Sladkov stories about animals bear hill. Sladkov

Seeing an animal unafraid, going about its household chores, is a rare success. I had to.

I was looking for mountain turkeys in the mountains - snowcocks. I climbed in vain until noon. Snowcocks are the most sensitive birds of the mountains. And you have to climb steep slopes right next to the glaciers to get them.

Tired. I sat down to rest.

Silence - my ears are ringing. Flies are buzzing in the sun. There are mountains, mountains and mountains all around. Their peaks, like islands, rose from the sea of ​​clouds.

I got tired in the heat. And fell asleep. I woke up - the sun was already evening, with a golden rim. Narrow black shadows stretched down from the rocks. It became even quieter in the mountains.

Suddenly I hear: next to the hill, like a bull in a low voice: “My-oo-oo! My-u-u-u!” And claws on the stones - shark, shark! That's bull! With claws...

I look out carefully: on the ledge of the ramp there is a mother bear and two cubs. The bear just woke up. She threw her head up and yawned. He yawns and scratches his belly with his paw. And the belly is thick and furry. The cubs also woke up. Funny, big-lipped, big-headed. Loop-loop with sleepy eyes, shifting from paw to paw, swaying their plush heads. They blinked their eyes, shook their heads - and began to fight. They struggle lazily and sleepily. Reluctantly. Then they got angry and fought seriously. They groan. They resist. They grumble. And the bear has all her five fingers on her belly, then on her sides: fleas bite!..

I drooled on my finger, raised it - the wind was pulling at me. He grabbed a better gun. I'm watching.

From the ledge on which the bears were to another ledge, lower, there was still dense, unmelted snow. The cubs pushed themselves to the edge - and suddenly they rolled down through the snow to the lower ledge. The bear stopped scratching her belly, leaned over the edge, and looked. Then she called quietly: “R-r-rm-u-u!”

The cubs climbed up. But halfway up the hill they couldn’t resist and started fighting again. They grabbed hold and rolled down again. They liked it. One will climb out, lie down on his little belly, pull himself to the edge - once! - and below. There's a second one behind him. On the side, on the back, over the head. They squeal: both sweet and scary. I forgot about the gun too. Who would even think of shooting at these unheard-of people who are wiping their pants on the hill! The cubs have gotten the hang of it: they’ll grab each other and roll down together. And the bear dozed off again.

I watched the bear game for a long time. Then he crawled out from behind the stone.

The cubs saw me - they became quiet, looking with all their eyes. And then the bear noticed me. She jumped up, snorted, and reared up. I'm for the gun. We look eye to eye. Her lip is drooping and two fangs are sticking out. The fangs are wet and green from the grass.

I raised the gun to my shoulder. The bear grabbed her head with both hands and barked - down the hill, and over her head! The cubs are behind her - snow is a whirlwind! I wave my gun after me and shout:

- Ah, you old bungler, you’ll sleep!

The bear gallops along the slope so that she throws her hind legs behind her ears. The cubs are running behind, shaking their thick tails, looking around. And the withers are humped - like those of mischievous boys whose mothers wrap them in scarves in winter: the ends are under the armpits and there is a hump on the back.

The bears ran away. “Eh,” I think, “it wasn’t!” I sat down on the snow and - time! - down the well-worn bear slide. I looked around to see if anyone had seen it? – and, cheerfully, he went to the tent.

Bears are strict mothers. And bear cubs are unhearing. While they are still sucking, they run behind them and get tangled up in their legs. And when they grow up, it’s a disaster!

Bears love to take a nap in the cold. Is it fun for the cubs to listen to their sleepy snores when there are so many tempting rustles, squeaks, and songs all around!

From flower to bush, from bush to tree - and they will wander...

I once met such a fool, who ran away from his mother, in the forest.

I sat by the stream and dipped a cracker into the water. I was hungry, and the cracker was hard, so I worked on it for a very long time. So long that the forest inhabitants got tired of waiting for me to leave, and they began to crawl out of their hiding places.

