How am I without a bike? -- crying. - All winter I thought about how I would ride it through the forests.

Well, well, don't cry, - said his father. - Mom will go and bring you a bike.

No, he won’t bring it, - Vasya cries. - She doesn't love him. He creaks...

Well, you, boy, stop it, don't cry, - suddenly said the boy with a watch on his hand. - I'll arrange this business for you now. I myself love to ride a bike. Only he is real, two-wheeled. Do you have a telephone at home? he asks Vasya's father.

Yes, says dad. “Number five fifty-five zero six.”

Well, it's all right, - says the boy. “We will immediately send a postman with a letter. He pulled out of his pocket a tiny paper ribbon made of thin tissue paper and wrote on it: "Call 5-55-06, tell:" Mom needs to take Vasya's bicycle to the dacha. "Then he put this letter in some kind of shiny little tube, He opened his basket, and there, in the basket, sits a long-nosed, blue-gray dove.

The boy pulled out a dove and tied a tube with a letter to his leg.

Here is my postman, he says. - Ready to fly. Look.

And as soon as the train stopped at the station, the boy looked at his watch, noted the time in his notebook and let the dove out the window. The dove will fly straight up - they only saw it!

Today I am teaching carrier pigeons,” the boy says. - At each station I release one and write down the time. The dove will fly straight to the city, to its dovecote. And there they are waiting for him. And on this, the last one, they will see the tube, read the letter and call your apartment. If only the hawk hadn't caught him along the way. And it's true: Vasya came to the dacha, waiting, waiting for his mother - and in the evening his mother arrived with a bicycle. We received a letter. It means that the hawk did not catch the dove.

Cat Epifan

Good and free on the Volga River! Look how wide it is! The other side is barely visible! This living one shines flowing water. And the whole sky looks into this water: and the clouds, and the blue azure, and the middle of nowhere, which, whistling, fly in a bunch from sand to sand, and flocks of geese and ducks, and an airplane on which a person flies somewhere on his business, and white ships with black smoke, and barges, and shores, and a rainbow in the sky. You look at this flowing sea, you look at the walking clouds, and it seems to you that the shores are also going somewhere - they are also walking and moving, like everyone around. There, on the Volga, in a dugout, on the very bank of the Volga - in a steep cliff, lives a buoy watchman. If you look from the river, you will see only a window and a door. You look from the shore - one iron pipe sticks out of the grass. His whole house is in the ground, like an animal hole. Boats sail on the Volga day and night. Tugs puff, smoke, pull barges behind them on ropes, carry various cargoes or drag long rafts. They slowly rise against the current, slapping the water with their wheels. Here comes such a ship, carrying apples - and the whole Volga will smell like a sweet apple. Or it smells of fish, which means they are bringing roach from Astrakhan. Postal-passenger steamers, one-story and two-story, are running. These float on their own. But the fastest double-decker steamboats with a blue ribbon on the pipe go through the fastest. They stop only at large piers, and after them high waves diverge through the water, roll over the sand. An old buoy-keeper, near the shoals and rifts, places red and white buoys along the river. These are such floating wicker baskets with a lantern at the top. Buoys show the right path. At night, the old man rides a boat, lights lanterns on the buoys, and extinguishes it in the morning. And at other times the old buoy-keeper goes fishing. He is an avid fisherman. One day the old man was fishing all day. I caught fish in my ear: bream, yes scavengers, yes ruffs. And came back. He opened the door to the dugout and looked: that's the thing! It turns out that a guest has come to him! On the table next to a pot of potatoes sits a whole white-white fluffy cat. The guest saw the host, arched his back and began to rub his side against the pot. All his white side was stained with soot.

Where did you come from, from what areas? And the cat purrs and squints its eyes and stains its side even more, rubs it with soot. And his eyes are different. One eye is completely blue and the other is completely yellow.

