Dmitry Narkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak
Answers to pages 17 - 20
1. Search
Where did the story take place? Find the answer in the story.
On the Light Lake (in the Urals).
2. Melting
Read the paragraph and write in the action words (verbs).
Really, worth admiring this picture. Swan stood, opening his wings, and Sobolko with a screech and bark attacked on him. smart bird pulled out neck and hissed on a dog, as geese do. Old Taras from the heart laughed over this scene like a child.
3. Exact word
How did the swan say goodbye to the old man? Underline the words that convey his feelings.
For the last time he sailed away from the shore, stopped and how, my brother, you will shout in your own way! Say, thank you, grandfather, for the bread, for the salt!..
4. Compliance
What word fits the description of the swan's farewell? Emphasize.
say
means
so
thus
5 ∗
. Plan
Complete the plan, retell one part.
6. Exact word
Read the dialogue. In what words is Taras respectful attitude towards everything living on earth? Emphasize.
- Is it not boring for you, grandfather, to live alone in the forest?
— One? You can say the same ... There are all kinds of birds, and fish, and grass. Of course, they do not know how to speak, but I understand everything. Every creature of God has its own order and its own mind. Do you think a fish swims in the water or a bird flies in the forest in vain? No, they care no less than ours… Avon, look, the swan is waiting for Sobolka and me…
7. Melting
Fill in the missing words. How does the author feel about Taras? Find the answer and underline.
I loved very much old man. He already told very good and knew a lot. There are such good ones, smart old men.
Taras lived on the lake already Fourty years. He once had own family, and house and now he lived as a bean and remained hopelessly on the lake for years.
8 ∗
. Scrabble
Look up the meaning of the word in the dictionary and write it down.
Bobyl - lonely, homeless person.
9. Bookman
Write down the last name, first name and patronymic of the author of the story "Adoptive".
Hello dear reader. In the story "Priemysh" Mamin-Sibiryak describes memories from his life. His friend Taras was a watchman at the Sime, he was an old man who was so old that he did not even remember when he was born and how old he was, respectively. For the last forty years, Taras has been on the Saimaa and has become so close to the surrounding nature that he did not feel his loneliness at all. He had a faithful assistant - a hunting dog Sobolko. One day the old man caught little swan, called him Adoptive and sheltered him, so the three of them spent the winter. Taras spoke with admiration about the swan to the writer, talked about his temper, habits, how they became friends with Sobolko. At the end of the story, we learn that in the fall, Priyomysh followed other birds and flew away to warmer climes. We recommend the story "Priemysh" by Mamin-Sibiryak to read online for children of any age.
(And from the stories of the old hunter)
Rainy summer day. I like to wander through the forest in such weather, especially when there is a warm corner ahead, where you can dry and warm yourself. Yes, besides summer rain- warm. In the city in such weather - mud, and in the forest the earth greedily absorbs moisture, and you walk on a slightly damp carpet of last year's fallen leaves and crumbled pine and spruce needles. The trees are covered in raindrops that rain down on you with every move. And when the sun comes out after such a rain, the forest turns green so brightly and burns with diamond sparks all over. Something festive and joyful is all around you, and you feel like a welcome, dear guest at this holiday.
It was on such a rainy day that I approached the Light Lake, to the familiar watchman on the fishing saime Taras. The rain has already thinned. Gaps appeared on one side of the sky, a little more - and the hot summer sun would appear. forest path did sharp turn, and I came out on a sloping cape, which jutted out into the lake with a wide tongue. Actually, here was not the lake itself, but a wide channel between two lakes, and the saima nestled in a bend on the low bank, where fishing boats huddled in the creek. The channel between the lakes was formed thanks to a large wooded island, spread out in a green cap opposite the saima.
My appearance on the cape evoked the guard call of Taras's dog, strangers she always barked in a special way, curtly and abruptly, as if angrily asked: "Who's coming?" I love such simple dogs for their extraordinary mind and faithful service ...
From afar, the fishing hut looked like a large boat turned upside down - it was an old wooden roof that had sprouted cheerful green grass. A thick growth of willow-herb, sage and “bear pipes” rose around the hut, so that a person approaching the hut could see one head. Such dense grass grew only along the shores of the lake, because there was enough moisture and the soil was oily.
When I was already quite close to the hut, a motley dog flew out of the grass head over heels at me and burst into desperate barking.
- Sobolko, stop it ... Didn't you know?
Sobolko stopped in thought, but apparently did not yet believe in the old acquaintance. He cautiously approached, sniffed at my hunting boots, and only after this ceremony wagged his tail guiltily. Say, it's my fault, I made a mistake, but still I have to guard the hut.
