The black-point feed seemed a fisherman boat. Children's fairy tales online. Other fairy tales Mamin-Sibiryak

It was on such a rainy day that I approached a bright lake, to a familiar watchman on fishing Syme (parking lot) Taras. The rain has already reel. On one side of the sky, the lumens seemed a little more - and the hot summer sun would seem. The forest path made a steep turn, and I went to a sloping cape who went into a wide language in the lake. Actually, there was not the most lake here, but a wide duct between two lakes, and Saima sniffed in an exhaustion at a low shore, where fishing boats were juting in the Pilot. The duct between the lakes was formed due to a large wooded island, a lightweight green cap opposite Saima.

My appearance on the carass caused a watchman Dog Taras, - on unfamiliar people, she always burned in a special way, passibly and sharply, exactly angrily asked: "Who goes?" I love such ordinary dogs for their extraordinary mind and faithful service.

The fishing hut made seemed to be turned upside down with a big boat - it hung over the old wooden roof, smooth green grass. The bark of the hut rose a thick piglet from Ivan-Tea, Sage and "Bearing Dupulls", so that a man who approached his hut was seen one head. Such a thick grass grew only on the shores of the lake, because there was enough moisture and the soil was fat.

When I approached at all closely to the hut, I flew from the grass to me the doggy dog \u200b\u200bmade me and faded with a desperate lare.

- Everybody, stop ... I did not recognize?

I stopped in thought, but, apparently, I have not believed in an old acquaintance. He cautiously approached, sniffed my hunting boots and only after this ceremony he blamed the tail. Say, it's guilty, I was wrong, "but still I have to wish the hut.

The hut turned out to be empty. The owner was not, that is, he probably went to the lake to inspect some fishing tackle. The range of the hut said everything about the presence of a living person: weakly smoking light, the ohaper has just disturbed firewood, dried on the necklaces of the network, the ax, stuck in the hardwood of the tree. In the dictated door of Saima, all the economy of Taras was visible: a gun on the wall, a few pots on the solder, a chest under a bench, rushed tackle. The hut was rather spacious, because in the winter during the fishing lot in it was placed the whole artel workers. In the summer, the old man lived alone. In spite of all the weather, he was hot in the Russian oven every day and slept on the reagents. This love for warmth was due to the steady age of Taras: he was about ninety years. I say "about" because Taras himself forgot when he was born. "Even before the Frenchman," he explained, that is, before the invasion of the French in Russia in 1812.

After removing the wet jacket and waving the hunting armor through the wall, I began to breed the fire. I spoke about me about me, anticipating any one. The light flared the light, putting the blue stream of smoke up the blue. The rain has already passed. The torn clouds rushed across the sky, dropping rare drops. Someone where the symptas of the sky. And then the sun seemed to both the hot July sun, under the rays of which the wet grass was exactly shot.

Water in the lake stood quietly, as it happens only after the rain. It smelled with fresh grass, sage, resinous aroma near standing pine. In general, good as soon as it can be good in such a deaf forest corner. To the right where the duct was held, Schin the surface of a light lake, and the mountains rose behind the gear border. Wonderful corner! And no wonder Old Taras lived here for forty years. Somewhere in the city he would not live half, because in the city you can not buy for any money of such clean air, and most importantly - this calm that covered here. Good on Syme! A bright light burns; Begins to culnate the hot sun, the eyes hurt to look at the glittering distance of a wonderful lake. So it would be sitting here and, it seems, would not break up with a wonderful forest lead. The thought of the city flashes in the head, as a bad dream.

In anticipation of the old man, I attached a copper hiking kettle on a long stick and hung it over fire. The water has already begins to boil, and the old man was not all.

- Where to go? I thought out out loud. - Tackle inspecting in the morning, and now noon. Maybe I went to see if I would not catch fish without demand. Is it possible, where did your owner gave?

An intelligent dog was just wagging a fluffy tail, lied and impatiently screamed. Outdoor to the type of so-called "commercial" dogs belonged to the type of so-called "commercial" dogs. A little growth, with an acute face, standing ears hurried up the tail, he, perhaps, resembled an ordinary mongrel with the difference that the dock would not find the squirrel in the forest, could not "go" a muffuhar, track deer, - in short, real Fisherman, the best friend of man. It is necessary to see such a dog in the forest in order to fully appreciate all its advantages.

- Go home, walk! - Ground the old man, customizing a beautifully sailing bird. - Stay, go. So I will give you a ladies - to float God knows where. Go home, walk!

Swan wandered beautifully to Syme, went ashore, shook and, harshly overturning on his curves of black legs, headed for his hut.

- Hello, Taras!

- Hello, Barin!

- Where does God come from?

- But the float was floating, behind the swan. Everyone here spit in the duct, and then suddenly disappeared. Well, I'm behind him now. Left in the lake - no; Basics sailed - no; And he floats behind the island.

- Where did you get it, swan?

- And God sent, yes! Here hunters from the Lords hit; Well, swan with Sweddy and shot, but this one stayed. Babied in the root and sits. It does not know how to fly something, so I hid the guys. Of course, I put the net beside the wash, well, and caught it. One thing will disappear, the hawk will be shown, because there is no longer the meaning of the present. Orphans remained. So I brought him and hold it. And he is also used to. Now soon the month will be how we live together. In the morning at the dawn rises, swims in the duct, will feed, then go home. He knows when I get up, and waits to feed. Smart Bird, in one word, and his order knows.

