- Vovka-satyuk / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 1: Roman. Stories. – pp. 449–457.
- Danya / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 1: Roman. Stories. – pp. 442–446.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Greedy Rooster / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 2: Stories. Stories. – pp. 439–441.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - How a crow offended a sparrow / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 2: Stories. Stories. – pp. 437–439.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Vacation: a small children's story / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 2: Stories. Stories. – pp. 448–494.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Katyushin's rain: [stories: for children / V. Belov; ill. : S. Kosenkov]. – Voronezh: Central–Chernozem. book publishing house, 1969. – p. : ill.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Boys / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 1: Roman. Stories. – pp. 348–357.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Mom’s daughter / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 2: Stories. Stories. – pp. 429–430.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Mishuk: (a fairy tale for Anyuta) / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 2: Stories. Stories. – pp. 422–429.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Mouse, grandmother and cat / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 2: Stories. Stories. – pp. 434–436.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - In the haymaking / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 2: Stories. Stories. – pp. 443–445.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Eye of the Dolphin / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 2: Stories. Stories. – pp. 533–542.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - About Malka: stories / V. Belov; [preface E. Nosova] ; rice. I. Shipulina. – M.: Det. lit., 1981. – 32 p. : ill. - (We read it ourselves).
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Mitten birds / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 2: Stories. Stories. – pp. 436–437.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Rainbow / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 2: Stories. Stories. – pp. 430–433.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Stories about all living creatures / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 2: Stories. Stories. – pp. 495–532.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Starlings / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 1: Roman. Stories. – pp. 466–473.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Namesakes / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 1: Roman. Stories. – pp. 457–466.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library) - Sharik / V. Belov // Selected works: in 3 volumes / V. Belov. – M., 1983. – T. 2: Stories. Stories. – pp. 441–443.
(Access to the full text is available only within the library)
Today, the literary works of the Russian writer Vasily Belov are quite widely known. They attract with their simplicity, naturalism and tranquility. The school curriculum includes the study of several books written by Vasily Ivanovich Belov. A biography for children includes basic facts from the writer’s life and events that were decisive for the formation of his personality.
Early years
The future writer was born in 1932 in a village called Timonikha (Vologda region). His parents were peasants; in 1943, the family lost their father due to military events.
While still just a boy, Vasily is forced to start working on a collective farm. He was the eldest of five children and became a good helper to his mother. Later, recalling the times of his childhood and youth, he said that they were filled with a feeling of constant hunger and an all-consuming love of reading.
Study and first job
Belov Vasily Ivanovich, whose biography includes seven years of study at a rural school and its graduation in 1949, chose not to stay in his native village. Wanting to acquire a useful profession, he went to the city of Sokol. There was a factory school there, which taught various working professions, many of which were extremely in demand in the post-war period.
Vasily Ivanovich Belov stayed here. His biography contains facts about his training as a joiner and carpenter. Then the future writer changed several occupations, including carpenter, motor mechanic and electrician. After serving the required time in the army, Vasily got a job at a factory in the city, which was then called Molotov, and now Perm.
Journalistic activity
In the mid-50s, the young man came back to his homeland and was accepted as a correspondent for the regional newspaper Kommunar. At the same time, his literary activity began. There have already been successful attempts to publish short works written by Vasily Ivanovich Belov. Brief biography for children includes a mention of the publication of poems, essays and articles by the writer in several regional newspapers. Vasily's fellow countryman advised him to send poems to the Literary Institute, which he did. To his surprise, Belov passed the creative competition.
Creative rise and recognition of the writer
Two years later, the writer was elected to the post of first secretary of the Gryazovets district Komsomol committee. However, his political career did not appeal to him, and Vasily Ivanovich Belov, whose biography was replenished with one more place of work, left for the capital. He received a call to study, which Vasily was extremely happy about. The writer devoted five years to receiving a literary education; during this period he published a collection of poems, “My Forest Village,” and also wrote and published the story “The Poor Man’s Village.”
In 1964, when he graduated from the institute, Vasily Ivanovich Belov settled in his native Vologda. The writer's biography includes joining the Writers' Union Soviet Union in 1963.
Further literary activity
The 60s were marked for the writer by the release of several works: “Spring”, “On Rosstanny Hill” and “Beyond Three Portages”, as well as the story that brought him popularity - “Business as usual”. Over the next decade, several stories forming a cycle were published from the pen of Vasily Belov. Russian writer Vasily Ivanovich Belov called it “An Education According to Dr. Spock.” The main idea of the stories was the uncompromising opposition of urban and rural ways of life. The writer took a position from which he criticized the customs and mores of city life, calling it unnatural.
The theme of peasant life and village life continues in books that were published in the 80s. In the collection “Lad. Essays on folk aesthetics”, each of the short essays tells about the life of ordinary people in villages. The biography and personality of Vasily Ivanovich Belov are closely connected with the people, because the writer sang the peasants’ perception of the changes of different seasons, their daily activities and customs, as well as the harmony of rural life in general.
