Summary of the story of V. P. Astafiev “Vasyutkino Lake”

Summary of the story of V. P. Astafiev “Vasyutkino Lake”

You can not find this lake on the map. It is small, but memorable, Vasyutkino. Far from every lake has its own name, because our Motherland is immense and immense.

Fishermen from the brigade Vasyutkin’s father – Grigory Afanasevich Shadrin – quite dejected. Because of the frequent autumn rains the fish began to be poorly caught, and the fishermen became lazy. But a warm wind blew from the south and smoothed out the faces of the people. The boats slid along the river, but the catches were still small. The fishermen went down the Yenisei, the boats were pulled ashore, and the luggage was transferred to a hut, built a few years ago by an academic expedition.

Vasyutka’s father examined the hut and came to the conclusion that it was suitable for wintering.

It is necessary to prepare all the tackle for the big run of the fish, but for now to fish with ferries and jumpers.

And the fishermen did their own business, checking the permissions once a day.

Although in them and came across a valuable fish, but it was a calm fishing, not requiring excitement.

And Vasyuki began a boring life – there are no friends, there’s nowhere to go. One consoled: the academic year will soon begin, and it will be sent to the village, especially since Uncle Kolyada has already brought the boy new textbooks.

In the evenings the hut grew crowded and noisy. The fishermen ate dinner, there were stories and stories, snaps nuts. And Vasyutka supplied nuts for everyone. All the near cedars he had already beaten, every day he had to climb into the taiga farther and farther from the habitat. But he liked to wander with a gun in the taiga.

Once Vasyutka got up late. He ate, looked at the calendar. I was happy to think that there were only ten days left before the beginning of the academic year, and began to gather in the taiga. Mother, as usual, began to grumble that one should not wander in the taiga, but prepare for the teachings, and that the fishermen are vassily enticing.

But the boy, resembling a stocky little peasant, with a gun on his shoulder and a bandolier,

went out of the house, and his mother habitually reminded: “Have you taken the bread?” – “What’s he to me?” Vasyutka was surprised. And her mother reminded that he still had little taiga laws to remodel, From time immemorial, they went to the forest with food and matches.

Vasyutka hastened to disappear from the eyes of his mother, so as not to find fault with anything else, and in a few minutes he was already walking along the taiga. Like every taiga, Vasyuki has a tendency to reason. He walked and thought that, probably, every taiga road begins with a swamp. A rattling quack somewhere over his head tore him away from his thoughts. The boy looked up and saw above the bird’s head a cedarwood, aimed at it and clicked his tongue, as if he had pressed the trigger. Cartridges, or, as the hunters say, were stored, he did not waste money. This was another taiga law.

I took Vasyuka a bag of cedar cones and just decided to move on to the next tree, when something suddenly clapped in front of him. The boy looked up and saw a wood-grouse rising from the earth. His heart skipped a beat, he did not yet have such luck. As a veteran hunter, Vasyutka began to lure wood grouses, depicting a dog barking. The grouse looked with interest at the boy who was approaching him. The boy took aim, shot, but on the flight of the capercaaster realized that he had only wounded him.

He rushed after the bird, only now realizing that he had not shot it because of the fine fraction that the gun was loaded with, but the wood grouse is the size of a Druzhka!

The bird began to weaken. Vasyutka tracked her down and fired again. Then we weighed the precious prey on his hand and hurried home, so that my mother would not scold.

And suddenly I realized: where do you zashuki – nicks in the trees? It seems that the forest is the same as that of the house, but something was alienating from it…

Vasyutka began to think where the north, and where the south, began to recall on which side of the trees the old notches, and on what new… The boy started talking to himself to drive away the fear. Cheerfulness was short. It was not crowded. Sometimes it seemed to Vasyutka that he could see the notches on the trunks, but all was in vain. The boy poured out the cones from the bag, changed direction several times and walked, walked…

He saw a fly beating in spider webs. At the sight of the helpless fly Vasyutka suddenly dawned: he lost his way!

The opening was so simple and terrific that he did not immediately recover.

The boy was frightened, rushed to run, struggling through the thorny branches, finally got into the windbreak. There he fell into damp moss and froze. Full despair seized him. “Come what may…”

Then he remembered the words of his father and grandfather about the fact that the taiga nurse does not like flimsy, and began to recall everything that he was taught, that he knew from the stories of fishermen and hunters. First, he made a fire. It’s good that he took matches from home. I was at home with firewood and baked wood-grouse in the fire, regretting that I did not take salt with me.

