Yuri Dmitriev - Green and Yellow: A Tale. Dmitriev, Ordinary miracles, The mystery of birches Yuri Dmitriev ordinary miracles dusty trees read

Audio story by Yuri Dmitriev "Ordinary Miracles", The Secret of Birches. "... We met trees, as if planted by someone. And for the umpteenth time. Now three, then four, then five, and even six and seven in a row. And all at the sides of the roads, at the same distance each from a friend... the mystery of the birches...
One winter I found myself in a forest. It was the end of January. The snow swirled. And in order to shorten the path... I had to go straight through the forest... I was walking... and suddenly I noticed footprints. Someone recently walked along this path: large, deep footprints of a person have not yet had time to cover up the snow. I followed these tracks. The wind twisted more and more, bringing them right before my eyes ... Together with the snow, the wind swept some black dots into the tracks. And all around the snow was dotted with the same black dots. Yes, these are birch seeds! In summer, green "sausages" hang on birch trees. By autumn they ripen. In winter, the wind breaks these "sausages", and they crumble into thousands of tiny "airplanes". It was these "airplane" seeds that dotted all the snow ... Here the wind came up again. He raked the snow, and with it the birch seeds, and threw it into the holes. Into the very pits that remained from the traces of the person who passed ahead of me. The riddle was solved. That's where ... birch trees growing in a row, at the same distance from each other, appear on the roadsides. The wind sweeps the seeds into the traces of the past person, then covers them with snow. Spring will come, the snow will melt, some of the seeds will be carried away by spring waters, some will remain in the same place ... And in a year, where a person once walked, in the place of his tracks, tiny birch trees will appear ... "

Once the artist came to the forest, looked around and was surprised: this forest seemed very familiar to him, although he was here for the first time - the artist remembered exactly. And suddenly he realized: this forest is similar to the one he once painted. But there is no lumberjack. And as soon as the artist thought so, he went out into the clearing little man with a big beard.

Well, - he said, smiling cheerfully, - at last we met. Welcome!

The artist stood a little bewildered and did not know what to say. After all, old forest men are only in fairy tales and in such pictures as his picture of the forest. But here is a real woodsman standing in front of him!

And don't be surprised, - said the forester, guessing what the artist was thinking, - we, the old foresters, exist only for those who love fairy tales. Do you love fairy tales?
- I love.
- That's why I went to you. After all, I don’t show myself to everyone, but only to those who believe that I am an old forest man. And for those who do not believe, there is no need to show up.
- Well, what are you doing in the forest?
- Here are those on! - the old man was surprised. - Yes, I have a lot of trouble! And you need to look after the animals, and the plants. And someone needs help, and fix something. But there are few things to do! There is almost no free time.
Why do you have free time?
- And what about me without free time? Here are some in free time go to the cinema, others read, others go to the circus. There are people who pick mushrooms or berries in their free time. And I have something to read: in the footsteps I learn all sorts of interesting stories. And I love to collect. Only not mushrooms and berries, but fairy tales and interesting stories. - Then the woodsman dived into the bushes and returned with a large basket. - That's where I collected all sorts of interesting stories! The artist looked into the basket, but saw nothing - the basket was empty.
- It's empty for you, - said the woodman. - But for me, it is filled to the brim with all sorts of stories. Yes, and this basket itself is made of willow.
- So what? - the artist did not understand. - What is special here?
- Okay, - the forest man smiled, - you will have to tell one story.

One day I was sitting under a tree, on the edge of a clearing, and I saw a man come out into the clearing. Of course, I was not surprised - well, how many people walk in the forest? And then another person came out. So what - nothing special. And when the third one appeared, I wasn't surprised either. They greeted each other and talked. And now, you know what it's like. One of them turns out to be a pharmacist. He needs the bark of a tree from which medicines are made for people. This is good, I approve of this, medicines must be done - people must be healthy. The other person is also looking for the tree. The bark of this tree is needed for leather processing. Boots and gloves, belts and jackets are made from such leather. The third spoke. It turns out that he is a beekeeper, he came to see if there are many honey trees in the forest ... And then I guessed - they all need the same trees. And you!