Historical value of Belov's works
The writer gained considerable fame as the author of ethnographic essays, many of which became the basis for writing his popular works (“Lad”).
It was conceived as a collection of short stories about the life and aesthetics of peasants in the North. The main theme of the story here is traditional culture, folklore, life and artistic crafts of Russian villages, which are located in the northern regions.
Throughout his life, the writer was engaged in collecting oral stories, incidents, songs, proverbs, and objects of material culture. He spent long days in the archives, studying the ethnographic materials they contained. Large quantity Belov received information from his mother.
Thus, the essays he wrote should be perceived, first of all, as original research, and only then as works of art. Modern ethnography, which studies the Russian North, has gained a lot thanks to such a valuable source as the works of the writer.
Literature for children
Even a short biography of Vasily Ivanovich Belov cannot ignore his works written for children. They became widely known and were published several times. In addition to traditional stories written in prose, the writer created several plays that were well received by the public and were performed in many theaters throughout the country.
The theme of these works by Vasily Belov is a call for the preservation of forgotten folk traditions. In addition, they often express regret about the losses the writer’s contemporary society is suffering as it moves away from its cultural roots.
Vasily Belov attached great importance to how industrialists deal with natural resources. He connected their negligence towards nature with the destruction of the way of life in general and morality as well.
The writer's activities in the 90s
For three years, from 1989 to 1992, Vasily Belov held a deputy post. In these difficult times for post-Soviet countries, he can finally write fully and with all honesty about his attitude towards collectivization of the 30s. During this period, the writer’s trilogy was published, which became a kind of chronicle of 1932. In these books, Belov consistently and fiercely condemns the policies being pursued.
The 90s brought the writer several literary awards and continued journalistic activity, but his publications became much smaller. In 1997, Belov became an Honorary Citizen of Vologda. The title was awarded to the writer in recognition of the great personal contribution that he made to the development of Russian literature, as well as for the way the originality of Russian northern traditions is reflected in his works.
Over the years, Belov's views have remained unchanged: passionately rooting for the preservation of the literary Russian language and the natural resources of Russia, he is an adherent of the traditional Russian way of life. In the last years of his life, Vasily Belov took a rather radical position.
The writer’s life was cut short in 2012 as a result of a long illness. The writer is often called the great artist of village prose. In literary circles it is believed that the genre of “village prose” was developed precisely thanks to the activities carried out by Vasily Ivanovich Belov. A short biography and the most significant of his works became part of the school curriculum as a means of instilling in children kindness, love for people and the natural environment.
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Stories about all kinds of living creatures
Fedya lives in a large village house with his wife. His wife’s name is Elena, but for some reason he always calls him Egorovna. Although Yegorovna is only forty years old, and she doesn’t even think about retirement - she works as a milkmaid. Fedya carries the mail. They have no children.
Every morning he takes the saddle and mail bag out onto the porch, then goes to get the horse and saddles it. Then he drinks tea for a long time. Only after all this does he go to the center, as he calls the village, where there is a post office.
Fedya loves animals very much. Who is not in the house! Two cats live in rooms, and both are very clean. A large barn usually accommodates a Polyana cow and a calf. Two geese and a goose spend the night in the fence between the barns, five hens and one rooster live in the barn in winter, and in the upper barn in summer. Fedya and Elena still keep a piglet, though not every year, and they always call him the same: Kuzey. But the smartest among all these numerous living creatures is, of course, the dog Valdai.
So, Fedya travels seven kilometers through the forest every day to bring letters, newspapers and translations to these parts. For this purpose, the collective farm gave him a horse named Verny. Fedya takes care of him himself. Why not bet because of one faithful special groom?
The village once had a stable for one hundred and twenty horses. Now half the stables have collapsed. The second half, not yet destroyed, was occupied by Faithful alone. It’s boring to live alone in the whole stable, especially in winter, when it’s so cold and there’s almost no food! Due to poor haymaking, Verny, like the other horses that stand on the central estate, is now given little hay. The winter diet includes only five kilos per day. There is no trace of oats, so adored by all horses. But what does five kilos of hay mean for such a big horse?
I found out about all this when I came here by accident. We met Fedya, as he says, “at the base fishing"; This base was the main one, but, of course, not the only one. I spent the night with Fedya and settled in for a few days. And then he came to these parts quite often.
One day in the spring
Verny had a day off on Monday. The post office was not open that day. There is no hay in the feeder. Faithful chewed on the board in the stall and went to the window. He even staggered from hunger. The window in the stable is long and narrow. Yesterday Fedya put out the frame, saying:
- There is no hay, so at least let him fresh air... Faithful turned his head and stuck it out into the street.
And it’s spring outside, the snow has disappeared. But there’s no grass either! Faithful sighed noisily and looked along the village. The kids were running to school and suddenly they saw: a large horse head. "Loyal! Faithful!” they shouted. The horse pricked up his ears. The guys came closer and took turns reaching out to stroke it. Faithful neighed quietly and began to spank with his big soft lip.
