Yuri Dmitriev read ordinary wonders of dusty trees. The best stories and fairy tales about nature and animals. Footprints in the snow

Open the 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, the amazing is nearby, you just need to look closely.

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 a good detective, so many unexpected adventures fall to the lot of environmentalists. 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.

I would like to hope that the cherished dream of the children's writer Yuri Dmitriev will come true, and cheerful birds and butterflies, trees and flowers, everything good and beautiful will live on 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 this?

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 nose to nose with this terrible beast all his life, or run shamefully, turning his 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 on bright sunny days, green twilight reigned in the apartment: the rays could not break through the dense thickets of wild grapes that braided the walls of the house that closed 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 was in Moscow, that a few steps away from it - you just need to turn the corner - a wide avenue was noisy, cars and trolleybuses, buses and trams were 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 spend most of their 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 transport them 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, some construction work was going on nearby, 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 upset: after all, the prey went out from under his nose in the truest sense of the word!

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 were moving in the opposite direction. 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.

Where Mushonok spent the night

Mushonok was born early in the morning and immediately began to fly over the clearing. He did not know his mother, he had never seen her. She wasn't worried about her son at all, but that's how it is with flies. After all, mushats immediately become almost adults. As soon as mushats are born, they can fly.

Mushonok flew over the clearing and rejoiced in everything. And the fact that he can fly. And that the sun shines brightly. And the fact that there are many flowers in the meadow. And in each flower - sweet juice, eat as much as you want!

Mushonok flew, flew and did not notice how the clouds came running. He was cold and very scared. What should Mushonka do? But then a good butterfly appeared.

- Hey, Mushonok! Why are you sitting? the butterfly called. - Now it will rain, your wings will get wet, and you will definitely disappear!

“Yes, I will definitely disappear,” said Mushonok, and tears poured from his eyes by themselves.

- Don't you want to disappear?

“I don’t want to disappear,” Mushonok said, and began to cry for real.

"Then follow me!" the butterfly called.

Mushonok immediately stopped crying and flew after the butterfly. And the butterfly was already sitting on a blue flower that looked like a hut.

- Follow me! - shouted the butterfly and climbed into the flower.

Mushonka climbed after her. And immediately he felt warm.

Mushonok cheered up and began to look around. But I did not see anyone - it was very dark in the hut.

And only he heard - someone is moving nearby. So, not only he and the butterfly were in this hut. Mushonok wanted to ask who else was there, but he didn’t have time: something hit the hut hard from the outside. Once, then another. Then more and more. At first slowly, like this: knock ... knock ... knock ... And then faster and faster, like this: knock-knock-knock-knock-knock... Mushonok didn’t know that it was rain pounding on the roof of the blue hut : drip-drip-drip. And in the hut you can hear: knock-knock-knock...

Mushonok did not notice how he fell asleep. And in the morning I woke up and was very surprised: everything around me became very blue - this sun shone through the thin walls of the hut. Mushonok got out of the hut and flew over the clearing.

And again he flew all day cheerfully and carefree. And when it began to get dark, I decided to look for my hut.

But in the clearing there were many plants with the same, blue, hut-like flowers. They all looked alike, and Mushonok could not find his hut. And then he climbed into the first one he came across.

And it turned out just as good as yesterday. And Mushonok began to spend the night in blue huts. Now he didn’t look for “his own” - he climbed into the first one that came across. And almost always in these huts he found other flies, small butterflies, mosquitoes, bugs. Everyone was let in by a blue hut. This is such a kind flower - a bell.

Who flies without wings

Mushonok climbed out of the blue bell hut, spread his wings and was just about to take off, when he suddenly felt a strong blow to his back.

He looked around and saw a little spider.

- Why are you pushing? Mushonok asked menacingly.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” said the spider. - I flew and fell.

- Did you fly? Mushonok was surprised. — This cannot be! You don't have wings!

“And I flew without wings,” said the spider.

- Ah ah ah! - said the butterfly that got out of the hut. - Ah ah ah! So small, but already learned to deceive! Is it possible to fly without wings?

“And I flew,” the spider repeated stubbornly.

The butterfly did not answer, only moved its antennae and turned to the caterpillar sitting on the leaf.

“Tell me,” she asked the caterpillar, “can you fly?”

“No,” said the caterpillar, “I don’t have wings.

- And you? - the butterfly asked the ant running past with some kind of burden.

- I don't have wings. I do not have time. I do not have time! - the ant shouted on the move and ran away.

