happens quite logically. But there are people whose mere presence spins all events into such a phantasmagoric blizzard that Saltykov-Shchedrin simply rests. My mom is one of those people. Everything that happens with her participation defies any logic. As one of my friends says: "Watching from the outside - you will die of laughter, while inside - from grief."

So the climax! You remember that my husband refused to come to the maternity hospital for me, and my father promised not to leave and help. As a result, they came for me: my mother, my sister, who at that time was pregnant and already "on demolition" (the difference between our children is 2 weeks) and my older children, a 4-year-old son and our first grader, now already 7 years old. One more explanation needs to be made here. We never had a car, no, and never will. But my husband and I lived near a taxi depot. As soon as you approached the gate, you could easily catch a taxi from those that went to work. Mom still stopped by our house for things. I told her to take money from our house and do just that. Just catching a car in 1990 was quite difficult, and only my husband was good at it.

When I saw this company on the extract, I felt something bad. To the question: "Is the car waiting on the street?" - I was joyfully informed that: "We decided (after this phrase the most crazy madhouse usually begins) that we will go and catch on the way." Then an elderly midwife carried the baby out and, swaddling, sympathetically asked me, "Do you have a husband?" I immediately wanted to fall into the ground, or immediately drink a glass of vodka, or eat a huge cake. Since the first failed, and the second and third were not at hand, I just mumbled "He's on a business trip."

We went outside and went to the subway. This is approximately one stop. I was carrying a child, and it was somehow not with my hands to throw myself under the wheels of a passing vehicle. The sister, due to her position, was also not very mobile, and from mommy the catcher was useless. When I asked why they didn’t take a taxi from the taxi company and didn’t come on it, she said that it was expensive. After all, the car will be waiting at the maternity hospital while we get dressed, and why pay for it?

So we got to the subway, where there was a taxi rank then. In addition to us, there were a lot of people who wanted to leave by car. They left in the approaching taxi. Some guys with oriental appearance and expensive coats. Some well-groomed lady, who, before leaving, gave me valuable advice that I should have called a taxi to the maternity hospital myself. No one was tempted to give a lift to a strange company of women, a pregnant woman and a bunch of children. It began to rain, the newborn woke up and cried ... "Let's go by subway!" mommy said. The insanity grew stronger.

Luckily for us, at that time, a Cossack with a kind granddaddy at the wheel braked, who took us home. He took mere pennies from us, a purely symbolic fee. And in parting, he asked pitifully, "Do you have a husband?" What I wanted - see above. Mom was happy that she saved my money.

The husband soon came home from work and locked himself in the bathroom for an hour and a half. And daddy helped me by taking part in the tea party. We drank tea, and my husband, when he came out after water procedures, began to talk on the phone with his friends. It's about an hour too. Then my sister and parents left. When I was invited to see the child, I was told that he was not interested. Like this.

14 years have passed since then. During this time, a lot has happened. I taught my husband to have a child. After 2 years they even reconciled. We got an apartment. They gave birth to another daughter. Divorced. Why did I write about all this? I can't forgive my husband for this. Every year on September 22, and also when I find myself at that maternity hospital, I remember these events as if it were yesterday. And I'm still just as hurt and sad. My husband has cancer. You have to forgive. But I can not...

Discussion

Well, my husband. By chance, not Scorpio according to the horoscope? Very reminiscent of a friend from a past life.
I admire your courage!

girls! How lucky we all are with our loved ones. Sorry to generalize, but I think that many will agree with me

You are a very strong woman. May God give you happiness and peace, do not think about the bad. I wish you to always be surrounded by loving people. And grandchildren to you :)

28.12.2008 18:49:50, Katya

Best wishes to you.

11/22/2008 07:29:07, Maria

Because there was no space for 4 children on the registration page. Only for three. Since my eldest daughter was an adult by that time, and I still don’t know how to add her, I left it that way.
Yes, she's all right, married, lives separately.