The old man said unusually lovingly, as a close man. The swan caught up to the hut and, obviously, waited for some hand.

"He will fly away with you, grandfather," I noticed.

- Why should he fly? And here is good: Owl, circle water.

- And in winter?

- Picks up with me in the hut. There is enough space, and we are sobbing fun. Somehow one hunter wandered to me on Saima, I saw the swan and says that way: "It will fly away, if the wings do not fit." But how can I get involved in God's bird? Let him live like her from the Lord it is indicated ... A person is indicated one, and the bird is another ... I will not take it in a sense, why did the Lord swan shook. After all, there will be no, and so, for mischief.

Swan exactly understood the words of the old man and looked at him with his smart eyes.

- And how is he sobmer? - I asked.

- I was afraid at first, and then you got used to. Now the swan is another time the sober and a piece takes away. The dog will wipe on him, and swan him - the wing. Funny on them to watch. And then walk together go: Swan on water, and so much - on the shore. I tried to swim behind him, well, yes, the craft is not something: I almost poured. And how the swan will pop up, you are still looking for it. Sums up on babe and howl. Say, boring to me, ps, without you, heart friend. So we live threesome.

I love the old man very much. He told him very well and knew a lot. There are such good, smart old men. Many summer nights had to stuff on Syme, and every time you know something new. Previously, Taras was a hunter and knew the place around the verst on fifty, knew every custom of the forest bird and the forest beast; And now he could not leave far and knew one of his fish. On the boat to swim easier than walking with a gun in the forest, and especially in the mountains. Now the gun remained at Taras only on old memory, just in case, if the wolf rang. In winter, the wolves looked at Saima and had long had a solk teeth for a long time. Just as a heter was and did not give wolves.

I stayed on Syme for all day. In the evening we went fishing and put the network for the night. Okay Light lakeAnd no wonder it is called light, because the water in it is completely transparent, so you float on the boat and see all the bottom at a depth of somewhat seven. Motion pebbles, and yellow river sand, and algae, can be seen, as the fish goes "RuN", that is, the herd. Such mountain lakes in the Urals hundreds and they all differ unusual beauty. From others, the bright lake was distinguished by the fact that he lossed to the mountains only one side, and the other went out in the steppe, where the blessed Bashkiria began. The range of Light Lakes was ruled out the most prominent places, and the brisk mountain river, which spilled along the steppe for a whole thousand miles away. The lake length was up to twenty versts, and in a width of about nine. The depth reached in some places to fifteen. Special beauty attached to him a group of wooded islands. One such island was removed on the middle of the lake and was called starvation, because, hitting him in bad weather, fishermen were hungry for several days.

Taras lived on bright for forty years. Once he had her own family and the house, and now he lived Bobylem. The children were walking, the wife also died, and Taras remained snowlessly on light years.

- Not boring to you, grandfather? I asked when we returned from fishing. - terribly lonely in the forest.

- one? Also and say Barin. I am here prince prince I live. I have everything. And the bird is all, and fish, and grass. Of course, they do not know how to speak, yes, I understand everything. The heart rejoices another time to look at God's creature. Any order and your mind and your mind. Do you think, in vain fish swims in water or bird flies in the forest? No, they have no less care. Evon, look, the swan waiting for us with a sob. Oh, prokurat!

The old man was terribly pleased with his acceptance, and all the conversations ended up on him.

"Proud, real royal bird," he explained. - You can not give it to his food, another time it will not go. Its character also has a gift that the bird. Solly also holds herself very proudly. Slightly, now the wing, and then the nose is fading. It is known, the dog wants to be very popular for another time, pulls the teeth behind the tail to catch, and his swan in the face. This is also not a toy to have enough tail.

I spent myself and in the morning the next day was going to leave.

"Come on the autumn," says the old man on a farewell. - Then the fish will be racing with an acute one. Well, and Ryabchikov shoot. Autumn Ryabik fat.

- Well, grandfather, I will come somehow.

When I went away, the old man returned me:

- Look, Barin, how the swan was spiked with a sob.

Indeed, it was worth admiring the original picture. The swan stood, the opening of the wings, and so much with a screech and bark attacked him. The smart bird pulled the neck and hiped on the dog, as geese do. Old Taras from the heart laughed at this scene as a child.

Next time I got to the bright lake already late in autumnWhen the first snow fell. Forest and now was good. In some places, the yellow leaf remained on the birch. Spruce and pines seemed greener than in summer. Dry autumn grass peeking out from under the snow with a yellow brush. Dead silence reigned around, exactly nature, tired by summer cycling work, now rested. The bright lake seemed great because there was no coastal greens. The transparent water darkened, and a heavy autumn wave into the shore with noise.

The hut Taras was standing in the same place, but it seemed above, because it was not surrounding her high herbs. To meet me jumped out the same thing. Now he learned me and affectionately threw the tail still published. Taras was at home. He cleaned the nemid for winter fishing.

- Hello, old man!