The hut was empty. The owner was not there, that is, he probably went to the lake to inspect some kind of fishing tackle. Around the hut, everything spoke of the presence of a living person: a weakly smoking light, an armful of freshly chopped firewood, a net drying on stakes, an ax stuck in a stump of a tree. Through the half-open door of the saima, Taras's entire household could be seen: a gun on the wall, several pots on the stove, a chest under the bench, hanging tackle. The hut was quite spacious, because in winter, during fishing, a whole artel of workers was placed in it. In the summer the old man lived alone. In spite of any weather, every day he heated the Russian stove hot and slept on the floorboards. This love of warmth was explained by the respectable age of Taras: he was about ninety years old. I say "about" because Taras himself forgot when he was born. “Even before the French,” as he explained, that is, before the French invasion of Russia in 1812.
Taking off my wet jacket and hanging my hunting armor on the wall, I began to build a fire. Sobolko hovered around me, anticipating some kind of life. A light flared up merrily, blowing up a blue wisp of smoke. The rain has already passed. Broken clouds rushed across the sky, dropping occasional drops. Here and there the sky was blue. And then the sun appeared, the hot July sun, under the rays of which the wet grass seemed to smoke. The water in the lake was quiet, quiet, as it happens only after rain. There was a smell of fresh grass, sage, the resinous scent of a nearby pine forest. In general, it’s good, as soon as it can be good in such a remote forest corner. To the right, where the channel ended, the expanse of Svetloye Lake turned blue, and mountains rose beyond the jagged border. Wonderful corner! And not without reason old Taras lived here for forty years. Somewhere in the city he would not have lived even half, because in the city you can’t buy such a thing for any money. clean air, and most importantly - this calmness that embraced here. It's good on the Syme!.. A bright light is burning merrily; the hot sun begins to bake, it hurts the eyes to look at the sparkling distance of the wonderful lake. So I would sit here and, it seems, would not part with a wonderful forest freedom. The thought of the city flashes through my head like a bad dream.
While waiting for the old man, I attached a copper camping kettle of water to a long stick and hung it over the fire. The water was already beginning to boil, but the old man was still gone.
- Where would he go? I thought aloud. “They inspect the tackle in the morning, and now it’s noon ... Maybe he went to see if anyone was catching fish without asking ... Sobolko, where did your master go?”
The smart dog only wagged its fluffy tail, licked its lips and squealed impatiently. In appearance, Sobolko belonged to the type of so-called "fishing" dogs. Small in stature, with a sharp muzzle, erect ears and a tail bent up, he, perhaps, resembled an ordinary mongrel, with the difference that the mongrel would not have found a squirrel in the forest, would not have been able to “bark” a capercaillie, track down a deer - in a word, a real hunting dog, best friend person. It is necessary to see such a dog in the forest in order to fully appreciate all its advantages.
When this "man's best friend" squealed with joy, I realized that he saw the owner. Indeed, in the channel, a fishing boat appeared as a black dot, skirting the island. That was Taras… He swam standing on his feet, and deftly worked with one oar – real fishermen all swim like that on their one-tree boats, called “gas chambers” not without reason. When he swam closer, I noticed, to my surprise, a swan swimming in front of the boat.
- Go home, you bastard! - grumbled the old man, urging the beautifully swimming bird. - Go, go ... Here I'll give you - to sail away God knows where ... Go home, reveler!
The swan swam beautifully up to the sim, went ashore, shook himself and, waddling heavily on his crooked black legs, headed for the hut.
Old Taras was tall, with a bushy gray beard and strict large gray eyes. He walked barefoot and without a hat all summer. It is remarkable that all his teeth were intact and the hair on his head was preserved. Tanned wide face was riddled with deep wrinkles. In hot weather, he walked in one shirt made of peasant blue canvas.
— Hello, Taras!
— Hello, barin!
Where does God bring it from?
“But he swam for the Foster, for the swan ... Everything here was spinning in the canal, and then suddenly he disappeared ... Well, I’m behind him now. Went to the lake - no; swam through the backwaters - no; and he swims behind the island.
- Where did you get it, the swan?
- And God sent, yes! .. Here the hunters from the masters ran into; well, they shot the swan with the swan, but this one remained. Crawled into the reeds and sits. He doesn’t know how to fly, so he hid like a child. Of course, I set nets near the reeds, and I caught him. One will disappear, the hawk will be killed, because there is still no real meaning in it. He remained an orphan. So I brought it and keep it. And he, too, got used to it ... Now, soon it will be a month, how we live together. In the morning at dawn it will rise, swim in the canal, feed, and then go home. Knows when I get up and waits to be fed. A smart bird, in a word, knows its own order.
The old man spoke with unusual love, as if close person. The swan hobbled to the very hut and, obviously, was waiting for some kind of handout.
“He will fly away from you, grandfather ...” I remarked.
Why would he fly? And it’s good here: full, water all around ...
— And in winter?