08.09.2008 00:39:54

Why is your eldest daughter not on your registration page? I hope she's all right?

My husband is dead.

08/08/2008 23:45:23, Vladimirovna

Since there was no Ascension yet, I will gladly turn to you - Christ is Risen!
I am shocked by your story and at the same time I am glad that there are women like you. May God grant you health, strength, everything your soul desires. So that your daughters look like you, and your son does not look like his "father". Well, you still need to forgive. Forgive, do not forgive your ex-husband, most importantly, do not hold evil. Of course, the Lord teaches us to forgive. If you consider yourself His daughter - goodbye. We are not in the best light before God, and perhaps even in a worse position. However, the Lord does not take our life away, but waits for our conversion. For this, illnesses, and sorrows, and hardships are allowed, ... until a person comes to his senses and turns to his Creator. Peace to you!

03.06.2008 00:58:08, Priest (priest) Anatoly

Read and cry. Completely on your side. Everything will be great for you.

01/11/2008 08:14:19, Svetlana

Save you Lord! And all your loved ones, including your husband. Happy holiday! Help you forgive Nicholas the Wonderworker, this is very, very important. And we are also waiting for the third one of these days.

12/19/2007 03:30:23, Elena

It's important to protect yourself. The best protection is a hysterectomy. Absolutely. (laughing, but bitterly).
It's complete idiocy to talk about it. There is a pregnancy - there is a child. This is an axiom.
I would hug and kiss my mother ... I don’t know the name .. Vladimirovna ...
Bright man. Light couples are given morally inferior couples in life .. True, why? that is the question. Rhetorical, it seems.
But this is only the first pair of light - a curve. The second is more conscious. And hopefully happy.
Love to you and Women's Happiness, because you already have maternal happiness ...

12/17/2007 04:24:18, Dancing

May God grant you and your family all the best! You are worthy of respect for such courage - not to be afraid of anything for the sake of a child - a real sacrifice of motherhood! I wish there were more such brave mothers in the world!

12/16/2007 02:31:09, Marina

Your husband resembles my father. Mom suffered with him for 33 years, gave birth to three children, who he did not need at all, and divorced. I practically made my mom do it. Now she lives in peace. And the father is now indifferent to his own grandchildren. Where do such people come from?
Vladimirovna, well done! Happiness to you and your children.

11/17/2007 10:38:59 PM, Irina

Olya, do you need me to tell you on the Internet how to protect yourself?
Well, yes, pure selfishness. I thought only of myself and my child. I did not think about my husband and his desires.

Pure selfishness. You don't know how to protect yourself?

11.10.2007 14:34:44, Olya

Comment on the article "The story of my third pregnancy and childbirth"

Discussion

I learned how to get pregnant quickly only from the company [link-1]. I do not argue, a lot of information can be found on the Internet about this, but only in the above company all the materials are collected in one place. My husband and I have already begun to prepare for conception. They gave up bad habits, went to see the doctors. I hope it's not difficult to conceive a child)

How is it "nothing"? First, it should be drunk once a day. Secondly, in the morning, not in the afternoon. Thirdly, it costs half the price. Fourth, it is better tolerated. In my opinion, these differences are quite enough :))))

A 36-year-old friend has promiscuous sex without using contraception. At the same time, he has addictions (cigarettes, alcohol). Surprisingly, she claims to be in her 9th month and is about to give birth. Not only that, she has stable periods, but pregnancy is evident in her tummy and breast volume. I didn’t take tests, I didn’t go for examination, symptoms such as nausea, vomiting. no dizziness. She says that she bore her first in the same way. Simply phenomenal!

Discussion

Of course a man should know. If he does not need a child, then you have nothing to lose, but if he does? If he dreams If he will support you financially and physically?
And suddenly you deprive yourself of your beloved daughter, who will be your support in old age? It was the youngest daughter who was born at the age of 47 who looked after my grandmother in her old age, by chance, they thought menopause. And she adored her mother.

