home » Social science » Yu.Koval "Dick and blueberries." lesson plan for reading (Grade 1) on the topic. Read the book sparrow lake I. Organizational moment

Yu.Koval "Dick and blueberries." lesson plan for reading (Grade 1) on the topic. Read the book sparrow lake I. Organizational moment

Ι. Y. Koval "Dick and blueberries". 1 7 1 2 2 1

- Open with. 142. Consider the illustration.

Free statements of children, their assumptions.

- What is the name of the story?

- Let's read the key words (task in a notebook, p. 37, No. I.1). Try to refine your assumptions.

– Did the keywords help you predict what the text will be about?

- Shall we check?

1)Children read the story to themselves.

2)Read aloud.

The teacher comments and conducts a “dialogue with the author”.

Yuri Koval "WILD AND BLUEBERRY"

A dog lives with us in the hut, whose name is Dick. Dick is a kind dog, but a glutton. Filling his stomach with fish offal and burying his head under the tree so that mosquitoes do not bite - that's what he needs! ( Fish offal is What? Fish entrails. Is it delicious? Why is Dick eating? (He is a glutton.) And he does not just eat, but “fills his stomach” - that is, he eats quickly, a lot and everything.)

Once in a swamp I found a blueberry field. He could not tear himself away from blueberries, he collected and ate handful after handful. ( Show, how he ate handful after handful. Why couldn't he break away?) Dick ran from one side to the other, looked into my mouth, not understanding what I was eating. ( Why is Dick acting so restless?)

- Yes, it's blueberries, Dick! I explained. - Look how many there are. I took a handful and handed it to him. He quickly removed the berries from his palm. ( “I instantly removed it” - licked off the whole handful: once - and no!)

“Now by myself,” I said.

But Dick did not understand where the berries come from, ran around and pushed him in the side with his nose. ( Why did you push with your nose?– Probably more blueberries wanted.)

Then I decided to teach Dick a little mind-reason. I'm ashamed to tell you, but I got on all fours, winked at him and began to eat berries straight from the bush. ( Have you submitted this picture? An adult, on all fours ... And what does it mean to “eat berries straight from the bush”? Guessed? You can show...) Dick jumped with admiration, opened his mouth, and only the bushes crackled. ( Dick understood what he needed to do, so he jumped with admiration: there is food! What does it mean "only the bushes crackled"?)

Two days later, Dick picked blueberries around the hut ( Do you think there is at least one berry left?), and I was glad that I had not taught him to love currants and cloudberries. ( And if I taught?)

3) Questions after reading:

a) What is the dog in this story?

b) What kind of person does the narrator appear to be?

d) Re-reading with a title.

Children complete the task on p. 143 - come up with funny headings for parts of the story (notebook, task 3, p. 37).

3. Work with text after reading.

1) Retelling in parts.

- Remember and tell the content of parts 1, 2, 3 ( at the request of the children).

2) Questions after retelling:

What part did you like the most? Why?

– Why do you think the artist ended up with. 143 such an illustration?

In what mood is this story written?

How do the characters in the story relate to each other?

3) Determination of the theme of the story (notebook, task III.4, p. 38).

ΙΙ. A. Shibaev "Without dinner". 1 2 3 6

- Guys, the relationship between a person and a dog is not always so good.

1. Working with text before reading.

- Look at the illustration on p. 144.

– What can you tell?

The story of the children according to the illustration.

– Do you think it was by chance that the artist placed this illustration before the poem that we are going to read now?

Can we tell in advance what mood the poem is written in? (Yes, it will be a sad poem.)

What do you think the text will be about?

Let's check our assumptions.

2. Working with text while reading.

1) Children read the poem to themselves.

2) Questions after reading:

- What is this poem about? (About the puppy, he is nobody.)

Describe this puppy. (Wonderful, with a big head, cheerful ...)

Why does this poem make us sad?

What is it like for a little puppy alone on the street?

- Why can't the puppy bark loudly, call someone?

3. Repeated reading of the poem.

What lines made the strongest impression on you?

- Why do you think the poet Alexander Shibaev put an ellipsis at the end of the poem?

Can this poem have a happy ending?

– What did we do? (They read the text, answered questions on the text, expressed their attitude towards the characters.)

- What skill did you develop?

Maria Piven
Summary of the lesson on literary reading in grade 1 “Yu. I. Koval "Dick and blueberries"

Subject: Yu. I. Koval"Dick and blueberry» .

Goals:

Educational:

Enrich lexicon students;

To acquaint students with the biography of Yu.I. Koval and his work "Dick and blueberry»

Educational:

Cultivate a listener culture;

Cultivate love for literature;

Educational:

Develop verbal-logical thinking, attention, memory, speech;

Develop skills reading;

Develop cognitive interest in the subject.

Equipment:

For the teacher:

Portrait of a writer, writer's books, tablets with words (glutton, offal, blueberry, handful, mouth, cloudberry, illustrations for the story, A4 sheets.

For the student:

Tutorial on reading, stand.

1. Org. moment

Hello. Sit down. My name is Maria Alexandrovna, and today I will give you a reading lesson.

2. Checking homework

Guys, what was your homework?

Open your textbook to page 144, read to yourself, and prepare to read aloud expressively.

Who is ready raise your hand. Read.

Who main character? (puppy)

What was the puppy like? (big head)

Is this poem sad or funny?

Why do you think so?

What does this work teach?

Well done guys, you did a great job at home.

Questioning two or three students.

3. Announcement of the topic. Introductory conversation.

Today we will get acquainted with the story of Yuri Iosifovich Koval"Dick and blueberry» . But first, hear a little about the author himself.

Yuri Koval was born in Moscow on February 9, 1938. He is a Russian children's writer, as well as a screenwriter of cartoons and children's films, an artist and sculptor, a songwriter and performer.

Yuri Koval- one of the most famous and beloved children's writers in Russia, his books have been reprinted and reprinted many times. For his works, he was awarded the prize of the All-Union competition for the best work for children. Yuri's books Koval translated into several European languages, Chinese and Japanese. Based on many of his works, feature films and cartoons have been shot and continue to be shot, such as How: "The Adventures of Vasya Kurolesov", "The lightest boat in the world", "Tiger in the Sunflower", "Elephants on the moon: Funny poems " and many others.

Portrait on the blackboard

4. Creative work

5 Vocabulary work

Before you and I read the story, open your textbook to page 142 and look at the illustration.

Who do you think will be the main characters of our story? (Man and dog)

Can you guess what the person is doing? (He picks berries)

And the dog? (runs, plays, eats berries)

Read the title of the story. ("Dick and blueberry".)

What was the name of the dog in the picture? (Dick)

What can you say about the dog in the illustration? Describe her. What is she? (kind, cheerful)

What else will be discussed? (O blueberries)

That's right, guys, it's just hard to determine from one picture what happened in the story. Therefore, we will be able to answer this question only when we read the story.

Guys in the text you may come across difficult phrases, so let's look at the board and try to explain them.

Read the first word. How do you understand word:

Glutton (eats a lot)

Read the next word. How do you understand the word tripe (fish inside)

Read the next word. How do you understand the word blueberry(wild berry)

Read the next word. How do you understand the word fistful (palms)

Read the next word. How do you understand the word fall (mouth)

Read the next word. How do you understand the word cloudberry (berry variety)

Well done, right.

Words on the board and illustrations for them

6. Primary perception of the text and

primary

consolidation

And now I will read you the story of Yuri Koval"Dick and blueberry» , and you listen carefully and answer the question, what did a man teach a dog?

What did the man teach the dog? (picking berries)

Where does the story take place? (In the woods)

What did the characters eat? (blueberries)

Do you think this story is funny or sad?

Why do you think so?

7. physical minute

I see you are not much tired, let's get up from the desks.

Repeat after me, hands raised up, stretched, and now the hands of the side, lowered, bent down, stretched. And one more time. Now they only looked with their eyes to the right corner, to the left, up, down. (2-3 times)

Now the girls will sit quietly at their desks. And now the boys will sit just as quietly at their desks.

