Good days are not forgotten, good deeds are forever remembered. In ancient times, a cheerful tit fluttered through our forests, whistling its songs.
One day in winter, disaster struck: rain poured out of a black cloud. And it did not subside for nine days. And on the tenth day the frost began to click, and the whole earth was covered with a thick crust of ice. Animals could not break through it with their hooves, nor could they gnaw through it with their teeth. Not a single blade of grass could be reached. All the livestock died of starvation.
People have forgotten the taste of meat. Empty water was boiled in cauldrons. The old people were dying of hunger. The strong fellows were exhausted. The girls have forgotten how to smile. Trouble crushed everyone like a dark night. Instead of songs, there are dull groans everywhere. Even the birds fell silent. Only the tit whistled its simple songs. And when she saw dying people, she thought: “How to help them? How to save people from starvation?” Many times she happened to fly far into the steppe. There she saw Russian people. Those people lived in houses. The land was plowed and grain was sown. Women baked rolls in hot ovens. Migratory tits were fed bread crumbs. There is nothing tastier than those crumbs!
The titmouse remembered everything and, briskly jumping on a branch, said to the mountain people:
- I'll help you.
She flew into the air and flew towards the steppes.
The dying people looked at her and sighed:
– Can such a small bird save the people? She can't...
But still they looked to where she had flown away and waited.
The sun rose high, the spring warmth melted the ice crust. The streams rumbled and the young grass turned green. Hungry people, barely moving, dug out of the ground and ate the roots of the kandyk grass, and they all looked up:
- The tit is not visible...
“Probably an evil kite caught up with him, tore him apart with his sharp claws, and pecked him with his crooked beak...
And the lively tit flew and flew high above the ground. Feather grass rustled in the steppes, birch trees began to dress in greenery.
Russian men plowed the land. On the borders are bags of seed grain: wheat, rye, barley.
The titmouse circled over the bags, but did not dare take a grain without asking. She hit the ground and became a young girl. Cheeks glow like forest peonies, eyes resemble black currants. Eyebrows are like the wings of a bird in flight.
The girl approached the plowman, bowed from the waist and told him that people were starving in the mountains.
“Give me some wheat,” she asked.
“Summer is short in the mountains, the autumn frost will kill the wheat,” said the plowman. - I'll give you some barley grain.
He poured the barley into a bag and gave it to the girl. And so that she would not be late, he brought her a saddled horse.
The girl thanked the plowman and rushed to the mountains. And there, behind a high blue rock, a white wolf with a tail sixty arshins long was waiting for her. He opened his mouth and sharpened his teeth. His legs are tense, like the string of a bow. He's about to jump on the horse and rip out the girl's throat. She dropped the bag and the barley grain scattered on the stones. The horse turned and flew home faster than an arrow.
The girl turned into a tit again, jumped to the ground and began filling her beak with precious grain.
The white wolf rushed at her, wanted to crush her, tear her with his teeth, but the lively bird eluded him. The wolf had one feather left in its teeth.
The wolf hit the ground and became a zaisan. He collected the remains of scattered barley grains into the raised flap of his wide fur coat and began throwing handfuls into his insatiable mouth.
[3aysan – clan foreman, prince.]
The tit returned to our people and gave them barley grain.
Turning into a girl again, she told how Russians plow the land, sow bread, and how they bake rolls of bread in hot ovens.
They loosened the soil in the valley and sown grains. The harvest was harvested in the fall. From barley grains the women prepared flour - talkan. We started drinking tea with talkan. Fine!
Everyone soon forgot about the hunger. Smiles appeared on the faces of the guys, the girls began to sing songs.
That autumn weddings took place in the mountains. Many suitors wooed the girl who brought the barley grain. Everyone praised her. She got tired of listening to flattering words, and she again became a tit.
All winter she flew around the camps and sang her simple songs. He will fly up to the yurt, sit on a tree branch and start whistling. And everyone thought that the bird was talking about the Russians. How they live in their houses, what delicious rolls they bake...
And our people decided to migrate closer to the Russians. There they will learn to build houses, mow hay for livestock, and make bread for themselves from flour.
And so they did.
Life is good!..
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru