It was a long time ago, in time immemorial. One year autumn came very early. The leaves have not yet fallen from the trees, but the severe cold has already set in. The birds began to gather in flocks and hurried to warm countries. Snakes, lizards, all sorts of forest animals, escaping from the cold, climbed into their holes and hollows. Everything alive either flew away or hid. Only a small bird with a wounded wing was unable to fly away with the flock and was left alone in an open field in the piercing wind.
A bird sits under a wormwood bush, grieving, and doesn’t know what to do. Will we really have to die like this? And at the edge of the field a large dense forest began. “Let me jump into this forest, maybe the trees will take pity on me and let me spend the winter on their branches,” the bird thought and, protecting its wounded wing, galloped towards the forest.
At the edge of the forest stood a beautiful curly birch tree. A bird to her with a request:
- Birch tree, thick and curly, let it spend the winter with you.
“I have a lot of branches, even more leaves, I need to look after them to see if you’re here,” answered the birch tree.
The bird with its broken wing galloped further. He looks - there is a spreading giant oak tree standing. She began to beg him:
“Oak-hero, have mercy, let me live on your thick warm branches until spring.”
“I just came up with another idea,” answered the oak tree. “If you let everyone in for the winter, you won’t leave a single acorn with me.” No, no, I won’t let you go, go your way.
The small bird galloped further through the forest, protecting its wounded wing. She approached the river and saw a mighty willow standing on the bank, with her back to it, facing the river, her branches dropped to the very water.
“Good willow, your branches are thick, cozy, let me live on them until the warm spring days,” the poor bird asks the willow.
“Get lost, I’m talking to the river, but it doesn’t become me to talk to anyone I meet,” the willow answered proudly.
The poor bird fell into despair. And there was a reason: no one would let her, the unfortunate thing, in for the winter, everyone talked down to her.
Tired and hungry, she wandered further into the depths of the forest, stepping carefully so as not to hurt the wounded wing. The unfortunate bird was noticed by a green spruce.
- Ay-ay, poor fellow, where are you going? - she asked the bird.
“I don’t know where I’m going,” she answered.
- How come you don’t know? - the spruce was surprised.
“But it’s not because of a good life that I walk alone through the forest,” said the bird sadly. - I’m going wherever my eyes lead me.
- Why didn’t you fly away with your friends?
“My wing is sick, I can’t fly.” And I came to the forest, asked the trees to let me spend the winter - no one let me in, no one was sorry.
- Oh, poor thing! — the compassionate spruce exclaimed pitifully. “Then live with me.” Here, sit on this shaggy branch - it is the warmest.
There was an old pine tree next to the spruce. She also felt sorry for the bird.
“My branches are not so thick, not so warm, but I will shield you from the cold northern winds,” she said.
The bird climbed into the very thick of the spruce branches, and the pine tree protected it from the cold wind.
The juniper growing between the spruce and pine trees also took part in the fate of the little bird.
“Don’t be discouraged, little bird, I will feed you with my berries all winter.”
So the wounded bird lived a good life.
One night the wind got violent and raged. He tore the branches of the trees so much that leaves rained down from them. The wind liked it, he wanted to strip all the trees naked, but before doing this, he decided to ask Frost:
- Father Frost, should you pluck leaves from all the trees or leave them on some?
The king of cold, Morov, said:
- Pluck from birch trees, willows - from all that are dressed in leaves. And don’t touch those trees that took the little bird under protection, even if they remain green through the winter.
The wind did not dare to disobey Father Frost and did not touch the spruce, pine and juniper. So they have remained forever green to this day.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru