Write a continuation of the story of the foster child. Literary reading lesson “D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak”

Goals:

• continue to get acquainted with children's works classical literature;
• develop coherent speech skills and creative imagination;
• develop skills of conscious, correct, expressive reading;
• increase the level of students' perception of a literary work.

Equipment:

• exhibition of books by D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak;
• books:
  • H. H. Andersen “ Ugly duck”;
  • A.S. Pushkin “The Tale of Tsar Saltan...”;
  • S. Yesenin “Swan”;
• Cards with multi-level tasks;
• Illustrations by students for the work “Adoption”.

DURING THE CLASSES

I. Organizational moment

1. Psychological attitude to class

Lesson literary reading
Like an adventure.
With a book you will go to space,
And you will believe in a fairy tale,
And you'll learn a lot
About the life of animals,
About the benefits of plants.
The book is always with us.

– Do you like reading lessons?

2. Epigraph for the lesson.

Reading the epigraph.

- Let's read the epigraph of our lesson:

The best day is today.
Most best vacation- Job.
The biggest need is communication.
The most great wealth- health.
The greatest gift is love.

II. Communicating the topic and objectives of the lesson

– We will learn in this lesson to show love to all living things that surround us. Today in class we are finishing work on the story by D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak “The Receptionist.” We will read, reason, think, express our opinions. We will also analyze how the author describes the swan and how the old fisherman Taras treats him.

III. Examination homework

– Now let’s check your homework. (Children completed multi-level tasks for the lesson)

– What did you learn about the life of a writer from the last lesson?

– What stories? Mamina-Sibiryak do you know? (Address to the book exhibition)

- Who is the Adopter?

– Now we will continue to work in this way. Individual cards will work ____________. You need to answer the questions in writing.

Card 1.

1. What piece did you study in the last lesson?
2. Who is its author?
3. What works of this writer have you studied before? List.
4. Name the main ones characters in the story “Foster Boy”
5. Who is Taras?
6. Who is Sobolko?
7. Who was called the Adoptive?

Card 2.

1. Where did Taras live?
2. Why did the old man live alone on the lake?
3. What kind of person was Taras?

Card 3.

1. Who is Taras?
2. What was he doing?
3. Where did he live?
4. How did he relate to nature?
5. Why did he shelter the swan?

– We will work collectively with the rest of the guys. On the board we see the work of our students. The children illustrated the episodes they liked and prepared passages to read.

Speech by willing children.

– What qualities did you experience while reading?

– Thank you guys for the work you have done.

IV. Working on the content of the text

– And now we have to work on the content of the story. Since the story has 4 parts, let's start working on part 1 p. 218–219.

Part 1

– What is discussed in part 1 of the story?

Selective reading and answering questions.

– How did the narrator-hunter first see a swan?

Vocabulary work

– Explain what a duct is. (A side branch of a river, as well as a river connecting two reservoirs.)

– Prove with words from the text that the swan is a large bird.

Part 2

– Let’s start working on part 2 of the story from 219–220.

– Tell us how the swan ended up with Taras?

– Why did Taras decide to shelter the swan?

– Find a sentence in the text that can explain Taras’s decision. (...can't fly...)

– Do you think Taras did the right thing?

– What would you do in his place?

Lexical work.

1. One will disappear because he is still young and not adapted to life.

Children: If one goes missing, the hawk will be eaten, because there is no real meaning in it yet

2. Left without parents.

Children: remained an orphan.

3. In the morning he gets up early, swims in the channel, feeds, and then goes home.

Children: In the morning at dawn he gets up, swims in the channel, feeds, and then goes home

- Find in the text a sentence about how the old man spoke about the swan? (Extraordinarily lovingly, like a loved one.)

- Now let's fill in the gaps in the sentence written on the board.

A smart bird, and knows its own order.

– Did the swan understand the old man? (I understood, he was looking at him with his intelligent eyes.)

V. Physical exercise

- Now let’s rest and have a physical minute.

You and I are entering the forest.
There are so many miracles around here!
(look right, left)
Hands raised and shook -
These are trees in the forest.
Arms bent, hands shaken -
The wind blows away the dew.
To the side of the hand, wave it smoothly -
These are the birds flying towards us.
We'll show you how they sit down quietly -
The wings were folded back.

VI. Continued work

Part 3

- Let's continue working. Remind me, please, what is said in the 3rd part of the story?

– Was the old man happy with his foster child?

Selective reading.

– How does the text say this? Read this sentence.

– Replace the words “was terribly pleased” with similar meanings (synonyms) and read what happens.

Write on the board:

• Old man loved it very much your foster child.
• Very rejoiced to his foster child.
• admired by his foster child.

Selective reading.

- Read it. How did the character of the proud bird manifest itself (p. 221)?

– Fill in the blanks: proud, real royal bird.

Part 4

– Well, now let’s turn to the final part of the text. What do we learn from this part?

– What words does Taras use to characterize a swan? Find these words. (Good, learned, God's, special.)

– Why did the fosterling’s answer sadden the old man? Find it.

– Think about why Taras let go of the swan to which he had become so attached?

– How did he explain it himself? Page 222.

- Now let's read how the swan said goodbye to its savior.

– Did the old man miss his beloved swan?

– How did he cope with the separation from his foster child?

– What kind of person was Taras?

- Let's hear some speeches from the guys who are at home reference words wrote mini-essays about this person. (Kindness, love for animals, caring for the weak, generosity of soul, mercy.)

– What conclusion can be drawn after listening to the guys’ performances?

VII. Summary conversation

– Do you think the swan will return to Taras in the spring?

– Those who think that they will return, please stand up, and those who think that they will not, please remain in your places.