- He will spend the winter with me in the hut. Enough space, and Sobolko and I have more fun. Once a hunter wandered into my saima, saw a swan and said the same way: “It will fly away if you don’t cut its wings.” But how can you mutilate the bird of God? Let her live as the Lord indicated to her ... One thing is indicated to a man, and another to a bird ... But I will understand why the gentlemen shot the swans. After all, they won’t eat, and so, for mischief ...
The swan understood the old man's words exactly and looked at him with his intelligent eyes.
- And how is he with Sobolok? I asked.
“At first I was afraid, but then I got used to it. Now the swan takes another piece from Sobolko. The dog will growl at him, and his swan will growl with his wing. It's funny to look at them from the side. And then they will go for a walk together: a swan on the water, and Sobolko along the shore. The dog tried to swim after him, well, but the craft is not right: he almost drowned. And as the swan swims away, Sobolko is looking for him. He sits on the bank and howls ... They say, I'm bored, the dog, without you, my dear friend. So we live together.
I loved the old man very much. He spoke very well and knew a lot. There are such good, smart old people. A lot of summer nights I had to while away the sim, and every time you learn something new. Formerly Taras had been a hunter and knew places around fifty miles away, knew every custom of a forest bird and a forest beast; but now he could not go far and knew one of his fish. It is easier to swim in a boat than to walk with a gun through the forest, and especially through the mountains. Now Taras had a gun only for old times sake, just in case a wolf ran in. In winter, the wolves looked at the saima and had long been sharpening their teeth on Sobolok. Only Sobolko was cunning and did not give in to the wolves.
I stayed on sim for the whole day. In the evening we went fishing and set up nets for the night. Svetloe Lake is good, and it is not for nothing that it is called Svetly Lake - the water in it is completely transparent, so you can sail in a boat and see the whole bottom at a depth of several sazhens. You can see colorful pebbles, and yellow river sand, and algae, you can see how the fish walks in a “fleece”, that is, a herd. There are hundreds of such mountain lakes in the Urals, and all of them are distinguished by their extraordinary beauty. Svetloye Lake differed from others in that it adjoined the mountains only on one side, and on the other it went “to the steppe”, where blessed Bashkiria began. The most free places lay around Svetloye Lake, and a brisk mountain river came out of it, spilling over the steppe for a whole thousand miles. The lake was up to twenty versts long and about nine versts wide. The depth reached fifteen sazhens in some places... A group of wooded islands gave it a special beauty. One such island moved away to the very middle of the lake and was called Goloday, because, having got on it in bad weather, the fishermen more than once went hungry for several days.
Taras had lived on Svetloye for forty years. Once he had his own family and home, and now he lived as a bean. The children died, his wife also died, and Taras remained hopelessly on Svetloye for whole years.
- Aren't you bored, grandpa? I asked as we were returning from fishing. - It's terribly lonely in the forest ...
— One? The master will say the same ... I live here as a prince. I have everything ... And every bird, and fish, and grass. Of course, they do not know how to speak, but I understand everything. The heart rejoices another time to look at God's creature ... Everyone has his own order and his own mind. Do you think the fish swims in the water in vain or the bird flies through the forest? No, they have no less concern than ours ... Avon, look, the swan is waiting for us with Sobolko. Ah, the prosecutor!
The old man was terribly pleased with his Adopted, and in the end all conversations came down to him.
“A proud, real royal bird,” he explained. “Beckon him with food and don’t let him, another time he won’t go.” It also has its own character, even though it’s a bird… With Sobolok, he also holds himself very proudly. Just a little, now with a wing, or even with a nose. It is known that the dog will want to play dirty another time, he strives to catch his tail with his teeth, and the swan in his face ... This is also not a toy to grab by the tail.
I spent the night and in the morning the next day I was going to leave.
“Come back in the fall,” the old man says in parting. - Then we'll shoot fish with spears ... Well, we'll shoot hazel grouses. Autumn hazel grouse is fat.
“Okay, grandpa, I’ll come sometime.
When I was leaving, the old man brought me back:
- Look, sir, how the swan played with Sobolok ...
Really worth a look original painting. The swan stood with wings spread, and Sobolko attacked him with a screech and bark. The clever bird stretched out its neck and hissed at the dog, as geese do. Old Taras laughed heartily at this scene like a child.
The next time I got to Svetloye Lake was in late autumn, when the first snow fell. The forest was still good. Somewhere on the birches there was still a yellow leaf. The spruce and pines seemed greener than in summer. Dry autumn grass peeked out from under the snow like a yellow brush. Dead silence reigned all around, as if nature, weary of the summer's vigorous work, was now resting. The bright lake seemed larger, because there was no coastal greenery. The transparent water darkened, and a heavy autumn wave beat noisily against the shore ...
Taras's hut stood in the same place, but seemed taller, because the tall grass surrounding it had disappeared. The same Sobolko jumped out to meet me. Now he recognized me and wagged his tail affectionately from a distance. Taras was at home. He repaired a net for winter fishing.