Well, help yourself, - said the buoy man and gave the cat a ruff. The cat grabbed a fish in its claws, purred a little and ate it. He ate and licked his lips, - apparently, he still wants to. And the cat ate four more fish. And then he jumped on the sennik to the old man and dozed off. It collapsed on the sennik, purring, then it would stretch out one paw, then the other, then it would release its claws on one paw, then on the other. And he apparently liked it so much that he stayed completely with the old man. And the old buoy-keeper is glad. Both are much more fun. And so they began to live. The buoy worker had no one to talk to before, but now he began to talk to the cat, calling him Epifan. There was no one to fish with before, and now the cat began to ride a boat with him. He sits in the boat at the stern and seems to rule. In the evening the old man says:

Well, Epifanushka, isn't it time for us to light the buoys - after all, perhaps it will be dark soon? If we don't light the buoys, our ships will run aground. And the cat seems to know what it is to light buoys. Without saying a word, he goes to the river, climbs into the boat and waits for the old man when he comes with oars and kerosene for lanterns. They will go, light the lanterns on the buoys - and back. And they fish together. The old man is fishing, and Epifan is sitting next to him. A small fish was caught - her cat. I caught a big one - in the old man's ear. It just so happened. Serve together, fish together. Once a buoy-keeper was sitting with his cat Epifan on the shore and was fishing. And then some fish pecked hard. The old man pulled her out of the water, looks: yes, this greedy ruff swallowed a worm. As tall as a little finger, but tugging like a big pike. The old man took it off the hook and handed it to the cat.

Here, - says, - Epifasha, chew a little. But Epiphashi is not. What is it, where did it go? Then the old man sees that his cat has gone far, far along the shore, turning white on the rafts. "Why did he go there," thought the old man, "and what is he doing there? I'll go take a look." He looks, and his cat Epifan catches fish himself. He lies flat on a log, put his paw into the water, does not move, does not even blink. And when the fish swam out in a flock from under the log, he - once! - and picked up one fish with his claws. The old buoy-keeper was very surprised.

Here you are, what a trickster I have, - he says, - oh yes, Epifan, oh yes, a fisherman! Well, catch me, - he says, - a sterlet in my ear, but fatter. The cat doesn't even look at him. I ate the fish, moved to another place, and again lay down from the log to fish. Since then, they have been fishing this way: apart - and each in his own way. A fisherman with tackle and a fishing rod with a hook, and the cat Epifan with a paw with claws. And the buoys are lit together.

Friends

Once a forester was clearing a clearing in the forest and spotted a fox hole. He dug out a hole and found one small fox cub there. It can be seen that the mother fox managed to drag the rest to another place. And this forester already had a puppy at home. Hound breed. Also still quite small. The puppy was one month old. So the fox and the puppy began to grow together. They sleep side by side and play together. They played very funny! The fox cub climbed and jumped like a real cat. It will jump onto the bench, and from the bench to the table, the tail will lift the pipe up and look down. And the puppy will climb onto the bench - bang! -- and fall. Barks, runs around the table for an hour. And then the little fox will jump down, and both will go to bed. Sleep, sleep, rest and start chasing each other again. The puppy's name was Ogarok, because he was all red, like fire. And the forester called the fox cub Vaska, like a cat: he barked in a thin voice - as if meowing. All summer the puppy and the fox lived together, and by autumn both grew up. The puppy became a real potter, and the fox cub dressed in a thick fur coat. The forester put the fox on a chain so that he would not run away into the forest. “I’ll keep him,” he thinks, “on a chain until the middle of winter, and then I’ll sell him to the city for a skin.” It was a pity for him to shoot the fox himself, she was very affectionate. And with the hound Ogarok, the forester went hunting and shot hares. One day the forester went out in the morning to feed the fox. He looks, and the fox box has one chain and a tattered collar. The fox ran away. "Well," thought the forester, "now I don't feel sorry for shooting you. Apparently, you won't be a tame animal. You're a savage, a savage. I'll find you in the forest and shoot you like a wild one." He called his Ogarka, took a gun from the shelf. - Look, - he says, - Ogarko. Look for your friend. - And showed footprints in the snow. Ogarok barked and ran after the trail. Drives, barks, follows the trail. And he went far, far into the forest, barely audible. Here he is completely silent. And here it comes again: barking closer, closer. The forester hid behind a fir tree at the edge of the forest, cocked his gun. And now he sees: two people ran out of the forest at once. Fox and dog. The dog barks and squeals. And they run along white snow side by side. Like real friends - shoulder to shoulder. Together, the bumps jump, look at each other and seem to smile. Well, how to shoot here. After all, you will kill the dog!

Cat Epifan

Charushin E. I. Stories about animals

You look at this flowing sea, you look at the walking clouds, and it seems to you that the shores are also going somewhere - they also walk and move, like everyone around.

There, on the Volga, in a dugout, on the very bank of the Volga - in a steep cliff, lives a buoy watchman. If you look from the river, you will see only a window and a door. look from the shore - one iron pipe sticks out of the grass. His whole house is in the ground, like an animal hole.