- Now prove your point.

Teacher's conclusion: everything depends on her majesty fate. I wanted the foster child to return to Taras, but such friendship and loyalty will no longer exist: the foster child is a bird that needs complete freedom, and it must have its own family. And as you know, swans are very faithful birds, and they love only once in their lives. And for the sake of their beloved or loved one, they sacrifice their lives. We, humans, need to learn this kind of love from swans.

– To learn even more about these birds, the guys have prepared messages, now listen to what the guys can tell us about the life of these birds.

Messages from children.

Student 1. The swan is one of the largest and strongest birds, serving as a symbol of beauty, love, purity and tenderness. The swan was sung in epics and legends. A swan on a secluded lake in a deep forest seems even more beautiful. He floats, glides through the water easily and silently, and the water beneath him brightens. The swan is uniquely graceful in every movement - both in a sharp turn when swimming, when it leaves a sparkling wave behind it, and when swimming, when it noisily splashes water, and when rising on its wings, elastically and resoundingly cutting the air.

Student 2. Swans nest in remote, inaccessible lakes, in the thickest reeds: they are exceptionally sensitive and cautious birds.
In ancient times, swans were credited with a voice of extraordinary beauty. According to legend, at the hour of death they sing a wonderful song, full of melancholy and despair. But, unfortunately, swans do not sing. They hiss, trumpet, and when they care for the chicks, they bark like a dog.
However, the beauty of these birds did not stop people from mercilessly exterminating them. This was mainly done for their meat, as well as for their skins with white plumage.

– But how should we, people, treat animals, nature, everything that surrounds us?

– Now listen to an excerpt from N. A. Zabolotsky’s poem “Request.”

Birds, fish, animals
They look into people's souls.
Feel sorry for them, people.
Don't kill in vain.
After all, the sky without birds is not the sky,
And a sea without fish is not a sea,
And a land without animals is not a land.
Giant people, giant people,
You have rifles, nets and traps.
You have fearlessness, you have strength forever.
And there must be a heart, a human heart.

VIII. Quiz

– Many writers and poets have turned to the description of the swan. Determine which works these lines are from? (Answers are accompanied by a display of books.)

“One evening, when the sun was shining in the sky, a whole flock of wonderful birds rose from behind the forest. Such beautiful birds the duckling had never seen - all white as snow, with long flexible necks. These were swans.
Their scream sounded like a trumpet. They spread their wide, powerful wings and flew from the cold meadows to warm lands, beyond the blue seas.” (H.H. Andersen “The Ugly Duckling”)

“The prince walks by the blue sea,
He doesn’t take his eyes off the blue sea.
Look - above the flowing waters
A white swan is swimming" (A.S. Pushkin “The Tale of Tsar Saltan...”)

“This morning with the sun
Is it really one of those dark thickets?
She floated out like a dawn,
Snow-white beauty” (S. Yesenin “Swan”)

IX. Lesson summary

– Did you like the story?

– What new did you learn?

X. Homework: prepare a detailed retelling of part 4

Rainy summer day. I love wandering through the forest in this weather, especially when there is a warm corner ahead where I can dry myself and warm up. And besides summer rain- warm. In the city in such weather there is dirt, but in the forest the earth greedily absorbs moisture, and you walk on a slightly damp carpet of last year’s fallen leaves and fallen pine and spruce needles. The trees are covered with raindrops that rain down on you every time you move. And when the sun comes out after such rain, the forest turns so brightly green and burns with diamond sparks. Something festive and joyful is around you, and you feel like a welcome, dear guest at this holiday.

It was on such a rainy day that I approached Svetloe Lake, to the familiar watchman at the fishing sama (parking lot) Taras. The rain was already thinning. On one side of the sky, gaps appeared, a little more - and the hot summer sun would appear. The forest path made sharp turn, and I came out onto a sloping cape that jutted out into the lake with a wide tongue. Actually, here there was not a lake itself, but a wide channel between two lakes, and the salmon was nestled in a bend on the low bank, where fishing boats huddled in the bay. The channel between the lakes was formed thanks to a large wooded island, spread out like a green cap opposite the salmon.

My appearance on the cape evoked a guard call from Taras’s dog, strangers she always barked in a special way, abruptly and sharply, as if angrily asked: “Who’s coming?” I love such simple dogs for their extraordinary intelligence and faithful service.

From a distance the fisherman's hut seemed like a large boat turned upside down - it was an old wooden roof hunched over, overgrown cheerful green grass. All around the hut there was a thick growth of fireweed, sage and “bear pipes”, so that the person approaching the hut could only see his head. Such thick grass grew only along the shores of the lake, because there was enough moisture and the soil was oily.

When I was getting very close to the hut, a motley little dog flew head over heels from the grass at me and burst into desperate barking.

- Sobol, stop... Didn’t recognize it?

Sobolko stopped in thought, but apparently did not yet believe in the old acquaintance. He approached cautiously, sniffed my hunting boots, and only after this ceremony began to wag his tail guiltily. They say I’m guilty, I made a mistake, but still I have to guard the hut.

The hut turned out to be empty. The owner was not there, that is, he probably went to the lake to inspect some fishing equipment. Around the hut, everything spoke of the presence of a living person: a faintly smoking fire, an armful of freshly chopped firewood, a net drying on stakes, an ax stuck in a stump of a tree. Through the half-open door of the lake one could see Taras’s entire household: a gun on the wall, several pots on the stove, a chest under the bench, hanging gear.

The hut was quite spacious, because in winter, during fishing, a whole artel of workers could fit in it. In the summer the old man lived alone. Despite any weather, he heated the Russian stove every day and slept on the floors. This love of warmth was explained by Taras’s venerable age: he was about ninety years old. I say “about” because Taras himself forgot when he was born. “Even before the French,” as he explained, that is, before the French invasion of Russia in 1812.

Taking off my wet jacket and hanging my hunting armor on the wall, I began to make a fire. He hovered around me a lot, sensing some kind of profit. The fire flared up cheerfully, sending up a blue stream of smoke. The rain has already stopped. Torn clouds rushed across the sky, dropping rare drops. Here and there the sky was blue. And then the sun appeared, the hot July sun, under whose rays the wet grass seemed to smoke.

The water in the lake stood quietly, as it does only after rain. It smelled of fresh grass, sage, and the resinous aroma of a nearby pine forest. In general, it’s as good as it can be in such a remote forest corner. To the right, where the channel ended, the expanse of Svetloe Lake was blue, and mountains rose beyond the jagged edge. Wonderful corner! And it’s not for nothing that old Taras lived here for forty years. Somewhere in the city he wouldn’t have lived even half of it, because in the city you couldn’t buy such clean air for any money, and most importantly, this calmness that covered here. Good on Saimaa! A bright light burns merrily; The hot sun begins to burn, it hurts your eyes to look at the sparkling distance of the wonderful lake. So I would sit here and, it seems, would not part with the wonderful freedom of the forest. The thought of the city flashes through my head like a bad dream.

While waiting for the old man, I attached a copper camp kettle filled with water to a long stick and hung it over the fire. The water was already beginning to boil, but the old man was still not there.

-Where should he go? — I thought out loud. — The gear is inspected in the morning, and now it’s noon. Maybe he went to see if anyone was fishing without asking. Sobolko, where did your master go?

The smart dog just wagged its fluffy tail, licked its lips and squealed impatiently. In appearance, Sobolko belonged to the type of so-called “fishing” dogs. Small in stature, with a sharp muzzle, erect ears, a curved tail, he probably resembled an ordinary mongrel with the difference that a mongrel would not have found a squirrel in the forest, would not have been able to “bark” at a wood grouse, or track down a deer - in a word, a real hunting dog, best friend person. You need to see such a dog in the forest to fully appreciate all its advantages.

When this “man’s best friend” squealed joyfully, I realized that he had spotted his owner. Indeed, a fishing boat appeared as a black dot in the channel, skirting the island. This was Taras. He swam on his feet and deftly worked with one oar - this is how real fishermen all sail in their one-tree boats, which are called, not without reason, “gas chambers.” As he swam closer, I noticed, to my surprise, a swan swimming in front of the boat.

- Go home, reveler! - the old man grumbled, urging the beautifully swimming bird on. - Go, go. Here I will give it to you - sail away to God knows where. Go home, reveler!

The swan swam beautifully to the salmon, went ashore, shook itself and, swaying heavily on its crooked black legs, headed towards the hut.

Old man Taras was tall, with a thick gray beard and severe large gray eyes. All summer he walked barefoot and without a hat. It is remarkable that all his teeth were intact and the hair on his head was preserved. Tanned wide face was furrowed with deep wrinkles. In hot weather, he wore only a shirt made of peasant blue canvas.

- Hello, Taras!

- Hello, master!

-Where is God coming from?

- But I swam after Priemysh, after the swan. Everything was spinning around in the channel, and then suddenly it disappeared. Well, I'm following him now. I went out into the lake - no; swam through the creeks - no; and he swims behind the island.

- Where did you get it from, the swan?

- God sent it, yes! Here gentlemen hunters came; Well, the swan and the swan were shot, but this one remained. Huddled in the reeds and sitting. He doesn’t know how to fly, so he hid as a child. Of course, I set my nets near the reeds, and I caught him. If one goes missing, the hawk will be eaten, because there is no real meaning in it yet. Left an orphan. So I brought it and am holding it. And he got used to it too. Now it will soon be a month that we have been living together. In the morning at dawn he gets up, swims in the channel, feeds, and then goes home. Knows when I get up and waits to be fed. A smart bird, in a word, knows its own order.

The old man spoke unusually lovingly, as if talking about a loved one. The swan hobbled to the hut itself and, obviously, was waiting for some handout.

“He will fly away from you, grandfather,” I remarked.

- Why does he need to fly? And it’s good here: full, water all around.

- And in winter?

- He will spend the winter with me in the hut. There is enough space, and Sobolko and I have more fun. Once a hunter wandered into my lake, saw a swan and said the same thing: “It will fly away if you don’t clip its wings.” How can you mutilate God's bird? Let her live as the Lord told her... A man is given one thing, but a bird another... I can’t understand why the Lord shot the swans. After all, they won’t even eat it, just for mischief.

The swan clearly understood the old man’s words and looked at him with his intelligent eyes.

- How is he and Sobolko? - I asked.

“At first I was afraid, but then I got used to it.” Now the swan will take a piece from Sobolka another time. The dog will growl at him, and the swan will grumble at him. It's funny to look at them from the outside. Otherwise they go for a walk together: the swan on the water, and Sobolko on the shore. The dog tried to swim after him, but it was not the same craft: he almost drowned. And when the swan floats away, Sobolko looks for him. He sits on the bank and howls. They say, I, the dog, am bored without you, dear friend. So the three of us live together.

I love the old man very much. He spoke very well and knew a lot. There are such good, smart old people. I had to while away many summer nights on Saimaa, and every time you learn something new. Previously, Taras was a hunter and knew places around fifty miles, knew every custom of forest birds and forest animals; and now he could not go far and knew only his fish. Sailing on a boat is easier than walking with a gun through the forest, and especially through the mountains. Now Taras kept the gun only out of old memory and just in case a wolf ran in. In winter, wolves looked at the salmon and had long been sharpening their teeth on Sobolko. Only Sobolko was cunning and did not give in to the wolves.

