You need to be friends with the forest. Happy hunting in the forests

You have to be friends with the forest... Of course you have to, who can argue with that? But what does it mean to be “friends” with an inanimate object? Although no, wait! I hesitate to call the forest inanimate. He is alive, all alive, starting with birds and animals and ending with trees, grass, earth. Forest, I think it's single being living according to its own laws. And being friends with him means respecting these laws, observing them. Moreover, man is also a part of nature, and not its master, as was previously believed. He lives and develops according to general laws, the same for the forest, and in general for the entire universe. Therefore, if we people consider ourselves smart and wise, then we must “be friends” with the forest, preserve it, because by doing so we save ourselves too.
Many Russian writers spoke about this. One of the brightest among them was M. Prishvin. Reading his stories, you are amazed at the observation, kindness of this man, his strength of heartfelt participation in the world of all living things.
So, in “Pantry of the Sun” Prishvin tells us that the forest is living creature. The heroes, once there, find themselves under the rule of this magical country. She lets them in quite easily: “The children crossed this marshy area in the pre-dawn darkness without much difficulty.” We see that Mother Nature is kind to her pets: “Borina Zvonkaya willingly opened her wide clearing to the children, which is now, in April, covered with dark green lingonberry grass.”
Children observe the life of the forest and its inhabitants; they understand this life, because they are also part of it. But the writer shows that the forest can punish children who disobeyed in some way or deviated from established forest laws. Nature warned the brother and sister that they were doing the wrong thing by separating at the Lying Stone. The forest tried with all its might to stop the children: “Then the gray darkness moved in tightly and covered the entire sun with its life-giving rays. The evil wind blew very sharply. The trees intertwined with roots, piercing each other with branches, growled, howled, and groaned throughout the Bludovo swamp.”
Prishvin’s book of stories “Forest Drops” also immerses us in the world of nature, the world of the forest. From it we learn about healing properties cranberries, about the importance of the forest for humans, about how a hunter organizes round-ups for wolves, what are the habits of a hare and a fox, a wolf and a black grouse, why it is necessary, especially in a swamp, to stick to a solid path, and what large peat bogs and etc.
Reading Prishvin's books, you begin to understand that life nature is coming according to its wise deep laws. And if they are violated, then all life will be violated, including that of a person. Therefore, if fish needs clean water- We will protect our water bodies. If various valuable animals live in forests, steppes, and mountains, we will protect our forests, steppes, and mountains.
It is so decreed from above that for fish - water, for birds - air, for animals - forest, steppes, mountains. But a person needs a homeland. And to know, love and protect nature means to love your homeland.

Many Russian writers spoke about this. One of the brightest among them was M. Prishvin. Reading his stories, you are amazed at the observation, kindness of this man, his strength of heartfelt participation in the world of all living things.

So, in “The Pantry of the Sun” Prishvin tells us that the forest is a living being. The heroes, once there, find themselves under the rule of this magical country. She lets them in quite easily: “The children crossed this marshy area in the pre-dawn darkness without much difficulty.” We see that Mother Nature is kind to her pets: “Borina Zvonkaya willingly opened her wide clearing to the children, which is now, in April, covered with dark green lingonberry grass.”

Children observe the life of the forest and its inhabitants; they understand this life, because they are also part of it. But the writer shows that the forest can punish children who disobeyed in some way or deviated from established forest laws. Nature warned the brother and sister that they were doing the wrong thing by separating at the Lying Stone. The forest tried with all its might to stop the children: “Then the gray darkness moved in tightly and covered the entire sun with its life-giving rays. The evil wind blew very sharply. The trees intertwined with roots, piercing each other with branches, growled, howled, and groaned throughout the Bludovo swamp.”

Prishvin’s book of stories “Forest Drops” also immerses us in the world of nature, the world of the forest. From it we learn about the healing properties of cranberries, the importance of the forest for humans, how a hunter organizes roundups of wolves, what are the habits of a hare and a fox, a wolf and a black grouse, why it is necessary, especially in a swamp, to stick to a solid path, and what are large peat bogs, etc.

