And how good they are covered in winter. Structural map of the lesson “A simple complicated sentence. Sentences with homogeneous members, punctuation marks in them. On native land

13.07.2020

You will feel your heart fill with fresh joy. In nature, there is nothing more charming than early morning, early morning dawn, when the earth breathes maternal breath and life awakens.

RUSSIAN WINTER

Good, pure Russian snowy winters. Deep snowdrifts sparkle in the sun. Large and small rivers hid under the ice. On a frosty, quiet morning, smoke rises into the sky in pillars above the roofs of village houses. Under the snow coat, gaining strength, the earth is resting.

Quiet and bright winter nights. Pouring the snow with a thin light, the moon shines. Fields and tree tops shimmer in the moonlight. The winter road is clearly visible. Dark shadows in the forest. The winter night frost is strong, tree trunks crackle in the forest. High stars are scattered across the sky. The Big Dipper shines brightly with a clear North Star pointing north. From end to end, the Milky Way stretched across the sky, a mysterious heavenly road. In the Milky Way, Cygnus spread its wings - a large constellation.

There is something fantastic, fabulous in a moonlit winter night. I recall Pushkin's poems, Gogol's stories, Tolstoy, Bunin. Whoever had to drive on a moonlit night on winter country roads will probably remember his impressions.

And how beautiful is the winter dawn, the morning dawn, when the snow-covered fields and hillocks are illuminated by the golden rays of the rising sun and the dazzling whiteness will sparkle, sparkle! Unusual Russian winter, bright winter days, moonlit nights!

Once hungry wolves roamed the snowy fields and roads; foxes ran, leaving thin chains of footprints in the snow, looking for mice hiding under the snow. Even during the day one could see a mouse fox in the field. Carrying a fluffy tail over the snow, she ran through the fields and copses, with a sharp ear smelling mice hiding under the snow.

Wonderful sunny winter days. Expanse for skiers running on light skis on slippery snow. I did not like well-trodden ski tracks. It is difficult to see an animal or a forest bird near such a ski track, where a person runs in a chain after a person. On skis, I went into the forest alone. Skis gliding quickly, almost inaudibly over untouched snow. The pines raise their curly whitened tops to the high sky. White snow lies on the green prickly branches of sprawling fir trees. Under the weight of frost, young tall birches bent into an arc. Dark ant heaps are covered with snow. Black ants hibernate in them.

Full of life winter, it would seem, a dead forest. Here a woodpecker tapped on a dry tree. Carrying a cone in his beak, he flew with a colorful handkerchief to another place - to his "forge", arranged in the fork of an old stump, deftly set the cone into his workbench and began to peck with his beak. Resinous scales flew in all directions. There are a lot of pecked cones lying around the stump. A nimble squirrel jumped from tree to tree. A large white snow cap fell from the tree, crumbling into snow dust.

On the edge of the forest, you can see black grouse sitting on birch trees. In winter they feed on birch buds. Wandering through the snow, picking black juniper berries. Cross-shaped traces of grouse paws are written between the bushes on the surface of the snow. On cold winter days, black grouse, falling from birches, burrow into the snow, into deep holes. A lucky skier sometimes manages to pick up black grouse hiding in the snow holes. One by one, in the diamond snow dust, birds fly out of the deep snow. Stop, admiring the marvelous spectacle.

Quiet and bright winter nights. Pouring the snow with a thin light, the moon shines. Fields and tree tops shimmer in the moonlight. The winter road is clearly visible. Dark shadows in the forest. The winter night frost is strong, tree trunks crackle in the forest. High stars are scattered across the sky. The Big Dipper shines brightly with a clear North Star pointing north. The Milky Way stretched from end to end across the sky - a mysterious heavenly road. In the Milky Way, Cygnus spread its wings - a large constellation.

Full of life winter, it would seem, a dead forest.

Here a woodpecker tapped on a dry tree. Carrying a bump in his beak, he flew with a colorful handkerchief to another place - to his "forge", arranged in the fork of an old stump, deftly set the bump into his workbench and began to peck with his beak. Resinous scales flew in all directions. There are a lot of pecked cones lying around the stump. A nimble squirrel jumped from tree to tree. A large white snow cap fell from the tree, crumbling into snow dust.