- Hello, Barin!

- Well, how are you?

- Never mind. In autumn, the first snow, sniffed the little. Feet sick. I have something like that for bad weather.

The old man really had a tired view. He seemed so stupid and pitiful now. However, it happened, as it turned out, not at all of the disease. We talked about tea, and the old man told his grief.

- Do you remember, Barin, swan?

- Acceptance?

- He is. Oh, the bird was good! But we again with a sable left alone. Yes, there was no acceptance.

- killed hunters?

- No, he left. That's how it's a shame it, Barin! I, if, it seems, did not care for him, I did not turn! From the hands of fed. He walked to me and voice. He floats on the lake, - I can click him, he boils. Scientist bird. And after all, it is completely used. Yes! Just on frost sin came out. On the flight, the flock of swans went down to the bright lake. Well, relaxed, feed, swim, and I admire. Let God's Bird with force gather: not close place to fly. Well, and here came sin. My meal first moved away from other swans: boils to them, and back. Those are in their own way, the name is it, and he is home. Say, I have my house. So day three it had. Everything means they are talking in their own way, avia. Well, and then I see, my enemy fell. That's all the same as a man whips. Will be ashore, gets up on one leg and start shouting. But it's so complaints about. I will heal me, and so much, the fool, the wolf is working. It is known, a free bird, blood affected.

The old man fell silent and sighed heavily.

- Well, and what, grandfather?

- Ah, do not ask. I locked it to the hut for the whole day, so he came here. It will be on one leg to the door itself and costs until you bounce him from the spot. Only here will not tell human language: "Let the grandfathers, to comrades. They will fly in the warm side, and what I will do with you in winter? " Oh, you think the task! To start - flying at the flock and will disappear.

- Why will you disappear?

- What about? Those on the free wax rose. Their, young, who, father and mother went to fly. After all, do you think, how are they? The swans will grow up, - the father and mother will lead them first on the water, and then start learning to fly. Spring is taught: Further and further. With my own eyes, I saw how young are trained to the flight. First, the mansion is taught, then small flocks, and then they are already siring into one big flock. It looks like a soldier is flying. Well, I grew up alone and, read, did not fly anywhere. Swims on the lake - only and all the crafts. Where does he fly? Coming out of the forces, go back from herd and disappear. Unconsidered to long fly.

The old man fell silent again.

"I had to release," he spoke with sadness. "I don't care, I think, if I retain it for the winter, it hustles and smells. Bird is so special. Well, and released. Put my tendle to the herd, shoved the day with him, and in the evening again home. So two days sailed. Also, even though the bird, and it is hard to part with your home. It is he to say goodbye saval, Barin. At the last time he sailed from the shore of the soot of twenty, stopped and how, you are my brother, I cry in my own way. Say: "Thanks for the bread, for salt!" Only I saw it. We stayed again with Solk alone. The first time we have both wandered. I will ask him: "Everyone, where is our acceptance?" And so much now to swell. So, regrets. And now ashore, and now look for a friend of cute. I got everything out of nights that I was glad to go on the shore and the wings clap. I will go out - no one.

That's what it came out, Barin.

The article describes an interesting and instructive story, presents it summary. "Acceptance" (Mamin-Sibiryak) teaches readers of true love, when for the sake of nearly donate personal interests and desires.

What is this story

So, let's start our brief content. "Acceptance" (Mamin Sibiryak is its author) is a short story of three parts. The first part can be called "acquaintance," in it the main character meets the Swan-acceptance. In the second part, the owner of the hut, the old man Taras, with love tells the guest about his new pet. The third part is the final and saddest, in which the hero learns that the swan left the reception house and flew away with his relatives in warmer climes.

"Acception" (Mamin-Sibiryak) begins with the description of how the hunter walks under warm summer rain in the forest and admires the surrounding nature. It comes to Lake Light and heads for an old hut, which is almost completely hidden in high grass. Towards him will run out of the dog so much. At first he beats his loss, but then he learns the guest and happily welcomes him. The hunter goes to the hut, melts the Russian oven and waits for the owner - the old man Taras, who is already under the ninety years. The old man already does not remember when he was born, says that it was before the invasion of the French for Russia in 1812. Previously, Grandfather Taras had a family, but the wife and children died, and he began to live in the hut in the forest, industrially hunting and fishing.

And the guest finally saw the old man: he sailed in a boat, confining a beautiful white swan in front of himself. The hunter, of course, was surprised and began to ask the owner, what is this bird. Grandfather Taras said that the "city gentlemen" came, "Swan's Swan" came, "and their chick hid in the reeds. The old man pulled him out and brought home, settled in the barn and cared for him. The swan is accustomed to grandfather and dog, became a member of their small family. The guest noted to himself, with what love and warmth said the owner about his acceptance.

After overnight, the hunter left, promising the old man to return in the fall. He kept his word and returned to the hut at the beginning of winter. The old Taras was very sad and told Guest with sadness, that he had to let go of his acceptance. "Tsar-bird" can not survive in Saraj, she needs will.

Opinions of readers

That's all the brief content. "Acceptance" (Mamin Sibiryak), reviews of readers about which are presented below - a brief, but instructive story. All who read it note that this is a poetic product, at the same time touching and sad. He teaches an understanding of this love when she is ready for another to sacrifice its desires.