Of course, it was terrible at night. That thought of wild animals came to mind, then the root-vyvoroten seemed a beast of the forest. When the night was over and the morning fog came to replace her, Vasyutka breathed a sigh of relief, because all his nightly fears were empty. In place of the night silence came taiga lively sounds. Vasyutka fired into the air in the hope that someone would hear him, but the taiga was silent. Then he climbed to the top of the tree in the hope of seeing the edge of a deciduous forest, which usually grows along the banks of rivers, but everywhere there was only an ephedra. After some reflection, the boy decided to go strictly north, hoping to get out of the pressing forest. The sun was turning towards the sunset, when Vasyutka, not believing his eyes, went out to the lake, which he took first for the swamp. He decided to spend the night on the beach, built a fire and fried cones on fire. In the water, near the grass itself, swarmed fish – as much as he had never seen. It was not a simple lake fish, but white. He recognized peley, chiros, and whitefish. Then he hit a couple of ducks and baked them in the fire.

There were stars. Vasyutka remembered his grandfather’s words that it was cold, and his heart became uneasy. To drive away the bad thoughts, he began to think about the school and about the house and forgot a restless sleep.

Woke up late, around was a sticky fog. And again he had an idea – and where in the lake there is so much white fish? Vasyuka had breakfast and began to make his way along the shore. Imagine the boy’s surprise when he found out that the lake he had slept with yesterday was just a bay, an echo of a real big lake.

Finding that one of the ducks killed by them was carried into a large lake, the boy realized that it was flowing and that somewhere a river ran into it. Running from a kilometer along a barely noticeable bank, Vasyutka stopped. The thickets ended, and instead of them appeared steep high banks. Now before him was really a river. I really wanted to believe that she was falling into the Yenisei, otherwise it would be lost. Vasyutka, now there is little left…

It began to rain, and the boy did not notice how he had a heavy sleep. Waking up, he saw that the taiga life after such a rain froze. I tried to make a fire, carefully treating the remaining four matches. While he was a baker, he heard a sound like a mosquito squeak, and froze. Then the sound was repeated. Vasyutka guessed that it was a whistle. He realized that the sound comes from the Yenisei. Soon he really went to the shore of his native mighty full-flowing river and burst into tears from an overabundance of feelings.

I decided to wash and did not recognize my reflection in the water – my cheekbones sharpened, my lips cracked. And what would happen if we had to wander further? ..

I noticed that a huge passenger ship was floating along the river, waved his hands to be taken aboard, but the ship sailed past.

The next night was particularly long and disturbing. It seemed to Vasyukka that someone was swimming along the Yenisei. And then, really, through the dream, he recognized the sound characteristic of the exhaust pipe of a fishing boat-bot. He built a fire on the shore, and then, for the sake of fidelity, he saw the silhouette of the bot, and began to shoot with a gun.

“Who shoots?” – asked in a shout from a bot. “It’s me, Vaska! I’ve lost my way! Come quickly!” And still not believing that he was found, rushed to the boat and asked to sail faster, otherwise the bot will leave.

On the boat was an acquaintance, the foreman of the bot “Igarets” Uncle Kolyada. And so the boy, having calmed down, sitting in the cockpit, weaves bread with dried sturgeon and tells everyone about his adventures. It turns out that Vasyutka came out sixty kilometers below his home. The boy fell asleep, wrapped in a blanket and clothes on the ship, and Uncle Kolyada muttered that he was asleep heroically, and the father and mother went crazy looking for him.

Bot delivered the hero directly to the parking lot of Brigadier Shadrin. Grandfather, who could not find a place for himself, ran to tell the mother of Vasyuki’s joyful news sooner. Mother ran out and, seeing the ragged son coming down the ladder, sat down with a groan on the stones.

Here Vasyutka and home. The grandfather and his mother really do not know what to treat him, stewed in a bath, rubbed with all sorts of folk potions for colds. Soon, on the shore, a father, exhausted by search, appeared. He was told that Vasyutka was at home. Seeing his son, he pressed him to him and laughed at the fact that everything from his loss had almost gone mad.

Vasyutka told his father that he had found a running lake. And soon the team of Grigory Shadrin switched to lake fishing. And on the regional map appeared another small blue spot the size of a pinhead and the inscription “Vasyutkino Lake.”


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Summary of the story of V. P. Astafiev “Vasyutkino Lake”