Boats sail on the Volga day and night. Tugs puff, smoke, pull barges behind them on ropes, carry various cargoes or drag long rafts. They slowly rise against the current, slapping the water with their wheels. Here comes such a steamer, carrying apples - and the whole Volga will smell like a sweet apple. Or it smells of fish, which means they are bringing roach from Astrakhan. Postal-passenger steamers, one-story and two-story, are running. These float on their own. But the fastest double-decker steamboats with a blue ribbon on the pipe go through the fastest. They stop only at large piers, and after them high waves diverge through the water, roll over the sand.

An old buoy-keeper, near the shoals and rifts, places red and white buoys along the river. These are such floating wicker baskets with a lantern at the top. Buoys show the right path. At night, the old man rides a boat, lights lanterns on the buoys, and extinguishes it in the morning. And at other times the old buoy-keeper goes fishing. He is an avid fisherman.

One day the old man was fishing all day. I caught fish in my ear: bream, yes scavengers, yes ruffs. And came back. He opened the door to the dugout and looked: that's the thing! It turns out that a guest has come to him! On the table next to a pot of potatoes sits a whole white-white fluffy cat. The guest saw the host, arched his back and began to rub his side against the pot. All his white side was stained with soot.

Where did you come from, from what areas?

And the cat purrs and squints its eyes and stains its side even more, rubs it with soot. And his eyes are different. One eye is completely blue and the other is completely yellow.

Well, help yourself, - said the buoy man and gave the cat a ruff.

The cat grabbed a fish in its claws, purred a little and ate it. He ate and licked his lips, - apparently, he still wants to.

And the cat ate four more fish. And then he jumped on the sennik to the old man and dozed off. It collapsed on the sennik, purring, then it would stretch out one paw, then the other, then it would release its claws on one paw, then on the other. And he apparently liked it so much that he stayed completely with the old man. And the old buoy-keeper is glad. Both are much more fun. And so they began to live.

Well, Epifanushka, isn't it time for us to light the buoys - after all, perhaps it will be dark soon? If we don't light the buoys, our ships will run aground.

And the cat seems to know what it is to light buoys. Without saying a word, he goes to the river, climbs into the boat and waits for the old man when he comes with oars and kerosene for lanterns. They will go, light the lanterns on the buoys - and back. And they fish together. The old man is fishing, and Epifan is sitting next to him. Caught a small fish - her cat. I caught a big one - in the old man's ear. It just so happened. Serve together, fish together.

Once a buoy-keeper was sitting with his cat Epifan on the shore and was fishing. And then some fish pecked hard. The old man pulled it out of the water, looks: yes, this greedy ruff swallowed a worm. As tall as a little finger, but tugging like a big pike. The old man took it off the hook and handed it to the cat.

On, - says, - Epifasha, chew a little.

But Epiphashi is not. What is it, where did it go?

Then the old man sees that his cat has gone far, far along the shore, turning white on the rafts.

"Why did he go there," thought the old man, "and what is he doing there? I'll go take a look."

He looks, and his cat Epifan catches fish himself. He lies flat on a log, put his paw into the water, does not move, does not even blink. And when the fish swam out in a flock from under the log, he - once! - and picked up one fish with his claws. The old buoy-keeper was very surprised.

Here you are, what a trickster I have, - he says, - oh yes, Epifan, oh yes, a fisherman! Well, catch me, - he says, - a sterlet in my ear, but fatter.

The cat doesn't even look at him. I ate the fish, moved to another place, and again lay down from the log to fish.

Since then, this is how they fish: apart - and each in his own way. A fisherman with tackle and a fishing rod with a hook, and the cat Epifan with a paw with claws. And the buoys are lit together.