I stayed at Saimaa for the whole day. In the evening we went fishing and set up our nets for the night. Svetloye Lake is good, and it’s not for nothing that it’s called Svetloye, because the water in it is completely transparent, so you sail on a boat and see the entire bottom at a depth of several fathoms. You can see colorful pebbles, yellow river sand, and algae, and you can see how the fish move in a “fleece,” that is, in a herd. There are hundreds of such mountain lakes in the Urals, and they are all different extraordinary beauty. Svetloye Lake differed from others in that it was adjacent to the mountains on only one side, and on the other it went “out into the steppe,” where blessed Bashkiria began.

All around the Svetloe Lake lay the most peaceful places, and from it came a brisk mountain river that spread across the steppe for a thousand miles. The lake was up to twenty miles long and about nine miles wide. The depth reached fifteen fathoms in some places. A group of wooded islands gave it special beauty. One such island was located in the very middle of the lake and was called Goloday, because when fishermen found it in bad weather, they often went hungry for several days.

Taras has lived on Svetly for forty years. Once he had his own family and home, but now he lived as a bastard. The children died, his wife also died, and Taras remained hopelessly on Svetloye for whole years.

“Aren’t you bored, grandpa?” - I asked when we were returning from fishing. “It’s scary for someone to be alone in the forest.”

- Alone? The master will say the same. I live here like a prince. I have everything. And all kinds of birds, and fish, and grass. Of course, they don’t know how to speak, but I understand everything. The heart rejoices to look at God’s creation another time. Each one has its own order and its own mind. Do you think it’s in vain that a fish swims in the water or a bird flies in the forest? No, they have no less worries than we do. Evon, look, the swan is waiting for Sobolko and me. Ah, the prosecutor!

The old man was terribly pleased with his Stepchild, and all conversations ultimately centered on him.

“A proud, real royal bird,” he explained. - Lure him with food and don’t give him anything, next time he won’t come. It also has its own character, despite being a bird. He also behaves very proudly with Sobolko. Just a little bit, now he’ll hit you with his wing, or even his nose. It is known that the dog wants to make trouble next time, tries to catch him by the tail with his teeth, and the swan in his face. This is also not a toy to be grabbed by the tail.

I spent the night and got ready to leave the next morning.

“Come back in the fall,” the old man says goodbye. “Then we’ll fish the fish with a spear.” Well, let's shoot hazel grouse. Autumn hazel grouse is fat.

- Okay, grandpa, I’ll come sometime.

When I was leaving, the old man returned me:

- Look, master, how the swan played with Sobolko.

Really worth a look original painting. The swan stood with its wings spread, and Sobolko attacked him with squeals and barks. The clever bird stretched out its neck and hissed at the dog, as geese do. Old Taras laughed heartily at this scene, like a child.

The next time I came to Svetloe Lake was in late autumn, when the first snow fell. The forest was still good. Here and there there were still yellow leaves on the birch trees. The spruce and pine trees seemed greener than in summer. Dry autumn grass looked out from under the snow like a yellow brush. Dead silence reigned all around, as if nature, tired of the summer's hectic work, was now resting. The light lake seemed large because the coastal greenery was gone. The transparent water darkened, and a heavy autumn wave crashed noisily onto the shore.

Taras's hut stood in the same place, but seemed higher because the tall grass surrounding it was gone. The same Sobolko jumped out to meet me. Now he recognized me and affectionately wagged his tail from afar. Taras was at home. He was repairing a net for winter fishing.

- Hello, old man!

- Hello, master!

- Well, how are you doing?

- Never mind. In the fall, around the first snow, I got a little sick. My legs hurt. This always happens to me in bad weather.

The old man really looked tired. He seemed so decrepit and pathetic now. However, it turned out that this was not due to illness at all. Over tea we started talking, and the old man told his grief.

- Do you remember, master, the swan?

- Adopted child?

- He is. Oh, what a beautiful bird it was! But Sobolko and I were left alone again. Yes, the foster child is gone.

- Killed by hunters?

- No, he left on his own. That's how offensive it is to me, master! It seems like I didn’t look after him, didn’t I hang around! Hand fed. He came towards me and followed my voice. He swims on the lake, I click on him, and he swims up. Scientist bird. And I’m quite used to it. Yes! It's already a frosty day. During the flight, a flock of swans descended on Svetloe Lake. Well, they rest, feed, swim, and I admire. Let God's bird gather its strength: it is not a close place to fly. Well, here comes the sin. My fosterling at first avoided the other swans: he would swim up to them and then back. They cackle in their own way, call him, and he goes home. They say, I have my own house. So they had it for three days. Everyone, therefore, talks in their own way, in a bird’s way. Well, then, I see, my foster child is sad. It’s all the same how a person grieves. He will come ashore, stand on one leg and start screaming. Why, he screams so pitifully. It will make me sad, and Sobolko, the fool, howls like a wolf. It is known that he is a free bird, and the blood took its toll.

The old man fell silent and sighed heavily.

- Well, so what, grandfather?

- Oh, don't ask. I locked him in the hut for the whole day, and then he pestered me. He will stand on one leg right next to the door and stand until you drive him out of his place. Only he won’t say in human language: “Let me go, grandfathers, to my comrades. They’ll fly to the warmer side, but what am I going to do with you here in the winter?” Oh, you, I think, are a task! Let it go - it will fly away after the herd and disappear.

- Why will it disappear?