8. Repeat reading with analysis Read the story to yourself and see what words you do not understand.

Now we will read this story again in parts. Pay close attention to the text and be prepared to answer the questions.

1) Read the first part.

What was the dog's name? Prove it with words from the text. (The dog's name was Dick. "A dog lives with us in the hut, whose name is Dick")

We have already described Dick from the picture, and now find it in the text, as the author describes it. ("Dick is a good dog, but a glutton")

How do you understand the phrase to fill the stomach? (to eat a lot)

How do you understand the phrase bury your head? (hide)

2) Read the second part.

How did he eat blueberries find it in the text and read it? ... "handful after handful")

What was Dick doing at that time? Find it in the text and read. ("Dick ran from one side to the other, looked into my mouth, not understanding what I was eating."

What did Dick do? (ate them)

Did Dick understand where it came from blueberry find it in the text and read it. ... "He ran around, pushed in the side with his nose")

How would you title this part?

3) Read the third part.

How do you understand the phrase "to teach mind-reason"? (Learn how to do it right)

Why did the bushes crackle? (Because Dick was eating blueberries with twigs)

How many days did it take Dick to eat all blueberries? (two)

How would you title this part?

9. Creative work. Guys, on the board you see 4 illustrations. What do you think they are for? Right they are to the story "Dick and blueberry» .

You just need to put them in the correct order.

That's right, well done.

10. Bottom line lesson guys What story did we meet today? ( "Dick and blueberry» )

Guys I really liked how you worked on lesson. You tried very hard and read with expression. thanks for lesson. Goodbye!

11. Reserve Draw a scene for the story.

)

Yuriy Koval SPARROW LAKE

Sparrow Lake

Long ago I heard stories about Sparrow Lake.

They said that they caught huge bream that did not fit into a basin, perches that did not fit into a bucket, monstrous pikes that did not fit into anything at all.

It was surprising that pikes and perches are so huge, and the lake is Sparrow.

You should go to Sparrow Lake. You will find it there, in the woods.

I searched and got to Sparrow Lake one day. Not too big, but not small either, it lay among spruce forests, and right in the middle of its waters three islands cut through its waters. These islands looked like narrow-nosed ships that sailed one after another, and the sails of the ships were birch trees.

There was no boat, and I could not get to the islands, I began to fish.

I saw pike, and black perch, and golden bream. True, all of them were not too large, they fit in one bucket, and there was still room.

I put an onion in this very place, peeled potatoes, threw in peppercorns, added water and hung a bucket over the fire.

While my ear was boiling, I looked at the island-ships, at their birch sails.

The Orioles flew over the green sails, which thrashed and fluttered in the wind, but could not move their ships. And I liked that there are such ships in the world that cannot be moved.

grunt

Late in the spring evening, when the sun hides behind the tops of the trees, a strange long-billed bird appears from nowhere above the forest. It flies low over the transparent alder forest and carefully looks around all the clearings and clearings, as if looking for something.

Horch ... horch ... - a hoarse voice comes from above - Horch ...

Earlier in the villages they said that this is not a bird at all, but it seems that an imp flies over the forest, looking for its horns that it has lost.

But, of course, it's not bullshit. This is a woodcock flying over the forest, looking for a bride.

The woodcock has evening eyes - large and dark. For the hoarse voice of the woodcock, it is sometimes called the "grunt", and for the long beak - the "elephant".

In one village, I heard, they affectionately call him "Valishen". This is the name I like best.

dick and blueberries

A dog lives with us in the hut, whose name is Dick. He loves to watch me smoke. He sits across from me and watches the smoke coming out of my mouth.

Dick is a kind dog, but a glutton. Filling his stomach with fish offal and burying his head under the tree so that mosquitoes do not bite - that's what he needs!

Once in a swamp I found a blueberry field. He could not tear himself away from blueberries, he collected and ate handful after handful.

Dick ran from one side to the other, looked into my mouth, not understanding what I was eating.

Yes, it's blueberries, Dick! I explained. - Look how many there are.

I took a handful and handed it to him. He quickly removed the berries from his palm.

Now go ahead, I said.

But Dick did not understand where the berries come from, ran around, pushed him in the side with his nose so that I would not forget about him.

Then I decided to teach Dick a little mind-reason. I'm ashamed to tell you, but I got on all fours, winked at him and began to eat berries straight from the bush. Dick jumped in admiration, opened his mouth - and only the bushes crackled.

Two days later, Dick gathered blueberries around the hut, and I was glad that I had not taught him to love currants and cloudberries.

star ide

In early spring, Vitya and I went fishing on the Bridge.

The bridge is not so far from us, but still six kilometers. We walked, walked, kneaded the swamp and forest spring mud, we were tired. They came to the Bridge - they immediately put a fire, they began to boil tea. Vitya says:

I don’t know about you, but all my life I dream of catching a big ide.

What big? What sizes?

Not less than a boot.

What boot? Ordinary or wandering?

Well, it's you, boy, too. An ide the size of a marsh wandering! These don't happen. Let's catch an ide with an ordinary, familiar tarpaulin boot.

We agreed and tied a secret donkey to the ide. What is the secret of this donkey, I can’t tell - Vitya does not order.

And so we planted a dozen worms on a large hook and threw it all into the water.

And the ide does not take. A small path of worms pulls. The bell on the donk tinkles.

Tortured sorozhonka - Vitya says - overcame. Sorozhonka is a small roach. We have a roach called a horn in the North.

By the evening, at the very least, we caught the grasshoppers, but the ide does not take it at all.

And then the night came.

Above Tsypinaya Gora, under the stars, geese and cranes were pulled northward, woodcocks began to chirp and glare, and then he took an ide.

The fishing line was terribly stretched, Vitya trembled, grabbed the fishing line with both hands, pulled it to the shore.

And in the distance, in the darkness near the reeds, the ide that came to the surface splashed. Silver glare rained down on the water from the blows of his tail and stellar spray flew.

And so Vitya brought the ide to the shore and almost pulled it out, when suddenly the ide pulled. Vitya slipped and fell into the water next to the ide.

And now they are both floundering in black water, and star spray is flying from both of them. And I realized that the ide will now leave if I don’t think of something.

And I came up with. I also fell into the water on the other side of the ide. And now the two of us are already lying in the water and there is an ide between us.

And above us, by the way, all the night constellations, all the main spring stars, shine and stand, and especially clearly, I see, Leo and Gemini stand above us. And now it seems to me that Vitya and I are twins, and between us is a lion. Everything is kind of jumbled up in my head.

Nevertheless, we pulled out the ide, dragged it ashore, and it turned out to be very large. There was no time to measure by the boot - it was night, but he could not fit into the bucket.

We put it upside down in the bucket and through the swamp and forest spring mud ran home to Tsypin Gora. The ide beat in the bucket with its tail, and in each scale it was played by the main spring constellations - Leo and Gemini.

We hoped that the ide would not fall asleep until the morning, but he fell asleep.

I was very upset that the star ide fell asleep and there was no trace of it left on the earth. He took a board, put an ide on it and circled it with a pencil exactly along the contour. And then he sat for a long time - he cut out the star ide. Let at least his trace remain on my board.

And that ide that you see in the picture, we caught another time. This is not an ide, but a yazyonok. But for some reason he is also a star. I don't know why. We caught him in the morning, when the stars hid under the sun's veil... Probably, every ide is stellar...

Chaga

Above the river, above the pool, in which the outlandish northern grayling fish hides from the kite, there is a birch.

The trunk of a crooked birch, it either bends towards the river, or pulls it away from the water of the taiga, and the bark burst on its steepest knee.

For many years, a black birch fungus, chaga, has grown in this place.

I cut down the chaga with an axe.

Huge, with a bull's head, she barely climbed into a backpack.

For several days I dried the chaga in the sun, and when the mushroom dried up, I chopped the black-and-orange core with a knife, put it in a pot, and brewed it with boiling water.

The tea ran out and I drank the chaga. It is bitter, like tea, smells of burnt mushrooms and distant spring birch sap.

Its color is thick, coffee, the color of a whirlpool, in which the northern grayling fish hides from the kite and from our eyes.

Neighborhood

I am not afraid of snakes, but I am afraid in the most serious way. In those places where there are a lot of vipers, I always go to rubber boots and on purpose I stomp strongly so that the snakes know that I am coming.

“Again, this type is stomping,” the vipers probably think. - Look, it's coming. We must leave."

A family of vipers lives in the rocks behind our house. On warm sunny days, they crawl out to bask on the pebbles. We have been living side by side for many years, and so far - pah, pah, pah - there has not been a case for us to quarrel.

Once Vitya decided to take a picture of a snake. He set up a tripod in the stones, began to watch.

Soon a viper crawled out, and Vitya clicked. I went to see how he films.

Curled up, the viper lay in the stones, looking lazily at the photographer, and behind him, at the very heels, lay the second. Vitya did not notice this second one and could step on it every second. I was about to shout, when I suddenly saw a third one creeping up to the side of the tripod.

You're surrounded, I told the photographer. - Stop filming.

Now, I'll make another duplicate. The sun will come out from behind the clouds.

The sun finally came out from behind the clouds, Vitya made a duplicate and carefully, maneuvering between the vipers, took out his tripod.

Ugh, ugh, ugh, - I said, - nothing happened. And there was such a case with vipers.

We have an old house in the village, very abandoned. The owner of this house rarely comes, the whole winter the house is empty.

And then one spring two girls-artists came to this house. They wanted to live in the countryside, paint.

They went into the house and the first thing they decided to do was fire up the stove.

They opened the stove door, and two hefty vipers suddenly crawled out.

There was a cry!

Tuzik

In the village of Vasilevo, all the dogs are Tuziks, all the cows are Dawns, and all the aunts are Aunt Mani.

You enter the village, and the first Tuzik meets you - the Tuzik who meets you. He is cheerful, kind. Rubs gently on your leg, they say - come in, come in. You give him some kind of crust, and he jumps up and down with joy, as if you forfeited a whole cake for him.

You walk through the village, and from behind the fences the new Tuziks look, they think about the crust, and the Dawns in the sheds moo, and Aunt Mani all sit on the benches, sniffing the lilacs.

You will approach some aunt Mana, you will say:

Aunt Manya, pour milk, or something!

You will pass through the whole village - you will drink milk there, you will try radishes there, you will break lilacs. And for the outskirts of the last Tuzik sees you off. And he looks after you for a long time and barks loudly in farewell, so that you do not forget the village of Vasilevo.

But in the village of Plutkovo, all the dogs are Dozorki, all the cows are Daughters, and all the aunts are still Aunt Mani. My heartfelt friend Lyova Lebedev also lives there.

Cloudberry

Moss underfoot - soft shaggy fur.

Sunny berries, orange and yellow, scattered across the moss clearing. Cloudberry.

Yellow ones are ripe, orange ones are about to ripen.

The cloudberry berry is a bit like a white raspberry. It seems that these are small raspberries growing among the moss.

But cloudberries are not as sweet and fragrant as raspberries.

Still, I wouldn't trade cloudberries for raspberries. She has a northern, taiga taste, and there is nothing to compare it with - except with the taste of dew.

Cloudberry absorbed all the freshness of the damp forest, all the sweetness of the moss swamp - and there was a lot of freshness, but a little bit of sweetness.

But who needs as much as they need - some drink tea as a bite, others overlay.

When you get tired under the bag after long way when your throat is dry, cloudberries look like honey. Mossy and cool swamp honey.

porcelain bells

To whom what, and most of all I like the porcelain bell.

It grows in the depths of the forest, in the shade, and its color is strange - little sun. Not watery, but - transparent, porcelain. Its flowers are weightless, and you can not touch them. Just watch and listen.

Porcelain bells ring, but the noise of the forest always drowns them out.

Christmas trees are humming, pine needles are creaking, aspen leaves are trembling - where can you hear the light ringing of a porcelain bell?

But still I lie down on the grass and listen. And I lie for a long time, and the spruce rumble and the trembling of the aspen leaves aside - and a distant, modest bell is heard.

Perhaps this is not so, perhaps I am imagining all this, and porcelain bells do not ring in our forests. And you listen. I think they call!

Pantelei's cakes

Last night we spent the night with grandfather Pantelei. Long ago, about fifty years ago, he cut down a house in the taiga and lives in it alone.

We got to Panteley late at night. He was delighted with the guests, put the samovar.

We sat at the table for a long time, talking, singing songs.

Pantelei was silent for the most part and kept looking at what kind of city people they were. Wonderful seemed to him our conversations and songs brought from the city.

He liked one song: “It’s raining outside, raining ...”

In the morning we got up early, it was dark, and grandfather had already risen. I looked over the partition to him. There was a candle burning on the table, and in the light of her grandfather Pantelei was kneading the dough. Apparently, he was going to bake bread.

The sun has risen. We began to get ready for the road and decided to take a photo of Panteley as parting.

You, grandfather, take off your hat - why be photographed in a hat?

Why take it off? She keeps her head warm.

Well, then take the net in your hands, as if you were repairing it. Pantelei did not take off his hat, but took the net in his hands, shaking his head and smiling at the ideas of a city man.

Then he went into the house and brought out something wrapped in a rag. The bundle was hot. I unfolded it and saw thin cakes made from rye flour.

Take it, - said Pantelei, - on the road.

When we crossed Mount Chuval and stopped to rest, I took Panteleev's cakes out of the bag. They dried up and crumbled.

We began to eat them, soaking them in a stream.

There was neither salt nor sweetness in Panteleev's cakes. They were as fresh as water.

I wondered: what are these strange cakes, why do they have no taste?

Then I realized that there is a taste, only very simple. Such cakes can probably be baked only by a lonely old man living in the taiga.

Lapwing

Above the damp flood field, in the place where there are especially many spring puddles, lapwings fly with a cry all day.

They furiously flap their wide wings, dive in the air to the right, to the left, somersault. It seems that a strong wind prevents them from flying.

But there is no wind in the field. The sun is shining, reflected in smooth sparkling puddles.

The lapwing has an unusual flight, playful. The lapwing is playing, splashing in the air, like guys splashing in the river.

When a lapwing sits on the ground, you won’t immediately believe that this is the same bird that just tumbled over the puddles, played the fool. The sitting lapwing is strict and beautiful, and the frivolous crest on his head seems completely unexpected.

Once I saw lapwings chasing a kestrel.

The kestrel inadvertently approached their nest and got into the binder. One lapwing all the time tumbled in front of her nose and prevented her from flying, and the second swooped in from above and hit whatever she had to.

Having driven off the predator, the lapwings sank to the ground and walked through the puddles, waving their proud tufts.

Zimnyak

Shepherd Volodya shot the bird and brought it to me.

Here, he said, look what I shot. The bird was alive. The shot broke her wing.

A gray-haired bird with golden eyes looked angrily at me, clapped its beak and hissed.

There is nothing to hiss at me, - I said. - I didn't shoot you, but this idiot. Why did you hit her? I asked Volodya. - You got mad, didn't you?

She flies, and I think: give me a hit.

You should be hit. Into the eye.

Shepherd Volodya was offended. He screwed up the eye with which he was aiming, went to the corner of the hut and squatted down.

A gray-haired bird with golden evil eyes sat on the table. As soon as I approached, she hissed and thumped with her beak, her paws and claws were sharp, terrible.

It was large, the size of a goshawk, it had black spots on its chest and tail, but the overall impression was silver, gray, winter.

What is this bird? - Volodya mumbled in the corner. - What's her name, anyway?

Buteo lagopus, I replied. - You still don't remember.

What ... butya? - Volodya finally huddled in a corner and now screwed up the other eye, which he did not aim at.

Go help me, I said. - Let's try to straighten the wing.

I put on thick leather gloves and, while Volodya held the bird, I adjusted the wing as best I could.