Page 1 of 2

Acceptance (story)

I.
Rainy summer day. I love in such weather to wander through the forest, especially when there is a warm corner in front, where you can dry and warm up. And besides summer rain - warm. In the city in this weather - dirt, and in the forest the land eagerly absorbs moisture in the forest, and you go on a slightly removal carpet from last year's leaf and sprinkled pine needles and spruce. Trees are covered with raindrops that suprate on you with each movement. And when the sun looks like after this rain, the forest is so brightly greasy and the whole is on the diamond sparks. Something festive and joyful circle of you, and you feel at this holiday desired, expensive guest.
It was on such a rainy day that I approached a bright lake, to a familiar watchman on fishing Syme Taras. The rain has already reel. On one side of the sky, the lumens seemed a little more - and the hot summer sun would seem. The forest path made a steep turn, and I went to a sloping cape who went into a wide language in the lake. Actually, there was not the most lake here, but a wide duct between two lakes, and Saima sniffed in an exhaustion at a low shore, where fishing boats were juting in the Pilot. The duct between the lakes was formed due to a large wooded island, a lightweight green cap opposite Saima.
My appearance on the carass caused a watchman Dog Taras, - on unfamiliar people, she always burned in a special way, passibly and sharply, exactly angrily asked: "Who goes?" I love such simple dogs for their extraordinary mind and faithful service ...
The fishing hut made seemed to be turned upside down the bottom of a big boat - it hung over the old wooden roof, sprouting a cheerful green grass. The bark of the hut rose a thick piglet from Ivan-Tea, Sage and "Bearing Dupulls", so that a man who approached his hut was seen one head. Such a thick grass grew only on the shores of the lake, because there was enough moisture and the soil was fat.
When I approached everything at all to the hut, the dog was departed from the grass to me and the dog was blocked and faded with the desperate lame.
- Everybody, stop ... I did not recognize?
I stopped in thought, but, apparently, I have not believed in an old acquaintance. He cautiously approached, sniffed my hunting boots and only after this ceremony he blamed the tail. Say, it's guilty, I was wrong, "but still I have to wish the hut.
The hut turned out to be empty. The owner was not, that is, he probably went to the lake to inspect some fishing tackle. The range of the hut said everything about the presence of a living person: weakly smoking light, the ohaper has just disturbed firewood, dried on the necklaces of the network, the ax, stuck in the hardwood of the tree. In the dictated door of Saima, all the economy of Taras was visible: a gun on the wall, a few pots on the solder, a chest under a bench, rushed tackle. The hut was rather spacious, because in the winter during the fishing lot in it was placed the whole artel workers. In the summer, the old man lived alone. In spite of all the weather, he was hot in the Russian oven every day and slept on the reagents. This love for warmth was due to the steady age of Taras: he was about ninety years. I say "about" because Taras himself forgot when he was born. "Even before the Frenchman," he explained, that is, before the invasion of the French in Russia in 1812.
After removing the wet jacket and waving the hunting armor through the wall, I began to breed the fire. I spoke about me about me, anticipating any one. The light flared the light, putting the blue stream of smoke up the blue. The rain has already passed. The torn clouds rushed across the sky, dropping rare drops. Someone where the symptas of the sky. And then the sun seemed to both the hot July sun, under the rays of which the wet grass was exactly shot. Water in the lake stood quietly, as it happens only after the rain. It smelled with fresh grass, sage, resinous aroma near standing pine. In general, good as soon as it can be good in such a deaf forest corner. To the right where the duct was held, Schin the surface of a light lake, and the mountains rose behind the gear border. Wonderful corner! And no wonder Old Taras lived here for forty years. Somewhere in the city he would not live half, because in the city you can not buy for any money of such clean air, and most importantly - this calm that covered here. Good on Syme! .. A bright light burns; Begins to culnate the hot sun, the eyes hurt to look at the glittering distance of a wonderful lake. So it would be sitting here and, it seems, would not break up with a wonderful forest lead. The thought of the city flashes in the head, as a bad dream.
In anticipation of the old man, I attached a copper hiking kettle on a long stick and hung it over fire. The water has already begins to boil, and the old man was not all.
- Where to go? I thought out out loud. "Tackle inspecting in the morning, and now noon ... maybe I went to see if I can't catch fish without demand ... Susty, where did your owner gave? An intelligent dog was just wagging a fluffy tail, lied and impatiently screamed. Outdoor to the type of so-called "commercial" dogs belonged to the type of so-called "commercial" dogs. A small growth, with an acute face, standing ears and bent up the tail, he, perhaps, resembled an ordinary mongrel, with the difference that the dock would not find the squirrel in the forest, could not "go" the muffuhary, making track of the deer, - in one word, True commercial dog, the best friend of man. It is necessary to see such a dog in the forest in order to fully appreciate all its advantages.