- He probably wants to eat! - said one of the boys, taking out a piece of Volozhny from his briefcase 1
Volozhny oily
Pirogue. He offered the pie to the horse. Faithful slowly but greedily chewed this piece. Then he ate the second piece, the third, the fourth... The guys fed him all their school lunches that they had stored at home.
- Lenka, what are you doing? Come on, there's no need to be greedy.
The very little boy frowned and almost cried.
- So what?
Lenka opened his field bag, apparently still his father’s. The hard-boiled egg was quickly peeled. Faithful also ate the egg. True, I crumbled half of it. Of course, it was a pity for the sweets. But they printed it anyway. Faithful also ate some sweets. No one else had anything to eat. The guys ran. The school was far away, in another village. They were afraid that they would be late. Faithful looked after them for a long time.
This is how he learned to eat candy and eggs. Verny was especially lucky a week later, on the First of May, when the children received gifts at school.
And then soon the grass began to grow, fresh and so green. No match for straw! And Verny gradually began to get better again.
Courier
Fedya has been delivering mail for three years. In winter in a sleigh, in summer in the saddle. On the left side of the saddle he strapped a mail bag with letters and newspapers; on the right side there was usually some kind of parcel sticking out. What can I say, the postman was not very reliable! Sometimes he gave a letter to a neighbor, and the neighbor gave it to another neighbor. And the letter passed from hand to hand for a long time, ending up where it was needed within two months. It was not for nothing that Grandfather Ostakhov, who lived on the outskirts at the end of the village, called Fedya a “carrier.”
But Fedya delivered newspapers and translations very carefully. Faithful himself knew when to turn to which house. Fedya, without getting off the saddle, stuck the newspaper into the gate bracket and rode on. He was often afraid to get off, because sometimes he simply could not get back into the saddle. On such days he sat very firmly in the saddle. Fedya said: “Once I was driving and dropped my cap from my head. Oh, I think, I won’t get down, I’ll go back tomorrow anyway. The next day I look, the cap is there. It didn’t go anywhere.”
Yet one day Verny came home without a postman. The bag, strapped to the saddle, held tightly, and Faithful never made a mistake all the way in all the villages. He took turns approaching all the houses where newspapers were being subscribed to. People who were at home came out and took the newspaper they needed from their bags. Verny even went to see Grandfather Ostakhov, who was ordering “Rural Life.” The horse stood at the porch and stood exactly as long as he always stood. However, Dedko Ostakhov did not dare take a newspaper from his bag without asking. Faithful stood by the porch and walked on, and Grandfather looked and shook his head, looked and shook:
– What has science come to?
Fedya came home only two days later. They immediately removed him from the postmen and put him in the storeroom. On Verny they began to carry manure from the farm, but for a long time they still called him a courier.
Faithful and Malka
The fry is such a feisty little dog that it couldn’t get any worse. She is small, her legs are like matchsticks and very crooked, and she has more anger than a tiger. She lived with a lonely pensioner, Lydia. It used to be that no one would go for a walk with Lydia, even on holidays. The dog will always bark at the guest, or even nip at the guest’s leg. Straight to the blood. Lydia is already talking to the visitor, it seems clear that she shouldn’t be angry, and Malka keeps growling and growling from under the bench. Where did so much anger come from?
One day I was watching Verny. He diligently plucked the grass and did not bother anyone. Then he lay down and began to roll on the ground, shaking his big feet. The hooves flashed in the air. Apparently, he was shedding and his back was very itchy - the gelding was rolling on the grass with such pleasure. And suddenly, out of the blue, Malka. With a furious bark that turned into a squeal, she rushed at Verny. Faithful jumped up on all four hooves. He spread his front legs wide apart, tilted his head and froze in bewilderment. What do you mean? Why so much noise? And Malka became more and more impudent. She jumped up to the horse's muzzle and was ready to grab it.
Faithful endured, endured, and how he snorted! The fry even flew to the side. Faithful rushed after her, she ran away from him.
From that day on, Malka left him dead. Verny used to go and drink water whenever he wanted. Now it's completely different. The road to the river went past Lydia’s house. The fry rushed and barked at him every time, but always kept at a safe distance. Faithful was probably not afraid of her, but who enjoys listening to loud barking and half-crazed squealing? And the gelding ran downhill to the water, out of harm’s way. The fry took this as proof of her strength, and she angrily pursued him until the middle of the descent. Then it returned to its original line and calmed down. Faithful, it seemed to me, drank the water without any appetite and returned upstairs to the village. And Malka again furiously flew at the gelding.
It is unknown how all this disgrace would have ended if the road had not dried out and cars had not begun to pass through the village. The fry suddenly retreated from Verny and began to pursue the cars with even greater fury. She especially disliked bicycles and gas cars.