- What about it? They grew up in freedom. They are young, whose father and mother taught them to fly. After all, what do you think about them? When the swans grow up, their father and mother will first take them out onto the water and then begin to teach them to fly. Gradually they learn: further and further. I saw with my own eyes how young people are trained for the flight. First they teach separately, then in small flocks, and then they gather together into one large herd. It looks like soldiers being drilled. Well, my foster child grew up alone and almost never flew anywhere. Swimming on the lake - that's all there is to it. Where should he fly? He will become exhausted, fall behind the herd and disappear. Unaccustomed to long summers.

The old man fell silent again.

“But I had to let him out,” he said sadly. “All the same, I think, if I keep him for the winter, he will become sad and wither.” This bird is so special. Well, he released it. My fosterling came to the herd, swam with it for a day, and in the evening went home again. So he sailed for two days. Even though he’s a bird, it’s hard to part with his home. It was he who swam to say goodbye, master. The last time he sailed from the shore about twenty fathoms, he stopped and how, my brother, he screamed in his own way. Say: “Thank you for the bread, for the salt!” I was the only one who saw him. Sobolko and I were left alone again. At first, we were both very sad. I’ll ask him: “So much, where is our Reception?” And Sobolko is now howling. So he regrets it. And now to the shore, and now to look for a dear friend. At night I kept dreaming that Priymysh was rinsing himself near the shore and flapping his wings. I go out - there is no one.

That's how it turned out, master.

Hello, dear reader. In the story “Adoptive Boy,” Mamin-Sibiryak describes memories from his life. His friend Taras was a watchman on Saimaa, he was an old man who was so old that he didn’t even remember when he was born and how old he was, respectively. Taras has spent the last forty years on Saimaa and became so close to surrounding nature that he didn’t feel alone at all. He had a faithful assistant - the hunting dog Sobolko. One day the old man caught a little swan, named him Foster and sheltered him, and so the three of them spent the winter. Taras spoke with admiration about the swan to the writer, talked about his character, his habits, and how he and Sobolko became friends. At the end of the story, we learn that in the fall, Reception followed other birds and flew away to warmer lands. We recommend reading the story “Adoption” by Mamin-Sibiryak online for children of any age.

(From the stories of an old hunter)

Rainy summer day. I love wandering through the forest in this weather, especially when there is a warm corner ahead where I can dry myself and warm up. And besides, summer rain is warm. In the city in such weather there is dirt, but in the forest the earth greedily absorbs moisture, and you walk on a slightly damp carpet of last year’s fallen leaves and fallen pine and spruce needles. The trees are covered with raindrops that rain down on you every time you move. And when the sun comes out after such rain, the forest turns so brightly green and burns with diamond sparks. Something festive and joyful is around you, and you feel like a welcome, dear guest at this holiday.
It was on such a rainy day that I approached Svetloye Lake, to a familiar watchman at the fishing lake, Taras. The rain was already thinning. On one side of the sky, gaps appeared, a little more - and the hot summer sun would appear. The forest path made a sharp turn, and I came out onto a sloping cape that jutted out into the lake with a wide tongue. Actually, here there was not a lake itself, but a wide channel between two lakes, and the salmon was nestled in a bend on the low bank, where fishing boats huddled in the bay. The channel between the lakes was formed thanks to a large wooded island, spread out like a green cap opposite the salmon.
My appearance on the cape evoked a guard call from the dog Taras - she always barked at strangers in a special way, abruptly and sharply, as if angrily asking: “Who is coming?” I love such simple dogs for their extraordinary intelligence and faithful service...
From a distance the fisherman's hut seemed like a large boat turned upside down - it was a hunched old wooden roof overgrown with cheerful green grass. All around the hut there was a thick growth of fireweed, sage and “bear pipes”, so that the person approaching the hut could only see his head. Such thick grass grew only along the shores of the lake, because there was enough moisture and the soil was oily.
When I was almost approaching the hut, a motley little dog flew head over heels from the grass at me and burst into desperate barking.
- Sobol, stop... Didn’t recognize it?
Sobolko stopped in thought, but apparently did not yet believe in the old acquaintance. He approached cautiously, sniffed my hunting boots, and only after this ceremony began to wag his tail guiltily. They say I’m guilty, I made a mistake, but still I have to guard the hut.
The hut turned out to be empty. The owner was not there, that is, he probably went to the lake to inspect some fishing equipment. Around the hut, everything spoke of the presence of a living person: a faintly smoking fire, an armful of freshly chopped firewood, a net drying on stakes, an ax stuck in a stump of a tree. Through the half-open door of the lake one could see Taras’s entire household: a gun on the wall, several pots on the stove, a chest under the bench, hanging gear. The hut was quite spacious, because in winter, during fishing, a whole artel of workers could fit in it. In the summer the old man lived alone. Despite any weather, every day he heated the Russian stove hot and slept on the floors. This love of warmth was explained by Taras’s venerable age: he was about ninety years old. I say “about” because Taras himself forgot when he was born. “Even before the French,” as he explained, that is, before the French invasion of Russia in 1812.
Taking off my wet jacket and hanging my hunting armor on the wall, I began to make a fire. He hovered around me a lot, sensing some kind of profit. The fire flared up cheerfully, sending up a blue stream of smoke. The rain has already stopped. Torn clouds rushed across the sky, dropping rare drops. Here and there the sky was blue. And then the sun appeared, the hot July sun, under whose rays the wet grass seemed to smoke. The water in the lake stood quietly, as it does only after rain. It smelled of fresh grass, sage, and the resinous aroma of a nearby pine forest. In general, it’s as good as it can be in such a remote forest corner. To the right, where the channel ended, the expanse of Svetloe Lake was blue, and mountains rose beyond the jagged edge. Wonderful corner! And it’s not for nothing that old Taras lived here for forty years. Somewhere in the city he wouldn’t have lived even half of it, because in the city you couldn’t buy such clean air for any money, and most importantly, this calmness that covered here. It’s good on Saimaa!.. A bright light burns merrily; The hot sun begins to burn, it hurts your eyes to look at the sparkling distance of the wonderful lake. So I would sit here and, it seems, would not part with the wonderful freedom of the forest. The thought of the city flashes through my head like a bad dream.
While waiting for the old man, I attached a copper camp kettle filled with water to a long stick and hung it over the fire. The water was already beginning to boil, but the old man was still not there.
-Where should he go? — I thought out loud. - The gear is inspected in the morning, and now it’s noon... Maybe I went to see if anyone was fishing without asking... Sobolsk, where did your owner go?
The smart dog just wagged its fluffy tail, licked its lips and squealed impatiently. In appearance, Sobolko belonged to the type of so-called “fishing” dogs. Small in stature, with a sharp muzzle, erect ears and a curved tail, he, perhaps, resembled an ordinary mongrel with the difference that a mongrel would not have found a squirrel in the forest, would not have been able to “bark” at a wood grouse, or track down a deer - in a word, a real hunting dog, man's best friend. You need to see such a dog in the forest to fully appreciate all its advantages.
When this “man’s best friend” squealed joyfully, I realized that he had spotted his owner. Indeed, a fishing boat appeared as a black dot in the channel, skirting the island. This was Taras... He swam, standing on his feet, and deftly worked with one oar - real fishermen all swim like this on their one-tree boats, called, not without reason, “gas chambers”. As he swam closer, I noticed, to my surprise, a swan swimming in front of the boat.
- Go home, reveler! - the old man grumbled, urging the beautifully swimming bird on. - Go, go... Here I will give you - to sail away to God knows where... Go home, reveler!
The swan swam beautifully to the salmon, went ashore, shook itself and, swaying heavily on its crooked black legs, headed towards the hut.