When this "the best friend of a person" happily screamed, I realized that he envy the owner. Indeed, a fisherman's boat, a fisherman of the island, seemed in the black-point duct. It was Taras ... He sailed, standing on his feet, and deftly worked in one oral ones - real fishermen are so floating on their single-show boats, not found without the foundation of "shutbacks". When he fell closer, I noticed, to the surprise that sailed in front of the swan boat.
- Go home, walk! - Ground the old man, customizing a beautifully sailing bird. - Stay, go ... So I will give you - to float God knows where ... go home, walk!
Swan wandered beautifully to Syme, went ashore, shook and, harshly overturning on his curves of black legs, headed for his hut.

II.
The Old Man Taras was high height, with an eyelated gray beard and strict big gray eyes. He walked barefoot all summer and without a hat. It is wonderful that he had all his teeth and their heads were preserved. The tanned wide face was elected deep wrinkles. In a hot time, he walked in one shirt from the peasant blue canvas.
- Hello, Taras!
- Hello, Barin!
- Where does God come from?
"But I wrapped out for me, behind the swan ... everything was spoiled here, in the duct, and then suddenly disappeared ... well, I'm behind him. Left in the lake - no; Basics sailed - no; And he floats behind the island.
- Where did you get it, swan?

Hello, dear reader. In the story "Acceptions", Mamin-Sibiryak describes memories of his life. His friend Taras was a guard on Saima, it was an old man who was so old, which did not even remember when he was born and how old he was, respectively. The last forty years of Taras stayed on Syme and so much got close to the surrounding nature, which did not feel her loneliness at all. He had a faithful assistant - the hunting dog is so. One day, the old man caught a little swan, called him to handle him and sheltered him, so they threatened and winter. Taras told the Writer with admiration with admiration, told about his moral, about the habits, about how they made friends with everyone. At the end of the story, we learn that in the fall, Pedesh followed other birds and flew into warm edges. We recommend the story "Empire" Mine-Siberian to read online kids of any age.

(And the stories of the old hunter)

Rainy summer day. I love in such weather to wander through the forest, especially when there is a warm corner in front, where you can dry and warm up. And besides summer rain - warm. In the city in this weather - dirt, and in the forest the land eagerly absorbs moisture in the forest, and you go on a slightly removal carpet from last year's leaf and sprinkled pine needles and spruce. Trees are covered with raindrops that suprate on you with each movement. And when the sun looks like after this rain, the forest is so brightly greasy and the whole is on the diamond sparks. Something festive and joyful circle of you, and you feel at this holiday desired, expensive guest.
It was on such a rainy day that I approached a bright lake, to a familiar watchman on fishing Syme Taras. The rain has already reel. On one side of the sky, the lumens seemed a little more - and the hot summer sun would seem. The forest path made a steep turn, and I went to a sloping cape who went into a wide language in the lake. Actually, there was not the most lake here, but a wide duct between two lakes, and Saima sniffed in an exhaustion at a low shore, where fishing boats were juting in the Pilot. The duct between the lakes was formed due to a large wooded island, a lightweight green cap opposite Saima.
My appearance on the carass caused a watchman Dog Taras, - on unfamiliar people, she always burned in a special way, passibly and sharply, exactly angrily asked: "Who goes?" I love such simple dogs for their extraordinary mind and faithful service ...
The fishing hut made seemed to be turned upside down the bottom of a big boat - it hung over the old wooden roof, sprouting a cheerful green grass. The bark of the hut rose a thick piglet from Ivan-Tea, Sage and "Bearing Dupulls", so that a man who approached his hut was seen one head. Such a thick grass grew only on the shores of the lake, because there was enough moisture and the soil was fat.
When I approached everything at all to the hut, the dog was departed from the grass to me and the dog was blocked and faded with the desperate lame.
- Everybody, stop ... I did not recognize?
I stopped in thought, but, apparently, I have not believed in an old acquaintance. He cautiously approached, sniffed my hunting boots and only after this ceremony he blamed the tail. Say, it's guilty, I was wrong, "but still I have to wish the hut.
The hut turned out to be empty. The owner was not, that is, he probably went to the lake to inspect some fishing tackle. The range of the hut said everything about the presence of a living person: weakly smoking light, the ohaper has just disturbed firewood, dried on the necklaces of the network, the ax, stuck in the hardwood of the tree. In the dictated door of Saima, all the economy of Taras was visible: a gun on the wall, a few pots on the solder, a chest under a bench, rushed tackle. The hut was rather spacious, because in the winter during the fishing lot in it was placed the whole artel workers. In the summer, the old man lived alone. In spite of any way, he is hot on the chapping a Russian oven every day and slept. This love for warmth was due to the steady age of Taras: he was about ninety years. I say "about" because Taras himself forgot when he was born. "Even before the Frenchman," he explained, that is, before the invasion of the French in Russia in 1812.
After removing the wet jacket and waving the hunting armor through the wall, I began to breed the fire. I spoke about me about me, anticipating any one. The light flared the light, putting the blue stream of smoke up the blue. The rain has already passed. The torn clouds rushed across the sky, dropping rare drops. Someone where the symptas of the sky. And then the sun seemed to both the hot July sun, under the rays of which the wet grass was exactly shot. Water in the lake stood quietly, as it happens only after the rain. It smelled with fresh grass, sage, resinous aroma near standing pine. In general, good as soon as it can be good in such a deaf forest corner. To the right where the duct was held, Schin the surface of a light lake, and the mountains rose behind the gear border. Wonderful corner! And no wonder Old Taras lived here for forty years. Somewhere in the city he would not live half, because in the city you can not buy for any money of such clean air, and most importantly - this calm that covered here. Good on Syme! .. A bright light burns fun; Begins to culnate the hot sun, the eyes hurt to look at the glittering distance of a wonderful lake. So it would be sitting here and, it seems, would not break up with a wonderful forest lead. The thought of the city flashes in the head, as a bad dream.
In anticipation of the old man, I attached a copper hiking kettle on a long stick and hung it over fire. The water has already begins to boil, and the old man was not all.
- Where to go? I thought out out loud. "Tackle inspecting in the morning, and now noon ... maybe I went to see if I can't catch fish without demand ... Susty, where did your owner gave?
An intelligent dog was just wagging a fluffy tail, lied and impatiently screamed. Outdoor to the type of so-called "commercial" dogs belonged to the type of so-called "commercial" dogs. A small growth, with an acute face, standing ears and bent up the tail, he, perhaps, resembled an ordinary mongrel with the difference that the dock would not find the protein in the forest, would not have been able to "go" a pleahar, making a deer, - in one word, real Fisherman, the best friend of man. It is necessary to see such a dog in the forest in order to fully appreciate all its advantages.
When this "the best friend of a person" happily screamed, I realized that he envy the owner. Indeed, a fisherman's boat, a fisherman of the island, seemed in the black-point duct. It was Taras ... He sailed, standing on his feet, and deftly worked in one oral ones - real fishermen are so floating on their single-show boats, not found without the foundation of "shutbacks". When he fell closer, I noticed, to the surprise that sailed in front of the swan boat.
- Go home, walk! - Ground the old man, customizing a beautifully sailing bird. - Stay, go ... So I will give you - to float God knows where ... go home, walk!
Swan wandered beautifully to Syme, went ashore, shook and, harshly overturning on his curves of black legs, headed for his hut.