- Hello, old man! ..
— Hello, barin!
- Well, how are you?
- Yes, nothing ... In the fall, by the first snow, I fell ill a little. My legs hurt ... By bad weather, it always happens to me.
The old man really looked tired. He seemed now so decrepit and pathetic. However, this happened, as it turned out, not at all from the disease. We talked over tea, and the old man told his grief.
Do you remember, sir, the swan?
- Adopted?
- He is the best ... Ah, the bird was good! .. But again Sobolko and I were left alone ... Yes, the Foster was gone.
Did the hunters kill you?
- No, he left on his own ... That's how insulting it is to me, master! He swims on the lake - I call him, he swims up. Learned bird. And after all, she’s completely used to it ... yes! .. The sin came out in frosts. On the migration, a flock of swans descended on Svetloye Lake. Well, they rest, feed, swim, and I admire. Let the bird of God gather with strength: it’s not a close place to fly ... Well, and then sin came out. My Priemysh at first avoided the other swans: he would swim up to them, and back. They cackle in their own way, call him, and he goes home ... Say, I have my own house. So they had it for three days. All, then, are talking in their own way, like a bird. Well, and then, I see, my Adopted became homesick ... It's all the same how a person yearns. It will go ashore, stand on one leg and start screaming. Why, how plaintively it screams ... It will make me sad, and Sobolko, the fool, howls like a wolf. It is known, a free bird, the blood has affected ...
The old man paused and sighed heavily.
- Well, what about it, grandfather?
“Ah, and don’t ask… I locked him up in a hut for the whole day, and that’s how he pestered me. He will stand on one foot at the very door and stand until you drive him out of his place. Only now he won’t say in human language: “Let me go, grandfathers, to my comrades. They will fly to the warm side, but what am I going to do with you here in the winter? Oh, you think the challenge! Let it go - it will fly away after the herd and disappear ...
- Why will it disappear?
- But how? .. They grew up in freedom. They, the young ones, were taught by their father and mother to fly. How do you think they are? The swans will grow up, - the father and mother will first take them to the water, and then they will begin to teach them to fly. Gradually they teach: further and further. I have seen with my own eyes how young people are taught to fly. First, they teach alone, then in small flocks, and then they crowd into one big herd. It looks like a soldier being drilled ... Well, my Foster grew up alone and, honestly, did not fly anywhere. Floats on the lake - that's all crafts. Where can he fly? It will be exhausted, fall behind the herd and disappear ... Unaccustomed to the distant summer.
The old man fell silent again.
“But I had to let go,” he said sadly. - All the same, I think if I keep him for the winter, he will get bored and wither away. The bird is so special. Well, he released it. My adoptive landed with the herd, swam with him for a day, and in the evening he returned home. So two days sailed. Also, although a bird, it’s hard to part with your home. It was he who swam to say goodbye, master ... For the last time he sailed from the shore that way for twenty fathoms, stopped and how, my brother, you will shout in your own way. They say: "Thank you for the bread, for the salt! .." Only I saw him. Sobolko and I were left alone again. At first, we were both very sad. I’ll ask him: “Sobolko, where is our Foster?” And Sobolko howl now ... So, he regrets. And now to the shore, and now to look for a dear friend ... I kept dreaming at night that Priemysh was rinsing around the shore and flapping his wings. I go out - there is no one ...
Here's what happened, sir.
Answers to school textbooks
The story is called "Adopted" because it tells about the old fisherman Taras, who sheltered an orphan swan, who still cannot fly, whose parents were killed by hunters for fun.
2. Why did Taras decide to adopt a bird? What words help to understand how he treated the Foster? Why did the old man call the swan a special bird?
The old man explains that the swan will disappear alone, the hawk will be killed, "because there is still no real meaning in it." He does not want to clip his wings - "how can you mutilate God's bird?" If a swan swims out of the channel, Taras searches for it on a boat on the lake, in the backwaters, behind the island. He calls him smart, learned, proud, royal, God's bird. "The old man spoke unusually lovingly, as if talking about a close person." All grandfather's conversations eventually boiled down to Adopted.
Dog Sobolko also became attached to the swan. They played and walked together. If the swan swam away, Sobodko waited for Priemysh on the shore and howled.
Taras called the swan a special bird, because if "you keep it for the winter, it will get bored and wither." Swans are free-spirited.
3. What did Taras feel when Priyomysh flew away? Why did the hero let the swan go? How did he explain his behavior?
When the author again came to Svetloye Lake in late autumn, the old man looked tired, seemed decrepit and miserable. He said that the foster child was homesick and flew away with a flock of swans. Taras was offended: “It seems that I didn’t look after him!” At first, he and Sobolko were very homesick. Taras could not let go of the Adopted, because he was wise man With good heart and understood that a swan in captivity is unlikely to survive, although it may disappear in freedom, as it is "unaccustomed to a long flight."