Many wonders can be seen in the winter sleeping forest. A hazel grouse will fly by with noise or a heavy capercaillie will rise. All winter capercaillie feed on young pines with hard needles. Timber mice are scampering under the snow. Hedgehogs sleep under tree roots. They run through the trees, chasing squirrels, evil martens. A flock of red-breasted merry crossbills, dropping their snowy overhang, perched with a pleasant whistle on the branches of a spruce covered with resinous cones. You stand and admire how quickly and deftly they pull heavy cones, extracting seeds from them. A light trace of a squirrel stretches from tree to tree. Clinging to the branches, a gnawed cone fell off from above, fell to the feet. Raising my head, I see how the branch swayed, freed from gravity, how it jumped over, the nimble forest naughty hid in the dense peak. Somewhere in a dense forest, bears sleep in their lairs with an almost deep sleep. How stronger frost the more sound the bear sleeps. Horned moose roam in the aspen forest.

The surface of deep snowdrifts is covered with an intricate letter of animal and bird tracks. At night, a white hare, fattening in the aspen forest, ran through here, leaving round nutlets of droppings on the snow. Brown hares run through the fields at night, dig out winter bread, leave tangled tracks in the snow. No, no, yes, and he will sit down on his hind legs, his ears up, listening to the distant barking of dogs. In the morning, hares hide in the forest. They double and build their tracks, make long marks, lie down somewhere under a bush or spruce branch, head to their track. It is difficult to see a hare lying in the snow: he is the first to notice a person and quickly runs away.

Near the villages and ancient parks you see swollen red-throated bullfinches, and nimble, bold titmouse squeak near the houses. It happens that on a frosty day, tits fly into open windows or in the canopy of houses. I tamed those who flew into my small house tits, and they quickly settled in it.

The crows left to spend the winter fly from tree to tree. Grey-headed jackdaws call to each other with womanish voices. Just under the window, a nuthatch flew in, sat on a tree, an amazing bird that can crawl upside down along the trunk. Sometimes a nuthatch, like tits, flies into an open window. If you do not move, do not frighten him, he will fly into the kitchen, picking up bread crumbs. Birds are hungry in winter. They forage in the crevices of tree bark. Bullfinches feed on seeds of plants wintering over the snow, wild rose berries, and stay near grain sheds.

It seems that the river has frozen under the ice, the river is sleeping. But there are fishermen on the ice by the holes. They are not afraid of frost, cold, piercing wind. Inveterate anglers get cold hands, but small perches come across on the hook. In winter, burbots spawn. They prey on dormant fish. Skilful fishermen in winter catch burbots in the spaced peaks and burrows, block the river with spruce branches. They catch burbots in winter and on hooks, on bait. AT Novgorod region I knew an old fisherman who brought me live burbot every day. Delicious burbot ear and liver. But, unfortunately, there are few burbots left in the polluted rivers who love clean water.

And how beautiful in winter are forest lakes covered with ice and snow, frozen small rivers, in which life invisible to the eye continues! Aspen trees are good in winter with the finest lace of their bare branches against the background of a dark spruce forest. In some places, wintered berries turn red in the forest on mountain ash, bright clusters of viburnum hang.

Structural map of the lesson

“A simple complicated sentence. Offers from homogeneous members, punctuation marks in them".

1. Exercises on the topic "Homogeneous members of the proposal."

1. Compose sentences with homogeneous members according to the schemes below and write them down in the following order:

a) with homogeneous members expressing connecting (enumerative) meanings;
b) with homogeneous members expressing separating (mutual exclusion, alternation) values;
c) with homogeneous members expressing adversative (opposition, comparison) meanings.1. [Oh, Oh, Oh]. 2. [O, O and O].3. [Oh, but Oh].4. [O or O].5. [Not only O, but also O].6. [Then O, then O].7. [And O, and O, and O].

2. Determine which members of the sentence are homogeneous members in each sentence and how they are interconnected. Draw diagrams of the 3rd, 7th, 8th sentences.

