What sounds does the forest meet me?


Summer is in full swing. The forest is ringing with songs.

They say threes, thrifts. Early in the morning, the deaf “u-du-doo” of the crested hoopoe is heard. At the top of the tree loudly cooed turtledoves. Above the rain-washed glades the forest skates ring among themselves, the song of the green-eyed girl rasps. In the forest festive chorus pour pure whistles foam. It’s fun, festive in the forest.

A narrow stitch makes its way along the wall of the thickets, runs out into the clearing. A couple of steps from the trail from the bush of thorns look at me unblinking attentive eyes. They are frightened, waiting. Noticed or not noticed? The bird merges with the nest, freezes. If you stop, she flies, wings flutter, and it is not known whether she will return… And the nest is already chattering the chicks. At a time of great parental care, the wild four-legged and winged ask a little from us: do not bother them.

I pass by, try not to touch the bush. Let the forest live according to its own laws.

And I will quietly observe and listen. There’s so much amazing here!


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What sounds does the forest meet me?