04/04/2015 09:23:33, Gave birth at 40

the choice is yours.
I won't offer my experience. For I have a history of many children, and abortions too.

And as for the ignorance of the second side ... It seems to me that this is not true.
I'll explain now.
The person has a right to know. About such important events - I think, especially.
From experience (well, suddenly this will make the situation clearer to you).
A long time ago I had my next abortion, taking full responsibility. (yes. I was fertile. And the method of protection worked for me alone, alas - only this one)
Like smart, "scientist", "experienced". Well, you never know, plus or minus another abortion - what's the difference, I decided for myself. Besides, there were no cell phones back then. I could not tell the man that it turned out that I was pregnant (they assumed, but did not believe). and the doctors put me before a choice: either now a mini-abortion, or goodbye ... Well, I decided that I would act "as always." there were doubts. I just couldn't figure out why they were...
after all, previous abortions did not affect my feelings even once. and here...
I did. In the evening I told the man.
Both roared...
In general, I moved away from the consequences for more than 10 years.
And she got married. And she gave birth to four children. But she was able to forgive herself for what she had done when the youngest had already grown up.
And THEN, I realized that the man should have known. And have a say in this matter.
just think about it.
Perhaps this knowledge can be vital for your man.

Stories, essays, fairy tales and even poems were sent to the Secrets of Mother's Care contest. 106 creative mothers from all over Russia took part in the competition. The organizers of the competition - the portal "baby.ru" and the company "Mir Detstva" - chose the best works and determined the winners. The participants were asked to write a short story about what specific products of the Mir Detstva company help them take care of their babies. When evaluating the entries, the jury took into account the usefulness of the stories for other mothers. The best were...

The other day we received another package from ozon. I usually pick up orders at self-delivery points, and I always enjoy watching small queues. And then happy people, gently pressing the boxes with books, go out in anticipation of reading. This time I watched the scene: a mother with a boy of 3 years old could not resist and opened the box right on the spot. The baby's eyes were so burning: but this is about cars, and this one that we chose, you remember, mom, about dinosaurs. I involuntarily peeped what mother and son received, and ...

According to the international study of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, every third woman does not stop drinking alcohol during pregnancy, which often leads to irreversible changes in the developing fetus. Many women are still not aware of the extreme dangers of even small doses of alcohol. The term Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, or FAS, describes a set of disorders that develop in children whose mothers drank alcohol during pregnancy. Before...

Who are ovulators, why any touchy mother thinks that she belongs to the caste of these super-women, and how much I want to distance myself from them, this is what my story will be about. * no matter how much the aesthetic component of this work of art annoys me, I want to give it as an example, and at the same time to attract attention. Probably, the most honest, tough and rude description of the concept of “ovulyashka” is given by the notorious Lurkmore. But here it will be true to read not ...

My birth story. Planned caesarean section. COMPETITIONS >> Competition of stories "9 months of happiness". THIRD Caesarean Section. Let's talk about the third pregnancy after 2 caesarean stitches...

Discussion

Have you thought about a planned caesarean? There are more sur. motherhood as a last resort (for me, by the way, this is the only acceptable way).

Everything was bad with me too, I was in labor with myself in the 8th maternity hospital on Samarkand Boulevard, doctor Zakharenkova N.L. sleeping. The shift change came in the morning, they found me all in attempts and myconia, an urgent cop. They brought me to the operating room, two nurses, no doctors...))) Spring, shift change, traffic jams...))) Zakharenkova herself came to operate as if she was doing me a favor. It was terrible to realize that I would lose my baby too. I tried, but nothing worked. This is with a full opening. Initially, the baby didn’t get up like that, initially they missed me. I sobbed for a year, emotionally difficult! I was deprived of EP, negligence, no one needs anyone. She came to the fights, without a contract. The husband said, you will give birth, then you will thank. Long work with yourself, a lot of work, a psychologist.
I advise you not to rush! Yes, I want to, but wait. Let this emotional pain pass, it has not left you yet. Postpartum depression will still cover! Let in 5-7 years, but you will enter the second pregnancy easily and without looking back at the first unsuccessful ones! Give yourself the opportunity to enjoy an easy natural birth.