“You see,” the butterfly turned to the spider.

But I flew! cried the little spider, almost crying.

"Good," Mushonok said decisively. - Did you fly? Show me how...

- I wanted to live here...

- Well, you'll fly back.

- No, I won't. I can take off, but I don’t know where I will land.

— See? Mushonok said.

“He who knows how to take off, he knows how to land,” added the butterfly.

“But I don’t know how,” said the spider.

So you can't fly at all.

- Ah well! - the spider got angry, moved to a neighboring blade of grass and began to quickly climb up it.

He ran to the top, stopped, and then everyone saw a thin thread that suddenly appeared next to the spider. It was he who began to release the web.

The wind immediately picked it up, as if it wanted to pull it out, but the spider, apparently, held its thread tightly. And it got longer and longer. Now the spider had difficulty holding it. A little more, and now ... and now everyone who was sitting on the bell saw how the wind tore out the cobweb. But where is the spider? It's not on the grass...

Mushonok could not stand it and rushed after the cobweb. And I saw: a spider sits on a cobweb, firmly holding on to it with its legs.

Mushonok wanted to catch up with the spider, to tell him that they now believe him. But he could not - higher and higher, farther and farther the wind carried the cobweb. And with her, like a balloon, a spider flew.

Mushonok returned to the clearing, but the spider did not.

The wind carried him to another clearing, where he, probably, remained to live. Unless, of course, no one demanded that he once again show how he can fly.

And other spiders flew to this clearing. But no one asked them how they fly without wings.

How Mushonok chose his legs

In fact, Mushonok never thought about whether his legs were good or bad. Legs are like legs. Quite appropriate. But one day he flew up to a large puddle, which was on the edge of the clearing and never dried up. Mushonok calmly sat down on a blade of grass that grew near the shore of the puddle and looked around: butterflies and other flies were flying around. Mushonok looked at the water and saw a water strider. He saw and almost fell off the blade of grass - he was so surprised. Indeed, there was something to be surprised at: the water strider ran through the water, as if it were not water, but solid earth!

"This is miracles!" Mushonok thought and flew up to the very water. And then he was even more surprised: the water strider did not run on the water, but skated, skated like on skates!

Push off - and slide, push off again - and slide again. And a leaf or a stick will meet on the way - it will jump over them and roll again. And how well she did it!

Looked, looked Mushonok - and could not stand it.

- Hey, water strider! he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Please teach me how to ride on the water like that!”

The water strider pushed off once, pushed off again - and now it is already at the very edge of the puddle.

“I can’t teach you to run on water, because for this you need to have special legs,” and she got up a little and showed Mushonka her long, needle-thin leg.

And Mushonok saw that it was not a simple foot, but a foot on which was put on a shoe made of thin thick hairs smeared with fat.

“You can ride on the water in such shoes,” said the water strider, “but you don’t have such shoes ...

“No,” Mushonok agreed, “but where can I get them?”

- Nowhere! - answered the water strider. You have to be born with legs like that!

Mushonok did not answer, only sighed: he realized that he would never ride on the water like a water strider.

And suddenly there was a loud splash. Mushonok looked at the water: the water striders and the trace caught a cold - at the other end of the puddle he rides. And from the water, a pop-eyed monster looks at Mushonka. At first Mushonok was so frightened that he did not even understand who was looking at him from the water. But when the monster spoke, Mushonok recognized the swimming beetle.

“Does the water strider have legs?” he boomed. “Only they can run on water. And try to swim with such legs! No, real legs - that's what! He turned and showed Mushonka his hind legs, strong and flat. You won't get lost with those legs! - shouted the swimmer and earned them like oars.

- Are those legs? Mushonok heard a mocking voice above his head. Those are oars, not legs. Legs should be like this! - the big dragonfly, which was saying this, fluttering its wings very quickly, hung over Mushonka in the air.

And Mushonok saw her legs covered with long stiff hairs. The dragonfly held them in such a way that it seemed that a large net was hanging under her chest.

- Why are they like that? Mushonok asked.

- And in order to make it easier to catch all sorts of flies and mosquitoes in the air.

- Ouch! Mushonok squeaked and pressed himself to the ground.

And so he sat until the dragonfly flew away. And when the dragonfly flew away, Mushonok again climbed onto the blade of grass and began to look around. He saw a grasshopper.

- Listen, grasshopper! Mushonok shouted. - Do you have good legs?