The fry has done something wrong
One winter, in the snow, I went to Lydia for milk and heard the hostess swearing in the house. "What's happened? – I thought. “Who is Lydia honoring so much?”
- Bowlegged! Rogue! – Lydia’s voice was heard behind the door. - Why did you stick out your ears? Oh, whore! Well, wait a minute! Aren’t you ashamed to look you in the eyes, my dear? Aren't you ashamed?
I entered the room. Lydia greeted me and continued to swear:
- I should take the belt and whip it! Or completely expose her to the wild, shameless!
It turns out that Lydia scolded Malka. Because she brought two puppies. The fry looked into the owner's eyes with bewilderment, guiltily shook her tail and did not understand why she was being scolded so much. I looked under the bench: there, in an old hat with earflaps, two tiny kittens were floundering helplessly. The fry almost grabbed my nose.
- Sit! – Lydia besieged her. - Sit down, no one will take your ballers! Someone needs...
Lydia scolded Malka for two days, and on the third she said:
- Okay, let them live.
Then I heard that one puppy was taken by a tractor driver who often drove through the village. Lydia took the second one across the river to a neighboring village, and in return brought a young red cat. I don’t know how Malka reacted to all this; she probably wasn’t very pleased. Lydia, in any case, was pleased.
The village where I lived was located on a hill, and on the other side, covered with snow, of the river, also on a hill, there is another, neighboring village. In the summer we walked across the river on lava. Lava is two hewn logs thrown from one bank to the other. The path to the other side remained the same; people walked on the lava even in winter, although it was also possible to walk straight on the ice. I skied here every day. One day I saw Malka running along the path from a neighboring village across the river. Alone, alone. He runs home busily, without looking back at anything. Crooked legs just flicker on the white snow. The next day - again. I was surprised: where is she running? Yes, every day and always at the same time. I asked Lydia:
– Where does Malka run every day?
- Yes, feed! – Lydia explained cheerfully. – Day after day he runs like this, nothing can stop him. I already locked her in the hut, all in vain. As soon as you turn away, the job is done. Yes, yes, no, she ran to feed her baby.
That's it, I think, Malka! What a faithful mother she turned out to be. Every day he runs two kilometers to a strange village, despite any dangers, to feed his son. Not everyone can do this.
More about Malka
So Malka ran every day to that village. She never forgot her duty. Meanwhile, spring was coming from all sides. The snow melted, and the river first darkened, then overflowed. The fry kept running across the lava to the other side. Now, even if you don’t want to walk on the lava, you won’t be able to get to the other side.
One morning I went to get water, and I saw that during the night the river overflowed and the water came up to the baths. A wide stretch of water filled the entire depression. Fedya has already ridden the boat, looking for places where he can put the tops. The lanky waders that arrived at night whistled merrily. Wait, where's the lava? I looked at the place where the path ended and was stunned. There were no logs. At night they were lifted up by water and carried away. All. The connection with that shore was severed, I thought, the only way to get there was on Fedya’s boat. What about Malka?
The fry was easy to find. I saw her run up to the water and poke her head back and forth. There was only water everywhere and there were no lavas. The fry stepped into the water and suddenly swam. Such a small helpless dog was not afraid of the wide fast river and cold water! I was excited to see what would happen next. What's next? The fry apparently swam with all its might against the currents, but it was carried faster and faster. She had little strength, but the current was strong, and so she was carried along the river. When Malka rushed past me, I threw her some kind of tablet. But it's all in vain. The fry rushed to the other side. I saw how, exhausted, she plunged headlong into the water. And he shouted to Fedya to catch Malka. Fedya himself saw where things were going. He put the boat across the current and adjusted it with an oar to catch the little dog.
“Oh, you fool, where did you go,” he said. - Well, mother, come on, come here!
He threw the oar into the boat and grabbed Malka from the icy water with his hand. Probably, a little more, and she would choke, because she was barely alive.
- Mother! - Fedya persuaded her. - Is that really the case? You have to feed him, the fool! After all, he’s a big idiot, and you’re still running around.
Fedya moored to the shore and released Malka, who was shivering from the cold and had become very tiny.
- Run, run home! – he said and turned to me. -What does animal mean?
And we both marveled at Malka’s maternal fidelity.
Parasite
I started grouse hunting and didn’t see Malka for a long time. Imagine my surprise when one day I went to Lydia and saw a very strange and unexpected picture! The tiny frail fry was lying on the floor on a rag bedding and feeding a large red cat. She even growled at me, saying, there are all sorts of people walking around here. But the cat didn’t even move. He sucked and squinted with pleasure. She was about one and a half times smaller than the cat. And so she fed this big red-haired hulk with her milk. I came in from the other side - that's for sure! There was no mistake. The redhead even smacked his lips. The fry fed him and jumped on her thin crooked legs. But he didn’t even turn over and fell asleep.