Good and free on the Volga River!
Look how wide it is! The other side is barely visible! This living, flowing water glitters. And the whole sky looks into this water: and the clouds, and the blue azure, and the middle of nowhere, which, whistling, fly in a bunch from sand to sand, and flocks of geese and ducks, and an airplane on which a person flies somewhere on his business, and white ships with black smoke, and barges, and shores, and a rainbow in the sky.
You look at this flowing sea, you look at the walking clouds, and it seems to you that the shores are also going somewhere - they also walk and move, like everything around.
There, on the Volga, in a dugout, on the very bank of the Volga - in a steep cliff, lives a buoy watchman. If you look from the river, you will see only a window and a door. You look from the shore - one iron pipe sticks out of the grass. His whole house is in the ground, like an animal hole.
Boats sail on the Volga day and night. Tugs puff, smoke, pull barges behind them on ropes, carry various cargoes or drag long rafts.
They slowly rise against the current, splashing on the water with wheels. Here comes such a steamer, carrying apples - and the whole Volga will smell like a sweet apple. Or it smells of fish, which means they are bringing roach from Astrakhan.
Postal-passenger steamers, one-story and two-story, are running. These float on their own. But the fastest double-decker steamboats with a blue ribbon on the pipe go through the fastest. They stop only at large piers, and after them high waves diverge through the water, roll over the sand.
An old buoy-keeper, near the shoals and rifts, places red and white buoys along the river. These are such floating wicker baskets with a lantern at the top. Buoys show the right path. At night, the old man rides a boat, lights lanterns on the buoys, and extinguishes it in the morning. And at other times the old buoy-keeper goes fishing. He is an avid fisherman.
One day the old man was fishing all day. I caught fish in my ear: bream, yes scavengers, yes ruffs. And came back. He opened the door to the dugout and looked: that's the thing! It turns out that a guest has come to him! On the table next to a pot of potatoes sits a whole white-white fluffy cat.
The guest saw the host, arched his back and began to rub his side against the pot. All his white side was stained with soot.
- Where did you come from, from what areas?
And the cat purrs and squints its eyes and stains its side even more, rubs it with soot. And his eyes are different. One eye is completely blue and the other is completely yellow.
- Well, help yourself, - said the buoy man and gave the cat a ruff.
The cat grabbed a fish in its claws, purred a little and ate it. He ate and licks his lips - apparently, he wants more.
And the cat ate four more fish. And then he jumped on the sennik to the old man and dozed off. It collapsed on the sennik, purring, then it would stretch out one paw, then the other, then it would release its claws on one paw, then on the other. And he apparently liked it so much that he stayed completely with the old man.
And the old buoy-keeper is glad. Both are much more fun. And so they began to live.
The buoy worker had no one to talk to before, but now he began to talk to the cat, calling him Epifan. There was no one to fish with before, and now the cat began to ride a boat with him. He sits in the boat at the stern and seems to rule.
In the evening the old man says:
- Well, how, Epifanushka, isn't it time for us to light the buoys - after all, perhaps it will be dark soon? If we don't light the buoys, our ships will run aground.
And the cat seems to know what it is to light buoys. Without saying a word, he goes to the river, climbs into the boat and waits for the old man when he comes with oars and kerosene for lanterns.
They will go, light the lanterns on the buoys - and back.
And they fish together. The old man is fishing, and Epifan is sitting next to him.
Caught a small fish - her cat. I caught a big one - in the old man's ear.
It just so happened.
Serve together, fish together.
Once a buoy-keeper was sitting with his cat Epifan on the shore and was fishing. And then some fish pecked hard. The old man pulled it out of the water, looks: yes, this greedy ruff swallowed a worm. As tall as a little finger, but tugging like a big pike. The old man took it off the hook and handed it to the cat.
- On, - he says, - Epifasha, chew a little.
But Epiphashi is not.
What is it, where did it go?
Then the old man sees that his cat has gone far, far along the shore, turns white on rafts.
“Why did he go there,” the old man thought, “and what is he doing there? I'll go take a look."
He looks, and his cat Epifan catches fish himself. He lies flat on a log, put his paw into the water, does not move, does not even blink. And when the fish swam out in a flock from under the log, he - once! - and picked up one fish with his claws.
The old buoy-keeper was very surprised.
- Here you are, what a dodger I have, - he says, - oh yes, Epifan, oh yes, a fisherman! Well, catch me, - he says, - a sterlet in my ear, but fatter.
The cat doesn't even look at him.
I ate the fish, moved to another place, and again lay down from the log to fish.
Since then, this is how they fish: apart - and each in his own way.
A fisherman with tackle and a fishing rod with a hook, and the cat Epifan with a paw with claws.
And the buoys are lit together.

Home / Library / Charushin E.I.

Charushin E.I. Works of art about the animal world.

Cat Epifan

You look at this flowing sea, you look at the walking clouds, and it seems to you that the shores are also going somewhere - they are also walking and moving, like everyone around.

There, on the Volga, in a dugout, on the very bank of the Volga - in a steep cliff, lives a buoy watchman. If you look from the river, you will see only a window and a door. You look from the shore - one iron pipe sticks out of the grass. His whole house is in the ground, like an animal hole.