I'm a terrible scribbler, so I write as best I can)) All night, from the 26th to the 27th, I woke up from pain in the lower abdomen, but since I had been "giving birth" for two weeks in this way, I did not attach any importance and fell asleep safely until the next time ... at 6:44 I began to notice a strange regularity, I began to detect contractions, it turned out once every 10 minutes .. I collected a bag with documents and some water, went to the shower, called my mother, agreed that we would go, and she would come when she was going, eventually met at the door ... woke up ...

Discussion

Congratulations!!! Such a sweet Timosha, a serious man :)
I waited and waited for your birth and missed it). It's so great that you were lucky with the midwife - this is a great success, well, he, the doctor who doesn't care - it was no longer as important as the FAIRY midwife, it seems to me.

Heartiest congratulations! But she scared me with a story, scared me ... Well, I, too, have a third birth, and also a boy after 2 young ladies. True, according to the latest ultrasound, he turned over head down, but my regrown fibroids worries doctors. Okay, now it will not resolve :)

Sad stories. Personal impressions. Pregnancy and childbirth. The pediatrician came with papers for vaccinations, I wrote consent for BCG, refused for hepatitis, another mother agreed to both, and the third one says - Oh, I'll call my husband and ask.

Discussion

The parents of the second child are clearly inadequate. If the first vaccination had a bad reaction, why did you do the second one? I am not an ardent supporter or opponent of vaccinations. I'm more of an undecided and cautious one. I know several children who have problems after DTP. But as a rule, this is all due to the formal approach of doctors. It is written in the instructions "if the child was born with a low weight, then the vaccination is not earlier than at 6 months" (for example, I don’t remember the exact wording) and the doctor looks that the child is gaining 1.5 kg per month and has already caught up with the weight of peers and directs to be vaccinated. But he was born with a LOW weight! Or the neurologist will not inspect something. At the examination in a month (for which we only broke through at 2), I was generally in shock, the doctor didn’t even look at the child, only an extract from the hospital and asked about complaints.

all this is terrible :(, And I understand you, we went to rest, but here such a misfortune. Then, if you want, you don’t want to worry about everything in yourself. You also take care of yourself.

11/28/2012 03:37:58 PM, reading

And it flew away... 4:30 They shake me by the leg and spread my arms with the word "Everything". I don't understand anything yet, because I'm dying to sleep after a sleepless night of wallpapering. Somehow I wake up. Alenka explains to me that the mucus plug has finally come off and she is having contractions. In general, the fact that the cork has finally departed is a harbinger, but it can still calmly take a few days before the birth. Yes, and contractions may well be trial (by the way, we have already sat with such trials in the country for an hour with ...

Discussion

Have you ever heard of bleeding with blood loss up to 3 liters or more?

Nice story. The delivery is quite fast, safe, although the moment with bleeding would have strained me a lot. It's good that the midwife was not taken aback.

For the second birth, I recommend not to leave home, but to start and finish all repairs early :). Because if the first one was born in 4 hours, then with the second one, it would be nice if the midwife had time to come to the attempts. Well, immediately after the birth of the child, before the placenta is discharged - a hemostatic collection + breast for the child / or intensive nipple massage.

Tell good stories after ST!!!. Personal impressions. Pregnancy and childbirth. we take the third one now - from 5 months of trying, after a year and a half from the ZB, pah-pah we are growing! GOOD LUCK AND FAITH!!!

Discussion

I have two stories (acquaintances):
Colleague, 30+ years old, ectopic pregnancy, one tube was removed, the other is clogged, 8 years of effort, the eggs are "aging", no hormones, she spat, adopted. Exactly in the year of the birth of the child, she found out that she was pregnant for 2 months. She was 42 at the time. She endured, now she has two boys.

