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Not far from the house of Nikolai Sladkov there were many old forest parks, where the future writer discovered a whole world, unusually rich in the secrets of nature. For days on end, he would disappear into the most remote places of the surrounding parks, where he peered and listened to the life of the forest. Wandering among the old trees, from childhood he was imbued with the wisdom of nature, learned to recognize the voices of a variety of birds. Not far from the house of Nikolai Sladkov there were many old forest parks, where the future writer discovered a whole world, unusually rich in the secrets of nature. For days on end, he would disappear into the most remote places of the surrounding parks, where he peered and listened to the life of the forest. Wandering among the old trees, from childhood he was imbued with the wisdom of nature, learned to recognize the voices of a variety of birds.
Since childhood, he loved and was interested in nature. Already from the second grade, he began to keep diaries, where he wrote down his first impressions and observations. With Vitaly Valentinovich Bianki - a wonderful writer who became his teacher, friend and like-minded person - he met as a young student. Since childhood, he loved and was interested in nature. Already from the second grade, he began to keep diaries, where he wrote down his first impressions and observations. With Vitaly Valentinovich Bianki - a wonderful writer who became his teacher, friend and like-minded person - he met as a young student. Together with Bianchi, for many years he prepared the radio program "News from the Forest", answered numerous letters from listeners. Together with Bianchi, for many years he prepared the radio program "News from the Forest", answered numerous letters from listeners.
The youth of the future writer fell on the war years. By the beginning of the war, he managed to finish the first year of the Hydrographic Institute and volunteered for the front. He served throughout the war in a motorized topographic detachment. After the war, remaining until 1958 a military man, Nikolai Ivanovich all his free time dedicated to the study of nature. The youth of the future writer fell on the war years. By the beginning of the war, he managed to finish the first year of the Hydrographic Institute and volunteered for the front. He served throughout the war in a motorized topographic detachment. After the war, remaining a military man until 1958, Nikolai Ivanovich devoted all his free time to the study of nature.
The profession of a military topographer helped Nikolai Ivanovich in his work on books. He discovered the mountains of the Caucasus and the Tien Shan, which he fell in love with for the rest of his life. Nikolai Ivanovich traveled a lot, usually alone, visited the Karakum Desert, the White Sea, India and Africa. The profession of a military topographer helped Nikolai Ivanovich in his work on books. He discovered the mountains of the Caucasus and the Tien Shan, which he fell in love with for the rest of his life. Nikolai Ivanovich traveled a lot, usually alone, visited the Karakum Desert, the White Sea, India and Africa.
In his youth, Nikolai Sladkov was fond of hunting, but later abandoned this activity, considering sport hunting barbaric. Instead, he began to engage in photography. With a photo gun, he wandered through the forests, climbed high into the mountains, swam with a mask in the lakes, admiring the underwater world. Numerous photographs taken during his travels, he used in his books. In his youth, Nikolai Sladkov was fond of hunting, but later abandoned this activity, considering sport hunting barbaric. Instead, he began to engage in photography. With a photo gun, he wandered through the forests, climbed high into the mountains, swam with a mask in the lakes, admiring the underwater world. Numerous photographs taken during his travels, he used in his books.
From everywhere he brought notebooks, which became the source of the plots of his stories. In 1953 his first book was published. It was called "Silver Tail". Then there were others: “The Nameless Path”, “Ten Shot Shells”, “Wagtail Letters”, “In the Forests of a Happy Hunt”, “I’m Walking Through the Forest”, “Planet of Wonders”, “Under the Invisible Hat” ... From everywhere he brought notes books that became the source of the plots of his stories. In 1953 his first book was published. It was called "Silver Tail". Then there were others: “The Nameless Path”, “Ten Spent Shells”, “Wagtail Letters”, “In the Forests of a Happy Hunt”, “I’m Walking Through the Forest”, “Planet of Wonders”, “Under the Invisible Hat” ... Nikolai Sladkov wrote in total over sixty books. In total, Nikolai Sladkov wrote more than sixty books.
