In the morning they look, and instead of an emerald egg, there is a fine fellow lying there, but it is so beautiful that it cannot be said in a fairy tale, nor can it be described with a pen. He sleeps on the stove in a heroic sleep. “Holy, holy, but how long has he been here?” - Grandfather and Baba crossed themselves and looked at each other. The rooster crowed. The fellow woke up, stretched, sat up...

Good morning, good people! - said the young man.

“Hello, killer whale, hello,” Grandfather and Baba answered in unison. -Who will you be?

They call me Ivan Tsarevich, and I come from your region - the son of the late Tsar and Tsarina, peace be upon them...

Yes, how can that be? - Grandfather and Baba were surprised. After all, we have Queen Amdev who rules us! True, people say that she harassed the rightful heir, but guess what in those stories is true and what is a lie.

Is Amdev now on the throne of my ancestors?! - the prince exclaimed sadly. - Apparently people were telling the truth, but I thought that she wouldn’t succeed...

On the eve of my birthday,” Ivan Tsarevich began the story, “there was a ball in the palace. I was told that some person, attractive and sweet, wanted to meet me after dancing in the palace park. I arrived at the meeting place before the end of the dance. I sat down on my favorite invisible bench under a spreading tree. It covered her so well that from two steps it was not visible whether anyone was sitting on her or not. Before that ill-fated evening, I really loved sitting there with my fiancée Maryushka. So this time I sat down on this bench, so that I could see the whole alley, on which a mysterious stranger appeared... Oh, it would be better not to appear: gray-haired, bony, not teeth, but fangs, a humpbacked nose kissing her chin, all her clothes in rags, a mincing gait, a kind of squeaky, shrill voice...

“Holy fathers, this is Amdev,” Baba said, crossing herself. “I was at the market in Stolgrad just now and saw her there.

People say that Amdev is a witch,” added Grandfather. “All the people of the world groan at her atrocities; they remember you and your father and mother with a kind word. There will be great joy for everyone when you return to the throne.

They say that Amdev’s servants walk around the city, among people unrecognized, and find out about the desire to overthrow her, and therefore she is supposedly invincible.

Is there really no place where her witchcraft would not work? Where could one talk without fear of Amdev's servants? - asked Ivan Tsarevich, looking around.

There is such a place - the only one in the capital city, in the cathedral where your ancestors are buried, Vanyusha. “This place is holy,” answered Grandfather and Baba. - That’s where you can talk without fear of Amdev and her servants - they have no way there. Amdev cannot find out about the conspirators outside the capital. But as soon as you set foot on the ground of the city, don’t talk too much, except for the cathedral - before you have time to blink, you’ll find yourself in a dungeon.

Well, so,” continued Ivan Tsarevich, “I’m sitting, hiding, on a bench and I hear this witch muttering under her breath: “Nothing, I didn’t manage to kill the Tsar and Tsarina, they killed themselves, but their heir I “I’ll ruin you now,” she laughed. And suddenly I saw that for a moment she was enveloped in some kind of smoke or fog, and when it cleared, I saw a beauty. She was so beautiful that for a moment I forgot who she really was and... almost fell in love with her. She apparently hoped for this. But I wouldn’t trade my fiancée Maryushka for anyone! When Amdev moved away from the tree under which I was, I came out of hiding, and approaching her, pretended as if I had just arrived.

Next?.. - We just talked with her. We exchanged compliments, she hinted that she had secretly loved me for a long time. I replied that if my heart had not been given to another, it would have belonged to her. At these words, fierce hatred and anger flashed in her eyes. Suddenly, the sky darkened, lightning flashed, thunder roared, and a terrible wind rose, which in the blink of an eye scattered the entire ball. And then, amid this terrible roar, I heard a voice: “Ha-ha-ha! Finally, I will deal with the prince, and at the same time with his bride - I will turn them into chickens and sell them at the market. Ha-ha-ha-ha-a!..” Then everything started spinning, spinning, white light faded Circles swam before my eyes, among them the laughing face of Amdev, then the sad image of Maryushka, then her ring, then the faces of the priest and mother, asking not to leave the throne to the witch, who will bring a lot of grief and suffering to people.

What is true is true - Amdev brought us a lot of troubles and misfortunes, Grandfather and Baba lamented.

“...I woke up on your stove,” the young man finished the story, “and I can’t imagine what to do next.”

Ivanushka, just now you mentioned some kind of ring. What kind of ring is this? Grandfather asked.