“Well, couch potato! – I was mentally indignant. “You wretched parasite!” I even hated this cat, I wanted to wake up the lazy man with my foot, but then Lydia entered the hut.
- Has he been like this for a long time? – I asked.
- Yes right away. He was thin and dry, but now he looks so polished. I scolded him and beat him. I'm used to it, apparently.
- Wow, I’m used to it! Malka barely has a soul in his body, but he’s used to it. So even a fool can...
I didn’t say anything else and walked away, angry at the cat. And not in vain, because this cat, as it later turned out, really turned out to be completely unlucky. No amount of upbringing had any effect on him, as they say, what is not instilled in him from a young age cannot be made up for in old age. But I will return to him later, but for now I’ll tell you about other dogs living in the village.
Valdai
Fedin Valdai is a huge dog, no match for Lidina Malka. Dark gray, with patchy gray hair on the thighs. Valdai barks very rarely, only in the most extreme cases. Surprisingly, Fedya, with all his love for animals, very rarely feeds the dog. Valdai is almost always hungry. This circumstance does not in the least interfere with the greatest canine devotion to its owner, as well as their mutual love. Such relations had developed between them a long time ago, firmly, and it was not for me to change them. But it just so happened that one day I became the culprit of a quarrel that arose between Valdai and Fedya.
Usually, a hungry Valdai would lie for hours on a hillock near the road opposite Fedya’s house. He proudly and independently looked at the cars and tractors passing along the road, yawned, then laid his head on his outstretched front paws and slept.
I often watched him from the window. So he stood up, stretched sweetly, looked to one side of the street, to the other. There is no one anywhere, only the roosters crow. Valdai approached the house opposite. There was a washbasin hanging by the porch. Valdai came up and, sniffing, poked his nose into the lump of the washbasin. It started pouring. Valdai got splashed on his nose, he snorted and walked away embarrassed. I felt funny. In gratitude for this, I threw half a gingerbread out the window. Valdai ate and looked at me, waiting for something else. I threw him a crust of black bread, he sniffed it and walked away dissatisfied: they say, why are you treating me to such nonsense?
So I taught him to sit under the window and wait for a treat. Fedya, having gone to get the mail, often came to my owners to talk, leaving the dog outside the door. Valdai whined and asked to come to us.
One day I let the dog into the room and gave him a circle of sausage. Valdai swallowed the sausage in one gulp and wagged his tail, asking for more.
- Come on, get out of the room! - Fedya shouted. - Tiny Bor.
And suddenly the dog flashed the whites of his eyes and growled, with such anger that even Fedya was taken aback.
- Oh, I didn’t like it. Pshel! Who are they talking to?
The dog, perhaps for the first time, did not listen, and a cruel kick threw Valdai to the door. It is unknown what would have happened next if I had not stopped Fedya...
Valdai was angry with him for a week and didn’t even want to spend the night in the house. But then they made up again.
Sometimes Fedya went to the forest, to the lake. He was carrying an oar and a fish basket out of the hallway, and then Valdai jumped up from his hillock and began to squeal joyfully and jump around Fedya.
- Valdai? To the forest! To the forest!
The dog jumped even higher, trying to lick Fedya on the cheek. I was so glad. He rushed into the field, returned, squealed and jumped, ran again. He loved going into the forest so much that he changed all over, all his sleepy laziness fled from him in one fell swoop. On such days he immediately became cheerful, impetuous and noisy.
Valdai and Valetko
The third canine character in the village was the little cheerful Valetko. This dog, of unknown breed and color, was kept by Grandfather Ostakhov. It must be said right away that Fedya and his grandfather lived in “contras,” as he himself put it. Although they greeted each other, they constantly branded each other behind their backs. It started a long time ago, because of some trifle, later the enmity grew and became stronger. And it has been going on for several years. They themselves were probably tired of all this for a long time; everyone secretly wanted to make peace. But something got in the way.
When Valetko showed up at Grandfather Ostakhov’s, Fedya said:
- Wolfhound! You can't feed this. It will gnaw the whole village.
And on the same day he began to set Valdai against the Ostakhov dog. But, to everyone’s surprise, Valdai did not scold little Valetok that day. And then, unlike their owners, these two dogs even became friends, and Fedya did not interfere with this.
It used to be that Valdai was lying on the meadow, and Valetko was pestering him so much that it seemed that even a man’s patience would have run out. Valdai will only look condescendingly at the naughty man, and at least that’s all. The hooligan Valetko will become so angry and emboldened that he will even pull Valdai’s ear. If it didn’t hurt, then Valdai will shake off the naughty guy, and that’s it. If Valetko grabbed painfully, then Valdai will bare his large yellow fangs:
- R-rr-r-r!
He will grab Valetka by the scruff of the neck and shake him two or three times harder. Valetko immediately came to his senses and stopped acting up. But after some time he began to behave hooliganly again, and again Valdai patiently endured the impudence.
One day, a huge unfamiliar dog, bigger than Valdai, was running through the village. Valetko, in his stupidity, barked and began to attack him. Valdai lay silently on his hillock. The alien dog barked menacingly, grabbed Valetka and began to tear him apart. There was snoring and a terrible squeal. Probably, the dog would have torn Valetka to pieces in one minute if not for help. Valdai quickly jumped up from the hill and rushed at the stranger. Freed from the mouth, Valetko, badly bitten, rolled to the side, and the dog and Valdai grappled with each other. The fight was wild and terrible. The alien dog was stronger than Valdai. But it’s not without reason that they say that walls help at home. Valdai gained the upper hand and pursued the stranger for a long time. After that, the strange dog never showed up on the street; he avoided our village. After this incident, Dedko Ostakhov went to Fedya’s house to watch TV. Once I brought a half-liter jar of honey from my hives. Fedya did not let the grandfather go home until he handed him half a sieve of fresh sorog.
Valdai and Kuzya
I have already said that almost every year Fedya bought a pig from the collective farm pig farm and every time he called him the same: Kuzya. The animal was kept in a stable for a long time, but at some point it has to go outside, even if you are Kuzya! And this moment was always very interesting.
This time the next Kuzya was already quite big. Fedya carried him out into the street in his arms. Clean and washed, Kuzya looked at the white light and ran along the village in delight. Fedya turned him back. Kuzya dug up the turf with his snout and ran it in the other direction. Fedya had the patience to once again season Kuzya with the house. Valdai lay on a hillock and calmly watched all this.
Under the hill, not far from Fedya’s house, there was a cattle yard. Liquid cow manure was transported all winter and spring directly to the meadow not far from the yard. By spring, the result was a large and liquid dung cake. From above, it was covered with a crust from the wind and sun. And this is where Fedya got into conflict with Kuzya. As soon as Fedya turned the corner, Kuzya again rushed into the open space with all his might. The piglet galloped to the limits of the dung... and as he walked, gently, one side fell against the thick manure. Then he ran on.
You should have seen what rose here!
Fedya, using obscene language, rushed after the pig. Kuzya ran even further.
- Well, wait a minute! - Fedya shouted. - Just let me live until Oktyabrskaya, I’ll burn the bastard alive!
Seeing that he still couldn’t catch up, Fedya decided to influence the animal with affection:
- Kuzya, Kuzya, Kuzya! Run here, father, Kuzya, Kuzya!
The pig stopped and turned back home with the same delight. One side of him was clean, snow-white, the other, black with manure, shiny like a raven’s wing. Such a color contrast plunged Fedya into angry despair; he had already brought a stick to whip Kuzya, but the pig, as if guessing, ran along the village.
Feda managed to catch the animal with difficulty. He grabbed Kuzya by the leg and dragged him to the river. Wash. Kuzya squealed. Fedya washed him, carried him home in his arms and locked him in the barn.
This is how Cousin’s first walk ended unsuccessfully.
Fedya kept him in the room for several days and did not let him go anywhere. Finally he released it again, and again Kuzya arranged everything exactly the same as before! Again, clean and snow-white, he rushed to the thicket of manure and climbed into it now all up to his ears.
I won’t describe what Fedya did after that. Several times he pulled Kuzya out of the dung, hit him with a stick and washed him in the river. But after half an hour the washed pig looked like a blackamoor again.
Fedya was in complete despair. He was tired of washing the pig. A few days later he gave up on Kuzya:
- If only I could live to see Oktyabrskaya!
That same day, Fedya let Kuzya out into the street and immediately disappeared so as not to upset his nerves any more. Valdai lay, as always, on a hill. I saw from my window how the piglet was about to run along the village, but suddenly Valdai, barking, rushed after Kuzya. Kuzya turned towards the house, Valdai again lay down on his hillock. But Kuza, apparently, was impatient to try the manure bath again, he dug up the turf with a snout and ran in the other direction, straight to the barnyard. What's happened? I couldn't believe my eyes. Hey Valdai! The dog quickly overtook the piglet and stood in the way, barking. And Kuza, willy-nilly, had to turn around.
From then on, Fedya could safely let Kuzya out into the street. Valdai mastered what was required of him well; he carefully monitored Kuzya’s behavior.
Fedya took all this for granted and did not encourage him in any way smart dog. However, Valdai probably did not expect gratitude. For everyone it all turned out to be in the order of things
Fyodor Abramov, Victor Astafiev, Valentin Rasputin, Vladimir Soloukhin, Vasily Shukshin... In this row is the name of the wonderful Russian writer Vasily Ivanovich Belov.
Belov was born in the Vologda region, in the village of Timonikha, on October 23, 1932. There, in his native village, he lives now. He writes a lot, greets guests and loved ones with love.
Once V. Belov was asked: “How is your Timonikha doing?” The writer answered honestly: “She is no longer there. This is saddening... The fate of Timonikha is typical for many thousands of Russian villages. Where, since the time of Daniel the Sharper, songs sounded and children ran, chimneys smoked, cows mooed, now there is only grass and bushes...”