The remarkable Russian writer Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov devoted all his work to nature. The remarkable Russian writer Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov devoted all his work to nature. Like every talented writer, he discovered something of his own in her and wrote about her. Like every talented writer, he discovered something of his own in her and wrote about her in his own way, unlike others ... others...
In his books, Sladkov talked about how beautiful and unique the life of nature is, about the mysteries that it makes us think about, about the endless diversity of the world around us. Nikolai Sladkov wrote about what he knew best, what he loved most and what he was most surprised at. For the book "Underwater Newspaper" he received the State Prize named after N.K. Krupskaya. In his books, Sladkov talked about how beautiful and unique the life of nature is, about the mysteries that it makes us think about, about the endless diversity of the world around us. Nikolai Sladkov wrote about what he knew best, what he loved most and what he was most surprised at. For the book "Underwater Newspaper" he received the State Prize named after N.K. Krupskaya.
All his life, Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov All his life, Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov was a protector of nature, with all his work helping to appreciate and love he was a protector of nature, with all his work helping to appreciate and love her beauty, to see her extraordinary beauty, to see the extraordinary in nature with his own eyes. in nature with my own eyes.
From the book "Colorful Wings" For round spots on the wings, similar to the "eyes" of peacock feathers, they called this butterfly "peacock eye". But the “big-eyed” and bright peacock eye happens only when nothing threatens him. A disturbing shadow will flash a little, and he will quickly flap his wings, and turn into a dry, inconspicuous leaf. The trouble passes - the butterfly will open its wings again ... For round spots on the wings, similar to the "eyes" of peacock feathers, this butterfly was called the "peacock eye". But the “big-eyed” and bright peacock eye happens only when nothing threatens him. A disturbing shadow will flash a little, and he will quickly flap his wings, and turn into a dry, inconspicuous leaf. The trouble passes - the butterfly will open its wings again ...
Our largest butterfly: its wings are the size of a palm! She flies at night and is similar in flight to bat. And for the day he hides in a secluded place and sits motionless, folding his wings like a hut. But if you accidentally touch it, Our largest butterfly: its wings are the size of a palm! She flies at night and looks like a bat in flight. And for the day he hides in a secluded place and sits motionless, folding his wings like a hut. But if you accidentally touch it, the broad wings will tremble with a rustle and blink four big-eyed spots on them. You will be frightened, and the butterfly will fly away. wide wings will tremble with a rustle and four big-eyed spots will blink on them. You will be frightened, and the butterfly will fly away.
This butterfly does not hide its beauty: either it will open its wings, or it will fold. As if boasting: the wings are good both above and below! On the ground it's like yellow Maple Leaf. And in flight, like a paper boat ... This butterfly does not hide its beauty: it will open its wings, then it will fold. As if boasting: the wings are good both above and below! On the ground it is like a yellow maple leaf. And in flight like a paper boat ...
The butterfly is big, beautiful, it would flutter over a cheerful green meadow, but it flies over a dirty forest road, sits by a muddy road puddle. This butterfly has strange tastes: give him all kinds of rot! The worse it smells, the sweeter it is. The butterfly is big, beautiful, it would flutter over a cheerful green meadow, but it flies over a dirty forest road, sits by a muddy road puddle. This butterfly has strange tastes: give him all kinds of rot! The worse it smells, the sweeter it is.
From the book "Children of the Rainbow" The earth is multi-colored, like a rainbow. Everything is permeated with light and color, everywhere is a feast for the eyes. Again and again you are amazed at the miraculous creations of the masters of Nature: wind, water and sun. The beauty of the earth is our wealth! The beauty of the earth is our wealth! And we must protect it! And we must protect it!
Warbler The gray warbler's beak is so small that you can only grab a fly. You won't bring much food in such a beak. There are five chicks in the nest. And everyone has a mouth like a bag. And everyone shouts: “Me! To me! To me!" The gray warbler has a beak so small that you can only grab a fly. You won't bring much food in such a beak. There are five chicks in the nest. And everyone has a mouth like a bag. And everyone shouts: “Me! To me! To me!"
Gopher Frozen ground squirrel Frozen ground squirrel in a cold hole and crawled out to bask in the sun. He stood up like a circus dog, folded his paws on his stomach. in a cold hole and crawled out to bask in the sun. He stood up like a circus dog, folded his paws on his stomach. And he blinked. Good! And he blinked. Good!