And this willow, - the forester pointed to a tree with flexible branches, - appeared in our area not so long ago - only two hundred years ago. She appeared thanks to the basket. Do not just think that it was brought in a basket. Some fruits were brought from Asia in the basket. The fruits were eaten and the basket thrown away. And in the place where they threw the basket, rose unusual trees. People could not believe that they had grown from the bars of a basket. After all, the rods were almost completely dry! And here you go! Trees have grown out of them! And then it was already easier - the wind broke off a branch, it fell to the ground, a new tree appeared. The bird carried a branch to the nest, but lost it. And where she lost, a tree appeared. But the main thing, of course, is this. The woodsman opened his palm, and the artist saw tiny seeds, and each seed had long white hairs.

These hairs keep the seeds in the air. And they fly. Well, not by themselves, of course, the wind carries them. Where a seed falls, a tree will grow. This is how trees fly. More precisely - future trees.
- Favorable wind to them, - said the artist.
- That's right, - the woodman nodded. - Well, now you believe that this basket is not simple, but magical?
“Of course, since it can sprout anywhere…”

Yuri Dmitriev

Travel for a lifetime

Somehow a very beautiful book fell into my hands. I looked at pictures and photos for a long time. What was depicted on some - I realized that on others - no. And I couldn’t read the book, or at least the captions under the photographs: the book was on English language which I don't know. I thought the book was interesting, but what is it about? And only with the help of my friend, who speaks English, I managed to find out its content.

I remember this incident every time I see people in a forest or near a pond, in a meadow or at the edge of the forest, looking around in surprise and a little embarrassed. They like everything here, but at the same time everything is incomprehensible, as if they are looking at pictures in a book written in a language they do not know. If only you could read it! But there is still much around these people who do not see at all, do not notice. And I always feel a little sorry for these people, a little sorry for them. And I always want to help them. Help to understand how amazing and beautiful world in front of them, where every tree, every butterfly, every bird is a miracle. I want people, leaving the city, to know where to look and what to see. And most importantly - I believe in it! - understanding what wonderful world surrounds them, people will begin to treat him even more carefully, to the same frogs and lizards, dragonflies and beetles, which they do not pay attention to, which they destroy without hesitation, but without which neither the forest, nor the meadow, nor the lake can live, no field.

Nature must be protected - no one doubts this. This is a global issue, it is solved on a national and even global scale. But it needs to be solved locally as well - each of us not only can, but also must contribute to this matter. In order to protect nature, one must know what exactly to protect: nature in general is a rather vague concept. We cannot protect all nature at once - we can take care of it, help its individual representatives. At the same time, it is necessary to firmly remember: in nature everything is interconnected, there are no strangers in it, there is no main and secondary. The disappearance of a single, seemingly unimportant, from our point of view, animal or plant can upset the balance that has been established for centuries, can lead to very sad consequences.

People in this respect, unfortunately, already have a lot of experience.

That's all I wanted to say before I go with you, readers, on the road.

Six-legged and eight-legged

First butterflies

In summer, on every bush, on every tree, on any clearing or lawn, there are thousands, tens of thousands of insects. They run and jump, crawl and fly. There are so many of them that you get used to them and no longer pay attention.

Spring is a different matter. In the spring, any blade of grass and leaf, anything creature pleasing to the eye. Even flies. Those most annoying and unloved flies. On a warm spring day, they sit on the wall of the house or on the fence and bask in the sun. Here is a large, dark blue, with numerous bristles on the abdomen - Greenland, or early spring fly. And next to it - with a gray checkered pattern on the abdomen - there is also a large fly - a gray spring one. Here are our rooms. Well, if you rejoice at the first flies in spring, then what can we say about butterflies!

It seems to me that there is no such person on earth who would not smile at the sight of the first butterfly.

The trees are still almost bare, there is little grass, even more flowers. And suddenly - a butterfly. And what a! It will sit down, spread its wings, and as if four bright iridescent eyes will look at you. This is the name of this butterfly - the daytime peacock eye. The eye is clear, but why the peacock? Probably because the eyes on the wings of butterflies resemble the multi-colored spots on the tail of a peacock.

And here's another - brown chocolate. This is urticaria. Of course, it does not look like a nettle, but is named so because its caterpillars (like the caterpillars of the daytime peacock's eye) live on nettles. The urticaria flew away, another butterfly appeared - light, with bright spots in the upper corners of the front wings. Well, hello, dawn! And over there, another one flies, also a dawn. But that one has no bright spots, it is almost all white. So many butterflies: males are brightly colored, and females are more modest.

You will definitely find butterflies, or rather, you will see them on a warm spring day. If not hives and not dawn, then lemongrass (the male of this butterfly is bright yellow, lemon-colored) is a must.

In spring, another butterfly is found - with dark velvet wings and white stripes along the edges. This is an antiope, or a mourner. It flies in spring, summer, and even autumn. But in summer and autumn, mourning women fly with yellow stripes along the edges of the wings. White only in spring butterflies. More precisely, those that fly in the spring appear almost earlier than other insects. But are they spring?

How many times is an insect born?

A strange question at first glance - how many times? Probably, like any animal, it is born once, because, like any animal, it has one life. Of course, this is correct, and yet ...

When I started to be interested in insects, I really wanted to see a beetle or a baby butterfly. After all, there are puppies in dogs and chicks in birds. Why can't a beetle have some kind of beetle or beetle? But I did not manage to find an insect - a cub. Sometimes, however, I found a beetle or a butterfly that was smaller than other insects of the same species. But this did not mean at all that the big ones were already adults, and the small ones were still “children”. Just among insects, as among all animals, some are larger, others are smaller. But both of them are adult insects. Because adults are born. "And when do they grow?" I thought. And for some reason I could not connect a crawling caterpillar with a flying butterfly, it never occurred to me that a fast-running beetle and a legless larva are one and the same insect, only at different stages of development.

But the caterpillar or larva is not yet the most initial stage of the life of an insect. After all, the caterpillar itself or the larva is born from the testicle.

The testicles of insects are very small and bear little resemblance to those eggs that we consider "real", that is, bird eggs. Enough in a bird's egg nutrients so that the embryo develops in it and is born, albeit naked and helpless (and in some even pubescent and completely independent), but already looking like a bird. Insect eggs contain very few nutrients, and the embryo cannot develop in them. It develops outside the egg.

The life of any insect consists of two periods - "childish" and "adult". In "childhood" the insect grows and develops, and in adulthood it settles and takes care of the offspring, that is, it lays new testicles.

Open large volume"Man and Animals". Start reading. And you will learn how primitive people lived and hunted, how they worshiped animals and made sacrifices to them. You will also learn how people cursed, accused of all kinds of sins and judged animals...

Reading this book is an exciting experience. And you will not be bored, because the author is a wonderful naturalist writer Yuri Dmitriev (1926-1989). Together with him it is easy to remember how and when the science of animals arose, who were the first zoologists.

It is difficult to tell about all the books written by Yuri Dmitriev. Impressive volumes and books no thicker than notebooks, bright dust jackets of encyclopedias and modest paper bindings... More than seventy books! And also - photo albums, scientific and artistic books and novels, collections of stories and fairy tales, magazines and newspapers with articles by the writer. Most of these nature books...

“I noticed a long time ago,” Yuri Dmitriev admitted, “we almost never pay attention to what is next to us, and we think that something interesting, unusual is somewhere out there, far, far away.”

Everything that the writer tells about, at first glance, is familiar, ordinary. But the author's attentive gaze notices such trifles, without which it is impossible to imagine the familiar landscape. Here, a black ground beetle rustles with dry last year's leaves, or a bee that has fallen into a puddle is buzzing, trying to get out, or a white dandelion sways in the wind and crumbles, and seeds fly over green grasses ... As they say, amazing near, you just have to look.

Let's open the "Big Book of the Forest" and get acquainted with the miracle tree - birch. She, for example, has the only white bark of all the trees in the world. And this bark, reflecting the sun's rays, even on the hottest day, remains cool! Our assistants, besides the author, of course, will be an artist and an old woodman.

Stories about the life of the forest are one more interesting than the other! And the natural calendar has its own barometers and clocks, compasses and riddles. Many people will really like those pages of the book, where it is written about “why we say so ...”. For example, why do we use the expressions “peel like sticky”, “spreading cranberries”, “Lisa Patrikeevna”?

According to the writer, he really wanted to "help people understand what an amazing and beautiful world is in front of us, where every tree, every butterfly, every bird is a miracle ..."

The illustrated encyclopedia "Neighbors on the Planet" is a real decoration of any "golden" shelf. The publication is bright, festive... This guide can be read from beginning to end, or you can use the alphabetical index to find the pages you need. It would be nice to have books on our shelf: Ordinary Miracles, Path in the Forest, Solstice, Cunning and Invisibles, Petal Dance ...

At the beginning of his literary activity, Dmitriev created action-packed stories, for example, the collection "Password:" Let him live! you read like good detective, so many unexpected adventures fall to the lot of conservationists. Subsequently, the writer abandoned fairy-tale and adventure stories. He tried to objectively present the scientific experience of the past and the present. Moreover, he managed to preserve the atmosphere of a miracle, because the reader does not forget for a moment that his interlocutor is a talented artist, in love with nature and the science of nature, who knows how to present a scientific problem in such a way that it becomes understandable even to the uninitiated. The writer's excited story brings the reader closer to nature, delights him with the "ingenuity" of plants and insects, birds and animals.

As a child, Yuri Dmitriev's reference book was Brem's Animal Life. The boy dreamed that when he grew up, he would definitely write something like that. After graduating from school, Yuri went to the front, after the war he studied at Moscow University and began working at school as a teacher of Russian language and literature, then he became seriously interested in documentary prose and devoted himself entirely to artistic creativity.

Like Brem, the writer managed to create the five-volume Neighbors on the Planet. It contains the latest scientific data about animals. While working on the next volume, Yuri Dmitrievich thoroughly studied research in the field of biology, physics, and mathematics. Thus, the factual material was melted down into reliable and fascinating scientific and artistic prose. Gerald Durrell wrote the preface to Dmitriev's "beautiful and amazing" book. The multi-volume "Neighbors on the Planet" was awarded the International European Prize.

Hope it comes true cherished dream children's writer Yuri Dmitriev, and cheerful birds and butterflies, trees and flowers, everything good and beautiful will live on the earth, and we will try to help them live.

Yuri Dmitriev

UGLY?

The first time we met was in the forest. She was sitting on the path - big, overweight - and breathing heavily.

Of course, I had seen toads before, but somehow I didn’t have to look at them - there was no time, I was always in a hurry somewhere. And that day I was in no hurry and, squatting down, began to examine the toad.

She didn't try to run away. Maybe she understood that she still wouldn’t be able to escape, or maybe she felt that I wouldn’t do anything bad to her. But anyway - she sat on the path and looked at me. And I looked at the toad and remembered a lot of fables that tell about these animals. Once someone explained to me that all sorts of fables about toads are told because they are very ugly, even ugly. But now, looking at the toad sitting in front of me, I realized that this was not true, that it was not so ugly. Maybe at first glance the toad really does not seem beautiful, but is it worth judging at first glance?

And as if in order for me to be convinced that I was right, there was a new meeting with a toad.

Now this meeting took place not in the forest, but in the far part of our yard. We called this part of the yard the garden, because several old lindens and poplars grew there, and lilac bushes grew thickly along the fence. Over there, in this garden, by a big, rotten stump, I met the toad again. Of course, it was a different toad, but for some reason I wanted it to be the same one that I saw in the forest. So that she somehow got into the yard of our old house, fell in love with it, as we boys loved this yard, and stayed here to live.

No, of course it was a different toad. But, probably, she really liked our yard, if she settled in it.

I began to visit the old stump often and sometimes I met a toad there. On hot days, she quietly sat in a small hole or thick grass, hiding from the hot rays and waiting for dusk, but on cloudy days I met her quite far from the old stump.

From that day on, every morning at the same hour I came to the old stump and found my toad in the same place. She seemed to be waiting for me.

But one day I was late for a date and did not find a toad at the usual place. I walked around the stump - it was nowhere to be found. Fumbled in the grass - no. And suddenly he saw a dark shapeless ball, already covered with flies.

Who did it?

Someone took and killed my toad just because it is ugly?!

Ugly ... And I saw before me her amazing, golden eyes with dark dots, a large toothless mouth, giving her some kind of very kind expression, delicate skin on her abdomen, touching front paws that seemed so helpless, and it seemed to me that she was very beautiful.

Why, why don't others see it?

Why do people so often see what is not, and do not notice what is?!

FOXYK AND BADSUCH

Foxik - a four-month-old wire-haired fox terrier - followed me into the forest. I tried to drive him away, shamed him, even scolded him, it had no effect on him - tilting his forehead, he stubbornly followed me, however, keeping at a respectful distance. Apparently, he really wanted to go with me into the forest. In the end, I waved my hand and stopped paying attention to him. Foxy was just what he needed. Feeling that I could no longer be feared, he rushed forward with a cheerful bark and disappeared into the bushes.

I walked along the road, and from time to time Foxik made itself felt by barking, which was heard from the left, then from the right.

Suddenly, Fox fell silent. A few minutes passed and I heard his voice again. But this time the dog's voice sounded somehow unusual, and I immediately understood: the dog was calling me.

On a tiny clearing, densely surrounded on all sides by bushes, stood Foxik. And against him, literally nose to nose, is a young badger. I immediately guessed: Foxik saw a badger for the first time in his life, was surprised and decided, apparently, that this mysterious creature would also interest me.

Seeing me, Foxik barked even louder. And in his voice there were formidable notes. Still would! Now I was there, and Foxik felt powerful and invincible.

The badger still stood motionless.

And Fox was barking, urging me to action. But I did something else: I leaned against a tree and waited. The dog was silent for a few seconds, and when he barked again, I caught a note of surprise in his voice. “Well, you,” he seemed to say, “why are you in no hurry?”

Every minute he was surprised more and more insistently called me to do something. But I still didn't move. Then Fox began to reproach me, then to ask, and, finally, plaintive notes appeared in his voice. Without turning his head, he looked askance at me, and there was everything in his look - both bewilderment, and reproach, and even fear. Yes, Fox was scared. He was afraid that I would never intervene and that he would either have to stand toe to toe with this all his life. terrible beast, or shamefully run, substituting your back. And how it all might end - who knows?

Finally, Foxik began to squeal so plaintively that I could not stand it, went up to him, took him by the collar and dragged him aside. The badger did not immediately understand what had happened. And when he realized - quickly turned around and rushed into the bushes.

All the way back, Foxy ran next to me, either squealing in surprise, or looking inquisitively into my face, as if asking me to explain my today's behavior.

But I didn't explain anything. When Foxik grows up, becomes an adult and smart dog, he himself will understand that if you already come across someone nose to nose, you must first of all rely on yourself.

MYSTERIOUS NIGHT GUEST

In summer, our old house was surrounded by greenery. As soon as the window was opened, lilac branches burst into the room, and even bright sunny days green twilight reigned in the apartment: the rays could not break through the dense thickets wild grapes, braiding the walls of the house, closing the windows.

