Text of the book "Haircut Creak"
Victor Astafiev
HAIRCUT creaking
The little haircut hatched from an egg in a dark hole and squeaked in surprise. Nothing was visible. Only a speck of light dimly flickered far, far away. The little haircut was frightened by this light and clung closer to the warm and soft mother-haircut. She pressed his wing to her. He dozed off, basking under the wing. Somewhere it was raining, drops falling one after another. And it seemed to the little haircut that it was the mother haircut knocking her beak on the shell of an egg. She knocked the same way before letting him out.
The little haircut woke up because he felt cold. He moved and heard naked swiftlets fussing and squealing around him, which the mother swiftlet had also pecked out of their eggs. But the mother herself was not there.
- Creak! – the little haircut called her.
- Creak! Creak! Creak! - his brothers and sisters repeated after him.
Apparently, everyone liked that they learned to call their mother, and they squealed louder and more friendly:
- Creak! Creak! Creak!
And then the distant speck of light went out. The haircuts became silent.
- Creak! – was heard from afar.
“So it’s mom who has arrived!” - the haircuts guessed and squealed more cheerfully.
Mom brought a drop of rain in her beak and gave it to Skrip, the first haircut.
What a tasty drop it was! Little Creak swallowed it and regretted that the drop was so small.
- Creak! - he said. More, they say, I want.
- Creak-creak! – the haircut mother answered joyfully. Now, they say, now. And again she was gone. And again the shearers squealed sadly. And the first little haircut screamed the loudest. He really liked the way his mother swift fed him from her beak.
And when the light in the distance closed again, he shouted with all his might:
- Creak! – and even climbed towards my mother. But he was immediately thrown back into place by his wing, and so unceremoniously that he almost toppled over with his paws in the air. And the mother-haircut gave the second drop not to him, but to another haircut.
It's a shame. The short-haired little Skrip fell silent and became angry with his mother and brothers and sisters, who, it turned out, were also hungry. When mom brought a midge and gave it to another little one. The creak tried to take it away. Then the mother-haircut hit Creak on the head with her beak so much that he lost all desire to take food from others.
The little haircut realized how serious and strict their mother was. You can't pity her with a squeak.
This is how the short haired little Skrip began life in the mink along with his brothers and sisters.
There were a lot of such holes in the clay bank above the river. In each burrow there lived shearlings. And they had fathers and mothers. But little haircut Skrip did not have a dad. The boys shot him down with a slingshot. He fell into the water and was carried away somewhere. Of course, the haircuts did not know about this.
It was very difficult for the haircut mother to feed her children alone. But she was a good mother. From dawn until evening, she rushed over the shore and water, catching midges, mosquitoes, and raindrops in flight. I brought them to the children. And the boys, sitting with fishing rods on the bank, thought that the swift and all the swifts were playing above the river.
Little haircut Skrip has grown up. He had feathers and was hungry all the time. Sometimes he managed to take away a midge from his brother or sister, and then they squealed pitifully and displeasedly. For this, Skrip received punishment from his haircut mother. But he was so hungry, so hungry!
And he also wanted to look out of the hole and see what it was there, beyond this speck of light, from where the mother shear brings food and windy smells on her wings.
The little haircut Creak crawled. And the further he crawled, moving his weak paws, the larger and brighter the light became.
Scary!
But Skrip was a brave little boy, he crawled and crawled.
He probably would have fallen out of the hole and broken, like such foolish chicks break. But then the mother shearer appeared, grabbed him, dragged him into the depths of the hole - and hit him on the head with her beak. She said angrily:
- Creak-creak! - and another on the head, and another on the head.
The groom's mother was very angry and beat Skrip very hard. It must be dangerous there, behind the mink, if the shearing mother is so worried. Of course, how could Skrip know how many enemies the little nimble swifts had!
A terrible, fast falcon sits on the top of a birch tree and lies in wait for them. A beaked crow hops and jumps up to the burrows. A black viper crawls quietly between the stones.
As Skrip grew older, he began to realize this. He felt terrified when there, behind the hole, a piercing “tiu!” was heard. Then the mother shearer threw everything, even a midge or a drop of water, and, also shouting a menacing “Tiu!”, rushed out of the hole.
And all the swifts shouting “tiu!” poured out of their holes and pounced on the enemy. Even if this enemy was a falcon, even a kite, even someone, even if he was a hundred times larger than swifts, they still were not afraid of him. The swifts swooped down in unison, all as one. The kite and the crow quickly disappeared into the forest, and the viper hid under a stone and hissed in fear.
One day, the mother haircut flew out to battle with the enemy - the robber falcon.
The falcon was not only fast, but also cunning. He pretended to retreat. The leader of the swifts, White Belly, hung up, shouting a victorious “tiu!” But the mother swift was still chasing the falcon in order to forever discourage him from flying to the swift’s minks.
Then the falcon turned sharply, hit the mother swift and carried her away in her talons. Only a pinch of feathers swirled in the air, the feathers fell into the water and were carried away...
The little haircut Squeak waited a long time for his mother. He called her. And brothers and sisters called too. The haircut mother did not appear and did not bring food.
The speck of light dimmed. Night has come. Everything on the river became quiet. The swifts and young shears, warmed by their mothers and fathers, have calmed down. And only Skrip was with his brothers and sisters without his mother.
The haircuts huddled together. It's cold without mom, I'm hungry. Apparently, he will have to disappear.