This is not a simple hedgehog - eared. The ears are large and very sensitive. You can’t live in the desert with others, it’s very quiet there at night. And you can get by with short-sighted eyes - it’s still dark, dark at night. This is not a simple hedgehog - eared. The ears are large and very sensitive. You can’t live in the desert with others, it’s very quiet there at night. And you can get by with short-sighted eyes - it’s still dark, dark at night.
AT underwater world It's not like it's on earth. You need to move there not standing, but lying down. It is very difficult to walk there, but it is easy to fly. And you can even jump upside down there. In the underwater world, it never rains or snows. In winter it is not white, but black: all winter it is an impenetrable night.
Nikolai Ivanovich died on June 28, 1996 at the age of 76. Nikolai Ivanovich died on June 28, 1996 at the age of 76. He was from the forest, from the fields, from the world of birds, insects, fish, hares, foxes and other living creatures. He was from the forest, from the fields, from the world of birds, insects, fish, hares, foxes and other living creatures. Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov dreamed of inviting people to communicate with the forest, herbs, rivers, their population, knowing how the human soul needed it. Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov dreamed of inviting people to communicate with the forest, herbs, rivers, their population, knowing how the human soul needed it.
January is the month of big silent snows. They always arrive suddenly. Suddenly, at night, the trees will whisper, whisper - something is going on in the forest. Read...
Birds and animals have suffered from the hard winter. Whatever the day - a blizzard, whatever the night - frost. Winter has no end in sight. The Bear fell asleep in the den. I forgot, probably, that it's time for him to roll over to the other side. Read...
Only a well-fed person does not fly to a garbage heap in winter. But there are few well-fed in winter. Everything is seen by hungry bird eyes. Sensitive ears hear everything. Read...
All birds are good, but starlings with a special twist; each of them in person, one is not like the other. Read...
Our sonorous and white-cheeked tit is called the great or common tit. What is big, I agree with this: it is larger than other plump tits, Muscovites, and blue tit. But that she is ordinary, I cannot agree with that! Read...
- Why is it, Zainka, you have such long ears? Why is it, gray, you have such fast legs? Read...
A slanting blizzard whistles - a white broom sweeps the road. Smoke drifts and roofs. White waterfalls fall from the pines. A furious drifting snow glides over the sastrugi. February is flying by! Read...
Cold February has come to the forest. He piled snowdrifts on the bushes, covered the trees with frost. And the sun, although it shines, does not warm. Read...
It happened in winter: my skis sang! I ran on skis on the lake, and the skis sang. They sang well, like birds. Read...
I bought a siskin for a ruble. The seller put it in a paper bag and handed it to me. Read...
Everyone's birthday is a joy. And the slanderers are in trouble. Well, what a joy to hatch in winter? Frost, and you're naked. One back of the head is covered with down. Read...
- What are they, fools, afraid of me? Lucy asked. Read...
At night, the box suddenly rustled. And something mustachioed and furry crawled out of the box. And on the back is a folded fan of yellow paper. Read...
Blue month of March. Blue sky, snow blue. On the snow, the shadows are like blue lightning. blue distance, blue ice. Read...
Sparrow chirped on a dunghill - and jumps! And the Crow-hag croaks with its nasty voice...
Nikolai Sladkov was born on January 5, 1920 in Moscow. During the war, he volunteered for the front, became a military topographer. AT Peaceful time retained the same profession.
In his youth, he was fond of hunting, but later abandoned this activity, considering sport hunting barbaric. Instead, he began to engage in photo hunting, put forward the call "Do not take a gun into the forest, take a photo gun into the forest."
The first book "Silver Tail" was written in 1953. In total, he wrote more than 60 books. Together with Vitaly Bianchi, he produced the radio program "News from the Forest". He traveled a lot, usually alone, these travels are reflected in books.
