Прыгоды з жыцця прыроды
Adventures from the life of nature
Вячаслаў Грамыка
Для сярэдняга школьнага ўзросту
Выдавец: Беларусь
Памер: 263с.
Мінск 2003
Then he swam down-stream into more swampy places, where there was a lot of silt carried there by water.
Here his hopes came true: mother-of-pearl mollusks shone right on the river bank.
This find was unimaginably appropriate. The meat of these mollusks was unusually tender, soft and nutritious.
The cat-fish took several water mollusks one after the other, put them in his mouth and thoroughly washed away all dirt from them with water.
Then he grated against his lips the shells in which these delicacies were contained. The resilient bodies remained undamaged. Carefully squeezing these appetizing “convenience foods” with his lips, he rapidly started to return to his ward.
He found the wounded cat-fish in the same condition in which he had left him. By the slow movement of the skin near his front fins he could guess that his little friend was still breathing and, therefore, was still alive.
The master of the underwater depths approached his head and accurately placed the food on the sand at his mouth.
The young cat-fish opened his eyes. He saw the food but showed no interest at all, as though they were simple stones. This food even caused disgust with him.
The big cat-fish swam right up to the wounded one and pushed one mollusk straight to his mouth. He thought that if the wounded cat-fish was capable to eat, then he would recover and live. How can one live without food?
The young cat-fish seemed to understand that, too. Moreover, he could not ignore the concern of his older friend. Though he didn't want to eat, he had to do it, so as not to offend the good master. With all his strength, he opened his mouth and took the presented food with his lips.
He had no strength for more than that. The small piece that he took into his mouth with such difficulty, stayed there: he couldn't swallow it. It was obvious that the last hopes for survival were gone.
The master of the deep left his young friend alone so as to give him the possibility to spend the last minutes of his life in peace, but he didn't swim away from the dying cat-fish. He was
already hungry himself, as he had been staying at his young friend for 3 days and nights.
The wounded cat-fish had only a little while left to live. And when the cold evening darkness came, the cat-fish opened his eyes for the last time, looked at his mighty friend sadly and made a long and hoarse outward breath, as if saying goodbye. His life was leaving him with this breath.
Our giant became gloomy and silent. Life has lost all sense for him after that. Now all that remained was to live along the rest of his life in solitude. But he had no regrets about it — he had lived quite a long life. He was much more sorry for his perished young friend.
But, as they say, troubles never come singly. Poachers appeared again at the pool, where the old cat-fish lived on his own. They set wide nets at all sides of the pool and sailed in two boats into the middle of the water expanse. They attached a large triplex hook to a strong fishing-line and used roasted sparrows as the bait. Such bait was very attractive for any large fish.
But the experienced old master didn't bite at this.
His long life experience suggested him that he had to be cautious. The fishermen spent a whole day in vain. Late in the evening they returned to their village lodging for the night. In the morning they returned to check their nets. They were empty. But the poachers didn't give up their intention and continued the hunt... Greed for profit didn't leave them. The more so, they knew for sure that their prey existed in the pool, and a great one, too.
They extended the line, to which the hook was attached, with a cord and fastened it to an empty barrel sealed at both ends. They let the barrel float freely on the water surface. The plan was simple: if the fish swallowed the hook, then it would drag the barrel around with it and the barrel would show where the catch was.
Yet the speckled giant didn't fall for this trick either. At nighttime he swam up from the depth and saw the nets. What should he do? Tear them to pieces? What if some other sort of trap was prepared here? You could expect anything from human beings. And since there was no particular need to leave the pool,
there was no point in risking. Therefore the cat-fish studied the nets above him and returned to the bottom again.
In the morning people appeared at the pool once again. They checked their tackle and remained disappointed. They went back to the village and returned in several hours. They brought back some extra belongings. They brought with them extra hooks, pieces of bloody meat and sharp iron boat-hooks fixed on long poles. They pushed two boats onto the water and set to work again. They lowered the boat-hooks with bloody meat into the water, trying to irritate the fish. Maybe the fish wouldn't resist and would take the bait. That was all the fishermen wanted. Though even the strongest fishing line would not bear a great fish, all they needed was to drag it closer to the boat, and then they would use their boat-hooks.