— Excellent! exclaimed the grasshopper. - Once! - and the grasshopper jumped into the grass and immediately disappeared. -Two! - and the grasshopper jumped over the blade of grass on which Mushonok was sitting, - Try to catch me! his voice came from the grass.

- You won't catch it! Mushonok said admiringly.

And then Mushonok asked the ground beetle what kind of legs it had. And the ground beetle said they were the best. They are long and hardy. On them, she can run after caterpillars, slugs at least all night.

And then Mushonok asked the bee. And the bee said that she had the best legs - there are special pockets on her legs where you can put flower pollen and bring it to the hive.

Sad Mushonok. And how can you not be sad here: everyone has such wonderful legs, and he has the most ordinary ones, and there is nothing interesting in them.

Mushonok climbed into the bell, huddled in the farthest corner and fell asleep with grief. And he dreamed that he had long and thin legs in hairy shoes, like a water strider. Mushonok rushes on these legs through the water - it takes your breath away! Mushonok rode, rode, and he wanted to eat. And on the water there are no flowers he needs, no blades of grass. Mushonok wanted to get out onto the shore, but it didn’t happen: it’s good to ride on the water on such legs, but you can’t get out on the shore.

And suddenly he saw a dragonfly.

“Darling dragonfly, help me!” I will die of hunger!

- Take my legs! But not for long!

Mushonok flew over the clearing, and soon a small mosquito got entangled at his feet.

“Oh, Mushonok,” the mosquito squeaked, “let me go, please, why do you need me?”

“And I don't need you. I don't eat mosquitoes! No, those legs don't suit me!

Again Mushonok is on the water and won't get out on the shore. He got really bad. Maybe he would have died of hunger, but woke up in time.

He got out of the hut, spread his wings, looked at his legs and began to run through the grass and flowers.

On one flower he met a familiar butterfly.

“Do you know what I understood? Mushonok exclaimed happily. — I realized that my legs are the best! Is not it?

Butterfly didn't answer. She believed that the best legs are with her, with a butterfly.

Dispute on the old oak

In the clearing, almost in the middle, grew a large old oak tree. It was so strong and so beautiful that not a single bird could fly past and not even sit on its branches for at least a minute. And the wind - he did not part with the oak at all and all the time quietly played with its leaves. And butterflies loved to sit on the warm oak bark, and lizards climbed onto thick roots protruding from the ground to bask in the sun.

Mushonok also often visited this oak. Here one could talk and learn forest news from the beetles.

They also liked to sit on the oak and drink the sweet juice that sometimes showed through the cracks in the bark.

But one day Mushonok saw that the beetles do not drink juice, do not talk, but argue. It is not known who was the first to start a dispute, but the beetles screamed almost throughout the clearing. And everyone who was nearby ran, crawled, flew in to see what was happening on the oak.

And this is what happened: the beetles sat opposite each other and boasted.

At that moment, when Mushonok flew up to the oak, the rhinoceros beetle screamed loudest of all. He turned his fat head with a big horn first in one direction, then in the other, and repeated the same thing:

Who else has a horn? Who else has a horn? Who else has a horn?

No one had horns, and everyone was silent. And the rhinoceros hummed everything

louder and louder. He probably would have been hoarse from his buzz, but then one beetle landed next to him.

“I was late,” he said, folding his wings, “and therefore I could not answer your question in time. I have a horn. And even two horns! - and he proudly moved his huge horns with many outgrowths. - I am a stag beetle, the most beautiful and noble beetle in the forest! he continued. - I have two horns. Who else has two horns?

Nobody answered him, because it’s true - in the forest not a single beetle had such horns anymore.

“And I have a proboscis,” the elephant bug squeaked softly and moved its long, and really proboscis-like nose.

- Just think, - buzzed the cockchafer, - proboscis, horns!

- So how is it - think about it ?! - both the stag beetle and the rhinoceros beetle immediately attacked him.

But I do have an air bag. Here!

- Show me! the beetles demanded.

— Ha-ha! Show me! the Maybug laughed. “You are used to showing off and showing off your horns. I have a bag inside. Now I will pump air into it - look!

And he began to move his belly, as if he really pumped air into it. And then the cockchafer raised its hard elytra, spread its thin wings and flew. And now all the beetles understood why this heavy and clumsy cockchafer flies so dexterously and easily - after all, the air that he pumped into his bag helps him a lot.

The beetle flew several times around the tree and settled on the bark again.