It was the hardest thing. Buteo lagopus clacked, cracked and pecked, tore open gloves and jacket with its claws.

In place of the fracture, I laid two planks-tires, put a tight bandage on them, so that the furious Buteo lagopus would not tear it from the wing.

Then we took the bird outside and sat it on the fence. Buteo lagopus looked at us with hatred. Fearless and strong were his eyes.

Why are you looking at me like that? I said. - It was he who knocked you out, what do I have to do with it?

But the wounded Buteo Lagopus did not see any difference between us - Volodya and me.

"Buteo lagopus" are Latin words. And in Russian, this bird is called very simply - Rumnyak.

In our area, it appears very rarely, before the most severe winter.

three jays

When a jay calls in the forest, it seems to me that a huge spruce cone rubs against a pine bark. But why would a bump rub against the bark? Is it stupidity?

And the jay screams for beauty. She thinks she is singing. What a bird's delusion! And the jay looks good - the head is fawn with a tuft, on the wings there are blue mirrors, and the voice, like that of a rake, is a creak and a wheeze.

Once upon a time, three jays gathered on a mountain ash and let's yell. They yelled, yelled, flogged their throats - they got tired of it. I jumped out of the house - immediately scattered. I went up to the mountain ash - nothing was visible under the mountain ash, and everything was in order on the branches, it was not clear why they were shouting. True, the mountain ash is not yet quite ripe, not red, not crimson, but it's time - September.

I went into the house, and the jays again flocked to the mountain ash, yelling, tearing rakes. I listened and thought that they were cracking with meaning.

One shouts: - Will ripen! Will ripen!

Another: - Warm up! Warm up!

And the third shouts: - Trintryabr!

I understood the first one right away. It was she who shouted about the mountain ash, they say, the mountain ash will still ripen, the second - that the sun will warm the mountain ash, and she could not understand the third.

Then I realized that Soykin's "trintyabr" is our September. For her voice, September is too tender a word.

By the way, I spotted this jay. I listened to her in October, and in November, and she kept shouting: “Threat-trip!”

That's because Durynda, all of our autumn for her is a trinity.

One, two, horse, four

There were four stacks in the field.

Every time I passed by, I looked at them with pleasure. I liked how they move from the road to the forest, and I always counted them to myself: one, two, three, four ...

One day I was walking along the road and, as usual, I began to count: one, two, three, four ...

Where is the third stack? On the count of three, there was a horse. She was clearly chewing on the remains of the third haystack.

“Has she chewed a whole haystack? I thought. “No, probably the haystack was taken away, and the horse accidentally got to this place.”

A month passed, and again I was nearby, and the account turned out like this: lapwing, two, hare, four.

The first haystack was already gone, and in its place a lapwing walked, and between the second and fourth I raised a hare.

And a month later, there was no account. Neither a lapwing nor a hare was visible in the field, only one fourth haystack stood, covered with snow. And so he stood until the spring.

White and yellow

The most important butterflies are, of course, lemongrass. They show up first.

There is still snow in the ravines, and lemon trees are circling above the warm glade. Their yellow wings argue with the old snow and laugh at it. And from the earth - white and yellow - the first flowers are in a hurry - anemone, coltsfoot.

First, spring shows us white and yellow, and only then everything else - snowdrops, lungwort, and chocolate.

But spring cannot part with white and yellow. Now marigolds and kupavas will flare up, then bird cherry will bloom.

White and yellow pass through the whole spring, and only in the middle of summer white and yellow converge in one chamomile flower.

suspension bridge

Not far from the village of Luzhki there is a suspension bridge.

It hangs over the Istra River, and when you walk along it, the bridge sways, your heart stops and you think - you'll fly away!

And the Istra flows restlessly below and seems to be pushing: if you want to fly, fly! Then you go ashore, and your feet, like stone, reluctantly go; unhappy that instead of flying again they poke into the ground.

So I arrived once in the village of Luzhki and immediately went to the bridge.

And then the wind picked up. The suspension bridge creaked and swayed. I felt dizzy, and I wanted to jump, and I suddenly jumped and - it seemed - took off.

In the distance I saw fields, great forests beyond the clearings, and the river Istra cut through the forests and fields with crescent-shaped bends, drawing quick patterns on the ground. I wanted to fly along the patterns to the great forests, but then I heard:

An old man was walking along the bridge with a stick in his hand.

Why are you jumping here?

I'm also a lark! Thick-nosed! Our bridge was completely shaken, it looks like it will break. Go, go, jump on the beach!

And he threatened with a stick. I went from the bridge to the shore.

“Okay,” I think, “it’s not all for me to jump and fly. You have to land sometimes."

That day I walked for a long time along the banks of the Istra and for some reason remembered my friends. I remembered both Lyova and Natasha, I remembered my mother and brother Borya, and I also remembered Orekhievna.

Came home, on the table - a letter. Orekhievna writes to me:

“I would fly to you on wings. I don't have wings."

Bear-kaya

Creeps along the wet sandy path Medveditsa-kai.

In the morning, even before the rain, moose passed here - elk with five shoots on the horns, and a moose elk with a calf. Then a lonely and black boar crossed the path. And now you can still hear him tossing and turning in the dry reeds in the ravine.

The bear does not listen to the boar and does not think about the moose that passed in the morning. She crawls slowly and only shudders if a belated raindrop falls on her from the sky.

Bear-kaya does not even look at the sky. Then, when it becomes a butterfly, it still sees enough, it flies. And now she needs to crawl.

Quiet in the forest.

The sweet smell of meadowsweet along with the fog spreads over the swamp. Bear-Kaya crawls along the wet sandy path.

Rook

The rook drowned in the grass. He fell from a tree into the grass, and drowned in it, even choked a little.

The rook got scared. Sits in the grass. His eyes goggled, but he sees nothing but grass. For a long time he sat like that, and then stuck his head out of the grass - wow! Forest around. The trees are shaggy and shaggy, prickly and dense.

Then the rook took it and hid again in the grass.

Sat-sat, looked out again. The forest stands still, looking at the rook. And the rook hid again.

And so it went for them. The rook will stick his head out - the forest is standing; hides, and the forest looks on, and the grass rustles around, small blades of grass squeak, and dry ones crackle.

The rook went through the grass on foot, pushing the stems apart with its beak, but he himself was trembling with fear.

Suddenly the grass ran out, and the rook saw a field, and in the field two bulls were mooing at the rook. And both are white! What a horror - white-fronted! Both! And the rook backed into the grass.

And then the earth shook! There was a clatter, a roar!

The uncle is riding a mare on the road! Uncle! In Hat!

Not only did he climb on a mare, but he also put on a hat!

The rook flapped its wings in fear - and flew!

For the first time in my life I flew.

The horse thought

The horse thought. He stands in the meadow and thinks. And he doesn’t chew grass, he doesn’t look at butterflies, he doesn’t even chase flies with his tail - he thinks.

The horse is thinking, - said the driver, Uncle Agathon. - Yes, and there is something to think about. Life is a complicated thing.

I don't know what to think about? - Kolka said, mechanic. - Here I have worries - think about it! The tractor has a lot of horsepower, but there are not enough spare parts!

Think, dear, - said Orekhievna. - You need to think. There aren't many of you horses left in the world.

And the horse thought. Her eyes were wet and serious. She stood like that for a long time, and then she wagged her tail and galloped into the field. Chasing butterflies.

Ant king

Sometimes it happens - you become sad about something, you become sad. You sit sluggish and boring - you see nothing, you walk through the forest and, like a deaf person, you hear nothing.

And then one day - and it was early winter - sluggish and boring, sad and sad, I was walking through the forest.

“It's bad,” I thought. - My life is no good. I don't really know what to do?"

Glue! I suddenly heard.

What else to glue?

Glue! Glue! shouted someone behind the trees. Suddenly I noticed a snow mound under the tree.

I immediately realized that this was an anthill under the snow, but for some reason black holes gaped in the anthill. Someone dug holes in it!