The Old Man Taras was high height, with an eyelated gray beard and strict big gray eyes. He walked barefoot all summer and without a hat. It is wonderful that he had all his teeth and their heads were preserved. The tanned wide face was elected deep wrinkles. In a hot time, he walked in one shirt from the peasant blue canvas.
- Hello, Taras!
- Hello, Barin!
- Where does God come from?
"But I walked out for me, for the swan ... everything was spoiled in the duct, and then suddenly disappeared ... well, I'm behind him. Left in the lake - no; Basics sailed - no; And he floats behind the island.
- Where did you get it, swan?
- And God sent, yes! .. Here hunters from the Lords hit; Well, swan with Sweddy and shot, but this one stayed. Babied in the root and sits. It does not know how to fly something, so I hid the guys. Of course, I put the net beside the wash, well, and caught it. One thing will disappear, the hawk will be shown, because there is no longer the meaning of the present. Orphans remained. So I brought him and hold. And he is also used to ... Now it will soon be a month, as we live together. In the morning it will rise at the dawn, swims in the duct, will feed, then go home. He knows when I get up, and waits to feed. Smart Bird, in one word, and his order knows.
The old man said unusually lovingly, as a close man. The swan caught up to the hut and, obviously, waited for some hand.
"He will fly away with you, grandfather ..." I noticed.
- Why should he fly? And here is good: Owl, circle water ...
- And in winter?
- Picks up with me in the hut. There is enough space, and we are sobbing fun. Somehow one hunter wandered to me on Saima, he saw the swan and says that way: "It will fly away, if the wings do not fit." But how can I get involved in God's bird? Let him live like her from the Lord it was indicated ... A person indicated one, and the bird is another ... But I'll take a lot, why the Lord Swan was shot. After all, there will be no, and so, for mischief ...
Swan exactly understood the words of the old man and looked at him with his smart eyes.
- And how is he sobmer? - I asked.
- I was afraid at first, and then you got used to. Now the swan is another time the sober and a piece takes away. The dog will wipe on him, and swan him - the wing. Funny on them to watch. And then go to go together: Swan on water, and so much - on the shore. I tried to swim behind him, well, yes, the craft is not something: I almost poured. And how the swan will pop up, you are still looking for it. Sums up on babe and howl ... Say, bored me, ps, without you, heart friend. So we live threesome.
I loved the old man very much. He told him very well and knew a lot. There are such good, smart old men. Many summer nights had to stuff on Syme, and every time you know something new. Before Taras was a hunter and knew the place around the verso in fifty, knew every custom of the forest bird and the forest beast; And now he could not leave far and knew one of his fish. On the boat to swim easier than walking with a gun in the forest, and especially in the mountains. Now the gun remained at Taras only on old memory, just in case, if the wolf rang. In winter, the wolves looked at Saima and had long had a solk teeth for a long time. Just as a heter was and did not give wolves.
I stayed on Syme for all day. In the evening we went fishing and put the network for the night. A good bright lake, and not without reason it is called light, - the water in it is completely transparent, so you float on the boat and see all the bottom at a depth of somewhat seven. Motion pebbles, and yellow river sand, and algae, can be seen, as the fish goes "RuN", that is, the herd. Such mountain lakes in the Urals hundreds, and they all differ in unusual beauty. From others, the bright lake was distinguished by the fact that he lossed to the mountains only one side, and the other went out in the steppe, where the blessed Bashkiria began. The range of Light Lakes was ruled out the most prominent places, and the brisk mountain river, which spilled along the steppe for a whole thousand miles away. The lake length was up to twenty versts, and in a width of about nine. The depth reached in some places seeded fifteen ... a special beauty gave him a group of wooded islands. One such island was removed on the middle of the lake and was called starvation, because, hitting him in bad weather, fishermen were hungry for several days.
Taras lived on bright for forty years. Once he had her own family and the house, and now he lived Bobylem. The children were walking, the wife also died, and Taras remained snowlessly on light years.
- Not boring to you, grandfather? I asked when we returned from fishing. - terribly lonely in the forest ...
- one? Also and say Barin ... I am here the prince of the prince I live. I have everything ... and the bird is all, and fish, and grass. Of course, they do not know how to speak, yes, I understand everything. The heart rejoices another time to look at God's creature ... any order and your mind. Do you think Russia is swimming in water or a bird in the forest flies? No, they have no care for our ... Evon, look, the swan waiting for us with a sob. Ah, prokurat! ..
The old man was terribly pleased with his acceptance, and all the conversations ended up on him.
"Proud, real royal bird," he explained. - You can not give it to his food, another time it will not go. It also has this, for nothing that the bird ... with a sober, he also holds himself very proudly. Slightly, now the wing, and then the nose is fading. It is known about the dog as another time he wants to build up, the teeth strives for the tail to catch, and his swan in the face ... This is also not a toy to get enough for the tail.
I spent myself and in the morning the next day I was going to leave.
"Come on the autumn," says the old man on a farewell. - Then the fish will be racing with an acute ... Well, and Ryabchikov shoot. Autumn Ryabik fat.
- Well, grandfather, I will come somehow.
When I went away, the old man returned me:
- Look, Barin, how the swan was spiked with a sober ...
Indeed, it was worth admiring the original picture. The swan stood, the opening of the wings, and so much with a screech and bark attacked him. The smart bird pulled the neck and hiped on the dog, as geese do. Old Taras from the heart laughed at this scene as a child.