Old man Taras was tall, with a thick gray beard and stern, large gray eyes. All summer he walked barefoot and without a hat. It is remarkable that all his teeth were intact and the hair on his head was preserved. The tanned, broad face was furrowed with deep wrinkles. In hot weather, he wore only a shirt made of peasant blue canvas.
- Hello, Taras!
- Hello, master!
-Where is God coming from?
- But I swam after Priemysh, after the swan... He kept spinning around in the channel, and then suddenly disappeared... Well, I’m after him now. I went out into the lake - no; swam through the creeks - no; and he swims behind the island.
- Where did you get it from, the swan?
- And God sent it, yes!.. Here the hunters from the gentlemen came; Well, the swan and the swan were shot, but this one remained. Huddled in the reeds and sitting. He doesn’t know how to fly, so he hid as a child. Of course, I set my nets near the reeds, and I caught him. If one goes missing, the hawk will be eaten, because there is no real meaning in it yet. Left an orphan. So I brought it and am holding it. And he got used to it too... Now it will soon be a month that we have been living together. In the morning at dawn he will rise, swim in the channel, feed, and then go home. Knows when I get up and waits to be fed. A smart bird, in a word, knows its own order.
The old man spoke unusually lovingly, as if talking about a loved one. The swan hobbled to the hut itself and, obviously, was waiting for some handout.
“He’ll fly away from you, grandpa...” I remarked.
- Why does he need to fly? And it’s good here: you’re full, there’s water all around...
- And in winter?
- He will spend the winter with me in the hut. There is enough space, and Sobolko and I have more fun. Once a hunter wandered into my lake, saw a swan and said the same thing: “It will fly away if you don’t clip its wings.” How can you mutilate God's bird? Let her live as the Lord told her... A man is given one thing, and a bird another... But I will understand why the Lord shot the swans. After all, they won’t even eat it, but just for mischief...
The swan clearly understood the old man’s words and looked at him with his intelligent eyes.
- How is he and Sobolko? - I asked.
“At first I was afraid, but then I got used to it.” Now the swan will take a piece from Sobolka another time. The dog will growl at him, and the swan will grumble at him. It's funny to look at them from the outside. Otherwise they will go for a walk together: the swan on the water, and Sobolko along the shore. The dog tried to swim after him, but it was not the same craft: he almost drowned. And when the swan floats away, Sobolko looks for him. He sits on the bank and howls... They say, I, the dog, am bored without you, dear friend. So the three of us live together.
I loved the old man very much. He spoke very well and knew a lot. There are such good, smart old people. I had to while away many summer nights on Saimaa, and every time you learn something new. Previously, Taras was a hunter and knew places around fifty miles, knew every custom of forest birds and forest animals; and now he could not go far and knew only his fish. Sailing on a boat is easier than walking with a gun through the forest, and especially through the mountains. Now Taras kept the gun only out of old memory and just in case a wolf ran in. In winter, wolves looked at the salmon and had long been sharpening their teeth on Sobolko. Only Sobolko was cunning and did not give in to the wolves.
I stayed at Saimaa for the whole day. In the evening we went fishing and set up our nets for the night. Svetloye Lake is good, and it’s not for nothing that it’s called Svetloe – the water in it is completely transparent, so you sail on a boat and see the entire bottom at a depth of several fathoms. You can see colorful pebbles, yellow river sand, and algae, and you can see how the fish move in a “fleece,” that is, in a herd. There are hundreds of such mountain lakes in the Urals, and all of them are distinguished by their extraordinary beauty. Svetloye Lake differed from others in that it was adjacent to the mountains on only one side, and on the other it went “out into the steppe,” where blessed Bashkiria began. All around the Svetloe Lake lay the most peaceful places, and from it came a brisk mountain river that spread across the steppe for a thousand miles. The lake was up to twenty miles long and about nine miles wide. The depth reached fifteen fathoms in some places... A group of wooded islands gave it special beauty. One such island was located in the very middle of the lake and was called Goloday, because when fishermen found it in bad weather, they often went hungry for several days.
Taras has lived on Svetly for forty years. Once he had his own family and home, but now he lived as a bastard. The children died, his wife also died, and Taras remained hopelessly on Svetloye for whole years.
“Aren’t you bored, grandpa?” - I asked when we were returning from fishing. - It’s terribly lonely in the forest...
- Alone? The master will say the same thing... I live here like a prince. I have everything... All kinds of birds, fish, and grass. Of course, they don’t know how to speak, but I understand everything. The heart rejoices another time to look at God’s creation... Each one has its own order and its own mind. Do you think it’s in vain that a fish swims in the water or a bird flies through the forest? No, they have no less worries than we do... Evon, look, the swan is waiting for Sobolko and me. Ah, the prosecutor!..
The old man was terribly pleased with his Stepchild, and all conversations ultimately centered on him.
“A proud, real royal bird,” he explained. - Lure him with food and don’t give him anything, next time he won’t come. It also has its own character, even though it’s a bird... He also carries himself very proudly with Sobolko. Just a little bit, now he’ll hit you with his wing, or even his nose. It is known that the dog wants to make trouble next time, he tries to catch his tail with his teeth, and the swan hits him in the face... This is also not a toy to grab by the tail.
I spent the night and got ready to leave the next morning.
“Come back in the fall,” the old man says goodbye. “Then we’ll fish the fish with a spear... Well, we’ll also shoot hazel grouse.” Autumn hazel grouse is fat.
- Okay, grandpa, I’ll come sometime.
When I was leaving, the old man returned me:
- Look, master, how the swan played with Sobolko...
Indeed, it was worth admiring the original painting. The swan stood with its wings spread, and Sobolko attacked him with squeals and barks. The clever bird stretched out its neck and hissed at the dog, as geese do. Old Taras laughed heartily at this scene, like a child.