Boats sail on the Volga day and night. Tugs puff, smoke, pull barges behind them on ropes, carry various cargoes or drag long rafts. They slowly rise against the current, slapping the water with their wheels. Here comes such a ship, carrying apples - and the whole Volga will smell like a sweet apple. Or it smells of fish, which means they are bringing roach from Astrakhan. Postal-passenger steamers, one-story and two-story, are running. These float on their own. But the fastest double-decker steamboats with a blue ribbon on the pipe go through the fastest. They stop only at large piers, and after them high waves diverge through the water, roll over the sand.

And the cat purrs and squints its eyes and stains its side even more, rubs it with soot. And his eyes are different. One eye is completely blue and the other is completely yellow.
“Well, help yourself,” said the buoy-keeper, and gave the cat a ruff. The cat grabbed a fish in its claws, purred a little and ate it. He ate and licked his lips, - apparently, he still wants to.

The buoy worker had no one to talk to before, but now he began to talk to the cat, calling him Epifan. There was no one to fish with before, and now the cat began to ride a boat with him. He sits in the boat at the stern and seems to rule. In the evening the old man says:
- Well, how, Epifanushka, isn't it time for us to light the buoys - after all, perhaps it will be dark soon? If we don't light the buoys, our ships will run aground.

And the cat seems to know what it is to light buoys. Without saying a word, he goes to the river, climbs into the boat and waits for the old man when he comes with oars and kerosene for lanterns. They will go, light the lanterns on the buoys - and back. And they fish together. The old man is fishing, and Epifan is sitting next to him. A small fish was caught - her cat. I caught a big one - in the old man's ear. It just so happened. Serve together, fish together.

Once a buoy-keeper was sitting with his cat Epifan on the shore and was fishing. And then some fish pecked hard. The old man pulled her out of the water, looks: yes, this greedy ruff swallowed a worm. As tall as a little finger, but tugging like a big pike. The old man took it off the hook and handed it to the cat.
“Here,” he says, “Epifasha, chew a little. But Epiphashi is not. What is it, where did it go?

Then the old man sees that his cat has gone far, far along the shore, turning white on the rafts. "Why did he go there," thought the old man, "and what is he doing there? I'll go take a look." He looks, and his cat Epifan catches fish himself. He lies flat on a log, put his paw into the water, does not move, does not even blink. And when the fish swam out in a flock from under the log, he - once! - and picked up one fish with his claws. The old buoy-keeper was very surprised.
- Here you are, what a trickster I have, - he says, - oh yes, Epifan, oh yes, a fisherman! Well, catch me, - he says, - a sterlet in my ear, but fatter.

The cat doesn't even look at him. I ate the fish, moved to another place, and again lay down from the log to fish. Since then, they have been fishing this way: apart - and each in his own way. A fisherman with tackle and a fishing rod with a hook, and the cat Epifan with a paw with claws. And the buoys are lit together.

You look at this flowing sea, you look at the walking clouds, and it seems to you that the shores are also going somewhere - they also walk and move, like everyone around.

- Where did you come from, from what areas?

And the cat purrs and squints its eyes and stains its side even more, rubs it with soot. And his eyes are different. One eye is completely blue and the other is completely yellow.

"Well, help yourself," said the buoy-keeper, and gave the cat a ruff.

The cat grabbed a fish in its claws, purred a little and ate it. He ate and licked his lips - apparently, he still wants to.

“Well, Epifanushka, isn’t it time for us to light the buoys—after all, it will probably be dark soon?” If we don't light the buoys, our ships will run aground.

And the cat seems to know what it is to light buoys. Without saying a word, he goes to the river, climbs into the boat and waits for the old man when he comes with oars and kerosene for lanterns. They will go, light the lanterns on the buoys - and back. And they fish together. The old man is fishing, and Epifan is sitting next to him. A small fish was caught - her cat. I caught a big one - in the old man's ear. It just so happened. Serve together, fish together.

“Here,” he says, “Epifasha, chew a little.”

But Epiphashi is not. What is it, where did it go?

Then the old man sees that his cat has gone far, far along the shore, turning white on the rafts.

“Why did he go there,” thought the old man, “and what is he doing there? I'll go take a look."

“Here you are, what a dodger I have,” he says, “oh yes, Epifan, oh yes, a fisherman!” Well, catch me, - he says, - a sterlet in my ear, but fatter.

The cat doesn't even look at him. I ate the fish, moved to another place, and again lay down from the log to fish.

Since then, this is how they fish: apart - and each in his own way. A fisherman with tackle and a fishing rod with a hook, and the cat Epifan with a paw with claws. And the buoys are lit together.