- Well, what do you say now?

And the stag beetle, and the elephant, and the rhinoceros beetle were silent. And only the bronze beetle crawled closer, carefully examined the May beetle and chuckled.

- What are you doing? - the cockchafer was surprised. “Maybe you have an air bag too?”

- There is no air bag. But there is something else. Now you will see! Saying this, he suddenly took off.

From surprise, the beetles even moved back a little, and then everyone, as if on cue, moved their mustaches in surprise. Indeed, none of them could do it.

Do not fly, no. They all knew how to fly. But before flying, each of them had to prepare for the flight - raise the elytra, then spread the wings. And the bronze beetle once - and took off. And when the bronze beetle landed again on the oak trunk, all the beetles surrounded it. And the bronzovka proudly turned to the beetles with one side, then the other, showing cutouts in the elytra.

Yes, no one had such cutouts - only the bronze one. And thanks to these cutouts, the beetle could take off immediately, without any preparation, without raising the elytra. The beetles discussed each other's virtues for a long time.

And a dung beetle sat aside from everyone and was silent. He was silent, because he had nothing to show off - he had no horns, no cutouts in the elytra, no air sacs. He sat, sat, listened, listened, and quietly flew away from the oak.

He flew over the clearing, flew over the paths.

It flies and buzzes. The dung beetle buzzes sadly. But when he heard his buzzing, all the forest dwellers were delighted: the weather will be fine! If the dung beetle hides in a mink - expect bad weather.

The dung beetle has no horns, no proboscis, no air sac, but it turns out to be the most interesting beetle: it predicts the weather!

Mushonok found out about this and thought how interesting it is to live in the forest: there are so many new and amazing things on every blade of grass, under every bush, under every tree.

So Mushonok lives in the forest. He has already become big, but he never ceases to be amazed at the wonders of the forest.

Current page: 1 (total book has 12 pages)

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. But I couldn't read the book or at least the captions under the photographs: the book was in English, 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. To help them understand what an amazing and beautiful world is 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! - having understood what a wonderful world surrounds them, people will begin to treat it 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 no forest can live, no meadow, no lake, 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 addressed locally as well – each of us not only can, but must contribute to this matter. In order to protect nature, you need to 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 spring, any blade of grass and leaf, any living creature is 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. So this butterfly is called - 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 is the other one - 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. There are enough nutrients in a bird's egg for the embryo to develop in it and be 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 offspring, that is, it lays new testicles.

The eggs hatch into larvae. Very often, these "kids" are unlike adults in anything: an adult insect lives for months at best, and a larva can live for years, a larva almost always eats a lot, and an adult insect, as a rule, eats little or not at all. And outwardly, the larvae are often unlike adult insects. No matter how much the larvae of flies and butterflies, beetles and mosquitoes grow, they will never “grow up” to become like their parents. To become "adults", they have one more "life" - the life of a chrysalis. And only then will a beetle or butterfly appear (immediately already an adult!) From this motionless chrysalis.

It is very difficult to see the birth of a beetle - most of the larvae live in a tree trunk, under the bark, in the ground. And you can find a butterfly chrysalis. You can even find out which butterfly will hatch from it - night or day. If the chrysalis is in a cobweb, a night butterfly will appear from it, if without any “clothes”, a day butterfly will hatch from this chrysalis. True, it is impossible to know when the butterfly will appear. But if you're lucky...

The doll hangs motionless. And suddenly she moved. Once, twice… At first slowly and weakly, then it starts to move and bend faster and faster. And so… For the first minute, it is not even clear what happened, and only after looking closely, you understand: the skin of the chrysalis has burst. All from top to bottom. And in the gap that has formed, something very bright is already visible. Yes, those are butterfly wings! They emerge from a widened gap. Then the head, abdomen is shown ... That's it! Butterfly is born! True, at this moment she does not really look like a real one: her wings hang like wet rags, and she herself is somehow sluggish. But the butterfly has already been born, already exists and firmly holds on to a twig or blade of grass with its legs.

You can safely leave for an hour from the "newborn" - it will not go anywhere. But when you come again, you will not recognize the butterfly: the wings have dried up and straightened, there is not a trace of the recent lethargy. The butterfly is already ready to fly, but it wants to fly into the big world in all its glory and carefully “washes itself”, preens itself. Suddenly she flapped her wings - and already on a flower. It is hard to believe that quite recently this butterfly was “packed” in a dry skin, which now, torn, lies on the ground or hangs on a bough.