I came closer, leaned over, and then a long gray nose, black mustaches and a red hat stuck out of the hole, and again there was a cry:

Glue! Glue! Glue!

And, waving green wings, the Ant King flew out of the anthill.

I recoiled in surprise, and the Ant-king flew down between the trees and shouted:

Glue! Glue! Glue!

“Ugh you abyss! I thought, wiping the sweat off my forehead. Clay says. Why glue something? What to stick to what? Well, life."

Meanwhile, the Ant King flew off not far, sank to the ground.

There was another anthill, in which holes were also black. The king dived into the hole and disappeared into the depths of the anthill.

It was only then that I realized who the Ant King was. It was the Green Woodpecker.

Not everyone has seen a green woodpecker, they do not live in every forest. But in that forest, where there are many anthills, you will definitely meet a green woodpecker.

Ants are a favorite dish of green woodpeckers. Green woodpeckers are very fond of ants. And ants don't like green woodpeckers, they just can't stand it.

“But what about me? I thought. - I love both. How to be? How to figure it all out?"

I went slowly home, and the Ant King shouted after me:

Glue! Glue! Glue!

Okay, okay, I mumbled back. - I will glue! Will! In short, I'll try.

I began laying out the rotten things on the floor. Laid out the constellation Ursa Major.

Did I do the right thing by waking you up? Nicholas was worried.

In the hut they shone in the same way as on the street. They did not illuminate anything, did not warm, but I wanted to look and look at them.

At night

Get up, wake up!

I woke up.

Come outside.

I thought something happened. He grabbed a gun from the wall, put his feet into his boots, which had been wet from yesterday, and jumped out of the hut.

Look, look, you must see this.

Nicholas stood under a canopy at the threshold. It was a cold and quiet deep night. The lightest fine rain rustled in the larches.

I did not see and did not understand where to look.

I don't see it, I said.

Right under your feet.

I looked under my feet and saw faint luminous stars on the ground. So, it happens that heavenly stars shine through a cloudy veil.

These are rotten, - said Nikolai. - You see, they glow ...

A luminous path stretched from the threshold to the fire. During the day we burned a rotten log and, while dragging it to the fire, poured dust on the ground.

These are rotten, - said Nikolai. - They glow. You have to see it, that's why I woke you up.

We stood side by side and looked at the ground, over which was scattered a calm and quiet, very simple light.

Soon we chilled, collected the largest fireflies, took them to the hut.

Ribbons

Order Ribbons live in birch forests. And I didn't know.

But then I went to the birch forest for boletus, and suddenly - in flocks, flocks - Order Ribbons began to fly up in front of me.

I wanted to chase them, but I didn't. It's kind of stupid to chase Order Ribbons.

Order Ribbons - night butterflies. During the day they hide in birch trees, and at night they fly freely all over the earth.

One night the Ribbon of Order came to the hut. I saw her through the window.

He opened the window and put the candle on the windowsill to lure her closer. And she beckoned.

In smooth circles, hesitating and trembling, she flew up to the hut. Sat on the windowsill.

She looked at the candle, and I thought that there could be no better order in the world. For my hut.

Lake Kievo

White-white, they say, were the waters of Lake Kiyovo.

Even on windless days they stirred and moved, and suddenly - in a white wave - soared into the sky.

Gulls-gulls - thousands of gulls - lived on Lake Kiyovo. From here they scattered along the nearest rivers. They flew to the Moscow River, to the Klyazma, to the Yauza. All the seagulls we saw in Moscow bred on Lake Kiyovo.

At first, the lake was far from Moscow. But then it got closer and closer. The lake did not move, but a huge city and its huge suburbs grew. Houses and cottages have squeezed the lake, stepped on its shores. Rusty pieces of iron and bent pipes appeared on the banks.

Lake Kievo has dried up. Wrinkles of islands and bays split the water mirror. Many seagulls have gone to live in free places.

"Kiev" is, of course, an unusual word. The word is still there.

Remained on the lake and seagulls.

We were left with the last seagulls.

Bunny bouquet

Hares generally do not collect bouquets. Why does a hare need a bouquet? All wild flowers are above the ears of the hares, all the forest flowers are behind the tails of the whites. And the hare's tail itself is called "puff" or "flower". That's what the old hunters say about the hare's tail, and they know their word.

But then, look, a hare showed up, who collected a bouquet. I poked everyone into the bouquet: both clover and frog here, and porridge, and chamomile.

Here he walks with a bouquet and does not know who to give it to. Why does a fox or a wolf need a hare bouquet? They don't care about flowers.

The bear loves flowers, but not in bouquets. He would like a raspberry bush.

And the badger? Only late at night does he get out of the hole, and if you hand him a bouquet on the forest path, I'm sorry, he can even beat him on the neck.

I don't know what to do with the rabbit bouquet. It is assembled and must be given to someone.

All right, let's give it to the badger and see what happens.

Bullfinches and cats

In late autumn, with the first powder, bullfinches came to us from the northern forests.

Plump and ruddy, they sat on the apple trees, as if instead of fallen apples.

And our cats are already here. They also climbed the apple trees and settled on the lower branches. Say, sit down with us, bullfinches, we are also like apples.

Bullfinches have not seen cats for a whole year, but they are thinking. After all, cats have a tail, and apples have a tail.

How good bullfinches are, and especially snow maidens! Their chest is not as fiery as that of the bullfinch owner, but tender - fawn.

Bullfinches fly away, snowmaidens fly away. And the cats stay on the apple tree.

They lie on the branches and wag their apple-like tails.

gray night

It began to get dark. Above the taiga, above the gloomy rocks, above the river with the splashing name Vels, a narrow fox moon rose. The ear ripened by dusk.

Finding spoons in our backpacks, we settled around the bucket, fished out pieces of grayling and put them in a separate pot so that the grayling would cool down while we ate the fish soup.

Well, Kozma and Demyan, sit down with us!

With a long juniper spoon, I rummaged in the depths of the bucket - my arm went into steam up to the elbow. I caught potatoes and fish giblets from the bottom - livers, caviar - then scooped up a transparent yushka with green foam.

Well, Kozma and Demyan, sit down with us! - Lyosha repeated, launching his spoon into the bucket.

Sit down with us, sit down with us, Kozma and Demyan! we confirmed.

We made a fire on the low bank of the Völs. Our shore is littered with dirty ice floes. They remained from the flood - did not have time to melt. Here is an ice floe that looks like a huge ear, and here is a mushroom.

Who are these - Kozma and Demyan? - asked Pyotr Ivanovich, who for the first time came to the Ural taiga.

Pyotr Ivanovich eats his fish soup carefully and respectfully. His head is shrouded in steam, small fires burn in his glasses.

It was the old fishermen who taught me, - Lyosha answered. - As if there are such Kozma and Demyan. They help to catch the grayling. It is necessary to call Kozma and Demyan in your ear, so as not to be offended.

By the clock it is already midnight, but the sky has not darkened, it has remained clear, twilight, and the moon has added cold and light to it.

It must be white night,” said Pyotr Ivanovich thoughtfully.

White nights will begin later, - Lyosha answered. - They should be lighter. There is no name for this night.

Maybe silver?

What a silver! Gray night.

Having spread spruce branches on the ground, we laid out sleeping bags and lay down. I buried my head at the foot of the tree. Its lower branches have dried up, lichen has grown on them and hangs down to the fire like tow, like a bast, like a white beard.

Nearby, behind me, something rustled.

A gray night, Pyotr Ivanovich repeated thoughtfully.

She is gray, white or silver, it's time to sleep anyway.

Something rustled behind him again.

The ear was so exhausted that it was too lazy to turn around and see what it was making noise. I see a moon that hangs over the taiga - young, thin, piercing.

Chipmunk! Lyosha suddenly said.

I looked around and immediately saw that two attentive night eyes were looking at us from behind the tree.

The chipmunk stuck out only its head, and its eyes seemed very dark and large, like a gonobobel berry.

After looking at us for a bit, he hid. It can be seen that horror attacked him: who are these people sitting by the fire ?!