1) Below, the surf roared measuredly and widely. 2) Either the sun hides, or it shines too brightly. 3) The train car was crowded with backpacks and skis and noisy. 4) He grumbled, but did not dare to disobey. 5) The voice of the blind beggar was weak and trembling... 6) She is young, graceful, loves life... 7) They slowly walked past blank log walls, hedges and bathhouses, went out to a cliff above the lake and sat down on a bench under a birch. 8) From Moscow I went to Kaluga, Belev and Orel and in this way made 200 miles extra, but I saw Yermolov.

2. Test on the topic "Homogeneous members of the proposal."

1. Which statement is false?Homogeneous members of a sentence ... 1) are interconnected by coordinating unions 2) answer the same question and refer to the same word 3) can be common 4) are always expressed in one part of speech.

2. What syntactic function do homogeneous members perform in a sentence?The days were overcast, rainy, but warm. 1) subject 2) predicates 3) definitions 4) circumstances

3. What syntactic function do homogeneous members perform in a sentence?Green populated his books with a tribe of brave, simple-hearted, like children, proud, selfless and kind people.

1) subject 2) additions 3) definitions 4) circumstances

4. What syntactic function do homogeneous members perform in a sentence?Fogs in London happen, if not every day, then every other day without fail. 1) homogeneous predicates 2) homogeneous additions 3) homogeneous definitions 4) homogeneous circumstances

5. Find homogeneous members in sentences and determine their syntactic function.

1) We explored our new home and found a lot of useful things here. 2) And you can love St. Basil the Blessed, the Moscow Kremlin, Pushkin's songs, poems, Tolstoy's romances. 3) Pink and unsteady reality is reflected in dreams. 4) A long-legged shadow from a white, red-spotted, short-legged Murzik. 5) Tasya and Voloshin were standing next to Streletsky. A. Subject. B. Predicate. B. Definition. D. Addition. D. Circumstance.Answer: 1) B 2) D 3) D 4) C 5) A

6. Determine how homogeneous members are related.1) This bird generally loves lakes, rivers, swamps. 2) There were narrow and sharp racing boats and wide seaworthy boats here.

A. Allied connection. B. Unionless connection. Answer: 1) B 2) A

7. Set the type of unions connecting homogeneous members.1) And the teachers there were grandmothers, and grandfathers, and village ones. 2) The screams intensified, then subsided. 3) Somewhere in the distance, thunder grumbled, but faded away. A. Connecting unions. B. Opposing alliances. B. Divisive alliances. Answer: 1) A 2) C 3) B

8. In which answer option are sentences with several rows of homogeneous members indicated?

A. On the sides of the path, rose hips stood in high and steep walls and bloomed with scarlet fire. B. The sea catches lightning bolts and extinguishes them in its abyss. C. The power of anger, the flame of passion and confidence in victory are heard by the clouds in this cry. D. There was a smell of wet grass and fresh hay in the forest and meadow.

1) A, C 2) B, C 3) A, B 4) A, D

9. Among sentences 1-5, find a sentence with homogeneous members. Write the number of this offer.(1) Dawn breaks in the east, and the water appears pink. (2) The sun rises above the earth as if in a steamy light haze, accompanied by the singing of countless birds. (3) Just like a living breath of the earth, a light golden fog spreads over the fields, over the motionless ribbon of the river. (4) The sun rises higher. (5) Cool transparent dew in the meadows shines like diamonds.

10. Among sentences 1-3, find a sentence with homogeneous members. Write the number of this offer.(1) And how beautiful in winter are forest lakes covered with ice and snow, frozen small rivers, in which life invisible to the eye continues! (2) Aspen trees are good in winter with the finest lace of their bare branches against the background of a dark spruce forest. (3) In some places, wintered berries turn red in the forest on mountain ash, bright clusters of viburnum hang.

3. Exercises on the topic "Homogeneous and heterogeneous definitions."

1. Find homogeneous and heterogeneous definitions in the sentences. Rewrite underlining them and insert commas where necessary.

1) The sun cast golden shining streams of light onto the earth. 2) A small birch grove could be seen in the distance. 3) At a great distance, the city sprawled and quietly flamed and sparkled with blue white yellow lights. 4) She looked at him and smiled, but not with a cheerful and joyful smile, but with a frightened, pitiful smile. 5) Short velvet grass turns green near the spring. 6) A young aspen trembled overhead with tender lemon leaves. 7) Snow drifts were covered with a thin ice crust.