Now the butterfly will fly from flower to flower, and when the time comes, it will lay eggs, then caterpillars will appear from the eggs. Tiny, barely visible to the eye. They will start growing fast. Then they turn into pupae. Butterflies will appear from the pupae, lay eggs ... And everything will start all over again.

A butterfly, before becoming a butterfly, goes through three stages of development, as if it is born three times. "Thrice-born" can be called insects with complete transformation. There are insects with incomplete transformation: they go through only two stages of development before becoming adults.

Each stage of development in butterflies lasts for several weeks. When do spring butterflies manage to pass these “steps”? Maybe some of the pupae overwinter, and as soon as it gets warm, the first urticaria and lemongrass, mourning and dawns appear from the pupae? For a long time I thought so. Until I suddenly found out that our spring butterflies are not spring ones at all, but autumn ones!

Butterfly in the snow

I don’t remember exactly what month it was - either in December or January, but I only remember that there were severe frosts and deep snow lay. I was in a hurry to get home, and suddenly something made me stop. At the first minute, when I saw a bright spot on the white snow, I did not even realize what was the matter. And how could I think that there is a butterfly in front of me?! But it was she - bright, motionless, clearly visible on the white snow.

I was amazed and didn't know what to think about it. Now I know that a butterfly in the snow is a phenomenon, if not frequent, then not so unusual. And I know where they come from in winter.

Some butterflies, such as mourning and lemongrass, urticaria and dawns, admirals and peacock eyes, survive until the cold. At night, they clog into hollows, under the bark, and only when the stingy autumn sun warms them up, they appear for a short time. But the sun appears less and less, the sundial becomes shorter, and one day the day comes when the butterflies no longer leave their shelters. Those who fell asleep under the bark of trees, in crevices, hollows, will sleep until spring. But with those who climbed into the attics, huddled there in the cracks under the very roof, troubles can happen: during the thaw or if the sun warms the roof harder, the butterfly can wake up. However, this heat is deceptive - after all, heat is only under a heated roof. But the butterfly does not know this - it rushes into the street. She still has enough strength to fly to the dormer window, and then ...

Sometimes it happens differently: an insect destroys what it saves for the time being - a chimney. A butterfly settled down for the winter at the chimney - it’s good for her there: it’s warm, cozy. In autumn, people still only lightly heat the stove, and the chimney heats up a little. But then the frosts hit, they began to heat the stove for real, the pipe got very hot, and then the butterfly woke up. And of course, she did not understand, did not realize that it was not the sun's rays that woke her up. She crawled up the chimney, spread her wings, saw the attic window and flew out into it. And of course, she immediately fell, stiff, perhaps without even noticing that it was not green grass on the ground and not green foliage on the trees, but everything around was covered with cold white snow. But that doesn't happen often. Most find suitable places and winter safely. And in the first warm days they wake up, and we see them, we consider them spring. In fact, these are late, autumn, wintering butterflies.

Of course, not all species overwinter here - about 1.5 percent. 25 percent hibernate as pupae and 70 percent as caterpillars. But there are butterflies that spend their winter time in a completely unusual way.

How do butterflies winter

The overwintered mourner is easily recognizable by the white border on the wings. In fact, their borders are yellow, but during the winter they fade, turn white. A little later - at the beginning of summer - you can see burdocks or admirals, too, with rather faded, as if faded, shabby, even as if a little shabby wings. Where did they lose their usual beauty?

It turns out that the butterflies have lost their luster on the road. On a very long journey - after all, they flew from another part of the world!

More recently, people could not even imagine that insects, and butterflies in particular, make thousands of kilometers of intercontinental flights. And at the same time, oddly enough, people have known about this for a very long time. Locusts move in huge flocks and for long distances, many cases of ladybugs flying over considerable distances are known, and they fly for wintering every year, also making long journeys. In the last 300 years alone, more than 50 flights of dragonflies over very long distances have been recorded (over relatively short distances - several hundred kilometers - they fly much more often).

But perhaps most of all chronicles and old books mentioned mass flights of butterflies, which horrified people who considered such an unusual phenomenon a harbinger of misfortune and misfortune.

The first mention of butterfly flights in Europe that has come down to us dates back to 1100. The first message about the flights of butterflies in the Western Hemisphere belongs to Columbus - approaching Cuba, he saw huge flocks of butterflies, from which the sky darkened.