But here again the big-eyed head popped out. Whistling lightly, the animal jumped out from behind the Christmas tree, ran along the ground and hid behind a backpack.

This is not a chipmunk, - said Lyosha, - there are no stripes on the back. The animal jumped onto the backpack, ran its paw into a canvas pocket. There was a rope. With a claw, he pulled her.

Let's go! - I could not stand it.

Jumping up to the tree, he grabbed the trunk and, tearing off pieces of bark with his claws, ran up the trunk, into thick branches.

Who is this? - said Pyotr Ivanovich. - Not a squirrel and not a chipmunk.

I don't know, Lesha said. - It doesn’t look like a sable, it doesn’t look like a marten either. I probably didn't get it.

The gray night is brighter. The fire subsided, and Lyosha got up, threw dry land into it.

In vain you shuged him, - Pyotr Ivanovich told me. He won't be back now.

We looked at the top of the tree. Not a single branch moved. Long sparks from the fire flew to the top and died out in the bright gray sky.

Suddenly, some dark lump fell off the top and opened up in the air, becoming angular, quadrangular. Crossing the sky, he flew from tree to tree, hooking the moon with the edge of his tail.

Then we immediately realized who it was. It was a flying squirrel, an animal that you cannot see during the day: it hides in hollows, and at night it flies over the taiga.

His wings are fur - membranes between the front and hind legs.

The flying squirrel was sitting on the very tree that grew above me. Here some kind of husk fell down from above, pieces of bark - the flying squirrel descended. He looked out from behind a tree, then hid, as if he wanted to sneak up unnoticed.

Suddenly he looked out very close to me, at arm's length. His eyes, dark and dilated, stared at me.

"Catch or not?" - I thought, apparently, a flying squirrel.

He sat curled up in a ball and looked at the fire.

The fire stirred and crackled.

The flying squirrel jumped to the ground and then noticed a large dark hollow. It was Pyotr Ivanovich's boot lying on the ground.

Whistling in surprise, the flying squirrel dived into the bootleg.

At the same instant, I rushed to grab my boot, but the flying squirrel jumped out and ran, ran along the outstretched arm, along the shoulder and - jumped onto the stump.

But it wasn't a stump. It was the knee of Pyotr Ivanovich with a large round cup.

Looking in horror at the flaming glasses, the flying squirrel coughed, jumped onto the fir tree and quickly climbed up.

Pyotr Ivanovich was feeling his knee in amazement.

Lightweight," he said hoarsely.

Having flown to another Christmas tree, the flying squirrel went down again. It can be seen that the fading fire of the fire attracted him, beckoning, like a lamp on a summer evening beckons a moth.

Sleep overtook me. Or rather, not a dream - a wolf's nap. I either closed my eyes and fell somewhere under a spruce root, then opened them and then saw a lichen beard hanging from the branches, and behind it a completely brightened sky and in it a flying squirrel flying from peak to peak.

With the first rays of the sun, the flying squirrel disappeared.

In the morning, over tea, I kept pestering Pyotr Ivanovich, asking him to give me a boot that had been worn by a flying squirrel. And Lyosha said, finishing his second cup of tea:

Was it not Kozma and Demyan who sent him to us?

leaf breaker

A cold October wind blew in the night. He came from the north, from the tundra, already covered with ice, from the banks of the Pechora.

The leaf-breaker howled in the chimney, stirred the aspen chips on the roof, beat and ruffled the trees, and one could hear how they meekly rustled, dropping their leaves.

The open window banged against the frame, creaking with rusty hinges. With gusts of wind, the leaves of a birch growing under the window flew into the room.

By morning, this birch was already wide open. Through its branches flowed and flowed cold jets of leaf thorns, clearly marked in the gray sky by a broken fluttering leaf.

The web, stretched in herringbones by a strict cross-spider, was full of birch leaves. Her owner himself had already disappeared somewhere, and she was still swelling with leaves, sagging like a net full of bream.

old apple tree

A grandmother sits by the road all day, selling apples.

Cars and motorcycles rush past the apples, tractors roar. Sometimes the car will stop, buy apples, and continue to buzz.

Here comes the truck. This apple will not buy, he has no time. I would buy a bus, but it has a stop three kilometers away. And this "Zaporozhets", if he buys, so half a kilo.

I stopped, bought half a bucket.

And you, guardian, are pulling on a bucket, - said the grandmother.

A grandmother is sitting by the road, and behind her is a mountain ash, and behind the fence there is an old apple tree, apples ripen on it, fall to the ground.

They work all day long. The grandmother trades, the apple tree drops apples. That's how they live.

Shen-shen-shen

And who knows how to lure horses? Well, everyone knows how to lure kittens and chickens.

Geese should be like this: - Tega-tega-tega ...

Deer: - Myak-myak-myak ...

Sheep, I heard, one aunt beckons like this: - Fables, fables, fables ...

And the horses, Vitya Belov told me, should be lured: - Sheng-shen-shen ...

And really, what good word, quite equine. Horses must understand him, exactly.

So I learned a new word and went through the village to look for horses.

He took, of course, a piece of black bread, salted it, and put it in his pocket. Salt, of course, woke up a little in the pocket, but it doesn’t matter.

I've had a lot in this pocket.

Here I go, looking for horses.

Yes, something not to see horses.

The brigadier gallops towards me on a bicycle, shouting:

Didn't see the horses? And I answer him:

Shen-shen-shen…

Are you crazy? the brigadier says. - The horses broke the fence, they left in the open field.

The foreman galloped off into the open field, looking for horses through binoculars. And I went up to the river, to the place where poplars grew, and I say quietly:

Shen-shen-shen.

And then three white horses came out of the thicket, looking at me in the eyes, they understand everything.

Here's "shen-shen-shen" for you! I only have one piece of bread.

summer cat

Here the other day I met the Summer Cat.

Red-haired and hot, having absorbed the heat of the sun, he lazily collapsed in the grass, barely moving his mustache. Hearing my steps, he raised his head and looked sternly: they say, come in, come in, don't block the sun.

The cat lay in the sun all day long. Either the right side will expose the sun, then the left, then the tail, then the mustache.

Sunset began and ended. Night fell, but for a long time something still shone in the garden. It was a shining summer sunny cat-sunflower.

Night burbots

With the first cold weather in the Oka, he began to take burbot. In summer, burbot was too lazy to swim in warm water, lay under snags and roots in pools and backwaters, hid in burrows overgrown with mucus.

Late in the evening I went to check the donks.

A thick black rubber cloak creaked on his shoulders, dry barley shells that dotted the sandy shore of the Oka crackled under his boots.

Darkness is always disturbing. I walked along the usual path, but I was still afraid of losing my way and anxiously looked around, looking for conspicuous willow bushes.

A fire suddenly flared up on the shore and went out. Then it flared up again and went out. This fire made me anxious. Why does it flare up and go out there, why doesn’t it burn longer?

I guessed that this was a village night fisherman checking his fishing rods and did not want, apparently, to be recognized by the flashes of a lantern as his good place.

Hey! - I shouted on purpose to scare. - Did you catch a lot of burbots?

“Multi-linear nalimov ...” - an echo flew off from that shore, something gurgled in the water, and there was no more flash.

I stood a little, I wanted to shout something else, but I did not dare and went slowly to my place, trying not to creak with my cloak and pearls.

I found my donkeys with difficulty, slipped my hand into the water and did not immediately feel the line in the icy autumn water.

The fishing line went to me easily and freely, but suddenly it tensed a little, and not far from the shore a dark funnel appeared on the water, a white fish belly flashed in it.

Crawling on the sand, a burbot crawled out of the water. He didn't thrash about wildly or tremble. He slowly and tensely bent in his hand - a night slippery autumn fish. I raised the burbot to my eyes, trying to make out the patterns on it; dimly flashed a small, like a ladybug, burbot eye.

On the other donks, too, there were burbots.

Returning home, I examined the burbots for a long time by the light of a kerosene lamp. Their sides and fins were covered with dark patterns, similar to wild flowers.