4. What was more correct:
- do as Taras did;
- cut the swan's wings and make it tame forever;
- by force to keep in a barn until the winter cold and leave to spend the winter in a hut, and in the spring let them go to some flock of swans?
The fisherman did the right thing by releasing the Priemysh, because he could not forcibly restrain him. After all, it seemed to him that the bird was saying, standing on one leg at the door: “Let me go, grandfather, to my comrades ...”
5. Get ready to retell the story of Sobolok and Foster's friendship. Write the plan down in your workbook.
The story of friendship between Sobolko and Priemysh.
1) Fear of the dog's swan.
2) The beginning of friendship, joint walks.
3) How Sobolko played with the Adopted.
The story of D. Mamin-Sibiryak brings up mercy, love for nature, human attitude towards animals and birds, proves that kindness is wealth, generosity of the human soul. It's good that there are people like Taras who are ready to help all living things. He is not afraid in the forest, he knows animals well, knows how to observe what is happening in nature. He says: “I live here as a prince. I have everything ... And every bird, and fish, and grass. Of course, they do not know how to speak, but I understand everything. The heart rejoices to look at God's creation. Learning about such good people and make yourself better.
7. Find and read an article in the encyclopedia about the life of swans. Reread the description of the swan in the story. Compare what is common and different in these texts.
The description of the swan in the encyclopedia gives us an idea of the size, appearance and the habits of this variety of birds, and the story "Priemysh" describes the character, external and inner beauty this living intelligent and capable of friendship and gratitude being
Rainy summer day. I like to wander through the forest in such weather, especially when there is a warm corner ahead where you can dry and warm yourself. And besides, the summer rain is warm. In the city in such weather - mud, and in the forest the earth greedily absorbs moisture, and you walk on a slightly damp carpet from last year's fallen leaves and crumbled pine and spruce needles. The trees are covered in raindrops that rain down on you with every move. And when the sun comes out after such a rain, the forest turns green so brightly and burns with diamond sparks all over. Something festive and joyful is all around you, and you feel like a welcome, dear guest at this holiday.
It was on such a rainy day that I approached the Light Lake, to the familiar watchman on the fishing saime Taras. The rain has already thinned. Gaps appeared on one side of the sky, a little more - and the hot summer sun will appear. The forest path made a sharp turn, and I came to a sloping cape, which jutted out into the lake with a wide tongue. Actually, here was not the lake itself, but a wide channel between two lakes, and the saima stumbled in a bend on the low bank, where fishing boats huddled in the creek. The channel between the lakes was formed thanks to a large wooded island, spread out in a green hat opposite the saima.
My appearance on the cape evoked the watchful call of the dog Taras - she always barked at strangers in a special way, abruptly and sharply, as if angrily asking: "Who is coming?" I love such simple little dogs for their extraordinary intelligence and faithful service...
From a distance, the fishing hut looked like a large boat turned upside down; it was an old wooden roof hunched over, overgrown with cheerful green grass. A thick growth of willow-herb, sage and “bear pipes” rose around the hut, so that a person approaching the hut could see one head. Such dense grass grew only along the shores of the lake, because there was enough moisture and the soil was oily.
When I was already quite close to the hut, a motley dog flew out of the grass head over heels at me and burst into desperate barking.
- Sobolko, stop it ... Didn't you recognize it?
Sobolko stopped in thought, but, apparently, did not yet believe in the old acquaintance. He carefully approached, sniffed at my hunting boots, and only after this ceremony wagged his tail guiltily. Say, it's my fault, I made a mistake, but still I have to guard the hut.
The hut was empty. The owner was not there, that is, he probably went to the lake to inspect some kind of fishing tackle. Around the hut, everything spoke of the presence of a living person: a lightly smoking fire, an armful of freshly chopped firewood, a net drying on stakes, an ax stuck in a stump of a tree. Through the half-open door of the saima, Taras's entire household could be seen: a gun on the wall, several pots on the stove, a chest under the bench, hanging tackle. The hut was quite spacious, because in winter, during fishing, a whole artel of workers was placed in it. In the summer the old man lived alone. In spite of any weather, every day he hotly heated the Russian stove and slept on the floorboards. This love of warmth was explained by the respectable age of Taras: he was about ninety years old. I say "about" because Taras himself forgot when he was born. “Even before the French,” as he explained, that is, before the French invasion of Russia in 1812.