Colleague's wife: 4 girls from 4 to 20 years old, and between them 10 ZB.

There was one ST for a period of 6 weeks. Light spotting, pain, and then cleaning, endometritis. There were also miscarriages, but I understand that you are interested in the ZB.
After that, there was a lot, but in the end she successfully endured and gave birth to two children.
Your task is to understand that this is not a tragedy - but a common everyday thing. STs have been around for centuries, but modern diagnostics make it possible to detect pregnancies too early. Because of this, many psychological problems.
Do not think that you have any serious health problems. Don't blame yourself. Usually it's just natural selection.
Your task now is to maintain a cheerful mood and prevent endometritis: a course of antibiotics after cleaning and a course of OK for 6 months are necessary.

I read your story about the third birth. Conference "Pregnancy and childbirth". Section: Second and subsequent births. A friend also told my mother - well, the daughters of the second children were born because of the mat. capital perhaps?

Discussion

I have 5. All genera are different. But 3- and were the lightest, although the child is 4 kg. The daughter was born sleeping, dad was even scared why the baby was not screaming. No medications were used (all births were at home). The duration of labor (jokingly and seriously) is 2 weeks and 2 hours. Training long before the birth, and then everything is very fast, but every time I had an ICI. When the waters broke at 4 births, she woke up her husband, and he answered: she went crazy, on Friday the 13th to give birth, so I was like 3 or 4 hours, I think, what to torment the child and went to give birth, and probably still could pull. Conclusion: a lot depends on our mood. Mom is joyful and calm, childbirth is easy and the child is calm. In childbirth, you can’t feel sorry for yourself, it’s better to think about an early meeting with a miracle child. All joy, love, easy childbirth and healthy children.

06/18/2018 09:47:28, NiKa

Girls, I am also expecting a third child. And I envy you white envy! I live in Israel and just dream of being seen by obstetricians in the Russian Federation!!! The gestational age was not properly set. I did 3 ultrasounds in 1 day. They announced the gestational age: 26,28 and 33 weeks)))) Specialists!!! She gave birth to her two sons in the Russian Federation. First delivery 8 hours at 34 weeks. Weight 2700, height 47 cm. The second birth at 42.5 weeks is less than 2 hours. Weight 3430 height 51 cm. Now I am in "standby mode")))) when to give birth, I don't know. According to my calculations in 3-4 weeks. According to ultrasound...
December 2, although 1 day of the last menstrual period. was January 15))))) and laughter and sin. So do not believe in artificially promoted Israeli medicine.

03.10.2017 15:13:54, Shirel1234512123

Girls, how did your third birth go? Lighter, harder, just like previous births??? My husband and I are going to plan our third baby. Conference "Pregnancy and Childbirth". Section: Second and subsequent births. A friend also told my mother - well, the daughters of the second ...

Discussion

I didn't have any of the swiftness that I often read about. I felt the beginning at one in the morning, gave birth at 10 in the morning. The contractions were the most painful. True, the child was the largest of all 4130.

My example, although negative, is not a fact that it was precisely because of the third birth that this happened, perhaps the burn of erosion 8 years before the birth or the stitches from the previous births affected ... The second birth was the easiest 12 hours in total, 5 hours after bubble puncture. And in the third birth, 15 hours in total with contractions, every three minutes and more than 9 hours after the puncture of the bladder. But in the third birth, the first time she gave birth vertically, she is very pleased with the result - not a single gap when opening 4-6 fingers.

Pregnancy and childbirth: conception, tests, ultrasound, toxicosis, childbirth, caesarean section, giving. Yes, I also periodically read (curiosity, damn it ...) all sorts of reports, stories, horror stories. She gave birth to two with her (then she passed it on to her daughter-in-law, she also had two)), for the third birth, too, with her ...