There were no bites. Yet the persistent poachers threw the bait into the water again and again. They replaced the bloody meat pieces with new ones, lengthened the cord and went on throwing it into water.
Sometimes the pieces fell right in front of the nose of the cat-fish, but he didn't touch them, swam aside and changed his position. At times he swam up to the nets, but didn't risk touching them and went back to the center of the pool, diving to the bottom.
The sounds of loud splashes on the water surface not only pestered the cat-fish but began to irritate him. Finally, he could not stand it any longer and bit a bait from a hook. This convinced the poachers that the pool wasn't empty. The people burst out shouting and beating their oars against the water. Finally, the patience of the master of the deep gave way. He made a sharp turn and rapidly swam to the surface, gathering more and more speed. The boat overturned from a sudden blow. Swearing and shouting, people fell into the water.
But the cat-fish was old now. Having gathered such speed, the master couldn't return rapidly to the deep. He was unable to control his body and burst out onto the surface next to the second boat. A bearded poacher, who stood with a boat-hook in his hands, didn't loose his cool. With great force the boat-hook entered the belly of the cat-fish.
The cat-fish rushed sharply and a large wave overturned the second boat. Falling into the water, the bearded poacher lost orientation and the cat-fish easily freed himself from the boathook. But now there was no salvation: a fatal wound bled in the belly of the fish.
Yet the cat-fish was still strong. He swam up to the surface again, demonstrating his strength and greatness to the fishermen, as though not wishing to show that he was wounded. And the people, forgetting about their catch, made for the bank as quickly as they could. The cat-fish made another turn on the surface, splashed with his tail and dove deep.
The people walked up and down the river bank for some time, squeezed out their wet clothes and excitedly discussed what had happened. They were all afraid. It seemed to them that it wasn't a fish, but a monster.
The cat-fish lay deep on the bottom and breathed heavily. He understood that his end was in sight, but he parted with life without any particular regrets. He had lived enough, experienced happiness, worries and grief. There had been enough of everything.
In the morning the ruler of the mysterious pools, gathering his last strength, rose from the bottom and swam up to the surface for the last time. He wanted to bid farewell to the sun and sky and to those places where he had lived, been happy and made friends.
Suddenly he noticed a predator — a pike. In some way it had gotten tangled in the nets and was trying to get free from this trap. This meeting with this opponent gave the cat-fish vigor. Here it was, the long awaited moment of retribution. The iron jaws of the cat-fish closed on the pike's head. The grip of the cat-fish giant was mortal.
In the throes of death, the pike tried to struggle free, but it couldn't. Both sank to the bottom of the pool, two irreconcilable enemies: the cat-fish and the pike. And still the victor was the cat-fish — the master of the mysterious depths.
11 Зак. 1784
IN THE PREDATOR'S CLAWS
Nature was entering its late spring with every sapling and bush, with every blade of grass and wisp of moss, with every breath of wind and friendly rays of generous sun.
A she-hare had been rambling about the forest and the bush for a long time seeking the most convenient place. It thoroughly examined a vast edge of the forest space, persistently spying out all its parts. It examined the swamps, covered with sedge, saplings and high-standing juicy grass, it came back closer to the dense mixed forest and, at last, chose a quiet part with young pine trees which formed a continuous green hedge in some places. No beast of prey could get here either from above (owl or hawk) or from aside (vixen or an impudent raccoon).
A small clearing where leverets could regale themselves on grass, was adjacent to the bushes chosen by the she-hare. Aspen grove, which was to the liking of leverets, also grew here in abundance.
The she-hare did not arrange a special nest, but bred leverets in a trampled-down small hole amongst stumps and bushes. Four tiny, thickly covered with hair small grey balls were brought into the world.
They still didn't understand anything, but natural instinct prompted them what to do. Leverets did not know that the she-hare would leave them soon and that they would have to sit still so as not to give themselves away even by an insignificant movement and not to get into the claws of forest predators. But meanwhile, they sucked sweet and tasty milk, smacking with appetite and enjoying the first breakfast. The milk of a she-hare is nutritious — over twenty and even up to twenty-five per cent
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