All night the burbots could not sleep and moved lazily in the cage.

snow rider

They say that when the first snow falls, the Snow Rider appears in the forests.

On a white horse he gallops through snow-covered ravines, through pine forests, through birch groves.

Either there, behind the fir trees, or there, in the clearing, the Snow Rider will flash, appear before people and rush silently further - along snow-covered ravines, along pine forests, along birch groves. No one knows why he appears in the forest and where the path leads.

And how does he talk to people, - I asked Orekhyevna, - does he talk?

Why should he talk to us? What to ask? He just looks at you and immediately understands everything. He, like a book, reads what is written in your soul.

The fortieth day after the first snow has long since passed. A hard frosty winter has come.

But somehow, in a snow-covered ravine, I saw how the Snow Rider raced in the distance.

Wait! I shouted after him.

The Horseman paused, glanced at me briefly, and immediately spurred his horse on and galloped on. I immediately read what was on my mind. And in my soul there was nothing special, except for black grouse and hares. And boots with galoshes.

Another time, in the middle of winter, I met the Horseman. I whistled and the Snow Rider stopped, turned around and immediately read what was in my soul. And in my heart, again, there was nothing special. Except, of course, hot tea with honey.

Everything is more severe, the winter became deeper. The snow kept falling and falling to the ground. Snow covered forests and villages.

In the deadest winter time I met the Horseman for the third time.

Slowly, with a step, he rode along the clearing, along the birch grove towards me. He saw me and stopped.

I wanted to ask him how long until spring, but I was too shy.

The Snow Rider looked at me attentively and patiently, reading my soul from end to beginning.

What is there in my heart?

ice hole

As soon as strong ice stood on the river, I cut a hole in it with a foot.

A round window turned out in the ice, and through the window, through the ice, black living water looked out.

I went to the ice hole for water - to boil tea, to heat the bathhouse - and I made sure that the hole did not overgrow, I broke the ice that had grown during the night, opened the living river water.

Our neighbor, Ksenya, often went to the ice-hole to rinse her clothes, and Orekhievna cursed at her through the glass:

Well, who so rinses?! Tyr-pyr - and in the pelvis! No, today's women do not know how to rinse underwear. You rinse longer, do not rush. You'll be in time for the TV! Here I used to rinse before. My face is red from the cold, my hands are blue, and my underwear is white. And now everyone is in a hurry to watch TV. Tyrpyr - and in the basin!

Once her little daughter, Natashka, went with Ksenya to the river.

While her mother rinsed, Natashka stood aside, and was afraid to approach the hole.

Come, don't be afraid, - said the mother.

No… I won’t go… there is someone there.

Yes, there is no one ... who is there?

I do not know who. And only suddenly it will jump out and drag it under the ice.

The neighbors rinsed their sheets and shirts, went home, and Natashka kept looking at the hole in the hole: would anyone come out?

I went up to the ice hole to see what she was afraid of, if anyone was really sitting under the ice.

He looked into the black water and saw two dull green eyes in the water.

The bottom pike came up to the hole to breathe in the winter, sonorous, free air.

hare trails

Yes, what is it! Wherever you go, there are rabbit tracks everywhere.

And in the garden, not only traces - real paths were trampled by whites between pears and apple trees.

Got eleven.

I felt offended - I slept like a log all night, and I never dreamed of hares.

I put on my boots and went into the forest.

And in the forest, the hare paths turned into roads, just some kind of hare highway. It can be seen that at night the whites and the hare walked in herds here, in the darkness they collided with their foreheads.

And now not a single one is visible - snow, footprints, the sun.

Finally, I noticed one hare. He slept in the roots of a fallen aspen, his black ear sticking out from under the snow.

I come closer and say softly:

The black ear stuck out a little more, and behind it the other white ear.

This other ear - the white one - listened calmly, but the black one moved all the time, incredulously leaning in different directions. As you can see, it was the most important.

I sniffed - and the black ear jumped up, and the whole hare came out from under the snow.

Without looking at me, he ran sideways to the side, and only his black ear looked around uneasily - what am I doing there? Am I calm? Or am I running?

The hare ran faster and faster and was already rushing headlong, jumping over snowdrifts.

His black ear flashed among the birch trunks. And I laughed, looking at how it flickered, although I could no longer make out whether it was a hare's ear or a black stripe on a birch.

Cloud and jackdaws

In the village of Tarakanovo, the horse Tuchka lives, red as fire. She is loved by jackdaws.

Jackdaws do not pay attention to other horses, and as soon as they see Cloud, they immediately sit on her back and begin to pluck her hair.

Her coat is warm, like that of a camel, says the carrier Agathon. - To knit socks from that wool.

The jackdaws are jumping on their broad backs, and Cloud is sniffing, she is pleased to see the jackdaws pinching. The wool itself climbs, every now and then you have to itch against the fence. Having gained a full beak of warmth, the jackdaws fly under the roof, into the nest.

Cloud horse is peaceful. She never kicks.

Carrier Agathon is also a kind person. Looks thoughtfully at the horse's tail. If a jackdaw had landed on his head, he probably would not have blinked an eye.

About authors

YURI KOVAL is the author of fascinating, dissimilar books: "Nedopesok", "The Adventures of Vasya Kurolesov", "Five Kidnapped Monks", "The Lightest Boat in the World" and many others. Yu. Koval's works have been translated into the languages of our union republics and foreign countries, they are often heard on the radio, and films are made on them.

Y. Koval's books are the favorite reading of many thousands of young and adult readers.

GALINA MAKAVEEVA is a well-known artist and illustrator of more than sixty children's books. Books by Yu. Koval, V. Berestov, R. Pogodin, N. Matveeva, I. Tokmakova with illustrations by G. Makaveeva were awarded diplomas of All-Russian and All-Union competitions. For ten years, G. Makaveeva was the main artist of the popular children's magazine"Murzilka". The works of G. Makaveeva were exhibited in more than 25 countries.

Sparrow Lake

grunt

dick and blueberries

star ide

Neighborhood

Tuzik

Cloudberry

porcelain bells

Pantelei's cakes

Lapwing

Zimnyak

three jays

One, two, horse, four

White and yellow

suspension bridge

Bear-kaya

The horse thought

Ant king

At night

Ribbons

Lake Kievo

Bunny bouquet

Bullfinches and cats

gray night

leaf breaker

old apple tree

Shen-shen-shen

summer cat

Night burbots

snow rider

ice hole

hare trails

Cloud and jackdaws

About authors

Topic: "Yu. Koval "Dick and blueberry"

The purpose of the lesson: for the teacher: creation of conditions for development speech activity students, i.e. the following groups of skills and abilities

Informative:

Ability to communicate the content of the text.

Communicative:

Ability and skill to present consistently received information to classmates

The ability and skill to ask and answer questions.

Organizational:

Ability to organize your learning activities in accordance with the curriculum.

Ability to organize your cognitive activity in a group, individually.

Tasks for the student:

additional information

Methodical equipment:

textbook " Literary reading”, Grade 1, author Buneev R.N., Buneeva E.V.

memo on drafting questions;

printed parts of the story;

presentation;

Lesson stages

Purpose of the stage

Organizational moment Psychological attitude of students to work

Motivation. Conversation leading students to the topic of the lesson

Group work

Announcement of the results of joint work

Fizminutka

Lesson topic announcement

Work in groups on the construction of text

Reconciliation. Reading the text by the teacher.

Work to identify understanding of the content of the story

Title of the text.

Reading text by students.

Fizminutka

Independent work on drafting questions

Mutual questioning by groups

differentiated task.(Experience

dog training)

Lesson summary

Homework

(Prepare students for work: provide an external favorable environment for work, psychologically set the guys up for joint activities) Let a kind, attentive attitude towards each other accompany us in this lesson.

- Bunny Pus, and now Petya Zaitsev, who came to study in grade 1, today once again asks a question, the answer to which we will try to give you in the lesson, working together. Petya wants to understand what "training" is? (Slide 1.)