People have been studying butterfly flights for 30–40 years and have already found out something. For example, which species fly more often than others. It turned out that of our butterflies the most courageous travelers are: burdock, cabbage, admirals, jaundices and some types of hawks (of course, not all of these butterflies fly away, some remain, and it is also not clear why this happens). Scoops-gammas also travel. But if burdocks, for example, make their flights regularly every year, then for some reason, gamma scoops only once every few years. It is now known to people that thistles, cabbages, jaundices fly in flocks, and often huge ones, while admirals prefer to travel alone and only before flying over the mountains gather in small flocks. By the way, about the mountains. Now, more or less accurately, the paths along which butterflies fly have been clarified. It turned out that they fly on the same routes year after year, without deviating from the course, even if there are safer routes. Butterflies often fly along rivers. But if the rivers disappear for some reason, the butterflies continue to fly along the former channel.

These are only a very small part of the questions that have already been answered. Many others have yet to be answered. And most importantly, there is no answer to the two main ones: firstly, how do butterflies fly, and secondly, how do they find their way?

You and I can easily be convinced - this does not require special powers of observation - that butterflies are slow-moving insects. In any case, daytime. They fly slowly - at a speed of 7-14 kilometers per hour. (If the wind is fair, they can fly 30–35 kilometers per hour, but this is far from always the case.) In a second, a butterfly makes 5–6, at most 9 flaps of its wings. So, per hour - 18-20 thousand strokes. During this time, it will fly, as we know, 7-14 kilometers. How many strokes does it take to fly from Europe to Africa? Million? Tens or hundreds of millions? What strength should the wings themselves be, what strength should be the “hinges” on which these wings are reinforced?!

But that is not all. Butterflies do not differ in special strength, they do not stand out with strength even among insects. But go ahead, they fly through the seas and mountains, not stopping to rest. (Where can you rest on the high seas? It’s good if you meet a steamer, otherwise they fly without rest!) What strength is needed for this! And after all, they do not replenish their “fuel” reserves on the way, that is, they do not eat anything. Let's say they spend the stocks accumulated earlier. But what should these reserves be? In any case, according to the most conservative estimates, for such a journey, the reserves of "fuel" should be equal in weight to the weight of the entire butterfly. And they are only a small part of it.

What heavy-duty material are her wings made of? Where does she get such strength from? What allows her to fly using a minimum of "fuel"? What is the power of her muscles, her "motor"? All this remains unanswered.

There are no answers to many questions related to the orientation of butterflies. How do butterflies find their way? By the sun? Using some kind of rays, landmarks or signals unknown to people? It's hard to say, but it's possible. Yes, and how to prevent, if the fact is obvious! And at the same time, one must also take into account: butterflies fly only once and in one direction. Arriving, for example, from Africa to Europe, they manage to lay eggs and die. The young butterflies that have appeared live for some time in Europe, then go on a journey. Arriving in Africa, these butterflies lay eggs and die. And the new generation... And so on. So the fact that the "old" butterflies somehow or somehow help the young ones is out of the question. There are many more issues related to orientation and navigation. For example, how do butterflies determine speed, how do they measure their strength in relation to the wind? Well, if the wind is fair. And if oncoming or lateral? After all, he can take aside, force to deviate from the course. Birds are much stronger than butterflies, but with a strong head or side wind, many of them do not fly at all. For butterflies, any is strong. So they have some kind of device that allows you to register the strength of the wind and make the appropriate corrections?

Everything can be. It may be something we can't even imagine. And who is able to predict what will give people the discovery of the mystery of the flights of butterflies. What amazing devices or devices will they create thanks to butterflies?!

That is why stations for the study of butterfly flights are now organized in many countries. And again questions, again problems. For example, how to mark butterflies? The principle that was used to study the flight of birds, ringing, does not fit here. After a long search, scientists decided to apply red, yellow, green, blue stripes and spots with indelible paint on the wings of butterflies. And a scientist who has caught such a butterfly somewhere already knows: butterflies are marked with green paint in Germany, and red - in Switzerland, light blue - in the GDR, and yellow - in Austria. To make the designation even more accurate, in addition to color, scientists agreed on the shape and number of colored stripes and dots.

People expect a lot from the study of insects in general and their flights and flights in particular.

And every time I see hives or burdock with slightly faded wings in spring or early summer, I look at them with special attention. I even have some respect. After all, they are the keepers of amazing secrets, brave travelers who, very possibly, have flown thousands or tens of thousands of kilometers!