The ring is not simple - magical. Maryushka said that her gardener uncle gave her this ring with a pebble in memory of her great-grandmother, who, they say, was a fairy... If you turn the pebble, you can turn into either a bird in the sky, or a forest animal, or a creeping reptile,” explained Ivan Tsarevich.

With such and such a ring, you can enter the palace unnoticed and find out how to defeat Amdev,” Baba realized.

“First we need to find Maryushka,” the young man said sadly, and I don’t even know where she is. Is she alive?..

Don’t worry, prince, we will find your beloved beauty,” Grandfather encouraged the young man. Baba, Baba, I think you said that when you bought the Ryaba Chicken, there was another chicken sitting next to it?

And it’s true, Grandfather, that second chicken was bought by a grandmother from a neighboring village, a few miles from here.

The next morning they went to that village. We found the old woman who bought the second chicken - Pestrushka. We went into her yard...

Look, Grandfather, that chicken,” Baba said, seeing the chickens pecking at the millet, “it’s so colorful.”

Yes, look, Baba, this Pestrushka has chickens. Why should we take it with them? - Grandfather answered.

“Maybe with them,” said Ivan Tsarevich thoughtfully. - After all, the Ryaba Hen did not have chickens; she herself, as you say, laid an emerald egg! “Here, with Pestrushka, everything is different,” the young man added thoughtfully, “and how he looked into the water.” - What if a magical egg, thanks to which Maryushka can be disenchanted just like me, is laid by one of those hens that is now running around with mother Pestrushka?..

The owner of Pestrushka turned out to be a cunning woman and did not believe in the fairy tale about the emerald egg. And our trio only returned home late in the evening with the whole chicken family.

The Tale of the Chicken Ryaba

Once upon a time there lived a grandfather and a woman. And they had Ryaba chicken.
The chicken laid an egg, but not an ordinary one - a golden one.

Grandfather beat and beat, but did not break.

The woman beat and beat, but did not break.

And the mouse ran, waved its tail, the egg fell and broke.

The grandfather is crying, the woman is crying, and the chicken is clucking:

Don’t cry, grandfather, don’t cry, woman: I will lay you an egg, not a golden one - a simple one!

This is a simple children's fairy tale about a hen. Most small child The hen knows the fairy tale. A fairy tale that is easy to read. But, there are other options. Ryaba chicken fairy tale. We offer you to read the fairy tale Ryaba Hen in a modern way here!

Egg (Hen Ryaba)

Russian folk tale

Once upon a time there lived a grandfather and a woman, they had a chicken, Ryaba; laid an egg under the floor - colorful, colorful, boney, tricky! The grandfather beat him and didn’t break him, the woman beat him and didn’t break him, but the mouse came running and crushed him with his tail. The grandfather is crying, the woman is crying, the chicken is croaking, the gates are creaking, wood chips are flying from the yard, the top of the hut is shaking!

The priest's daughters went to fetch water, asked the grandfather, asked the woman:

What are you crying about?

How can we not cry! - Grandfather and woman answer. — We have chicken Ryaba; laid an egg under the floor - colorful, colorful, boney, tricky! The grandfather beat him and didn’t break him, the woman beat him and didn’t break him, but the mouse came running and crushed him with his tail.

When the priest’s daughters heard this, out of great grief they threw the buckets to the ground, broke the rocker arms and returned home empty-handed.

Ah, mother! - they say to the priest. “You don’t know anything, you don’t know anything, but there’s a lot going on in the world: a grandfather and a woman live, they have a chicken Ryaba; laid an egg under the floor - colorful, colorful, boney, tricky! The grandfather beat him and didn’t break him, the woman beat him and didn’t break him, but the mouse came running and crushed him with his tail. That’s why the grandfather cries, the woman cries, the chicken cackles, the gates creak, wood chips fly from the yard, the top of the hut is wobbly. And while we were going to fetch water, we threw the buckets and broke the rocker arms!

At that time, the priest was crying, and the hen was cackling, and immediately, out of great grief, she knocked over the kneading bowl and scattered all the dough on the floor.

The priest came with a book.

Ah, father! - the priest tells him. “You don’t know anything, you don’t know anything, but there’s a lot going on in the world: a grandfather and a woman live, they have a chicken Ryaba; laid an egg under the floor - colorful, colorful, boney, tricky! The grandfather beat him but didn’t break him, the woman beat him but didn’t break him, but the mouse came running and crushed him with his tail. That’s why the grandfather cries, the woman cries, the chicken cackles, the gates creak, wood chips fly from the yard, the top of the hut is wobbly! Our daughters, while going to fetch water, threw the buckets, broke the rocker arms, and I kneaded the dough and, out of great grief, scattered everything on the floor!