- And you, first-graders, how do you understand the meaning of this word?

Let's work on the meaning of this word together to learn more about what it means. We will work today in groups.

(on the board there are signs with questions) WHO? WHAT? FOR WHAT? HOW?

The first group will answer the question - who can be trained?

The second group will think - what can be taught?

the third group will remember - how to teach? the fourth group will reflect - why teach?

Each group will write their guesses on the sheets of paper that you have on your desks. Try to write the words without errors, all together check what is written, and if it is difficult for you to write the word or if you have any questions, contact me for help.

I ask the representatives of each group to come to the board with the results of their developments and voice them.

The guys and I listen carefully to what answers we got in groups.

After the report of the first group.

– That's right, people learn all their lives: both when they are children and when they grow up. Animals that live next to us, we also teach something.

After the report of the second group.

– Well done, they listed many skills that we need in life and in order to master these skills, we have to learn

After the report of the third group.

– Great, how many actions you have named.

After the report of the fourth group

That's right, we need to acquire knowledge throughout our lives.

You did a very good job in the groups.

- What skills allowed you to cope with the task so well?

-What question should Petya answer today?

Based on your thoughts, let me summarize the work. Learning is the acquisition of knowledge and the acquisition of certain skills. (Slide 2)

- How did we cope and formulate the answer to Petya's question?

Can you tell me what the name is teaching animals to do something? What is the difference in teaching humans and animals?

Today in the lesson we will read a story about the unusual learning of unusual animal skills. Moreover, today we will conduct a dialogue (children are familiar with the concept of “dialogue” from the period of literacy)

You have a text on your desk that is divided into parts. Each part is printed on a separate piece of paper. The parts are not numbered. Everyone in the group will take any part, read it slowly and thoughtfully. After reading, everyone will retell their part to their comrades. After that, together try to restore the order of the parts.

- What is the task before you now?

To complete this task, you must follow the group rules. Let's remember them.

Students read the text on the cards, retell the content to their classmates, restore the order of the parts.

What words did you not understand in the text? (verbal explanation of the meaning of the word by the teacher)

I will read the story, and you check whether your order of parts coincided with the author's text.

If your group makes a mistake, put the pieces in the correct order.

Which group did not match the location of the parts?

Number the parts.

Let's look at the notes on the blackboard WHOM? WHAT? FOR WHAT? HOW?) and answer the written questions

Who was taught in the story? What was Dick taught? How did the author train the dog?

Why did you have to teach Dick how to eat blueberries? Who is called a glutton?

Give the group a title for the story. Do not forget that by the title you can determine what the text will be about.

How did you title the story?

The teacher writes the headings suggested by the groups on the board.

The story that we are reading today in the lesson was written by Yuri Iosifovich Koval.

Let's open the textbook on page 147 and read what name the author himself gave to his story.(slide change)

We will read the text in a chain. We read carefully. To understand main idea author. We are learning to have a dialogue with you, but in order to have a dialogue, you need to be able to ask questions. To ask the right question, you need to read thoughtfully. After reading you will independent work for drafting questions.

IN While reading, work is carried out on the lexical meaning of words. Techniques for explaining the meanings of words: independent - the meaning of the word offal is once again clarified by the children from a footnote in the book;verbal explanation : mind-mind; handful wordshowing (fold palm;use of a synonym when explaining the word instantly. WITH slide number 5 helps well to explain the meaning of the phrase “stood on all fours

The skill of expressive reading is being developed.

Let's get some rest. Let's go into the forest to the place where Dick ate blueberries, overcoming imaginary obstacles. Here we are walking along the path. (Walking)

There are a lot of mosquitoes in the forest (They depict how they brush off mosquitoes. One cotton, another cotton)

There's a stream ahead, let's jump over it (jump over the stream)

But through the river you need to go along the bridge, holding on to the railing (depict)

Past the sleeping bear - be careful! (on tiptoe)

Through the swamp, jumping over bumps (jumping, stepping over)

Here is the field. How many blueberries!(Slide number 6)

Let's squat down. (Sit down) We collect berries in a handful. (Depict) Ate. We got up. Fine! (stretched) Delicious!

-We take our places and move on to the next task. The most important part of the lesson. It is perhaps the most difficult, but also the most interesting. We ask each other questions.

The guys in groups 1 and 2 will make up “questions from the surface”, and the guys in groups 3 and 4 will make up “underwater questions”. When composing questions, use the memo, it will help you remember the question words.

- I will also work with you and draft questions for you..

Work together. Write down questions on reverse side sheet with text. You should try to write the words without errors, all together check what is written, and if it is difficult for you to write the word, contact me for help or check how the words are written in the text.

Listen to all the proposed questions by the guys in the group. Decide in the group which of the students will write down the questions, who will voice them.

Read your questions out loud, pronounce the words correctly. Evaluate students' answers: correctly or incorrectly answered your question.

Please come to the blackboard representatives of groups 1 and 2. Groups 3 and 4 will answer your questions.

Now it is the turn of students in groups 3 and 4 to ask questions, groups 1 and 2 will answer their questions

I also made questions, but for all the guys:

Why did the author tell us about this particular episode?

Which one of you has a dog at home?

I asked Vanya to tell us today about how she and her grandfather teach their husky different skills.

What should be the one who teaches?

At the beginning of the lesson, we defined the word learning. Voice it.

Try on the board to restore the sequence of the author's actions when teaching Dick COR http://files.school-collection.edu.ru/dlrstore / An interactive Star Board board is permanently installed in the classroom, complete with a computer and a projector, there is Internet access)

Well done.

- What will you tell your parents today at home about the work in the lesson? reflection

Your friends have dogs, go on vacation, there, too, probably, relatives have dogs. It's nice to see when an animal that has been tamed is cared for and cared for by people. But how painful it is to look at stray animals that are deprived of our attention. About such a puppy you will read the poem “Without supper” on page 149 at home.

(children's guesses)

Students work in groups and write down their answers on sheets of paper.

The representative of the group hangs out under the question written on the board the result of the work of the group of his group

Student responses:

1 group: children, animals,

adults

Group 4: to be smart, to be able and to know everything

What is training?

reflection

What is training?

reflection

Training.

reflection

(memo on the stand in the classroom)

Respect each other's opinions. Take turns speaking.

Disagree - suggest!

Tripe

(self-test)

dog.

There are blueberries.

He was shown how to eat blueberries.

He was a glutton and never ate.

Discuss in groups.

Suggested titles:

Dick's training.

How Dick was trained.

Glutton Dick.

Dick and blueberries.

reflection

read the title of the story

(When compiling questions about the main meaning of the text, questions about the content of additional information, students use the memo)

An adult stood on all fours and ate berries from a bush - this is funny, I guess.

Kind, patient.

Patient, love the animal

Gaining knowledge and mastering any skills.

Students arrange the pictures in the correct order.

Application

Printed parts of the text:
______________________________________________________ A dog lives with us in the hut, whose name is Dick. Dick is a good dog, but a glutton. Filling his stomach with fish offal and burying his head under the tree so that mosquitoes do not bite - that's what he needs!
_________________________________________________ Once in the swamp I found a blueberry meadow. He could not tear himself away from blueberries, he collected and ate handful after handful. Dick ran from one side to the other, looked into my mouth, not understanding what I was eating.
- Yes, it's blueberries, Dick! - I explained. - Look how much of it.
I took a handful and handed it to him. He quickly removed the berries from his palm.
“Now by myself,” I said.
But Dick did not understand where the berries come from, ran around, pushed him in the side with his nose.
________________________________________________________ Then I decided to teach Dick a little mind-reason. I'm ashamed to tell you, but I got on all fours, winked at him and began to eat berries straight from the bush. Dick jumped in admiration, opened his mouth - and only the bushes crackled.

Two days later, Dick picked blueberries around the hut. And I was glad that I had not taught him how to eat currants and cloudberries.

Memo on drafting questions

1. "Questions from the surface »
Who..? What did you do..? Where..? When?