Spring trumpeters

Butterflies and flies, of course, are not the only insects that appear in our early spring. From the first sunny days, shaggy, as if dressed in warm fur coats, bumblebees begin to work. They slowly and carefully examine each flower: after all, the time for insects is still hungry - there are few flowering plants. However, even later, when enough flowers appear, the bumblebees will still work seriously and thoroughly.

And these, spring ones, not only fly from flower to flower - from time to time they crawl into a mink abandoned by someone, climb into hollows or crevices of trees and stay there for quite a long time: carefully and slowly examine the place for the future nest.

Spring bumblebees, or rather bumblebees, are homeless and lonely. In bumblebees, only females hibernate. Moreover, they hibernate not in the nest, but huddled in some crack. In the spring, they find a suitable place, lay their eggs and care for the larvae. The young bumblebees that have emerged from the larvae immediately begin to work and will work tirelessly "hands" all summer. In autumn, both working bumblebees, and the old female, and young males will die. And the young females will stay for the winter! In the spring, they will slowly begin to look for a place for a new family. And everything will be repeated from the beginning.

But it will be later. In the meantime, shaggy bumblebees, humming in a bass voice, fly from flower to flower. Bumblebees "buzz" not only in flight. Take a closer look at a sitting bumblebee carefully and listen. Just do it in cool weather. Yes, it is in the cool, when almost all insects freeze. And bumblebees fly. They fly - buzz, sit down - continue to buzz. The fact is that when the bumblebee stops moving, working with its wings, it begins to cool down, its body temperature drops. It will take off - the pectoral muscles will begin to work, and the body temperature rises again. But it’s impossible to fly all the time, and you don’t want to freeze either. And then the bumblebee begins to contract the pectoral muscles without moving the wings. And the work of the pectoral muscles warms the bumblebee. And so much so that even on cool days, even high in the mountains or far in the north, he manages to keep his body temperature up to 40 degrees, raising it by 20-30 degrees compared to the ambient temperature!

Once I heard a story that the “duty” bumblebee, waking up before everyone else, “trumpets”, wakes up the others, calling to go to work. Indeed, such "trumpeters" exist. But they don't want to wake anyone. They just froze and, working hard with their wings, they warm themselves. Awakened bumblebees also begin to buzz - to warm themselves, and at the same time to warm the nest. They easily succeed: thanks to the “ability” to warm up their body, they raise the temperature in the nest to 30–35 degrees.

I often think about all this when watching bumblebees. But often, looking at these businesslike and amusingly clumsy insects at first glance, I recall the story of the German school teacher Konrad Sprengel, who lived two hundred and fifty years ago. One day, while observing insects visiting flowers, he saw a "horned wasp". On the head of this wasp were two tubercles, very similar to horns. But they appeared after the wasp flew out of the flower. It took Sprengel a lot of strength, time, patience to solve the riddle of the "horned wasp". And having solved it, he made a discovery: plants are pollinated by insects. The tubercles turned out to be clumps of pollen stuck to the head of a wasp on a single flower. But they didn’t stick forever - they will “stick off” on the other. Bees, collecting nectar on flowers, are constantly showered with pollen. They transfer it themselves from flower to flower, of course, without thinking or suspecting it. Carry pollen and bumblebees, and butterflies, and flies ... Sprengel made a great discovery. But he deserved only ridicule, amassed huge troubles. The book in which he described his observations was not recognized by anyone. Many years passed before scientists realized that Sprengel was right.

Now everyone knows about insects - pollinators of plants. And those who want to see it with their own eyes can watch the bees, and even, if you're lucky, see a horned bumblebee. True, for this you need to be patient and set yourself up in advance for the fact that today and tomorrow observations may not give results. I sometimes had to be on duty for several days, but in the end I always saw a horned bumblebee. However, for this, first of all, you need to find a white love.

White love is also called white violet by many. But Lyubka belongs to the orchid family. In all orchids, pollen is collected in sticky lumps and hidden in the depths of the flower. When a bumblebee or wasp climbs inside the flower, pollen clumps stick to the head of the insect, and it becomes "horned". Very funny horned bumblebee. To see such a bumblebee, it is worth spending time.

Without bumblebees and without other insects, many plants could not live. True, the pollen of some is carried by the wind, but most plants are pollinated by insects. And one very famous and very necessary plant in order to give seeds, that is, to continue its kind, only bumblebees are needed, and no one else. The plant is clover.