2. First write out sentences with homogeneous, and then with heterogeneous definitions.

1) The fields are sad, covered with snow. 2) Her desire is to see life free, reasonable, beautiful. 3) The girl had a long black braid. 4) The river went into golden, blue forests from autumn. 5) She was wearing a dress the color of golden onion skins. 6) Here in front of me is a wide straight road into the distance.
4. Test on the topic "Homogeneous and heterogeneous definitions."

1. This feature is not characteristic of homogeneous definitions:1) characterize an object on one side 2) are pronounced with an enumerative intonation 3) you can put a union and, if the definitions are connected by an allied connection 4) characterize an object from different sides.

2. Specify homogeneous definitions (punctuation marks are not placed):

1) white blue balls 2) old oak floor 3) new silk blouse 4) big black stone.

3. Specify heterogeneous definitions (punctuation marks are not placed):1) Gloomy sullen look 2) Clay wooden Toys 3) Old manor house 4) Red blue flags.

4. Specify an example with a punctuation error:1) Evening light is reddening in the fields. 2) Last year's road track is overgrown with chamomile. 3) In the early May morning, the lights of beacons go out on the coastal meadows. 4) On a cool July day, I sat on the bank and admired the river.

5. In which sentence do you need to put a comma?1) A long freight train rushed past the station. 2) This small flashlight is handy for camper. 3) Old slender birch trees grew near the clinic. 4) It was not difficult to notice hare and squirrel tracks on the fresh snow.

6. What word should be chosen for the phrase porcelain utensils so that the definitions become homogeneous?1) old 2) broken 3) faience 4) white.

7. Which sentence has heterogeneous definitions (punctuation marks are not placed)?

1) We are leaving for a magnificent glade shining under the sun. 2) From the village came the triumphant cries of roosters released into the wild. 3) In the far corner of the room stood a pot-bellied walnut bureau. 4) The dahlias bloomed magnificently with the cold arrogant beauty.

8. Which sentence has heterogeneous definitions (punctuation marks are not placed)?

1) She really looked like a young slender flexible birch. 2) Suddenly, a horse alarm neighing was heard in the darkness. 3) It was a beautiful albeit somewhat sad city. 4) Joyful festive radiant mood seized me.

9. In this sentence, a comma must be placed between homogeneous definitions.1) And now, illuminating the bumps, a hot luminous solar ball took off. 2) A long time ago, the sunset, a little drowsy, a little grief, faded over the sleepy spring fields. 3) Between the round loose clouds the sky turns blue innocently. 4) At the window facing east, a poplar branch has already thrown out pale yellow sticky leaves.

10. In this sentence, the definitions are heterogeneous, they are not separated by commas.

1) The weather was cold and windy, so that snowdrifts piled up above the windows. 2) Swallows flew in the pinkish evening air. 3) It draws dry burning from the fire of a hot roast. 4) There was not a single cloud, as a result of which the firmament seemed like a blue crystal bowl.

11. Homogeneous definitions complicate the sentence:1) Dark, hard days have come. 2) Cheeks are ruddy, and full, and swarthy. 3) Yellow oak thickets stood in the dew. 4) A French ship of the line was in the roadstead.

12. Heterogeneous definitions are in the proposal:1) The hand was wrinkled, pale, thin. 2) It was a gray, dank, windy day. 3) In the distance, the clearing was cut by a high railway embankment. 4) There was a monotonous noise in the sleepy, frozen air.

13. Specify where to put commas in a sentenceThere were (1) bright carnations (2) and red (3) orange (4) and yellow lilies. (V. Arseniev) 1) 3 2) 1.2 3) 2.34) 2.3.4

3. Homework:1) repeat the material on the topic "One-piece sentences", prepare for the test 2) Complete task T1 B6

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I. S. SOKOLOV-MIKITOV

Sixty years of active creative work in the turbulent 20th century, full of so many events and upheavals, is the result of the life of the remarkable Soviet writer Ivan Sergeevich Sokolov-Mikitov.