Taking off my wet jacket and hanging my hunting armor on the wall, I began to build a fire. Sobolko hovered around me, anticipating some kind of life. A light flared up merrily, blowing up a blue plume of smoke. The rain has already passed. Broken clouds rushed across the sky, dropping occasional drops. Here and there the sky was blue. And then the sun appeared, the hot July sun, under the rays of which the wet grass seemed to smoke. The water in the lake was quiet, quiet, as it happens only after rain. There was a smell of fresh grass, sage, the resinous scent of a nearby pine forest. In general, it’s good, as soon as it can be good in such a remote forest corner. To the right, where the channel ended, the expanse of Svetloye Lake turned blue, and mountains rose beyond the jagged border. Wonderful corner! And not without reason old Taras lived here for forty years. Somewhere in the city he would not have lived even half, because in the city you cannot buy such clean air for any money, and most importantly, this calmness that embraced here. It's good on the Syme!.. A bright light is merrily burning; the hot sun begins to bake, it hurts the eyes to look at the sparkling distance of the wonderful lake. So I would sit here and, it seems, would not part with a wonderful forest freedom. The thought of the city flashes through my head like a bad dream.
While waiting for the old man, I attached a copper camping kettle of water to a long stick and hung it over the fire. The water was already beginning to boil, but the old man was still gone.
- Where would he go? I thought aloud. - Tackles are inspected in the morning, and now it's noon ... Maybe he went to see if anyone was catching fish without asking ... Sobolko, where did your master go?
The smart dog only wagged its fluffy tail, licked its lips and squealed impatiently. In appearance, Sobolko belonged to the type of so-called "fishing" dogs. Small in stature, with a sharp muzzle, erect ears and a tail bent up, he, perhaps, resembled an ordinary mongrel, with the difference that the mongrel would not have found a squirrel in the forest, would not have been able to “bark” a capercaillie, track down a deer - in a word, a real hunting dog, man's best friend. It is necessary to see such a dog in the forest in order to fully appreciate all its advantages.
When this "man's best friend" squealed with joy, I realized that he saw the owner. Indeed, in the channel, a fishing boat appeared as a black dot, skirting the island. That was Taras... He swam, standing on his feet, and deftly worked with one oar - real fishermen all swim like that on their one-tree boats, called “gas chambers” for good reason. When he swam closer, I noticed, to my surprise, a swan swimming in front of the boat.
- Go home, you bastard! - grumbled the old man, urging the beautifully swimming bird. "Go, go... I'll give you one - God knows where to go... Go home, reveler!"
The swan beautifully swam up to the sim, went ashore, shook himself and, waddling heavily on his crooked black legs, headed for the hut.
Old Taras was tall, with a thick gray beard and stern, large gray eyes. He walked barefoot and without a hat all summer. It is remarkable that all his teeth were intact and the hair on his head was preserved. His tanned, broad face was furrowed with deep wrinkles. In hot weather, he walked in one shirt made of peasant blue canvas.
— Hello, Taras!
— Hello, barin!
- Where does God come from?
“But he swam after the Foster, after the swan ... Everything here was spinning in the canal, and then suddenly he disappeared ... Well, I’m after him now. Went to the lake - no; swam through the backwaters - no; and he swims behind the island.
- Where did you get it, the swan?
- And God sent, yes! .. Here the hunters from the masters ran into; well, they shot the swan with the swan, but this one remained. Crawled into the reeds and sits. He doesn’t know how to fly, so he hid like a child. Of course, I set nets near the reeds, and I caught him. One will disappear, the hawk will be eaten, because there is still no real meaning in it. He remained an orphan. So I brought it and keep it. And he, too, got used to it ... Now, soon it will be a month, how we live together. In the morning at dawn it will rise, swim in the canal, feed, and then go home. Knows when I get up and waits to be fed. A smart bird, in a word, knows its own order.
The old man spoke unusually lovingly, as if talking about a close person. The swan hobbled to the very hut and, obviously, was waiting for some kind of handout.
“He will fly away from you, grandfather ...” I remarked.
Why would he fly? And it’s good here: full, water all around ...
— And in winter?
- He will spend the winter with me in the hut. Enough space, and Sobolko and I have more fun. Once a hunter wandered into my saima, saw a swan and said the same way: “It will fly away if you don’t cut its wings.” But how can you mutilate a bird of God? Let her live as the Lord indicated to her ... One thing was indicated to a man, and another to a bird ... I don’t understand why the gentlemen shot the swans. After all, they won’t eat, and so, for mischief ...
The swan understood the old man's words exactly and looked at him with his intelligent eyes.
- And how is he with Sobolok? I asked.
“At first I was afraid, but then I got used to it. Now the swan takes another piece from Sobolko. The dog will growl at him, and his swan will growl with his wing. It's funny to look at them from the side. And then they will go for a walk together: a swan on the water, and Sobolko along the shore. The dog tried to swim after him, well, but the craft is not right: he almost drowned. And as the swan swims away, Sobolko is looking for him. He sits on the bank and howls ... They say, I'm bored, the dog, without you, my dear friend. So here we are, the three of us.