Discussion

It seems to me that you just need to survive this moment (unless, of course, you are one of those women who manage to give birth "easily and joyfully and with a smile on your lips") and love your babies, and the process of childbirth, whatever it may be, will be forgotten gradually.
After the first birth, I thought that I would only go to the delivery room under a gun, but the contract and the epidural left the brightest memories, I thought that the third time would work the same way, but it didn’t come to the epidural and the hippo weighing a little more than 4 kg was born without anesthesia (albeit for three hours), and all subsequent manipulations also took place without anesthesia. But now I have no time to remember - other worries, joys and sorrows. :-)
Good luck and easy delivery! 08.12.2008 15:43:25, Tatiana Shukurova

Get an example of two successful pregnancies at once after the first unsuccessful one - the first successful one will go to school in September, the second successful one is 1.8 years younger than her :) True, my first pregnancy was absolutely perfect - and the ultrasound scans are all good and the tests ... And the intrauterine death of a boy at the 25th week was a complete surprise, I still don’t know the reasons (although my husband and I went through all the examinations). In your case, I think, there was some kind of genetic failure and its probability in the next pregnancy is no higher than in everyone else. Good luck!

A story about my third pregnancy and childbirth. 7ya.ru is an information project on family issues: pregnancy and childbirth, parenting, education and career, home economics, recreation, beauty and health, family relationships.

Discussion

Raising an unloved child is very difficult. Care, but not love. And know it. Year after year. It can turn into hatred. It happens, trust me.

17.03.2005 09:56:56, scared to admit

My friend gave birth without a husband, at the age of 33, when she became pregnant, I shouted the loudest "give birth! I'm happy for you! A child - how cool it is!" ... while having a husband for 1 child and a full set of grandparents who cherish him, cherish him, give him gifts and beg for the weekend. I myself love children very much, and I didn’t understand that children are not always joy: (((In general, she gave birth ..... the baby is now a year old, growing, a lot of effort has been invested in him (he was born prematurely), she looks terrible, in constant depression, she abandoned the institute (she took an academy, of course, but it is not known when she will graduate), the three of them live with their mother in a tiny odnushka for $ 200 / month, relations with their mother have deteriorated, because it’s hard for both of them ... now he a year, and she has to go to work (there is no money at all), and her mother does not want to sit down ... and you won’t find a high-paying job yet, because they don’t take a good job with a one-year-old child! Here is such a story. And I, who shouted loudest of all that she needs to give birth, now I don’t know .... but was it necessary? 34 years old is such a cool age, female flowering, and now it is spent FOR SURVIVAL. She, True, she said this: “It’s out of the question to regret that she didn’t have an abortion. But I regret that I didn’t protect myself properly at one time. zhaet, and a beautiful mother. That's how it is.

03/15/2005 03:22:48 PM, ZAIA

I am pregnant. A story about my third pregnancy and childbirth. In short, the husband put the question point-blank - either an abortion or a divorce.

Discussion

And a child who is likely to be deprived of elementary maternal love only because his mother was once afraid of condemnation, was afraid to go against Christian morality - who will he condemn that he is deprived of his mother's / father's love? You? Neighbors? Friends of mom / dad? ... No, he will condemn MOTHER, and this offense of his will be much worse for her later than all the words of condemnation now. IMHO.
And why not talk about those cases when the "mothers" who gave birth then got rid of their children, and sometimes they chose methods that were by no means philanthropic ... So maybe it's better to have an abortion in SUCH situations? Yes, it's bad, it's scary, but perhaps it's the lesser of the two (see above).
Excuse me for being harsh, but my heart hurts when you see abandoned children who are not needed by mothers, let alone the state :(

24.12.2003 19:30:04, Not so simple...

For religious people (both men and women), abortion, in my opinion, is not acceptable in principle. And for non-believers ... they have questions of faith, sin, etc., excuse me, on the drum, incl. it is useless for them to talk about sin, murder and the consequences for eternal life.