Two small animals crawled out onto the stump. The mice squealed in the stones, apparently they had gotten into a fight. And suddenly a bear cub jumped out into the clearing.

The bear cub is like a bear cub: big-headed, big-lipped, awkward.

The bear cub saw a tree stump, bucked its tail, and jumped sideways towards it. Polchki - in a mink, but what a problem! The little bear remembered well what delicious things his mother treated him to at each such stump. Just have time to lick your lips.

The bear walked around the stump on the left - no one was there. I looked to the right - no one. I stuck my nose into the crack and it smelled like shelves. He climbed onto a stump and scratched the stump with his paw. Stump like a stump.

The bear was confused and became quiet. I looked around.

And all around is forest. Thick. Dark. There are rustling sounds in the forest.

There is a stone on the way. The bear cheered up: this is a familiar thing! He put his paw under a stone, rested, and pressed his shoulder. A stone gave way, and the frightened little mice squeaked under it.

The bear threw a stone with both paws under it. He hurried: the stone fell and crushed the bear’s paw. The bear howled and shook his sore paw. Then he licked it, licked it, and limped on.

He trudges along, no longer looks around: he looks at his feet.

And he sees a mushroom.

The bear became shy. I walked around the mushroom. With his eyes he sees: a mushroom, you can eat it. And with his nose he smells: a bad mushroom, you can’t eat it! And I want to eat...

The bear got angry and how he could hit the mushroom with his healthy paw! The mushroom burst. The dust from it is a fountain of yellow, acrid, right in the bear’s nose.

It was a puffing mushroom. The bear sneezed and coughed. Then he rubbed his eyes, sat on his backside and howled quietly.

And who will hear? There is forest all around. Dark. There are rustling sounds in the forest.

And suddenly - plop! Frog!

Teddy bear with the right paw - frog to the left.

The bear with its left paw is a frog to the right.

The bear took aim, rushed forward and crushed the frog under itself. He grabbed it with his paw and pulled it out from under his belly. Here he would eat the frog with gusto - his first prey. And he, the fool, just wants to play.

He fell on his back, rolled around with a frog, sniffled, squealed as if he was being tickled under the arms.

Either he will throw the frog, or he will throw it from paw to paw. He played and played, and lost his frog.

I sniffed the grass around - no frog. The bear fell on its backside, opened its mouth to scream, and was left with its mouth open: an old bear was looking at him from behind the bushes.

The little bear was very happy with his furry mother: she would caress him and find him a frog.

Whining pitifully and limping, he trotted towards her. Yes, suddenly he received such a slap on the wrist that he immediately stuck his nose into the ground.

That's how I caressed you!

The bear got angry, reared up, and barked at his mother. He barked and rolled into the grass again from the slap.

See, it's bad! He jumped up and ran into the bushes. The bear is behind him.

For a long time I heard the branches cracking and the little bear barking from his mother’s slaps.

“Look how he teaches him intelligence and caution!” - I thought.

The bears ran away without noticing me. But who knows?

There is forest all around. Thick. Dark. There are rustling sounds in the forest.

It’s better to leave quickly: I don’t have a gun.

BEAR HILL

When hunting, you see the animal through the sights of a gun. And that’s why you always see him angry or in fear.

To see an animal unafraid, going about its household chores, is a rare success.

But I had to.

I was hunting in the mountains for mountain turkeys - snowcocks. I climbed in vain until noon. Snowcocks are the most sensitive birds of the mountains. And you have to climb steep slopes to get them, right next to the glaciers.

Tired. I sat down to rest.

Silence - my ears are ringing. Flies are buzzing in the sun. There are mountains, mountains and mountains all around. Their peaks, like islands, rose from the sea of ​​clouds.