In winter, the yard was covered with snow, and we walked from door to gate along a narrow path, which had to be cleared almost every day. And it was hard to believe that our house is in Moscow, that a few steps away from it - you just have to turn the corner - a wide avenue is noisy, cars and trolleybuses, buses and trams are rushing. And there was silence in the house. Amazing, sometimes even incredible. Especially at night.

That was the silence that night.

I sat at the table and read. The room was warm, the light of the lamp fell softly on the book, the clock ticked comfortably. The fact that there was a snowstorm outside, I could only judge by the noise of the wind, which from time to time threw handfuls of snow at the window, and by the creak of an old willow. Suddenly, among these sounds, I caught a new one: someone carefully knocked on the window. Then the knocking stopped, but soon repeated again. It was already very late - who could knock? A new gust of wind drowned out all sounds, and when it became quieter, a light tapping on the glass was heard again.

Several minutes passed, and it began to seem to me that someone was trying to open the window - in any case, trying to put some kind of thin tool into the slot. I quickly turned off the light and pulled back the curtain. But there was no one behind the frozen glass. After waiting a little and making sure that no one else was knocking and trying to open the window, he lowered the curtain and lit the lamp. And then a knock was heard again, then someone again brought in at the window. But this time, the invisible man acted somehow quietly and uncertainly. Then something scratched the glass, and there was silence - even the wind stopped. I turned off the lamp again, pulled back the curtain. The blizzard really subsided, the sky cleared up, and peaceful snowdrifts sparkled in the bluish light of the moon.

The knock didn't happen again.

In the morning I left the house and, bogged down almost to my knees, began to make my way to the window: I wanted to see if the mysterious night visitor had left any traces. No, there was not a single speck on the snow, not a single dent. Only on the lintel of the window lay a stiff titmouse, half-covered with snow.

Here it is, the mysterious night guest! Freezing, the titmouse knocked on the window, perhaps the only illuminated window in the whole house, asked for help. And what did it cost me to open the window?! But I didn't realize...

The next night I could not sleep for a long time: it seemed to me that a light knock on the glass was about to be heard, or someone would begin to fiddle at the window. I waited a long time. And suddenly...

I quickly dressed and went out into the yard. it was a frosty, cloudless night, and I could clearly see the window of my room. But I didn't see the bird. And the broken vine of wild grapes, which was ruffled by the wind, tapped on the glass.

Returning to the room, I closed the window and sat down at the table. But for some reason it became very cold in the room. Did the room have time to cool down because of the open window for a few minutes? I went to the warm stove and gradually began to warm up. In any case, I have ceased to shiver. But somewhere inside, probably somewhere under the heart, it was still cold. And I knew: no stove would help this.

I tried to console myself with the fact that I was not to blame for the death of the bird: how could I guess who and why was knocking on the window? However, the cold did not pass.

Yes, of course, I am not to blame for the death of the bird. But is that the point? It is necessary, after all, it is necessary, probably, to open the vents, windows, doors on demand, on the first knock: maybe someone needs your help!

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW

In winter, in the forest, if there is no well-trodden path or a well-trodden road, you are not especially like it. Except on skis. Most people love to ski through the woods. Especially if there is already a good, knurled track. I also love skiing. But it is much more interesting for me to go to the forest to read the “white book”.

After a snowfall, the snow in the forest does not remain untouched for long - very little time will pass, and here and there the cones that have fallen from the fir trees will turn black, the fallen needles will darken, knots and branches broken by the wind will appear. But most of all there will be traces. Every hour there are more and more of them - as if animals and birds are in a hurry to sign in the "white book" of winter. Sometimes you can immediately read on the trail, who was here, what he did.

Here, for example, there is a trace from a tree - it starts right from the trunk, crosses a clearing and disappears at another tree. Clearly, someone climbed down from the tree, ran across the clearing and climbed another tree. But who? Well, let's figure it out. However, it is not particularly necessary to understand here - there are long oval prints in the front, and small round prints a little behind. Only a squirrel can leave such traces - it runs on the ground not like all animals: it throws its hind legs forward, leans on them, and supports its body with its front legs so as not to push its muzzle into the snow. But it does not rest on the feet-palms, but entirely on the bent leg. Therefore, a long oval trail is obtained from the rear. And with her front legs, she rests only on her feet-palms. Therefore, the print is small.