He spent his childhood in the Smolensk region, with its sweet, truly Russian nature. In those days, the old way of life and way of life was still preserved in the village. The boy's first impressions were festive festivities, village fairs. It was then that he merged with his native land, with its immortal beauty.

When Vanya was ten years old, he was sent to a real school. Unfortunately, this institution was distinguished by bureaucracy, and the teaching went badly. In the spring, the smells of awakened greenery irresistibly attracted the boy beyond the Dnieper, to its banks, covered with a gentle haze of blossoming foliage.

Sokolov-Mikitov was expelled from the fifth grade of the school "on suspicion of belonging to student revolutionary organizations." It was impossible to enter anywhere with a “wolf ticket”. the only educational institution, where no certificate of trustworthiness was required, turned out to be St. Petersburg private agricultural courses, where a year later he was able to get, although, as the writer admitted, he did not feel a great attraction to agriculture, just as, however, he never felt an attraction to settling down, property , domesticity ...

Boring coursework soon turned out to be not to the liking of Sokolov-Mikitov, a man with a restless, restless character. Having settled in Reval (now Tallinn) on a merchant fleet steamer, he wandered around the wide world for several years. I saw many cities and countries, visited European, Asian and African ports, made close friends with working people.

First World War found Sokolov-Mikitov in a foreign land. With great difficulty he got from Greece to his homeland, and then he volunteered for the front, flew the first Russian bomber "Ilya Muromets", served in the sanitary detachments.

In Petrograd, he met the October Revolution, listened with bated breath to the speech of V. I. Lenin in the Tauride Palace. In the editorial office of Novaya Zhizn, he met Maxim Gorky and other writers. In these critical years for the country, Ivan Sergeevich becomes a professional writer.

After the revolution - a short job as a teacher of a unified labor school in his native Smolensk places. By this time, Sokolov-Mikitov had already published the first stories noticed by such masters as I. Bunin and A. Kuprin.

"Warm Land" - this is how the writer called one of his first books. And it would be difficult to find a more accurate, more capacious name! After all, the native Russian land is really warm, because it is warmed by the warmth of human labor and love.

The stories of Sokolov-Mikitov about the campaigns of the flagships of the icebreaker fleet "Georgy Sedov" and "Malygin", which laid the foundation for the development of the Northern Sea Route, date back to the time of the first polar expeditions. On one of the islands of the Arctic Ocean, a bay was named after Ivan Sergeevich Sokolov-Mikitov, where he found the buoy of the dead Ziegler expedition, whose fate was unknown until that moment.

Sokolov-Mikitov spent several winters on the shores of the Caspian Sea, traveled around the Kola and Taimyr Peninsulas, Transcaucasia, the Tien Shan mountains, the Northern and Murmansk regions. He wandered through the dense taiga, saw the steppe and the sultry desert, traveled all over the Moscow region. Each such trip not only enriched him with new thoughts and experiences, but was also captured by him in new works.

Hundreds of stories and novels, essays and sketches were given to people by this man of good talent. The pages of his books are illuminated with wealth and generosity of soul.

The work of Sokolov-Mikitov is close to Aksakov's, Turgenev's, and Bunin's style. However, his works have their own special world: not third-party observation, but live communication with the surrounding life.

About Ivan Sergeevich in the encyclopedia it is written: "Russian Soviet writer, sailor, traveler, hunter, ethnographer." And although there is a point further, this list could be continued: a teacher, a revolutionary, a soldier, a journalist, a polar explorer.

Sokolov-Mikitov's books are written in a melodious, rich and at the same time very simple language, the same language that the writer learned in his childhood.

In one of his autobiographical notes, he wrote: “I was born and grew up in a simple working Russian family, among the forest expanses of the Smolensk region, its wonderful and very feminine nature. The first words I heard were bright folk words, the first music I heard were folk songs that once inspired the composer Glinka.

In search of new visual means, the writer, back in the twenties of the last century, turned to a peculiar genre of short (not short, but short) stories, which he successfully dubbed bylits.

To an inexperienced reader, these tales may seem like simple notes from a notebook, made on the go, in memory of the events and characters that struck him.

We have already seen the best examples of such short non-fictional stories in L. Tolstoy, I. Bunin, V. Veresaev, M. Prishvin.