In some places, the cloud cover has moved away from the slopes, and the dark depths below the clouds are visible through the gap. Slipped into the gap sunbeam- underwater shadows and highlights swayed across the cloud forests. If a bird hits a ray of sunlight, it will sparkle like a golden fish.

I got tired in the heat. And fell asleep. I slept for a long time. I woke up - the sun was already evening, with a golden rim. Narrow black shadows stretched down from the rocks.

It became even quieter in the mountains.

Suddenly I hear, nearby, behind the hill, as if in a low voice: “Mu-u-u? Mooo!” And claws on the stones - shark, shark! That's bull! With claws...

I look out carefully: on the ledge of the stingray there is a mother bear and two cubs.

The bear just woke up. She threw her head up and yawned. He yawns and scratches his belly with his paw. And the belly is thick and furry.

The cubs also woke up. Funny: big-lipped, big-headed. Loop-loop with sleepy eyes, shifting from paw to paw, swaying their plush heads.

They blinked their eyes, shook their heads, and began to fight. They struggle lazily and sleepily. Reluctantly. Then they got angry and fought seriously.

They groan. They resist. They grumble.

And the bear with all five of her hands is on the belly, then on the sides: fleas bite...

I drooled on my finger, raised it - the wind was pulling at me. He grabbed a better gun. I'm watching.

From the ledge on which the bears were, to another ledge, lower, lay still dense, unmelted snow.

The cubs pushed themselves to the edge, and suddenly rolled down through the snow to the lower ledge.

The bear stopped scratching her belly, leaned over the edge, and looked.

Then she called quietly:

Rrrrm-oo-oo!

The cubs climbed up. But halfway up the hill they couldn’t resist and started fighting again. They grabbed hold and rolled down again.

They liked it. One will climb out, lie down on his little belly, pull himself up to the edge, and then down. Behind him is the second one. On the side, on the back, over the head. They squeal: both sweet and scary.

I forgot about the gun too. Who would even think of shooting at these unheard-of people who are wiping their pants on the hill!

The cubs have gotten the hang of it: they grab each other and roll down together.

And the bear dozed off again.

I watched the bear game for a long time. Then he crawled out from behind the stone. When the cubs saw me, they became quiet and looked at me with all their eyes.

And then the bear noticed me. She jumped up, snorted, and reared up.

I'm for the gun. We look eye to eye.

Her lip is drooping and two fangs are sticking out. The fangs are wet and green from the grass.

I raised the gun to my shoulder.

The bear grabbed her head with both paws and barked - down the hill, and over her head.

The cubs behind her are like snow in a whirlwind. I wave my gun after me and shout:

A-ah, bungler, you'll sleep!

The bear runs along the slope so that she throws her hind legs behind her ears. The cubs are running behind, shaking their thick tails, looking around. And the withers are humped, like those of mischievous boys whose mothers wrap them in scarves in winter, the ends under the arms and a hump on the back.

The bears ran away.

“Eh,” I think, “it wasn’t!”

I sat down on the snow and - time! - down the well-worn bear slide. I looked around - did anyone see it? And, cheerful, he went to the tent.

Current page: 1 (book has 1 pages in total)

Drawings by E. Charushin

INHEARING

Bears are strict mothers. And bear cubs are not hearing. While they are still sucking, they run behind them and get tangled up in their legs. And when they grow up, it’s a disaster!

Bears love to take a nap in the cold. Is it fun for the cubs to listen to their sleepy snores when there are so many tempting rustles, squeaks, and songs all around!

From flower to bush, from bush to tree - and they will wander...

I once met such a fool, who ran away from his mother, in the forest.

I sat by the stream and dipped a cracker into the water. I was hungry, and the cracker was hard, so I worked on it for a very long time. So long that the forest inhabitants got tired of waiting for me to leave, and they began to crawl out of their hiding places.

Two small animals crawled out onto the stump. Mice squealed in the stones, apparently they had gotten into a fight. And suddenly a bear cub jumped out into the clearing.