In total, during his life full of adventures, Nikolai Ivanovich wrote more than 60 books. Among the most famous are such publications as "The Out of the Eye", "Behind the Blue Bird's Feather", "Invisible Aspen", "Underwater Newspaper", "Earth Above the Clouds", "Wild Wings Whistling" and many other wonderful books ... For book "Underwater newspaper" Nikolai Ivanovich was awarded the State Prize named after N. K. Krupskaya.
Such a gift is to talk about forest dwellers with sincere love and a warm smile, as well as with the meticulousness of a professional zoologist - is given to very few. And very few of them can become real writers - such as Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov, unusually organically combining in his work the talent of an excellent storyteller and the truly limitless erudition of a scientist, having managed to discover something of his own in nature, unknown to others, and tell about it to his grateful readers...
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Yesterday's snow
Who needs yesterday's snow? Yes, to those who need yesterday: only yesterday's snow can return to the past. And how to live it again. I did just that, following the old trail of the lynx on her yesterday.
... Before dawn, the lynx came out of the gloomy spruce forest to the moonlit moss swamp. She floated in a gray cloud between the gnarled pines, stepping silently with her broad paws. Ears with tassels are tense, curved mustaches bristle at the lips, zigzags of the moon in the black eyes.
A hare rolled diagonally, rustling in the snow. The lynx rushed after him with greedy rapid leaps, but it was too late. After a pause, the gray cloud floated on smoothly, leaving a dot of round traces behind it.
In the clearing, the lynx turned to the holes of the black grouse, but the holes were cold, the day before yesterday. She smelled the hazel grouses sleeping under the snow by the stream, but the hazel grouses, even through a dream, heard her quiet creeping steps on the roof of their snowy bedroom and fluttered out into the gap, as if through an attic window.
Only in the blind predawn light did the lynx manage to grab the squirrel, which for some reason had descended onto the snow. Here it was trodden and wound up - snow shoveling. She ate the whole squirrel, leaving a fluffy tail.
Then she went, doubled her trail like a hare, and rolled in the snow. She also walked, dug a hole near the pine tree with her paw - snow walls in the grooves of her claws. But something didn’t like it here, she left the pit, jumped onto a snowy hummock, turned around, stamped her feet and lay down. And dozed like a lazy cat on a warm couch, all last day.
And now I'm sitting on her hummock - listening to the forest. The wind rolls on the pines, and the peaks are covered with snow. In the depths of the forest, a woodpecker secretly taps. The puff rustles with pine scales like a little mouse with paper.
The lynx heard all this yesterday. Yesterday's snow told everything.
dried stones
The bear came out into the clearing. There are gray stones in the clearing. Maybe a thousand years lie. But then a bear came and set to work on them. Poked with paws, turned it over - the stone immediately became two-colored. That was one dry top is visible, and now a damp dark bottom. The bear sniffed a two-colored stone - and further. The second stone was turned upside down with a wet bottom. Then the third. Fourth.
He went around the whole glade, turned over all the stones. All stones - wet bottom to the sun.
And the sun bakes. Wet stones began to smoke, the steam went from them. Dry.
I look at the bear and do not understand anything. Why does he dry stones like mushrooms in the sun? Why does he need dry stones?
I'd be afraid to ask. Bears are blind. Can't figure out who's asking yet. Will crush blindly.
Silent look. And I see: the bear approached the last, largest stone. He grabbed it, fell on it and turned it over too. And he quickly nose into the hole.
Well, there is no need to ask. And so everything is clear. Not stones beast
dries, and I'll live under the stones looking for! Beetles, slugs, mice. Smoke stones. The bear is chomping.
He has not had an easy life! How many stones he turned over - he got one mouse. And how much do you need to turn over to fill your belly? No, not a single stone in the forest can lie without movement for a thousand years.
The bear champs and clubbing right at me. Maybe I looked like a stone to him? Well, wait, now I'll talk to you in my own way! I sneezed, coughed, whistled, and banged on the wood with my butt.
The bear gasped and went to break the bushes.
I remained in the clearing and dried stones.
Three testicles lay in the gull's nest: two were motionless, and the third was moving. The third was impatient, it even whistled! If it were his will, it would have jumped out of the nest and, like a gingerbread man, would have rolled along the bank!