But Skrip didn’t yet know how friendly the swifts are! At night, the leader, White Belly, dived towards them, tickled the chicks with his beak, hugged them with his wings, and they warmed up and fell asleep. And when it dawned, a neighbor’s shearer came to Skrip’s hole and brought a large mosquito. Then more swifts and swifts flew in and brought food and drops of water. And at night, the leader White Belly again flew to the orphaned shorthairs.
The shearers have grown up. Not lost. The time has come for them to leave their native hole, as they say, to take wing - to get their own food and build their own home.
It was joyful and creepy!
Creak remembers how the leader White Belly appeared in the hole. Instead of giving him a midge or a drop, he grabbed Creak by the collar and dragged him out of the hole. The creaking persisted and squeaked. The white belly did not pay attention to Creak's squeak, dragged him to the mouth of the hole and pushed him out.
Well, what was Skrip to do? Don't fall! He spread his wings and... flew! And then all the swifts, old and young, attacked him. That's it! And they drove him away from the hole with the whole flock towards the wind, towards the blinding sun.
- Creak! Creak! - the little haircut screamed in fear, choking on the wind, and saw water under him. - Creak! Creak! “What if I fall?” – he thought with horror.
But the swifts did not let him fall. They drove him in circles over the water, over the shore, over the forest.
Then the cries of the swifts were left behind. The whistling of wings and the hubbub of birds faded away. And then little haircut Skrip was surprised to see that he himself, alone, was flying over the river! And this made him so happy that he soared high, high and shouted from there to the sun, the river, and the whole world: “Creak!” - and spun and spun over the river, over the bank, over the forest. I even flew into a cloud once. But he didn’t like it there – it was a little dark and lonely. He dived down and glided over the water, almost touching it with his belly.
It's good to live! It's good when you can fly yourself! Creak! Creak!
And then Skrip himself began to help the swifts - he pulled the swifts out of their holes and also drove them over the river along with all the swifts and shouted:
- Creak! Creak! Hold him! Catch up!..
And it was fun for him to watch how the young shears rushed about and screamed wildly, finding flight, eternal flight!
Creak ate a lot of midges that day and drank a lot of water. He ate and drank greedily, because swifts are always on the move, always in flight. And that’s why they need to eat all the time, drink all the time. But the day is over. He once again plopped his white belly onto the water, grabbed a drop of water, shook himself off and hurried to his hole. But I couldn't find her. After all, he had never seen his mink from the outside, but now all minks seemed the same to him. There are a lot of minks, can you tell them apart?
The creak stuck into one hole - they wouldn’t let him in, and into the other - they wouldn’t let him in. All swift houses are occupied. What to do? Why not spend the night on the shore? It's scary on the shore. It's better in a mink.
And Skrip began to make his hole. He scraped out the clay with sharp claws, pecked it out and carried it to the water, returned to the ravine again and pecked again, scraped it, and moved a little into the ground.
Skrip was tired, hungry and decided that such a hole would be enough for him. He fed a little over the river and fell down to sleep in his not yet deep hole.
The boys were fishing nearby. They came to the swift yar. One boy stuck his hand into the hole and pulled out Creak. What did Skrip go through while he was held in their hands and stroked, as it seemed to him, by huge fingers!
But nothing happened, the kids were good, they released Skrip. He flew over the river and shouted in fear:
- Tiu!
All the swifts poured out of their holes, they looked - there was no one there. The kids have already left, the falcon is not flying. The swifts almost beat Skrip, but they regretted it - he was still young.
Then Skrip realized that there was no way to live in a small hole, and he began to work again. He flew up to his hole so many times to carry away the clay, and made his way into the depths of the hole so many times that he could already distinguish this hole from all others.
One day the boys came again, stuck their hand in to pull Skrip out, but they couldn’t get it out. Creak turned his head and must have thought mockingly: “You’re being naughty, brother boys! And in general, you need to have a conscience!”
Well, I lived calmly in my hole. Now Creak was eating and drinking his fill, and became swift and strong. But for some reason the swifts became restless. They were almost never in their burrows, but kept flying, circling, clinging to the wires and sitting silently for hours, huddled together. And then, screeching, they scattered in different directions, sat down in the autumn puddles, carefully pecked at the clay and again gathered in flocks, and again circled anxiously. This anxiety was transmitted to Skrip. He began to wait, without knowing what, and at the end of August, at dawn, he suddenly heard the calling voice of the leader White Belly.
- Tiu! - the leader shouted. There was no threat in his voice this time. He called for departure. Creak flew up and saw: the whole sky was swirling. Clouds of swifts fly towards the horizon.
- Tiu! - the leader called. And Creak's flock rushed into the distance, mixing with other flocks. There were so many swifts that they almost obscured the dawn flaring in the sky.
- Creak! Creak! - the swifts shouted anxiously and sadly, saying goodbye to their native land until next summer.
- Creak! Goodbye! - the little haircut Creak shouted and rushed off beyond the forests, beyond the mountains, beyond the ends of the earth.
- Goodbye, Creak! Goodbye! Fly to your hole! - the fishermen shouted after Skrip.
Swifts fly away overnight and take summer with them. They also arrive in one night and bring summer with them.
It's boring without swifts on the river. Something is missing.
Where are you, little Creak? In what regions and countries? Come back soon! Bring summer to us on your wings!
1961