The next time I got on the bright lake in the late autumn, when the first snow fell. Forest and now was good. In some places, a yellow leaf remained on the birch. Spruce and pines seemed green than in summer. Dry autumn grass peeking out from under the snow with a yellow brush. Dead silence reigned around, exactly nature, tired by summer cycling work, now rested. The bright lake seemed more, because there was no coastal greens. The transparent water was darkened, and a heavy autumn wave on the shore with noise ...
The hut Taras was standing in the same place, but it seemed above, because it was not surrounding her high herbs. To meet me jumped out the same thing. Now he learned me and affectionately threw the tail still published. Taras was at home. He cleaned the nemid for winter fishing.
- Hello, old man! ..
- Hello, Barin!
- Well, how are you?
- Yes, nothing ... in autumn, to the first snow, sniffed the little. My legs were sick ... I always have something like that.
The old man really had a tired view. He seemed so stupid and pitiful now. However, it happened, as it turned out, not at all of the disease. We talked about tea, and the old man told his grief.
- Do you remember, Barin, swan?
- Acceptance?
"He is the most ... Ah, a bird was good! .. But we again left alone ... Yes, there was no acceptance.
- killed hunters?
"No, he left ... that's how it is hurt me, Barin! .. I think it seems, I didn't care for him, I did not go! .. From the hands fed ... He went to me and came to my voice. It floats on the lake, - I am cliking, he saves. Scientist bird. And after all, it is completely accustomed ... Yes! .. Therefore, the sin came out in frost. On the flight, the flock of swans went down to the bright lake. Well, relaxed, feed, swim, and I admire. Let God's Bird with force gather: not close place to fly ... Well, and then a sin came out. My meal first moved away from other swans: boils into them, and back. Those are sick in their own way, the name is it, and he is home ... they say, I have my house. So day three it had. Everything means they are talking in their own way, avia. Well, and then, I see, my enemy squeezed ... That's how it is like a man toggle. It will come ashore, I will get on one leg and start screaming. Yes, because it screams as plaintively ... I will heal at me, and everyone, a fool, wolf. It is known, a free bird, the blood affected ...
The old man fell silent and sighed heavily.
- Well, and what, grandfather?
- Oh, and do not ask ... I locked him in the hut for the whole day, so he came here. It will be on one leg at the door itself and costs until you bounce it from the spot. Only here will not tell human language: "Let the grandfathers, to comrades. They will fly in the warm side, and what I will do with you in winter? " Oh, you think the task! To start - will fly away for the herd and disappear ...
- Why will you disappear?
- What about? .. Those on the free wax rose. Their, young who, father and mother fly learned. After all, do you think, how are they? The swans will grow up, - the father and mother will lead them first on the water, and then start learning to fly. Spring is taught: Further and further. With my own eyes, I saw how young are trained to the flight. First, the mansion is taught, then small flocks, and then they are already siring into one big flock. It seems that the soldiers are flying ... well, and I grew up alone and, read, did not fly anywhere. Swims on the lake - only and all the crafts. Where does he fly? Complete from the forces, go back from herd and disappear ... unusted for long-lasting.
The old man fell silent again.
"I had to release," he spoke with sadness. "I don't care, I think, if I retain it for the winter, it hustles and smells. Bird is so special. Well, and released. Put my tendle to the herd, shoved the day with him, and in the evening again home. So two days sailed. Also, although the bird, and it is hard to part with your home. It was he to say goodbye, Barin ... In the last time he sailed from the shore, soiled for twenty, stopped and how, you were my brother, I cry in my own way. Say: "Thanks for the bread, for salt! .." Only I saw it. We stayed again with Solk alone. The first time we have both wandered. I will ask him: "Everyone, where is our acceptance?" And so much to throw out ... So, regrets. And now on the shore, and now I look for a friend of cute ... I got everything out of the night that I was glad to go to the shore and the wings clap. I'll go out - no one ...
That's what it came out, Barin.