The bear cub is like a bear cub: big-headed, big-lipped, awkward.

The bear cub saw a tree stump, bucked its tail - and jumped sideways right towards it. Polchki - in a mink, but what a problem! The little bear remembered well what delicious things his mother treated him to at each such stump. Just have time to lick your lips.

The bear walked around the stump on the left - no one was there. I looked to the right - no one. I stuck my nose into the crack and it smelled like shelves. He climbed onto a stump and scratched the stump with his paw. Stump like a stump.

The bear was confused and became quiet. I looked around.

end of introductory fragment

Drawings by E. Charushin

Bears are strict mothers. And bear cubs are unhearing. While they are still sucking, they run behind them and get tangled up in their legs. And when they grow up, it’s a disaster!

Bears love to take a nap in the cold. Is it fun for the cubs to listen to their sleepy snores when there are so many tempting rustles, squeaks, and songs all around!

From flower to bush, from bush to tree - and they will wander...

I once met such a fool, who ran away from his mother, in the forest.

I sat by the stream and dipped a cracker into the water. I was hungry, and the cracker was hard, so I worked on it for a very long time. So long that the forest inhabitants got tired of waiting for me to leave, and they began to crawl out of their hiding places.

Two small animals crawled out onto the stump. The mice squealed in the stones, apparently they had gotten into a fight. And suddenly a bear cub jumped out into the clearing.

The bear cub is like a bear cub: big-headed, big-lipped, awkward.

The bear cub saw a tree stump, bucked its tail, and jumped sideways towards it. Polchki - in a mink, but what a problem! The little bear remembered well what delicious things his mother treated him to at each such stump. Just have time to lick your lips.

The bear walked around the stump on the left - no one was there. I looked to the right - no one. I stuck my nose into the crack and it smelled like shelves. He climbed onto a stump and scratched the stump with his paw. Stump like a stump.

The bear was confused and became quiet. I looked around.

And all around is forest. Thick. Dark. There are rustling sounds in the forest.

There is a stone on the way. The bear cheered up: this is a familiar thing! He put his paw under a stone, rested, and pressed his shoulder. A stone gave way, and the frightened little mice squeaked under it.

The bear threw a stone with both paws under it. He hurried: the stone fell and crushed the bear’s paw. The bear howled and shook his sore paw. Then he licked it, licked it, and limped on.

He trudges along, no longer looks around: he looks at his feet.

And he sees a mushroom.

The bear became shy. I walked around the mushroom. With his eyes he sees: a mushroom, you can eat it. And with his nose he smells: a bad mushroom, you can’t eat it! And I want to eat...

The bear got angry and how he could hit the mushroom with his healthy paw! The mushroom burst. The dust from it is a fountain of yellow, acrid, right in the bear’s nose.

It was a puffing mushroom. The bear sneezed and coughed. Then he rubbed his eyes, sat on his backside and howled quietly.

And who will hear? There is forest all around. Dark. There are rustling sounds in the forest.

And suddenly - plop! Frog!

Teddy bear with the right paw - frog to the left.

The bear with its left paw is a frog to the right.

The bear took aim, rushed forward and crushed the frog under itself. He grabbed it with his paw and pulled it out from under his belly. Here he would eat the frog with gusto - his first prey. And he, the fool, just wants to play.

He fell on his back, rolled around with a frog, sniffled, squealed as if he was being tickled under the arms.

Either he will throw the frog, or he will throw it from paw to paw. He played and played, and lost his frog.

I sniffed the grass around - no frog. The bear fell on its backside, opened its mouth to scream, and was left with its mouth open: an old bear was looking at him from behind the bushes.

The little bear was very happy with his furry mother: she would caress him and find him a frog.

Whining pitifully and limping, he trotted towards her. Yes, suddenly he received such a slap on the wrist that he immediately stuck his nose into the ground.

That's how I caressed you!

The bear got angry, reared up, and barked at his mother. He barked and rolled into the grass again from the slap.