Reading Prishvin's books, you begin to understand that the life of nature follows its own wise, deep laws. And if they are violated, then all life will be violated, including that of a person. Therefore, if fish need clean water, we will protect our reservoirs. If various valuable animals live in forests, steppes, and mountains, we will protect our forests, steppes, and mountains.

It is so decreed from above that for fish - water, for birds - air, for animals - forest, steppes, mountains. But a person needs a homeland. And to know, love and protect nature means to love your homeland.

This book is about our fellow countrymen. About birds and animals. They live with us on Earth. And you need to know your fellow countrymen and neighbors. After all, in the entire vast cosmic world there are no more such birds, such animals and such plants. There may be others, but there are none. That’s probably why meetings with them always bring joy and new impressions. If you are an artist, you will see new color combinations. If you are a musician, you will hear new sounds. The sculptor will be amazed by the perfection and beauty of the form. The scientist will think about a new riddle. But just nature lover marvel at the huge variety of life.

But such meetings should be especially joyful and interesting for you guys. How many discoveries they bring you!

For example, you will learn that not everyone looks at the world with only two eyes - a spider has eight! Not everyone breathes through the mouth - the tiny water cyclopean breathes... with its feet. Not everyone listens with their ears - a turtle can also hear with its stomach.

And with each such meeting the horizon will expand wider and wider, as if you are climbing a high mountain.

But for such meetings to happen, you need to be friends with the forest. The forest opens only to its friends. He greets strangers unfriendly and tries to annoy them. And he’s a master at this!

If you are wearing strong boots and a thick jacket, then he will not in vain lash the sides and legs with branches, but will aim at the eye, whip at the frozen ear.

Well, if it’s summer and you’re barefoot, he’ll deftly throw a prickly cone under your bare heel or stick a twig between your toes.

Some careless person will find it! Hole in the boot - it will pour ice water. The gate is thrown open - a handful of thorny pine needles are tucked into the collar. He waved his arms - immediately hit his hands with stinging nettles!

Everyone sees him green eyes, tenacious green hands can reach everything. And he will continue to spy until you find out his character. But his character, in general, is nothing. And it’s easy to recognize him. You just have to try to see how the trees smile at the sun, hear how the bushes and grasses ask for a drink, and understand what the birds and animals are talking about - that’s all!

No, the forest is not only firewood for humans, meadows are not only hay, and living beings are not only fluff and feathers.

In addition to feathers and fluff, they also have a life full of amazing secrets...

The hunt for these secrets is a joyful hunt.

This is a happy hunt.

Happy hunting in native forests.

UNNAMED PATH

The paths in the mountains spread out like rays. And each path has its own meaning. Here is one stretching to the spring - this is a “water” path. The other - into the forest, towards the dead wood - this is the “wood” one. The “home” path winds, winds, and hurries down into the valley - the road to the house.

But there are other paths in the mountains. It is unknown who laid them - man or beast. It's not easy to notice them. Only if you bend down, you will see a dark thread on the scree, under the gray rocks. This is the same path. It is two goat's hooves wide. Nobody knows where it leads. That is why these paths are called “nameless”.

If you follow the “water” path, you will find water. By "wood" - firewood.

I chose nameless paths for myself - and this is what I saw on them.

Night on Kara-Dag

I am a hunter and not new to the mountains. But I have never seen such a gloomy pile of rocks. If you shout, a hundred-voiced echo will bark in response from the gaps and abysses. As you walk, it’s as if someone is persistently looking at your back; you turn around - there is no one.

The rocks are dead. And empty. But the hunter’s path is colored by encounters. It's hard to walk when you don't expect anything ahead.

The height breaks. Even at a rest, the heart beats very quickly. And you breathe like a driven horse.

Evening found me high in these wild rocks.

I collect bunches of prickly grass and melt snow on them in a pot. The grass is damp. The smoke from it is thick, green and acrid. The water becomes bitter like quinine. The cracker is cold and strong - you can't bite it!

Time to get into the sleeping bag.

