A brief tale of the tale-were MM Prishvin’s “Pantry of the Sun”

In one village, near the Bludov Marsh, near the city of Pereslavl-Zalesskiy, two children were orphaned. Their mother died of illness, his father died in the Patriotic War. In the village, the children were helped as best they could. Nastya was often compared to the Golden Chicken, and Mitrasha was called the Muzhik in a bag. After the parents of Nastya and Mitrashe, the whole farm economy was taken: a hut, a cow, a heifer, a goat, sheep, chickens, a rooster and a pig. Children quickly learned everything and “began to live well.” They were very clever kids, they could only join the community work. And they lived together amicably.

Nastya got up, like her mother, very early, far away to the sun, with a twig she drove away the cattle, went back to the hut and busied herself on the farm until the night.

Mitrasha learned from his father how to make wooden utensils and how he could save his neighbors with his own business. They, in turn, also did not refuse help.


friendship, the children had a beautiful equality.

And somehow the children decided to go to the forest for cranberries. The most delicious cranberries are those that lie under the snow all winter, and in the spring peeps out. And so the children began to gather. Mitrasha took with him his father’s gun, the manga for grouse, the compass did not forget, remembering the advice of his father.

And Mitrasha recalled here how his father told him about such a place in the forest, which is entirely in cranberry, about the Palestinian. But the path to this Palestinian lies through the swamp Blind Elan, where many people died, and cows and horses.

And so the children set out on their journey. Already along the path began to come across them cranberry. They greedily tore off the berries and put them in their mouths.

On the way, they remembered that in the woods there lived the Gray Landlord, a wolf that no one could catch, but he brought harm, like a whole pack of wolves.

And here in front of the children fork. Nastia persistently begs her brother to follow the path that all people

walk about, but Mitrasha, obedient to the compass, points out another way – along a path barely perceptible, past that Blind Elani. Mutilating, the children diverge in different directions and go in different ways.

The following is told about the dog hound Travke. The grass came out of its kennel, alarmed by the moaning of trees. This plaintive moan reminded her of her own grief: about two years ago she had lost the antipope Antipych, adored by her. The so-called “scouts of marsh riches” talk about him. On their behalf, and is a narrative. Often these “scouts” talked with Antipych, asking how old he was. But the old man must have forgotten it himself. The narrators mention the dog, and especially those amazing relationships of friendship and understanding that have developed between the Grass and its owner.

Further in the story it comes to the persecution of wolves. These forest predators became a real disaster for the villagers, and therefore a brigade was called to destroy them. Almost all the wolves managed to lime, and only the Gray Pomerchik remained unharmed. How many times he jumped over the flags and went into the forest. And it was not possible to catch him. And that morning, when the children dispersed along different paths, he lay in his lair, hungry and angry. And then he heard the plaintive howl of Grass, which in her solitude did not know anymore who to serve. On the mahah, the wolf rushed to the side of howling, hoping for a speedy prey. The Grass was still about five minutes, and Gray would surely have grabbed it. But Travka, sensing the hare, rushed after his trail. Suddenly, she found another trace – a human footprint. True, it was two tracks – one went to the north, to the Blind one, and the other, from which there was so tasty a smell of potatoes and bread, walked along the common path. After a moment’s thought, Travka followed the man. And this person was Nastya, who prudently saved her food for a day.

Blind eagle was a ruinous place, a lot of people’s huddled. And all who went through the Bludovo swamp, did not prevent to know about it. But Mitrasha was moving right there. He began to notice that with each step his foot goes deeper, and in the hole water is then collected. And noticed a little hunter, that where the foot of man stepped, the grass of the whites grew. And so the boy began to orient himself on this sign. But he decided to cut his way. He saw straight a clear clearing in front of him and thought: “Why should I turn left, on bumps, if the path is too far to be seen – can be seen there, beyond the clearing?” And he boldly went forward, crossing a clear clearing.

“I did not know the ford, I left a broken human trail and went straight to the blind hay, and yet here, just in this clearing, the wreath of plants ceased altogether, here was the fuck, the same thing as in the winter in the pond an ice-hole. Yelani is always visible at least a little water, covered with white beautiful bathing, water lilies. This is why this eagle was called Blind, which by its appearance was impossible to recognize. ” In an instant he was knee-deep, he rushed – and already above the knee he was stuck. Only Mitrasha managed to snatch out his gun and put it flat, to keep it on. And with the slightest movement, it dragged him down. Then he heard Nastin scream, answered him, but the wind took his words to the other side. Tears streamed down the boy’s face.

And Nastya went along the stuffed trail, that is, bypassing Blind Elani, and found a Palestinian, where everything was full of cranberries. Nastya began to gather, but was so carried away that she forgot about her brother, and she did it most of the day. Yes, only accidentally came across a girl on an adder, cried out, came to her senses and began to call her brother’s beloved. This cry and heard Mitrasha then, but the wind blew his cry.

The sun began to set. The grass trailed along the trail and seemed to feel the grief of man. Seeing the girl, she went to her and licked her cheek. Nastya looked sadly at the dog and again lowered her head. The grass howled. This howl was heard by Gray and ran to the Palestinian.

Travka, hearing the yelping of foxes on the hare, ran there and soon left on the trail. She drove the animal straight to the Blind Elan. The hare, after making some tricky jumps, stopped to rest, but realized that the dog was no longer chasing him. And indeed, “The grass, scattered over the hare on the hare, suddenly saw a little man in ten paces from itself, and, forgetting the hare, stopped like a dug-in.”

The little man also noticed the dog. And then the grass heard the human word, but what! . And so Mitrasha remembered the name of the dog: “A seed!”. The dog immediately lay down and slowly crawled towards the man. Affectionately attracted her Mitrasha, afraid to touch her, because then the Grass would rush to him and both of them would suck in the swamp. And then when the dog was pretty close to him, he quickly grabbed her by the back legs. The grass was frightened by fright. With strong jerks, she pulled the boy out of the quagmire. He shook himself off, rose to his full height and, “like a real big man, imperiously ordered:” Go now to me, my Spike! “Grass rushed to him with a yelp of joy.

Now she had someone to serve. She happily rushed after the hare and drove him to the bushes behind which the little hunter hid. But it so happened that the Gray Landowner, pleased with the renewed voice of the dog, hid under the same juniper bush. Seeing the wolf in some five steps away from himself, Mitrasha forgot about the hare and fired almost at close range. The Gray Landowner died without suffering.

Soon Nastya arrived in time.

Meanwhile, in the village, noticing the long absence of children, went to their search. And then they came out of the forest. How many stories there were! And even a few adult men, doubting that a little boy could kill such a motherly predator, descended into the forest and soon returned with a wolf. And they did not know who to look anymore at, the dead wolf or the little hunter.

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A brief tale of the tale-were MM Prishvin’s “Pantry of the Sun”