See, it's bad! He jumped up and ran into the bushes. The bear is behind him.

For a long time I heard the branches cracking and the little bear barking from his mother’s slaps.

“Look how he teaches him intelligence and caution!” - I thought.

The bears ran away without noticing me. But who knows?

There is forest all around. Thick. Dark. There are rustling sounds in the forest.

It’s better to leave quickly: I don’t have a gun.

BEAR HILL

When hunting, you see the animal through the sights of a gun. And that’s why you always see him angry or in fear.

To see an animal unafraid, going about its household chores, is a rare success.

But I had to.

I was hunting in the mountains for mountain turkeys - snowcocks. I climbed in vain until noon. Snowcocks are the most sensitive birds of the mountains. And you have to climb steep slopes to get them, right next to the glaciers.

Tired. I sat down to rest.

Silence - my ears are ringing. Flies are buzzing in the sun. There are mountains, mountains and mountains all around. Their peaks, like islands, rose from the sea of ​​clouds.

In some places, the cloud cover has moved away from the slopes, and the dark depths below the clouds are visible through the gap. A ray of sunlight slipped into the opening - underwater shadows and highlights swayed across the cloud forests. If a bird hits a ray of sunlight, it will sparkle like a golden fish.

I got tired in the heat. And fell asleep. I slept for a long time. I woke up - the sun was already evening, with a golden rim. Narrow black shadows stretched down from the rocks.

It became even quieter in the mountains.

Suddenly I hear, nearby, behind the hill, as if in a low voice: “Mu-u-u? Mooo!” And claws on the stones - shark, shark! That's bull! With claws...

I look out carefully: on the ledge of the stingray there is a mother bear and two cubs.

The bear just woke up. She threw her head up and yawned. He yawns and scratches his belly with his paw. And the belly is thick and furry.

The cubs also woke up. Funny: big-lipped, big-headed. Loop-loop with sleepy eyes, shifting from paw to paw, swaying their plush heads.

They blinked their eyes, shook their heads, and began to fight. They struggle lazily and sleepily. Reluctantly. Then they got angry and fought seriously.

They groan. They resist. They grumble.

And the bear with all five of her hands is on the belly, then on the sides: fleas bite...

I drooled on my finger, raised it - the wind was pulling at me. He grabbed a better gun. I'm watching.

From the ledge on which the bears were, to another ledge, lower, lay still dense, unmelted snow.

The cubs pushed themselves to the edge, and suddenly rolled down through the snow to the lower ledge.

The bear stopped scratching her belly, leaned over the edge, and looked.

Then she called quietly:

Rrrrm-oo-oo!

The cubs climbed up. But halfway up the hill they couldn’t resist and started fighting again. They grabbed hold and rolled down again.

They liked it. One will climb out, lie down on his little belly, pull himself up to the edge, and then down. Behind him is the second one. On the side, on the back, over the head. They squeal: both sweet and scary.

I forgot about the gun too. Who would even think of shooting at these unheard-of people who are wiping their pants on the hill!

The cubs have gotten the hang of it: they grab each other and roll down together.

And the bear dozed off again.

I watched the bear game for a long time. Then he crawled out from behind the stone. When the cubs saw me, they became quiet and looked at me with all their eyes.

And then the bear noticed me. She jumped up, snorted, and reared up.

I'm for the gun. We look eye to eye.

Her lip is drooping and two fangs are sticking out. The fangs are wet and green from the grass.

I raised the gun to my shoulder.

The bear grabbed her head with both paws and barked - down the hill, and over her head.

The cubs behind her are like snow in a whirlwind. I wave my gun after me and shout:

A-ah, bungler, you'll sleep!

The bear runs along the slope so that she throws her hind legs behind her ears. The cubs are running behind, shaking their thick tails, looking around. And the withers are humped, like those of mischievous boys whose mothers wrap them in scarves in winter, the ends under the arms and a hump on the back.