Blessed are the moments when, after exhausting climbs, you finally climb into a soft and warm sleeping bag and stretch out in it at rest! But everything around here is so gloomy and wild that rest is not pleasant.

A cold, cloudy sea froze deep below. The mountain range in it is like a rugged seashore.

Silence. A tense ear catches a distant, barely audible roar. These are the noise of waterfalls deep below, under the clouds.

From behind a black rock, similar to the upturned muzzle of an animal, a narrow green fang of the moon emerges.

Cold! I climb into the bag with my head. But you can’t stay warm in a bag either. Smells like wet sheepskin. Sharp stones dig into the sides. Breathing in a bag is even more difficult.

Thoughts about tomorrow are not encouraging either: again bare rocks, snow, heavy climbs...

I fell asleep in the morning.

... I was awakened by some strange sounds, grumbling, dry creaking, as if something hard was rubbing against a stone.

I carefully lean out of the bag and pull the carabiner towards me.

The mountains are black, without depth, as if cut out of paper. The white cloudy sea below, touched by the dawn, turns pink.

You can’t take your eyes off: the foamy pink sea with the black islands of the mountains! It’s so extraordinary that I forget about the cold and the strange sounds.

But here comes the creaking, grumbling, splashing again. I rise up on my elbow and see: the stooped silhouettes of monsters on a stone slab above the abyss. Black on pink. There are twelve of them. They look like hunchbacked old women. Their heads are pulled into their shoulders. Large hooked noses stick out straight from the chest.

They started moving. They move from paw to paw. They stretched out their snake necks towards the ground. Snake necks sway. An angry grumbling is heard.

And suddenly everyone raised their heads at once.

There was a bone sound: the monsters collided with their heavy bone noses!

They collided and separated; They waddled heavily along the slab, dragging their huge lowered wings along the ground. And then I heard that dry creak that woke me up - it was their hard feathers rubbing against the stone.

I recognized these monsters. They were barn owls - huge birds of the mountain heights, carrion birds. Bald vultures are much taller than the largest of eagles, the golden eagle. The wingspan of the vulture is almost three meters.

Now one of these monstrous birds stopped and threw its head back. A cloud of steam flew out of the gaping beak. A loud, hoarse scream rushed into the rocks. Every crack, every gap echoed the scream.

After the first, the second vulture started squealing, then the third. The rocks screamed with the voices of vultures.

The vultures stopped screaming and, creaking their wings, hobbled back to the edge of the abyss. They came together, swayed, lowered their necks and shifted from paw to paw. And again suddenly, as if on command, they raised and moved their heads - they hit each other with cast-iron beaks!

The sun appeared from behind the mountain. A black shadow quickly ran away from the rocks. The blue snow turned white. The pink sea became yellow clouds. The clouds parted - and the roar of the waterfalls under the clouds became clearer and louder.

The monstrous birds no longer appear black. Yellow-brown, with long white necks, they all turned in one direction and silently watched as the sun slowly rose from behind a black rock, similar to the upturned muzzle of an animal.

When the sun rose above the rock, movement began again among the vultures. One after another, they clumsily galloped to the very edge of the stone slab, helping themselves with half-opened wings. They immediately jumped down into the abyss. Now they rose from it, spreading their huge wings towards the morning wind. The wind whistled through their widely spaced flight feathers.

One after another, the barn owls rose in large circles above the mountain range and disappeared into the cloudless sky.

The vultures flew away. I started getting ready too. It was fun getting ready.

The fatigue was gone. And the water seemed not so bitter. And the cracker is delicious. And the difficult path is not scary.

Composition

So, in “The Pantry of the Sun” Prishvin tells us that the forest is a living creature. The heroes, once there, find themselves under the rule of this magical country. She lets them in quite easily: “The children crossed this marshy area in the pre-dawn darkness without much difficulty.” We see that Mother Nature is kind to her pets: “Borina Zvonkaya willingly opened her wide clearing to the children, which is now, in April, covered with dark green lingonberry grass.”

You need to be friends with the forest. Happy hunting in the forests

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