The sun lazily drifted towards the horizon. The shadows of the trees grew longer and longer. The heat gradually subsided. A fresh breeze began to blow, and the trees rustled their leaves. Birds circled in flight, now flapping their wings, now pausing, now gliding through the air.
Yellow-eyed daisies growing on the meadow swayed and raised their heads higher, as if trying to hear better what the birds were singing above. A warm summer rain had passed, and droplets that hadn't yet dried, glimmering like silver beads on the grass. A speckled hen led her baby chicks out for a walk. In the far corner of the meadow, she scratched up worms from the damp earth for them.
The chicks crowded around their mother waiting for food, and chirped with pleasure in their tiny voices:
Cheep-cheep-cheep, cheep-cheep-cheep.
Two chicks spotted a crawling worm at the same time and one of them cried out:
That's my worm! I saw it first!
No. I found it!
Replied the second.
My worm!
No, mine!
Whilst they argued, the worm crawled away to safety.
The chicks rushed to chase after it, but it had vanished without a trace.
Meanwhile, one disobedient, foolish chick had wandered far from his mother hen and, finding himself alone, got lost in the thick grass and began to chirp pitifully.
This chirping was heard by the neighbour's cat, who was warming herself in the sun beneath a bush. She looked round, crouched down on her belly and began to creep along the bushes towards the little yellow chick, who looked like a blooming yellow dandelion. At that moment, there was no one nearby, and nothing prevented the cat from carrying out her wicked intention. There she froze, only twitching the tip of her long tail slightly. Apparently, she was preparing for the decisive pounce.
But it turned out the cat wasn't entirely alone on the meadow at that time. Nearby, in an old branching tree, sat a crow. She was always aware of all the events happening in the area. She knew everything about everyone and had even composed a song about herself:
I'm a crow, I know everything,
I can do it all, I understand.
I'll tell you too,
Show you how things are done.
And now she saw everything, and seemed to be waiting to see what would happen next. Or perhaps she herself wanted to steal the chick — such things do happen. Who knows what the black bandit was planning... But suddenly she let out a piercing caw, flew off the branch and lunged at the ginger cat.
The cat jumped in surprise, the fur on her back stood on end, her tail shot up like a pipe, and she took flight: she slipped into the thickets of dense shrubbery.
And what about the crow? Surely now she would return to the chick...
However, no, flapping her broad wings, she made a circle over the meadow and flew away.
Meanwhile, the speckled hen suddenly realised that not all her little ones were near her. She began to cluck anxiously, ran all over the meadow, looked under every bush, and running up to the thickets of tall grass, saw that someone was moving about there.
The chick, hearing his mother hen's call, parted the grass with his feet and peeped out timidly. And seeing his mum, he rushed towards her with all his might. Mother hen told him off, but quickly stopped being cross and scratched up a nice fat worm for her little yellow chick.
Read stories and you'll always learn how to behave properly and who you can count on in times of trouble.