The next time I came to Svetloe Lake was in late autumn, when the first snow fell. The forest was still good. Here and there there were still yellow leaves on the birch trees. The spruce and pine trees seemed greener than in summer. Dry autumn grass peeked out from under the snow like a yellow brush. Dead silence reigned all around, as if nature, tired of the summer's hectic work, was now resting. The light lake seemed larger because the coastal greenery was gone. The transparent water darkened, and a heavy autumn wave crashed noisily onto the shore...
Taras's hut stood in the same place, but seemed higher because the tall grass surrounding it was gone. The same Sobolko jumped out to meet me. Now he recognized me and affectionately wagged his tail from afar. Taras was at home. He was repairing a net for winter fishing.
- Hello, old man!..
- Hello, master!
- Well, how are you doing?
- Nothing... In the fall, around the first snow, I got a little sick. My legs hurt... This always happens to me in bad weather.
The old man really looked tired. He seemed so decrepit and pathetic now. However, it turned out that this was not due to illness at all. Over tea we started talking, and the old man told his grief.
- Do you remember, master, the swan?
- Adopted child?
“He’s the one... Oh, what a beautiful bird he was!
- Killed by hunters?
- No, he left on his own... That’s how offensive it is to me, master!.. It seems like I didn’t look after him, didn’t I hang around!.. He fed me from my hands... He followed my voice. He swims on the lake, I click on him, and he swims up. Scientist bird. And I’m quite used to it... yes!.. It’s already a sin in the frost. During the flight, a flock of swans descended on Svetloe Lake. Well, they rest, feed, swim, and I admire. Let God’s bird gather its strength: it’s not a close place to fly... Well, and then sin came out. My fosterling at first avoided the other swans: he would swim up to them and then back. They cackle in their own way, call him, and he goes home... They say, I have my own house. So they had it for three days. Everyone, therefore, talks in their own way, in a bird’s way. Well, and then, I see, my foster child is sad... It’s the same as a person is sad. It will come ashore, stand on one leg and start screaming. But how pitifully he screams... It makes me sad, and Sobolko, the fool, howls like a wolf. It is known, a free bird, the blood took its toll...
The old man fell silent and sighed heavily.
- Well, so what, grandfather?
- Oh, and don’t ask... I locked him in the hut for the whole day, and so he pestered me here too. He will stand on one leg right next to the door and stand until you drive him away. Only he won’t say in human language: “Let me go, grandfathers, to my comrades. They’ll fly to the warmer side, but what am I going to do with you here in the winter?” Oh, you, I think, are a task! Let him go - he will fly away after the herd and disappear...
- Why will it disappear?
- But what about?.. They grew up in freedom. They, young ones, were taught to fly by their father and mother. After all, what do you think about them? When the swans grow up, their father and mother will first take them out onto the water and then begin to teach them to fly. Gradually they learn: further and further. I saw with my own eyes how young people are trained for the flight. First they teach separately, then in small flocks, and then they gather together into one large herd. It looks like soldiers being drilled... Well, my foster child grew up alone and, for all intents and purposes, never flew anywhere. Swimming on the lake - that's all there is to it. Where should he fly? He will run out of strength, fall behind the herd and disappear... Unaccustomed to long summers.
The old man fell silent again.
“But I had to let him out,” he said sadly. “All the same, I think, if I keep him for the winter, he will become sad and wither.” This bird is so special. Well, he released it. My fosterling came to the herd, swam with it for a day, and in the evening went home again. So he sailed for two days. Even though he’s a bird, it’s hard to part with his home. It was he who swam to say goodbye, master... The last time he sailed from the shore about twenty fathoms, he stopped and how, my brother, he shouted in his own way. Say: “Thank you for the bread, for the salt!..” I was the only one who saw him. Sobolko and I were left alone again. At first, we were both very sad. I’ll ask him: “So much, where is our Reception?” And Sobolko is now howling... That means he’s sorry. And now to the shore, and now to look for my dear friend... I kept dreaming at night that the Little One was here rinsing by the shore and flapping its wings. I go out - there is no one...
That's how it turned out, master.