And in fact, there are very few residents left in Timonikha. But this is our native land, our beloved land. It was Vasily Belov who rebuilt the village church and did all the carpentry work himself. For the restoration of the temple in his native village, Patriarch of Moscow and All Rus' Alexy II awarded him the Order of St. Daniel.
Today Vasily Belov is a major writer and public figure. Recognition of his merits was the award of the State Prize in 1981 and the Order of the Red Banner of Labor in 1983, the Order of Lenin in 1984. He was also awarded the literary prize of the Union of Writers named after L.N. Tolstoy in 1992 and the All-Russian Aksakov Literary Prize in 1996.
But is this the main thing in a writer’s work? And do we really remember this when reading the books of Vasily Belov?
The writer’s work reflected the whole variety of genres of Russian literature: stories (among them psychological sketches, poetic miniatures, short stories), social-analytical story, story-meditation, family, everyday story, epic novel, essays on folk aesthetics, plays, journalism... In they merged the funny and the tragic, the big and the small.
Vasily Belov’s first book was a collection of poems “My Forest Village” (1961). At the same time, his story “Berdyayka” was published. Vasily Belov, a little-known master, became the author of an absolutely wonderful story, “A Business as Usual,” published in the magazine “North” (1966). The magazine was published in Petrozavodsk, and the story immediately became widely known, and people immediately started talking about it as a significant literary (and social!) phenomenon.
Time will pass, and Vasily Belov will write many more wonderful works. Among them are “Carpenter’s Stories”, published in the then most popular Moscow magazine “New World” (1968), “Lad. Essays on folk aesthetics" (1979), "Eves" (1972), the novel "Everything is Ahead" (1985).
Vasily Belov’s favorite theme is peasant. And here he acts as a continuer of the traditions of Russian classics. Colorful pictures of village life, bright and whimsical speech; wonderful images of Russian people - amazing portraits, strong characters; and such a familiar world of native nature: “Everything was flooded by the bright spring sun, the river twinkled with sharp golden stars, transparent wavy streams trembled over the warm, half-plowed field...” (story “Singing Stones”, 1973).
Nowadays, Vasily Belov’s prose is like a sip of spring water. It renews, gives strength and strengthens the spirit. It brings purification to a person, helps to restore to him love and hope, faith in himself and in people in general. It allows you to touch all living things, feel closeness to them, awakens your conscience and allows you to learn folk wisdom and purity.
Read the stories and stories included in this collection. The author contrasts the difficult and confusing adult world with childish spontaneity, sincerity and gullibility. The heroes of his works are distinguished by caring, openness and purity. And love. Love for everything living and close, big and small. And it turns out that this is love for native land, why home.
Holidays
Little children's story
(Dreams. Where is Khomutov? Grandma Klyuvikha.
In ambush. Escape.)
If only I could buy a plane or ask some pilot to fly higher and jump onto that cloud over there! That would be soft! You can’t knock your leg off here: you’d fall down like on a pillow. And then let’s tumble down, and climb up again, and down again, but away from the edge. The village and forest would be on a silver platter. You could put small stones in your pockets and throw them at the cows. Just make sure it doesn't get in your eye. Not one would whistle across the river!
Or dig an underground passage. Through the entire mountain under the village itself. And then, when there is just a little bit left, I would poke a small round hole and look through it. No one would see you, but the whole field was at your fingertips. Stasik is just grazing cows today. And then he would accidentally jump out right under his nose! Or we could gather all the animals in one place, feed them to the fullest, and then...
There was a loud knock. It was the mother pounding the wall with a birch beam:
- Minka! Minka, the devil, whoever they say, go home. The samovar has been on the table for a long time.
It's easy to say, go! Minka was sitting astride the roof, and in order to go down, he had to crawl through a hole into the attic. Then walk along the long beam on high altitude, then make your way to the corner and descend along it to a safe place, clinging to cracks and ledges. It’s good if you don’t tear your pants or open your belly on some nail.
I didn't feel like drinking tea at all. But still I had to climb through all the holes and go down. In the hut, Minka took a piece of pie baked with onions and went outside again. Today, neither weed the cabbage nor get water for it from the well. I'm tired of this cabbage, worse than bitter radish! You water it every day, but what’s the point? Not growing.
Minka decided to look into the well. A reflection could be seen far below; the entire head was no more than a snout. Teacher Sergei Mikhailovich once said that if you look from a deep well, you can see stars even at noon. Minka looked at the sky. But what kind of stars are there in this heat? He wanted to climb onto the roof again, but he didn’t like doing the same thing twice.
To tell the truth, it's boring. The village is so small that there are only ten houses in it. It’s two kilometers to the neighboring village, and five kilometers to the club and boarding school. They did it at school today summer camp. Minka, Stasik and Khomutov entered the sixth grade. True, Khomutov stayed for the fall in Russian, what a goat! He received a D for his presentation because he did not use three commas. And he doesn’t know how to do transfers at all. Where is he now?