I loved the old man very much. He spoke very well and knew a lot. There are such good, smart old people. Many summer nights have been spent on sim, and every time you learn something new. Taras used to be a hunter and knew places around fifty miles away, knew every custom of a forest bird and a forest animal; but now he could not go far and knew one of his fish. It is easier to swim in a boat than to walk with a gun through the forest, and especially through the mountains. Now Taras had a gun only for old times' sake, just in case a wolf ran in. In winter, the wolves looked at the saima and had long been sharpening their teeth on Sobolok. Only Sobolko was cunning and did not give in to the wolves.
I stayed on sim for the whole day. In the evening we went fishing and set up nets for the night. Svetloe Lake is good, and it is not for nothing that it is called Svetly Lake - the water in it is completely transparent, so that you sail in a boat and see the whole bottom at a depth of several sazhens. You can see colorful pebbles, and yellow river sand, and algae, you can see how the fish walks in a “fleece”, that is, a herd. There are hundreds of such mountain lakes in the Urals, and all of them are distinguished by their extraordinary beauty. Svetloye Lake differed from others in that it adjoined the mountains only on one side, and on the other it went “to the steppe”, where blessed Bashkiria began. The most free places lay around Svetloye Lake, and a brisk mountain river came out of it, spilling over the steppe for a whole thousand miles. The lake was up to twenty miles long, and about nine miles wide. The depth reached fifteen sazhens in some places... A group of wooded islands gave it a special beauty. One such island moved away to the very middle of the lake and was called Goloday, because, having got on it in bad weather, the fishermen more than once went hungry for several days.
Taras had lived on Svetloye for forty years. Once he had his own family and home, and now he lived as a bean. The children died, his wife also died, and Taras remained hopelessly on Svetloye for whole years.
- Aren't you bored, grandpa? I asked as we were returning from fishing. - It's terribly lonely in the forest ...
— One? The master will say the same ... I live here as a prince. I have everything ... And every bird, and fish, and grass. Of course, they do not know how to speak, but I understand everything. The heart rejoices another time to look at God's creature... Everyone has his own order and his own mind. Do you think the fish swims in the water in vain or the bird flies through the forest? No, they care no less than ours ... Avon, look, the swan is waiting for us with Sobolko. Ah, the prosecutor!
The old man was terribly pleased with his Foster, and in the end all conversations came down to him.
“A proud, real royal bird,” he explained. - Beckon him with food and don’t let him, another time he won’t go. It also has its own character, even though it's a bird... With Sobolok, he also holds himself very proudly. Just a little, now with a wing, or even with a nose. It is known that the dog will want to misbehave another time, he strives to catch his tail with his teeth, and the swan in his face ... This is also not a toy to grab by the tail.
I spent the night and in the morning the next day I was going to leave.
“Come back in the fall,” the old man says in parting. “Then we’ll shoot fish with spears… Well, we’ll shoot hazel grouses, too.” Autumn hazel grouse is fat.
“Okay, grandpa, I’ll come sometime.
When I was leaving, the old man brought me back:
“Look, sir, how the swan played with Sobolok ...
Indeed, it was worth admiring the original painting. The swan stood with wings spread, and Sobolko attacked him with a screech and bark. The clever bird stretched out its neck and hissed at the dog, as geese do. Old Taras laughed heartily at this scene like a child.
The next time I got to Svetloye Lake was in late autumn, when the first snow fell. The forest was still good. Somewhere on the birches still remained yellow leaf. The spruce and pines seemed greener than in summer. Dry autumn grass peeked out from under the snow like a yellow brush. Dead silence reigned all around, as if nature, weary of summer's vigorous work, was now resting. The bright lake seemed larger, because there was no coastal greenery. The clear water darkened, and a heavy autumn wave beat noisily against the shore...
Taras's hut stood in the same place, but seemed taller, because the tall grass surrounding it had disappeared. The same Sobolko jumped out to meet me. Now he recognized me and wagged his tail affectionately from a distance. Taras was at home. He repaired a net for winter fishing.
- Hello, old man! ..
— Hello, barin!
- Well, how are you?
- Yes, nothing ... In the autumn, by the first snow, I fell ill a little. My legs hurt... By bad weather, it always happens to me.
The old man really looked tired. He seemed now so decrepit and pathetic. However, this happened, as it turned out, not at all from the disease. We talked over tea, and the old man told his grief.
Do you remember, sir, the swan?
- Adopted?
- He is the best ... Ah, the bird was good! .. But again Sobolko and I were left alone ... Yes, the Foster was gone.
Did the hunters kill you?
- No, he left on his own ... That's how insulting it is to me, sir! He swims on the lake - I call him, he swims up. Learned bird. And I'm quite used to it... yes! On the migration, a flock of swans descended to Svetloye Lake. Well, they rest, feed, swim, and I admire. Let the bird of God gather with strength: it’s not a close place to fly ... Well, and then sin came out. At first, my Foster kept away from other swans: he would swim up to them, and back. They cackle in their own way, call him, and he goes home ... Say, I have my own house. So they had it for three days. All, then, are talking in their own way, in a bird's way. Well, and then, I see, my Adoptive yearned ... It's all the same how a person yearns. It will go ashore, stand on one leg and start screaming. Why, how plaintively it screams ... It will make me sad, and Sobolko, the fool, howls like a wolf. It is known, a free bird, the blood has affected ...