The egg fumbled, fumbled, and began to crackle softly. A hole broke out at the blunt end. And through the hole, as in a window, a bird's nose stuck out.
A bird's nose is also a mouth. The mouth dropped open in surprise. Still: it suddenly became light and fresh in the egg. The hitherto muffled sounds sounded authoritatively and loudly. An unfamiliar world broke into the cozy and hidden home of the chick. And the little gull became shy for a moment: maybe you shouldn't poke your nose into this unknown world?
But the sun warmed gently, eyes got used to the bright light. Green blades of grass swayed, lazy waves splashed.
The gull rested its paws on the floor, and its head on the ceiling, pressed, and the shell cracked. The gull was so frightened that he loudly, at the top of his voice, shouted: “Mom!”
So in our world one seagull became more. In the choir of voices, voices and voices, a new voice sounded. He was timid and quiet, like the squeak of a mosquito. But it sounded, and everyone heard it.
The gull stood up on trembling legs, fidgeted with the hairs of its wings and boldly stepped forward: water is water!
Will he pass the formidable pikes and otters? Or his path will end on the fangs of the first cunning fox?
The wings of his mother - seagulls spread out over him, like hands, ready to cover from adversity.
A fluffy bun rolled into life.
serious bird
In the forest near the swamp, a colony of herons. There are no herons! Large and small: white, gray, red. Both day and night.
Different herons in height and color, but all very important and serious. And most important and serious is the night heron.
The heron-horn is nocturnal. During the day, she rests on the nest, and at night she catches frogs and fish fry in the swamp.
At night in the swamp, she feels good - it's cool. But in the afternoon on the nest - trouble.
The forest is stuffy, the sun bakes. The night heron sits on the edge of the nest, in the very sun. She opened her beak from the heat, her wide wings hung down - she was completely mad. And he breathes heavily, with a wheeze.
I wondered: a serious-looking bird, but so stupid! To hide in the shade - and that's not enough mind. And she built a nest somehow - like - the legs of the chicks fall through the cracks.
Heat. He wheezes in the heat, with his beak open, the night heron. The sun moves slowly across the sky. The night heron moves slowly along the edge of the nest ...
And suddenly the blood hit my face - I felt so ashamed. After all, the night heron covered her chicks from the burning sun with her body!
The chicks are neither cold nor hot: a shade from above, a breeze blows from below in the crack of the nest. They folded long noses their one on top of the other, their legs hung in the crack and sleep. And when they wake up and ask for food, the night heron will fly to the swamp to catch frogs and fry. Feed the chicks and sit on the nest again. Leads with his nose to the sides - guards.
Serious bird!
Titmouse unusual
Our sonorous and white-cheeked tit is called the great or common tit. What is big, I agree with this: it is larger than other tits - puffy, Muscovy, blue tit. But that she is ordinary, I cannot agree with that!
She impressed me from the first meeting. And it was a long time ago. She got into my west. I took her in my hand, and she ... died! She had just been alive and frisky, she pinched her fingers with twists - and now she died. I shook my hand in confusion. Titmouse lay motionless on her open palm with her paws up, and her eyes were covered with white. I held it, held it - and put it on a stump. And as soon as he took his hand away - the titmouse screamed and flew away!
What an ordinary woman she is, if such an extraordinary deceiver! If he wants, he will die, if he wants, he will rise again.
Then I learned that many birds fall into a kind of strange torpor if they are put on their backs. But the titmouse does it best of all and often saves her from captivity.
Whistlers.
How much can you whistle! I came to the swamp in the dark, at one thirty in the morning. On the roadside, two chauffeurs were already whistling - who wins? They whispered like whips: “Screw! Fuck!" Exactly like that - once a second. I'll count to five - I'll hear five "shouts", to ten - ten. At least check the stopwatch!
But it is only customary to say that, they say, it enters one ear and exits the other. Where there - stuck!
Until dawn, these chauffeurs whistled all my ears. Although they fell silent early: at three thirty minutes.
Now let's count.
The chauffeurs whistled for exactly two hours, which is 120 minutes, or 7200 seconds. That is 14,400 seconds for two, 14,400 whistles! Without ceasing. And they were whistling even before my arrival, and maybe for more than one hour!
And they didn’t hoarse, they didn’t hoarse, and they didn’t break their voices. That's how much you can whistle if it's spring...
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BIOGRAPHY of Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov Prepared by the teacher primary school GBOU secondary school No. 349 of the Krasnogvardeisky district of St. Petersburg Pechenkina Tamara Pavlovna
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Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov was born on January 5, 1920 in Moscow, but he lived all his life in Leningrad, in Tsarskoye Selo. Here, not far from his house, there were many old forest parks, where the future writer discovered a whole world, unusually rich in the secrets of nature. For days on end, he would disappear into the most remote places of the surrounding parks, where he peered and listened to the life of the forest. Wandering among the old trees, from childhood he was imbued with the wisdom of nature, learned to recognize the voices of a variety of birds.
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The boy really wanted to know what the forest was talking about, he really wanted to comprehend its secrets. Kolya began to enthusiastically read a variety of books about nature, and wrote down his own observations in his diary, in the Notebook of Observations, which he began to keep in the second grade. Gradually, in the diary, the place of short entries began to be supplemented by stories from the life of forest dwellers. By that time, the forest had already become a real good friend for him.
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During the war, N. Sladkov volunteered for the front and became a military topographer. In peacetime, he retained the same specialty. In his youth, he was fond of hunting, but later abandoned this occupation. Instead, he began to engage in photo hunting, put forward the call "Do not take a gun into the forest, take a photo gun into the forest."
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The first stories were written by him in 1952, and in 1953 Nikolai Sladkov's first book, Silver Tail, was published. "There is the same harmony in nature as in music, throw out a note and the melody will be broken..." Nikolai Sladkov's books - stories and stories about nature - are unusually harmonious, they very fully and accurately reflect the secrets of nature. In order to find yourself in a wild forest, it is not at all necessary to take a train ticket every time and go to distant lands - you can just reach out to the bookshelf and take your favorite book by Nikolai Sladkov, sit comfortably in your favorite corner and be transported to beautiful world nature...
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Together with Vitaly Bianchi, his friend and like-minded person, Nikolai Sladkov prepared radio programs "News from the Forest" for many years and answered numerous letters from his listeners. In total, during his life full of adventures, Nikolai Ivanovich wrote more than 60 books. Among the most famous are such publications as: For the book "Underwater newspaper" Nikolai Ivanovich was awarded the State Prize named after N. K. Krupskaya.
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Such a gift - to talk about forest dwellers with sincere love and a warm smile, as well as with the meticulousness of a professional zoologist - is given to very few. And very few of them can become real writers - such as Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov, unusually organically combining in his work the talent of an excellent storyteller and the truly limitless erudition of a scientist, having managed to discover something of his own in nature, unknown to others, and tell about it to his grateful readers...
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In one of his books, the writer wrote: “For a long time and intently we peer into nature. Isn't it time to look inside yourself? How do the watchful eyes of birds and animals, the eyes of fields and forests see us? Who are we - the rulers of the Earth? What do we want? And what are we doing? Sladkov's books allow us to look into ourselves. What can we do to make our planet more beautiful, so that animals and plants do not disappear from the face of the Earth, so that you can swim in rivers, so that birds sing in forests and cities, so that our children do not forget what pure water and, filled with the aroma of grass and rain, the air? “To protect the earth, nature, you need to love it, to love it, you need to know. Having learned, it is impossible not to fall in love. “I write about nature because I love it very much: for its beauty, for its mysteries, for its wisdom and diversity.” “Nature is a fascinating book. Just start reading it, you won't be disappointed."
Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov was born on January 5, 1920 in Moscow, but he lived all his life in Leningrad, in Tsarskoye Selo. Here, not far from his house, there were many old forest parks, where the future writer discovered a whole world, unusually rich in the secrets of nature. For days on end, he would disappear into the most remote places of the surrounding parks, where he peered and listened to the life of the forest. Wandering among the old trees, from childhood he was imbued with the wisdom of nature, learned to recognize the voices of a variety of birds.
The boy really wanted to know what the forest was talking about, he really wanted to comprehend its secrets. Kolya began to enthusiastically read a variety of books about nature, and wrote down his own observations in his diary, in the Notebook of Observations, which he began to keep in the second grade. Gradually, in the diary, the place of short entries began to be supplemented by stories from the life of forest dwellers. By that time, the forest had already become a real good friend for him.
In the books of the remarkable Leningrad writer you will always find unusually interesting and informative cases from the life of wildlife, animals and birds. What is there in these wonderful publications, what secrets are not revealed on the pages ... Here are mushrooms bitten by someone, and here cones gnawed by someone, and here cracked nuts. Be sure to find out - what, how, why is happening in the forest - this is the real task for a true nature lover! And everywhere there are traces - large and small, scratches from the claws. The steps of the passing, running forest beast are straight and winding. Mysterious traces of the secretive inhabitants of the forest...
Nature has a place for everyone: for people, and for animals, and for birds. But in order to become a real good friend to the whole living world, you need to learn a lot about forests and fields, rivers and lakes, mountains and tundra, taiga and deserts, and about very, very much more. This is exactly what the books of Nikolai Sladkov tell, imbued with endless love for nature. Nikolai Ivanovich's books are a constant search for answers to a variety of questions, they are Nature and Man, who carefully look at each other. For a reader who is sincerely in love with the books of Nikolai Sladkov, the greatest joy is to be imbued with respect for the world around him, to realize his feelings.
And whose books on nature made the greatest impression on Nikolai Ivanovich himself? The feeling of the mysteries of nature, its mysterious life, hidden from the eyes of a simple layman, largely came from the books of Vitaly Bianchi. Later, a correspondence began between Sladkov and Bianchi, devoted to unraveling the mysteries of literary creativity, to writer's insight. While still a schoolboy, the future writer-naturalist came to the youth circle, created at the Leningrad Zoological Institute. "Club of Columbus" - this is how Vitaly Bianchi called young naturalists studying in the circle, and in the summer he invited them to his place, to the Novgorod region, so that the guys themselves could learn and realize the great Book of the Forest. It was Vitaly Valentinovich Bianchi, who later became his true friend, that Nikolai Sladkov considered his teacher.
When did the Great Patriotic War, Nikolai Ivanovich volunteered to go to the front, becoming a military topographer. And when the war ended, he continued to work as a topographer already in peacetime.
The first stories were written by him in 1952, and in 1953 Nikolai Sladkov's first book, Silver Tail, was published. "There is the same harmony in nature as in music, throw out a note and the melody will be broken..." Nikolai Sladkov's books - stories and stories about nature - are unusually harmonious, they very fully and accurately reflect the secrets of nature. In order to find yourself in a wild forest, it is not at all necessary to take a train ticket every time and go to distant lands - you can simply reach out to the bookshelf and take your favorite book by Nikolai Sladkov, sit comfortably in your favorite corner and be transported to the beautiful world of nature .. You can see many interesting things in the forest. You will learn, for example, how bears wake up in the spring because the melted snow “wet their pants” with them. And here is a test for your taste: what do you think is tastier - willow buds or birch buds? You will learn that there are birds that do not fly to warm climes for the winter, but on the contrary - they fly to us, to our forests.
Together with Vitaly Bianchi, his friend and like-minded person, Nikolai Sladkov prepared radio programs "News from the Forest" for many years and answered numerous letters from his listeners. In total, during his life full of adventures, Nikolai Ivanovich wrote more than 60 books. Among the most famous are such publications as "The Out of the Eye", "Behind the Bluebird's Feather", "Invisible Aspen", "Underwater Newspaper", "Earth Above the Clouds", "Wild Wings Whistling" and many other wonderful books.. For the book "Underwater newspaper" Nikolai Ivanovich was awarded the State Prize named after NK Krupskaya.
Such a gift - to talk about forest dwellers with sincere love and a warm smile, as well as with the meticulousness of a professional zoologist - is given to very few. And very few of them can become real writers - such as Nikolai Ivanovich Sladkov, unusually organically combining in his work the talent of an excellent storyteller and the truly limitless erudition of a scientist, having managed to discover something of his own in nature, unknown to others, and tell about it to his grateful readers...