And Minka went to look for Khomutov.
The fluff of dandelions flew through the village. The roosters were crowing, the swallows were chirping. Yes, a very small village. Before you know it, it’s the cows’ turn to graze again. The collective farms are grazed by a permanent shepherd. And so Stasik, poor fellow, is grazing these personal cows today, but whether the Khomutovs are at home is still unknown. But if he’s at home, then who knows whether his grandmother will let him go.
Two unpleasant things have happened to Minka this summer with Grandma Klyuvikha. One because of their cat, the other because of Kluvikha herself. Of course, the first time he and Khomutov were to blame, although not very much either. They wanted to reconcile the cat with Stasik’s Tuzik, for which they released the chickens from the cage and put Tuzik there first, then the cat. There were no results. Even worse. The cat grabbed Tuzik’s nose. Tuzik bit the cat's ear. There was such a commotion that the chicken coop started shaking and turned over. The door opened. The cat flew out of there like the plague. He hissed at people until the evening, not like Tuzik. The grandmother lubricated the cat with cow butter so that the sore spots would heal faster. He licked his oily muzzle and calmed down, but the grandmother lied to Minka’s mother. The second time Klyuvikha attacked Minka completely out of the blue, only because he simply came to see Khomutov. I don’t even feel like remembering this time, how disgusting it is.
Fedya lives in a large village house with his wife. His wife’s name is Elena, but for some reason he always calls him Egorovna. Although Yegorovna is only forty years old, and she doesn’t even think about retirement - she works as a milkmaid. Fedya carries the mail. They have no children.
Every morning he takes the saddle and mail bag out onto the porch, then goes to get the horse and saddles it. Then he drinks tea for a long time. Only after all this does he go to the center, as he calls the village, where there is a post office.
Fedya loves animals very much. Who is not in the house! Two cats live in rooms, and both are very clean. A large barn usually accommodates a Polyana cow and a calf. Two geese and a goose spend the night in the fence between the barns, five hens and one rooster live in the barn in winter, and in the upper barn in summer. Fedya and Elena still keep a piglet, though not every year, and they always call him the same: Kuzey. But the smartest among all these numerous living creatures is, of course, the dog Valdai.
So, Fedya travels seven kilometers through the forest every day to bring letters, newspapers and translations to these parts. For this purpose, the collective farm gave him a horse named Verny. Fedya takes care of him himself. Why not bet because of one faithful special groom?
The village once had a stable for one hundred and twenty horses. Now half the stables have collapsed. The second half, not yet destroyed, was occupied by Faithful alone. It’s boring to live alone in the whole stable, especially in winter, when it’s so cold and there’s almost no food! Due to poor haymaking, Verny, like the other horses that stand on the central estate, is now given little hay. The winter diet includes only five kilos per day. There is no trace of oats, so adored by all horses. But what does five kilos of hay mean for such a big horse?
I found out about all this when I came here by accident. We met Fedya, as he says, “at the fishing base”; This base was the main one, but, of course, not the only one. I spent the night with Fedya and settled in for a few days. And then he came to these parts quite often.
One day in the spring
Courier
Fedya has been delivering mail for three years. In winter in a sleigh, in summer in the saddle. On the left side of the saddle he strapped a mail bag with letters and newspapers; on the right side there was usually some kind of parcel sticking out. What can I say, the postman was not very reliable! Sometimes he gave a letter to a neighbor, and the neighbor gave it to another neighbor. And the letter passed from hand to hand for a long time, ending up where it was needed within two months. It was not for nothing that Grandfather Ostakhov, who lived on the outskirts at the end of the village, called Fedya a “carrier.”
But Fedya delivered newspapers and translations very carefully. Faithful himself knew when to turn to which house. Fedya, without getting off the saddle, stuck the newspaper into the gate bracket and rode on. He was often afraid to get off, because sometimes he simply could not get back into the saddle. On such days he sat very firmly in the saddle. Fedya said: “Once I was driving and dropped my cap from my head. Oh, I think, I won’t get off, I’ll go back tomorrow anyway. The next day I look, the cap is there. It didn’t go anywhere.”
Yet one day Verny came home without a postman. The bag, strapped to the saddle, held tightly, and Faithful never made a mistake all the way in all the villages. He took turns approaching all the houses where newspapers were being subscribed to. People who were at home came out and took the newspaper they needed from their bags. Verny even went to see Grandfather Ostakhov, who was ordering “Rural Life.” The horse stood at the porch and stood exactly as long as he always stood. However, Dedko Ostakhov did not dare take a newspaper from his bag without asking. Faithful stood by the porch and walked on, and Grandfather looked and shook his head, looked and shook:
- What has science come to?
Fedya came home only two days later. They immediately removed him from the postmen and put him in the storeroom. On Verny they began to carry manure from the farm, but for a long time they still called him a courier.