The trace of a squirrel cannot be confused with other traces. But why did she have to climb down from the tree? Usually squirrels descend to the ground reluctantly. Apparently, in a hurry somewhere. Or there was too much snow on the branches - jumping is inconvenient. Okay, that's her squirrel business.

Mouse tracks are also easy to recognize - an elegant beaded chain. Some have a chain - and that's it. It was tailless voles running. And in some, for example, in a forest or house mouse, from time to time a dash is visible next to the chain - a trace from the tail. I once walked along such a trail, walked just like that, not at all expecting that after a few steps I would find out a very curious story.

I wanted to find out where this mouse is running, what made it crawl out into the snow. After all, small forest rodents most spend time under the snow. It's warm, not dangerous, and there's plenty of food - roots, plant seeds, and other mouse treats. In winter, children often appear in minks in mice. And caring parents they are transported to "dachas" - it is too warm and stuffy in the minks, and the parent mice arrange their nests right on the ground under the snow. So it is unlikely that mice crawl out into the snow in winter without special need. But I didn’t manage to find out why this one needed to get out from under the snow.

At first, the traces of the mouse went in an even chain, as expected. But now the chain is no longer so smooth. What happened? I looked around and saw other tracks - much larger. Ermine traces - thunderstorms of mice. The ermine appeared from the side and ran across the mouse. This means that the mouse noticed the danger and ran with all its might. But, of course, she can’t get away from the ermine. I was sure that right now I would take a few steps and read in the snow about an ordinary forest tragedy ... But the denouement turned out to be completely unexpected. Here is what I read in the snow.

The ermine has almost caught up with the mouse - it has nowhere to go. But then a piece of pipe appeared in its path. In the summer there were some construction works, and a piece of pipe about a meter long, apparently, was abandoned or forgotten. The pipe was covered with snow from above, the wind swept snow inside. It was into this tube that the mouse, distraught with fear, rushed. Ermine, of course, rushed after her. He jumped through the pipe with lightning speed and, probably, was about to grab the mouse, when he suddenly discovered that not only the mouse, but also its traces were not in the snow. Right behind the pipe was completely pure snow. Ermine stopped in bewilderment - where did the mouse go? Then he rushed to one side, returned, rushed to the other. No, the mouse literally disappeared without a trace. He again returned to the pipe, ran around it, looked inside - the mouse was nowhere to be found. The stoat made several more attempts to find the so unexpectedly, mysteriously and incomprehensibly disappeared mouse and galloped away.

He was, apparently, very offended: after all, the prey went out from under his nose in the very literally the words!

But really, where did the mouse go?

Having jumped out of the pipe, the mouse did not run further, but, having contrived, jumped onto the pipe and froze. And she sat on the pipe without moving all the time while the ermine ran around. She sat so quietly that, probably, she was even afraid to breathe: after all, as soon as she moved a little, the ermine would first hear her, and then see her. It cost him nothing to jump on the pipe. But the ermine did not hear, did not see, and did not feel the mouse. And the mouse did not dare to leave its saving shelter for a long time - the snow on the pipe was all trampled by its paws.

At last the mouse ventured down. And again stretched an even chain of small footprints. But now they're led in reverse side. Apparently, the ermine scared the mouse so much that she either forgot where she was running, or decided to postpone her business for another day.

Literature

1. Dmitriev Yu. Who lives in the forest and what grows in the forest. Drawings by G. Nikolsky and N. Molokanova // http://kid-book-museum.livejournal.com/796661.html

2. Ivanov A. When a dream comes true // Young naturalist. - 1986. - No. 1.

3. Pleshakov A. A contract for life // Pioneer. - 1982. - No. 1.