Sokolov-Mikitov in his stories comes not only from the literary tradition, but also from folk art, from the immediacy of oral stories.

For his bylits "Redheads and blacks", "To your own grave", "Terrible dwarf", "Groomsmen" and others are characterized by extraordinary capacity and accuracy of speech. Even in the so-called hunting stories, he has a person in the foreground. Here he continues the best traditions of S. Aksakov and I. Turgenev.

Reading Sokolov-Mikitov's short stories about Smolensk places ("On the River Nevestnitsa") or about bird winter quarters in the south of the country ("Lenkoran"), one involuntarily imbues with sublime feelings and thoughts, a feeling of admiration native nature turns into something else, more noble, - into a feeling of patriotism.

“His creativity, having its source in a small homeland (that is, the Smolensk region), belongs to a large Motherland, our great land with its vast expanses, innumerable riches and diverse beauty - from north to south, from the Baltic to the Pacific coast,” said Sokolov-Mikitov A. Tvardovsky.

Not all people are able to feel and understand nature in an organic connection with the human mood, and only a few can paint nature simply and wisely. Sokolov-Mikitov possessed such a rare gift. This love for nature and for people who live in friendship with it, he was able to convey to his very young reader. Our preschool and school children have long been fond of his books: “Kuzovok”, “House in the Forest”, “Fox Subterfuges” ... And how picturesque are his stories about hunting: “On the capercaillie current”, “Tightening”, “First hunt” and others. You read them, and it seems that you yourself are standing on the edge of the forest and, holding your breath, follow the majestic flight of the woodcock or, in the early, predawn hour, listen to the mysterious and magical song of the capercaillie...

The writer Olga Forsh said: “You read Mikitov and wait: a woodpecker is about to knock over your head or a hare jumps out from under the table; how great it is, really told!”

The work of Sokolov-Mikitov is autobiographical, but not in the sense that he wrote only about himself, but because he always talked about everything as an eyewitness and participant in certain events. This gives his works a vivid persuasiveness and that documentary authenticity that attracts the reader so much.

“I was lucky to get close to Ivan Sergeevich in early years his literary work,” recalled K. Fedin. - It was shortly after civil war. For half a century, he devoted me to his life so much that it sometimes seems to me that it has become mine.

He never set out to write his biography in detail. But he is one of those rare artists whose life, as it were, summed up everything that he wrote.

Kaleria Zhekhova

IN THE NATIVE LAND

Sunrise

Also in early childhood I used to watch the sunrise. In the early spring morning, on a holiday, my mother sometimes woke me up, carried me to the window in her arms:

- Look how the sun plays!

Behind the trunks of old lindens, a huge flaming ball rose above the awakened earth. He seemed to swell, shone with a joyful light, played, smiled. My childish soul rejoiced. For the rest of my life I remember my mother's face, illuminated by the rays of the rising sun.

In adulthood, I have watched the sunrise many times. I met him in the forest, when before dawn the pre-morning wind passes above the tops of the head, one after another the pure stars go out in the sky, the black peaks are more and more clearly indicated in the lightened sky. There is dew on the grass. A cobweb stretched in the forest sparkles with many sparkles. Clean and transparent air. On a dewy morning, it smells like resin in a dense forest.

I saw the sunrise over my native fields, over a green meadow covered with dew, over the silver surface of the river. Pale morning stars, a thin sickle of the month, are reflected in the cool mirror of water. Dawn breaks in the east, and the water appears pink. As if in a steamy light haze, the sun rises above the earth to the singing of countless birds. Like the living breath of the earth, a light golden mist spreads over the fields, over the motionless ribbon of the river. The sun is rising higher. Cool transparent dew in the meadows shines like diamonds.

I observed the appearance of the sun on a frosty winter morning, when deep snow shone unbearably, a light frosty hoarfrost scattered from the trees. I admired the sunrise in the high mountains of the Tien Shan and the Caucasus, covered with sparkling glaciers.