When I approached at all closely to the hut, I flew from the grass to me the doggy dog \u200b\u200bmade me and faded with a desperate lare.

- Everybody, stop ... I did not recognize?

The hut was rather spacious, because in the winter during the fishing lot in it was placed the whole artel workers. In the summer, the old man lived alone. In spite of all the weather, he was hot in the Russian oven every day and slept on the reagents. This love for warmth was due to the steady age of Taras: he was about ninety years. I say "about" because Taras himself forgot when he was born. "Even before the Frenchman," he explained, that is, before the invasion of the French in Russia in 1812.

In anticipation of the old man, I attached a copper hiking kettle on a long stick and hung it over fire. The water has already begins to boil, and the old man was not all.

- Where to go? I thought out out loud. - Tackle inspecting in the morning, and now noon. Maybe I went to see if I would not catch fish without demand. Is it possible, where did your owner gave?

- Go home, walk! - Ground the old man, customizing a beautifully sailing bird. - Stay, go. So I will give you a ladies - to float God knows where. Go home, walk!

Swan wandered beautifully to Syme, went ashore, shook and, harshly overturning on his curves of black legs, headed for his hut.

- Hello, Taras!

- Hello, Barin!

- Where does God come from?

- Where did you get it, swan?

The old man said unusually lovingly, as a close man. The swan caught up to the hut and, obviously, waited for some hand.

"He will fly away with you, grandfather," I noticed.

- Why should he fly? And here is good: Owl, circle water.

- And in winter?

Swan exactly understood the words of the old man and looked at him with his smart eyes.

- And how is he sobmer? - I asked.

I stayed on Syme for all day. In the evening we went fishing and put the network for the night. A well bright lake, and it is not called light, "because the water in it is completely transparent, so you float on the boat and see all the bottom at a depth of somewhat seven. Motion pebbles, and yellow river sand, and algae, can be seen, as the fish goes "RuN", that is, the herd. Such mountain lakes in the Urals hundreds, and they all differ in unusual beauty. From others, the bright lake was distinguished by the fact that he lossed to the mountains only one side, and the other went out in the steppe, where the blessed Bashkiria began.

The range of Light Lakes was ruled out the most prominent places, and the brisk mountain river, which spilled along the steppe for a whole thousand miles away. The lake length was up to twenty versts, and in a width of about nine. The depth reached in some places to fifteen. Special beauty attached to him a group of wooded islands. One such island was removed on the middle of the lake and was called starvation, because, hitting him in bad weather, fishermen were hungry for several days.

Taras lived on bright for forty years. Once he had her own family and the house, and now he lived Bobylem. The children were walking, the wife also died, and Taras remained snowlessly on light years.

- Not boring to you, grandfather? I asked when we returned from fishing. - terribly lonely in the forest.

The old man was terribly pleased with his acceptance, and all the conversations ended up on him.

I spent myself and in the morning the next day was going to leave.

"Come on the autumn," says the old man on a farewell. - Then the fish will be racing with an acute one. Well, and Ryabchikov shoot. Autumn Ryabik fat.

- Well, grandfather, I will come somehow.

When I went away, the old man returned me:

- Look, Barin, how the swan was spiked with a sob.

The next time I got on the bright lake in the late autumn, when the first snow fell. Forest and now was good. In some places, the yellow leaf remained on the birch. Spruce and pines seemed greener than in summer. Dry autumn grass peeking out from under the snow with a yellow brush. Dead silence reigned around, exactly nature, tired by summer cycling work, now rested. The bright lake seemed great because there was no coastal greens. The transparent water darkened, and a heavy autumn wave into the shore with noise.

- Hello, old man!

- Hello, Barin!

- Well, how are you?

- Never mind. In autumn, the first snow, sniffed the little. Feet sick. I have something like that for bad weather.

The old man really had a tired view. He seemed so stupid and pitiful now. However, it happened, as it turned out, not at all of the disease. We talked about tea, and the old man told his grief.

- Do you remember, Barin, swan?

- Acceptance?

- He is. Oh, the bird was good! But we again with a sable left alone. Yes, there was no acceptance.

- killed hunters?

The old man fell silent and sighed heavily.

- Well, and what, grandfather?

- Why will you disappear?

The old man fell silent again.

That's what it came out, Barin.