Morning dew still glistened on the grass. The rising sun hadn't yet dried it, allowing insects to drink the healing moisture.
In the thick bird cherry bushes, goldfinches began to sing. Soon other birds joined in. They sang in different voices, as if competing with each other. An old hedgehog was returning home from an early walk. A large white russula mushroom stuck out on his back. The hedgehog family would have a delicious breakfast today.
A squirrel sat on a tall young oak tree. And when a woodpecker tapped on the trunk with its strong beak, searching for beetles and bugs, she jumped to a thick pine tree. The squirrel was quick as lightning.
Below, among the dry branches, stood a large stump, and on that stump lay mushrooms. A badger—a grayish-colored creature—was preparing them for his young badgers.
The days were fine, berries were ripening: blackberries, strawberries, currants. Fragrant flowers bloomed everywhere.
In one of these mysterious and fairy-tale beautiful forests lived a family of bears. A wide path led to their den, running along a beautiful forest lake filled with clear spring water.
Papa Bear went hunting, Mama Bear busied herself with household chores, and little Bear Cub Timmy lived his childhood life. Every morning, Mama Bear called him to breakfast.
Timmy would come to the table, sit on his little chair, and start being fussy:
I don't want to eat porridge, I won't!
His mother would coax him, even feed him from a spoon, and sing a little poem-tale:
Bees are flying,
Golden buckets
They carry to the field.
And from the field they fly—
In golden buckets
They bring honey to Timmy.
Oh, delicious,
Oh, delicious
Porridge for Timmy.
Honey porridge, pleasant,
Very fragrant.
If only my son would eat.
Well, at least one spoonful, Timmy. Otherwise you won't have strength for anything.
She pleaded.
Ah-ah-ah, I don't want to eat porridge, I don't need strength!
Timmy whined even louder.
Then one day, the porridge got offended:
Look at that! Well then, little bear, if you don't want to eat me, fine!
Timmy was happy that he was no longer being forced to eat porridge and ran off to the meadow to play.
He saw the neighbor bear cubs playing soccer.
Come join us.
The bear cub soccer players cheerfully called to him.
Timmy ran after the ball but got tired very quickly.
You probably didn't eat your porridge. That's too bad...
His friends told him.
Timmy had to find another activity. He looked and saw rabbits racing on the lawn. The bear cub tried to compete with them, but no way. He couldn't keep up with the fast rabbits, stumbled and fell.
What's wrong, Timmy, didn't finish your porridge again? You don't have much strength.
The rabbits sympathized with him.
The bear cub went to the lake, where beavers were rowing a boat. He wanted to row with them too. The beavers took him in the boat and gave him oars. Timmy swung the oars twice—and they just fell out of his paws.
"I shouldn't have offended the porridge, shouldn't have refused to eat it. Nothing's working out for me—everything's falling out of my hands. I'd better go home!" thought Timmy.
Sad and gloomy, he came home and saw—a bowl of porridge standing on the table.
The porridge smiled and said to the bear cub:
What, no strength? Come on, eat me quickly—and everything will be great!
Timmy washed his paws after his walk, sat at the table, picked up a spoon and began eating the porridge with appetite, you could only hear the spoon tapping against the bowl.
Mama Bear saw this, was delighted, and praised her son:
Now that's more like it. Good job!
And happy Timmy ran off to play soccer with his bear cub friends. After all, now, thanks to the porridge, he had become strong and resilient. And the porridge wasn't offended at him anymore.
Read fairy tales, they contain folk wisdom and useful advice!