The sunrise over the ocean is especially beautiful. As a sailor, standing on watch, I have many times observed how the rising sun changes its color: now it swells up with a flaming ball, now it is covered with fog or distant clouds. And everything around suddenly changes. Distant shores, crests of oncoming waves seem different. The color of the sky itself changes, covering the endless sea with a golden-blue tent. The foam on the crests of the waves seems to be golden. Gulls flying behind the stern seem golden. The masts shine with scarlet gold, the painted side of the ship glistens. You used to stand on watch at the bow of the ship, your heart filled with unspeakable joy. A new day is born! How many meetings and adventures he promises to a young happy sailor!

Residents of big cities rarely admire the sunrise. High stone masses of city houses cover the horizon. Even villagers wake up for the short hour of sunrise, the beginning of the day. But in the living world of nature, everything is awakening. On the edges of the forest, over the illuminated water, the nightingales sing loudly. Soar from the fields into the sky, disappearing in the rays of dawn, light larks. Cuckoos happily cuckoo, thrushes whistle.

Only sailors, hunters, people who are closely connected with mother earth, know the joy of a solemn sunrise when life awakens on earth.

My friends, readers, I strongly advise you to admire the sunrise, the pure early morning dawn. You will feel your heart fill with fresh joy. In nature, there is nothing more charming than early morning, early morning dawn, when the earth breathes maternal breath and life awakens.

Russian Winter

Quiet and bright winter nights. Pouring the snow with a thin light, the moon shines. Fields and tree tops shimmer in the moonlight. The winter road is clearly visible. Dark shadows in the forest. The winter night frost is strong, tree trunks crackle in the forest. High stars are scattered across the sky. The Big Dipper shines brightly with a clear North Star pointing north. The Milky Way stretched from end to end across the sky - a mysterious heavenly road. In the Milky Way, Cygnus spread its wings - a large constellation.

Full of life winter, it would seem, a dead forest.

Many wonders can be seen in the winter sleeping forest. A hazel grouse will fly by with noise or a heavy capercaillie will rise. All winter capercaillie feed on young pines with hard needles. Timber mice are scampering under the snow. Hedgehogs sleep under tree roots. They run through the trees, chasing squirrels, evil martens. A flock of red-breasted merry crossbills, dropping their snowy overhang, perched with a pleasant whistle on the branches of a spruce covered with resinous cones. You stand and admire how quickly and deftly they pull heavy cones, extracting seeds from them. A light trace of a squirrel stretches from tree to tree. Clinging to the branches, a gnawed cone fell off from above, fell to the feet. Raising my head, I see how the branch swayed, freed from gravity, how it jumped over, the nimble forest naughty hid in the dense peak. Somewhere in a dense forest, bears sleep in their lairs with an almost deep sleep. The stronger the frost, the stronger the bear sleeps. Horned moose roam in the aspen forest.

Near the villages and ancient parks you see swollen red-throated bullfinches, and nimble, bold titmouse squeak near the houses. It happens that on a frosty day, tits fly into open windows or in the canopy of houses. I tamed the tits that flew into my little house, and they quickly settled down in it.

It seems that the river has frozen under the ice, the river is sleeping. But there are fishermen on the ice by the holes. They are not afraid of frost, cold, piercing wind. Inveterate anglers get cold hands, but small perches come across on the hook. In winter, burbots spawn. They prey on dormant fish. Skilful fishermen in winter catch burbots in the spaced peaks and burrows, block the river with spruce branches. They catch burbots in winter and on hooks, on bait. In the Novgorod region, I knew an old fisherman who brought me live burbot every day. Delicious burbot ear and liver. But, unfortunately, there are few burbots left in the polluted rivers who love clean water.

March in the forest

In the riches of the calendar of Russian nature, March is listed as the first month of spring, a joyful holiday of light. The cold, blizzard February has already ended - “crooked roads”, as the people call it. According to the popular apt word, even "winter shows its teeth." In early March, frost often returns. But the days are getting longer, earlier and earlier the bright spring sun rises above the snowy shroud. Deep snowdrifts lie untouched in the forests and on the field. You will go out on skis - such unbearable whiteness will sparkle around!