The old man paused and sighed heavily.
- Well, what about it, grandfather?
- Oh, and don't ask... I locked him in a hut for the whole day, and then he pestered him. He will stand on one foot at the very door and stand until you drive him out of his place. Only now he won’t say in human language: “Let me go, grandfathers, to my comrades. They will fly to the warm side, but what am I going to do with you here in the winter? Oh, you think the challenge! Let it go - it will fly away after the herd and disappear ...
- Why will it disappear?
- But how? .. They grew up in freedom. They, the young ones, were taught by their father and mother to fly. How do you think they are? The swans will grow up, the father and mother will first take them to the water, and then they will begin to teach them to fly. Gradually they teach: more and more. I have seen with my own eyes how young people are taught to fly. First, they teach alone, then in small flocks, and then they crowd into one big herd. It looks like a soldier being drilled ... Well, my Foster grew up alone and, honestly, did not fly anywhere. Floats on the lake - that's all crafts. Where can he fly? It will be exhausted, fall behind the herd and disappear ... Unaccustomed to a long flight.
The old man fell silent again.
“But I had to let go,” he said sadly. - All the same, I think if I keep him for the winter, he will get bored and wither away. The bird is so special. Well, he released it. My Foster stuck to the herd, swam with him for a day, and in the evening he returned home. So two days sailed. Also, although a bird, it’s hard to part with your home. It was he who swam to say goodbye, master ... For the last time he sailed from the shore that way for twenty fathoms, stopped and how, my brother, you will shout in your own way. They say: "Thank you for the bread, for the salt! .." Only I saw him. Sobolko and I were left alone again. At first, we were both very sad. I’ll ask him: “Sobolko, where is our Foster?” And Sobolko howl now ... So, he regrets. And now to the shore, and now to look for a dear friend ... I kept dreaming at night that the Fledgling was rinsing around the shore and flapping his wings. I'll go out - there's no one ...
Here's what happened, sir.
Fairy tale Adopted - amazing story about the friendship of a man with a swan. It will leave a bright mark on the soul of a reader of any age. Be sure to read the story online and discuss it with your child.
Fairy tale Adopted read
After the death of his wife and children, the old man settled in an abandoned fishing hut on the shore of the lake and fed on the gifts of nature, living in harmony with the outside world. The closest creature to him was the dog Sobolko. On the lake, Taras picked up a chick of a pair of swans, which were shot by hunters. The helpless chick became attached to the old man and became friends with Sobolok. Taras admired his pets, rejoiced at their friendship. As an adult, the swan swam all over the lake. He considered the fishing hut his home and always returned to Taras. At the end of summer, a flock of swans appeared on the lake. The birds were gaining strength before a long flight. The adoptee was interested in the swans. Gradually he became friends with them. Taras was worried about the future of the pet. He understood that the swan is a proud and freedom-loving bird, he will definitely reach out to his relatives and want to return to the wild. Taras has repeatedly watched how swans teach their chicks to fly, and young swans, under the guidance of their parents, become strong birds. The adoptee was not ready for long-distance flights and severe trials. The hunters, seeing the old man's affection for the adopted child, advised him to trim the bird's wing a little. Then she will not be able to fly far and will stay for the winter with Taras. But the hand of the old man did not rise to disfigure the handsome swan. He also understood something else: if the bird did not fly away with the swans, the bird would die alone and die. The old man reasoned wisely: if the adoptee wants to follow the swan flock, let him try his luck. Taras's favorite sailed to the hut for two days. By his behavior, he seemed to express gratitude, asked for forgiveness for his choice and said goodbye to his friends. You can read the story online on our website.
Analysis of the fairy tale Priemysh
A touching story, so little like a fairy tale, gives a lot moral lessons readers. What does the fairy tale Priemysh teach? The author condemns the cruelty of people who killed swans for fun. The heartlessness of the hunters is contrasted with the kindness and humanism of the old man Taras, who tamed the orphan swan. The image of the old man is the embodiment of mercy, compassion, love and careful attitude man to nature. It is these qualities that the fairy tale of the humanist writer teaches young and big readers.
Moral of the fairy tale Priemysh
Man is the most perfect creation of nature, so taking care of it should become an integral part of his life. To the main idea fairy tales Priemysh has become close to every child, it is recommended for joint reading with children.
Proverbs, sayings and expressions of a fairy tale
- To live near the river - not to be hungry.
- Man's relation to nature is an indicator of his greatness.
- Love for nature is the measure of the human soul.