The bears ran away.

“Eh,” I think, “it wasn’t!”

I sat down on the snow and - time! - down the well-worn bear slide. I looked around - did anyone see it? And, cheerful, he went to the tent.

BEAR HILL

When hunting, you see the animal through the sights of a gun. And that’s why you always see him angry or in fear.

To see an animal unafraid, going about its household chores, is a rare success.

But I had to.

I was hunting in the mountains for mountain turkeys - snowcocks. I climbed in vain until noon. Snowcocks are the most sensitive birds of the mountains. And you have to climb steep slopes to get them, right next to the glaciers.

Tired. I sat down to rest.

Silence - my ears are ringing. Flies are buzzing in the sun. There are mountains, mountains and mountains all around. Their peaks, like islands, rose from the sea of ​​clouds.

In some places, the cloud cover has moved away from the slopes, and the dark depths below the clouds are visible through the gap. A ray of sunlight slipped into the opening - underwater shadows and highlights swayed across the cloud forests. If a bird hits a ray of sunlight, it will sparkle like a golden fish.

I got tired in the heat. And fell asleep. I slept for a long time. I woke up - the sun was already evening, with a golden rim. Narrow black shadows stretched down from the rocks.

It became even quieter in the mountains.

Suddenly I hear, nearby, behind the hill, as if in a low voice: “Mu-u-u? Mooo!” And claws on the stones - shark, shark! That's bull! With claws...

I look out carefully: on the ledge of the stingray there is a mother bear and two cubs.

The bear just woke up. She threw her head up and yawned. He yawns and scratches his belly with his paw. And the belly is thick and furry.

The cubs also woke up. Funny: big-lipped, big-headed. Loop-loop with sleepy eyes, shifting from paw to paw, swaying their plush heads.

They blinked their eyes, shook their heads, and began to fight. They struggle lazily and sleepily. Reluctantly. Then they got angry and fought seriously.

They groan. They resist. They grumble.

And the bear with all five of her hands is on the belly, then on the sides: fleas bite...

I drooled on my finger, raised it - the wind was pulling at me. He grabbed a better gun. I'm watching.

From the ledge on which the bears were, to another ledge, lower, lay still dense, unmelted snow.

The cubs pushed themselves to the edge, and suddenly rolled down through the snow to the lower ledge.

The bear stopped scratching her belly, leaned over the edge, and looked.

Then she called quietly:

Rrrrm-oo-oo!

The cubs climbed up. But halfway up the hill they couldn’t resist and started fighting again. They grabbed hold and rolled down again.

They liked it. One will climb out, lie down on his little belly, pull himself up to the edge, and then down. Behind him is the second one. On the side, on the back, over the head. They squeal: both sweet and scary.

I forgot about the gun too. Who would even think of shooting at these unheard-of people who are wiping their pants on the hill!

The cubs have gotten the hang of it: they grab each other and roll down together.

And the bear dozed off again.

I watched the bear game for a long time. Then he crawled out from behind the stone. When the cubs saw me, they became quiet and looked at me with all their eyes.

And then the bear noticed me. She jumped up, snorted, and reared up.

I'm for the gun. We look eye to eye.

Her lip is drooping and two fangs are sticking out. The fangs are wet and green from the grass.

I raised the gun to my shoulder.

The bear grabbed her head with both paws and barked - down the hill, and over her head.

The cubs behind her are like snow in a whirlwind. I wave my gun after me and shout:

A-ah, bungler, you'll sleep!

The bear runs along the slope so that she throws her hind legs behind her ears. The cubs are running behind, shaking their thick tails, looking around. And the withers are humped, like those of mischievous boys whose mothers wrap them in scarves in winter, the ends under the arms and a hump on the back.

The bears ran away.

“Eh,” I think, “it wasn’t!”

I sat down on the snow and - time! - down the well-worn bear slide. I looked around - did anyone see it? And, cheerful, he went to the tent.