Dmitry Narkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak

Answers to pages 17 - 20

1. Search
Where did the story described take place? Find the answer in the story.

On Svetloe Lake (in the Urals).

2. Thawed patches
Read the paragraph and write action words (verbs).

Really, it was worth admiring this picture. Swan stood, spreading his wings, and Sobolko squealing and barking attacked on him. Smart bird pulled out neck and hissed on the dog, as geese do. Old Taras from the heart laughed over this scene like a child.

3. Exact word
How did the swan say goodbye to the old man? Underline the words that convey his experiences.

For the last time he sailed away from the shore, stopped and how, my brother, he screamed in his own way! They say thank you, grandfather, for the bread, for the salt!..

4. Compliance
What word best describes the swan's farewell? Emphasize.

they say
Means
So
Thus

5 ∗ . Plan
Complete the plan, retell one part.

6. Exact word
Read the dialogue. In what words can you hear Taras’s respectful attitude towards everything living on earth? Emphasize.

“Aren’t you bored, grandfather, living alone in the forest?”
- Alone? You can say the same thing... There are all sorts of birds, fish, and grass. Of course, they don’t know how to speak, but I understand everything. Every creature of God has its own order and its own mind. Do you think it’s in vain that a fish swims in the water or a bird flies in the forest? No, they have no less worries than we do.... Avon, look, the swan is waiting for Sobolka and me...

7. Thawed patches
Fill in the missing words. How does the author feel about Taras? Find the answer and underline it.

I loved it very much old man. He already told Very good And knew a lot. There are such good, smart old men.
Taras lived on the lake already Fourty years. Once upon a time he had own family, And house, and now he lived as a bob and remained hopelessly on the lake for whole years.

8 ∗ . Erudite
Find the meaning of the word in the dictionary and write it down.

Bobyl - lonely, homeless person.

9. Bookworm
Write down the surname, first name and patronymic of the author of the story “Adoption”.

Answers to school textbooks

The story is called “Adopted” because it tells about the old fisherman Taras, who took in an orphan swan, not yet able to fly, whose parents were killed by hunters for fun.

2. Why did Taras decide to adopt the bird? What words help to understand how he felt about the Adopted Child? Why did the old man call the swan a special bird?

The old man explains that the swan will disappear alone, the hawk will be eaten, “because there is no real meaning in it yet.” He doesn’t want to clip his wings - “how can you cripple God’s bird?” If a swan swims away from the channel, Taras looks for it in a boat on the lake, along the backwaters, behind the island. He calls him smart, learned, proud, royal, God's bird. “The old man spoke unusually lovingly, as if talking about a loved one.” All grandfather's conversations eventually came down to Priemysh.
The dog Sobolko also became attached to the swan. They played and walked together. If the swan swam away, Sobodko would wait for Priemysh on the shore and howl.
Taras called the swan a special bird, because if “you keep it for the winter, it will become sad and wither.” Swans are freedom-loving.

3. How did Taras feel when the Reception flew away? Why did the hero let the swan go? How did he explain his actions?

When the author returned to Svetloe Lake in late autumn, the old man looked tired, seemed decrepit and pitiful. He said that the adopted child became sad and flew away with a flock of swan. Taras was offended: “It seems like I didn’t look after him!” At first, she and Sobolko were very sad. Taras could not help but let Priemysh go, because he was a wise man with kind hearted and understood that the swan was unlikely to survive in captivity, although it could perish in freedom, since it was “unaccustomed to long flights.”

4. Which was more correct:

• do as Taras did;
• clip the swan's wings and make it tame forever;
• keep him in the barn by force until the winter cold and leave him to spend the winter in a hut, and in the spring let him near some flock of swans?

The fisherman did the right thing by letting the Reception go, because he could not forcibly hold him. After all, it seemed to him that the bird was saying, standing on one leg at the door: “Let him, grandfather, go to his comrades...”

5. Get ready to retell the story of the friendship between Sobolka and Priyomysh. Write your plan down in your workbook.

The story of friendship between Sobolko and Priemysh.
1) Fear of swan and dog.
2) The beginning of friendship, walking together.
3) How Sobolko played with Priemysh.

The story of D. Mamin-Sibiryak fosters mercy, love of nature, human attitude towards animals and birds, proves that kindness is wealth, the generosity of the human soul. It’s good that there are people like Taras who are ready to help all living things. He is not afraid in the forest, he knows animals well, and knows how to observe what is happening in nature. He says: “I live here like a prince. I have everything... All kinds of birds, fish, and grass. Of course, they don’t know how to speak, but I understand everything. The heart rejoices to look at God’s creation.” Having learned about such good people, and you yourself become better.

7. Find and read an article in the encyclopedia about the life of swans. Re-read the description of the swan in the story. Compare what is common and different in these texts.

The description of the swan in the encyclopedia gives us an idea of ​​the size, appearance and the habits of this species of birds, and the story “Adopted” describes the character, external and internal beauty of this living, intelligent creature capable of friendship and gratitude