The air smells like spring. Casting purple shadows on the snow, the trees stand motionless in the forest. Clear and clear skies high lungs clouds. Under the dark fir trees, the porous snow is sprinkled with fallen needles. A sensitive ear catches the first familiar sounds of spring. Here, almost above the head, a ringing drum trill was heard. No, this is not the creak of an old tree, as inexperienced city people usually think when they find themselves in the forest. in early spring. This, having chosen a dry, sonorous tree, is drummed in spring by a forest musician - a motley woodpecker. If you listen carefully, you will certainly hear: here and there in the forest, closer and further, as if calling to each other, drums solemnly sound. This is how woodpecker drummers greet the arrival of spring.

Here, warmed by the rays of the March sun, a heavy white hat fell off the top of a tree by itself, crumbling into snow dust. And, as if alive, sways for a long time, as if waving a hand, a green branch, freed from winter shackles. A flock of spruce crossbills, whistling merrily, scattered like a wide red lingonberry necklace over the tops of fir trees hung with cones. Only a few observant people know that these cheerful, sociable birds spend the whole winter in coniferous forests. In the most severe cold, they skillfully arrange warm nests in thick boughs, take out and feed their chicks. Leaning on ski poles, you admire for a long time how nimble birds are picking cones with their crooked beaks, choosing seeds from them, how, circling in the air, light husks quietly fall onto the snow.

An almost invisible and inaudible life, accessible only to a keen eye and a sensitive ear, lives at this time a barely awakened forest. Here, dropping a gnawed cone, a light squirrel perched on a tree. Jumping from twig to twig, the titmouses are already spring-like shadows above the snowdrift. Flickering behind the trunks of trees, the reddish jay will silently fly by and disappear. A fearful hazel grouse will flutter, thunder and hide in the depths of a forest overgrown ravine.

Illuminated by the rays of the sun, the bronze trunks of pine trees rise, raising their sprawling peaks into the very sky. The greenish branches of bare aspens were intertwined in the finest lace. It smells of ozone, resin, wild rosemary, the hard evergreen branches of which have already appeared from a broken snowdrift near a high stump warmed by the March sun.

Festive, clean in the illuminated forest. Bright spots of light lie on branches, on tree trunks, on compacted dense snowdrifts. Gliding on skis, you used to go out onto a sunny, sparkling clearing surrounded by a birch forest. Unexpectedly, almost from under the very feet, in the diamond snow dust, black grouse begin to break out of the holes. All morning they fed on spreading, bud-strewn birch trees. One after another, red-browed black scythes, yellowish-gray female grouse, fly out resting in the snow.

On clear days, in the mornings, you can already hear the first spring muttering of lekking mowers. In the frosty air, their booming voices can be heard far away. But the real spring current will not begin soon. This is only a test of strength, sharpening weapons clad in black armor, red-browed fighters.

On deaf pine swamps, capercaillie-swindlers are preparing for the spring current. In deep snow, in aspen and pine thickets, moose keep. It is difficult to see a sensitive moose, but it also happens like this: fleeing from evil poachers, moose go to crowded roads, to the outskirts of villages and cities.

Wonderful moonlit March nights! Snow is covered with strong infusion. You can walk without skis on crisp snow parquet.

The night forest seems fabulous. Other, nocturnal, sounds and voices are heard. Here an owl gurgled, flying, far, far away, other invisible owls responded to it. Squeaking softly, the wood mouse ran through the snow, disappeared under a stump in a snowdrift. A cautious fox ran through the edge of the forest. On bright moonlit nights, the hares go out into the fields to fatten.

Badgers and bears still sleep in their warm burrows and lairs. But on clear March days, the bear wakes up more and more often. Bear cubs born in winter grow up in dens.

Real spring comes in mid-March. In cities and towns, it flows from the roofs, long icicles hang. Sparrows chirp joyfully, spring-like. On the forest paths, snow falls underfoot.

And somewhere, in the far south, gardens are already blooming, sowing has long begun. An army of thousands of migratory birds is preparing for the journey. From distant Africa, from the shores of the South Caspian, birds set off on a long journey. The first to arrive are close guests - rooks. In old parks, on tall trees, they make their nests, filling the neighborhood with noise and din. Starlings will soon fly in for the rooks, the first larks will appear on the spring thawed patches.

The sun is getting hotter every day. Spring streams run under the snow. April will come soon - the noisiest month of spring water, the awakening of the earth, the rapid movement of juices.