Once there was a legend about how the god was angry with the clover and forbade the bees to pollinate it. The bees did not dare to disobey God, and the clover would have had a bad time if it were not for the brave bumblebees. Bumblebees were not afraid of threats and still flew to the clover for nectar, and at the same time pollinated it. The bees felt offended, and during the flowering of clover they risked violating the ban. But God was stubborn, and the efforts of the bees did not lead to anything: the clover pollinated by bees did not give seeds.

We now know that the first clover flowers have very deep calyxes, and bees do not have long enough proboscises. The second clover flowers are smaller, bees visit them and pollinate them at the same time. But the second flowers do not have time to give seeds. Bumblebees, on the other hand, have long proboscises, and they perfectly “serve” the first clover flowers.

People have long figured out what's what, and have almost forgotten this legend. But she suddenly came to life and even received a very curious continuation.

When Europeans began settling in Australia, they brought clover seeds with them. In Australia, clover was born beautifully, but did not give seeds. No matter how hard the colonists fought, the clover "strike". It was then that people remembered the legend of the "sinful" clover and the brave bumblebees. But where are they, these brave insects? It turned out that they are not found in Australia. And without bumblebees, clover did not want to, could not grow as it should, that is, give seeds. Then bumblebees were urgently delivered from Europe, and everything went as it should.

If you see a bumblebee in a field, in a meadow, in a forest, watch it. This is obviously a field bumblebee. In addition, garden and red-backed bumblebees are the most common among us. But this does not mean at all that the gardener lives only in gardens, and the field one lives in the field. And the garden can be in the forest, and the field in the garden. And everywhere they do good and necessary work.

Can you tell me about green and yellow? - Alenka asked when we sat down to rest near a large maple tree.
- I'll tell you, Alenka. Just put your hands up to the sun first.
It's already autumn. But the sun is still bright. Alenka put her hands under the rays breaking through the crown.
- Is it bright?
- Brightly.
- Hot?
- Not.
“Now come here, sit down and listen.” In a certain kingdom, in a certain state ...
- In the forest, - Alenka strictly guides me.

Well, well, a tree grew in the forest. It was the most ordinary tree, and therefore, waking up one early spring morning, it felt hungry. Do you know, Alenka, that trees cannot live without food? In winter, they sleep, and they do not need food. But as soon as they wake up, they immediately want to eat. So is this tree. Trees have roots. They are very caring - the tree is hungry, and they immediately serve him food. And this tree received food: juices ran from the roots along the trunk to the branches. The tree rejoiced, straightened the knots, branches, smiled at the sun, and the buds began to swell at the tree. Then the kidneys burst, and small sticky leaves appeared. Pretty, soft green. The tree was very happy with these leaves. And here's why: every day he needed more food - new branches grew, and it became more and more difficult for the roots to feed the tree. And in the leaves of the tree live cooks - tiny green lumps, scientists call them chlorophyll. These lumpy cooks prepare food for the tree. Roots extract food and water from the earth. All this is delivered to the leaves and gets to the cooks. With the help of the sun (what real food is prepared without fire!) They prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner for the tree.

This is how the tree lived. And everyone was happy. Birds built nests in its branches, a squirrel made its home in a hollow, the wind played with its leaves. But most of all, the tree itself was pretty: it became beautiful, elegant - the cooks fed it well, and the good sun warmed it without getting tired.

But then one day the sun did not come out from behind the clouds. It had happened before too, but it was still warm. And then it suddenly got cold. Every day the sun shone less and less. But even when it shone, its rays were no longer the same. Yes, and the wind, cheerful and playful before, now for some reason became angry and cold. And it became very difficult for the roots to get moisture. And without moisture and heat, the cooks could not cook food for the tree. The cooks had nothing else to do, and they disappeared. The leaf turned yellow, because in addition to the green boils - chlorophyll, there were other "tenants" in the leaf. They are yellow. While the green cooks lived in the leaf, they were not visible. And the cooks left - the sheet immediately turned yellow. That's all. It remains only to say that winter has come, and the tree was going to sleep. In a dream, he does not need food.
Alyonka was silent for a long time, looking first at the tree, then at me.
Then she got up and held out her two little pink hands to the sun.
“Nothing,” she said, addressing either me or the tree, “it will be summer again.” There will be green leaves again!

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, a little man with a big beard came out into the clearing.

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, some go to the cinema in their free time, 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 the basket was thrown, unusual trees grew. 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…”