The priest sunbathed and tore his book to shreds.

About the chicken

who laid golden eggs

Ukrainian folk tale

Once upon a time there lived a grandfather and a woman, and they had a Ryaba chicken. They fed the chicken for three years and expected eggs from it any day now.

Exactly three years later the hen laid an egg for them, and that egg was not an ordinary one, but a golden one. The grandfather and woman are happy, they don’t know what to do with this egg, they can’t believe their eyes that the hen laid a golden egg.

We tried to break it, but it was so strong that it didn’t break. The grandfather beat and beat, but did not break, the woman beat and beat, but did not break. They put the egg on the shelf; A mouse was running, its tail touched it, an egg fell on the table and broke. The grandfather is crying, the woman is crying, and the chicken is clucking:

Don’t cry, grandfather, don’t cry, woman, I’ll bring you something else, not a simple one, but a golden one, just wait three years.

The grandfather and woman picked up the golden shells and sold them to the Jews. We received little money. They wanted to build a new hut, but there wasn’t enough money, they had to wait another three years to get enough for the hut. They waited a week, waited a second, waited a third, it seemed to them a painfully long time, they were tired of waiting.

So the grandfather says to the woman:

You know what, old woman? Why should we wait three whole years? Let us immediately slaughter the chicken and get the golden egg out of it. Yes, there is apparently more than one there, maybe there are three, or even four of them. Then we’ll live, we’ll have a new house, we’ll buy some land and we won’t bow to anyone.

Oh, really, grandpa, let's kill him! They slaughtered a chicken, but not a single one was in the middle of the testicle. Grandfather and grandmother began to cry again.

The mouse stuck its head out of the hole and said:

Don’t cry, grandfather, don’t cry, woman, bury your chicken in the kindergarten, at the crossroads, wait three years, and then dig up a treasure in that place. Let it be written on your nose so that you remember until your death that everything you wish for does not happen right away.

The woman buried the chicken near the garden at the crossroads, right next to the overgrowth, and stuck a stick in as a sign. They wait for a year, wait for a second - they don’t have enough patience, they wanted to quickly dig up the treasure. The third year has already arrived, and they are still waiting. So the woman says to the grandfather:

Let's take a look, grandpa.

Don’t rush, old woman, we’ll wait a little, there’s not much left. We waited longer, now we have less to wait.

No, old man, we won’t touch anything, we’ll just see if our treasure is biting there.

Take care, old woman, so as not to ruin the whole thing.

Don't be afraid, grandpa, nothing bad will happen.

They went into the garden with a spade. They dug and dug and dug up a whole bunch of gold beetles. The beetles buzzed and scattered in all directions.

So the grandfather and woman were left to live in the old hut; they did not have a chance to build a new one.

The tale of the Ryaba Hen is striking in its absurdity. On the one hand, by all indications, the most ancient archaic, probably the oldest fairy tale on Earth. On the other hand, how to understand this?

Once upon a time there lived a grandfather and a woman. They had Ryaba chicken. The hen laid an egg, not an ordinary one - a golden one. Grandfather beat and beat, but did not break. The woman beat and beat, but did not break.
The mouse ran, waved its tail, the egg fell and broke.
The grandfather is crying, the woman is crying, and the chicken is clucking: “Don’t cry, grandfather! Don't cry, grandma! I'll lay you an egg, not a golden one - a simple one.

What, a simple egg is an equivalent substitute for a gold one, which should somehow comfort the grandfather and woman? On the other hand, why did they grieve so much if they themselves wanted and tried to break it? Well, we got what we wanted!
This is some nonsense.

It is impossible to figure it out using a similar, excuse the expression, paraphrase. To understand, you need to go to the original source.
I always say and never tire of repeating: Read the primary sources!

What did the fairy tale really sound like?
Here's how:

Chicken Ryaba (original text)

Once upon a time there lived a grandfather and a woman,
They had ryabka chicken.
The hen laid an egg:
Motley, bright, boney, tricky, -
She planted the egg in an aspen hollow,
In the corner - under the bench.
The mouse ran and returned with its tail,
I broke my testicle.
Grandfather began to cry about this testicle,
Grandma is crying
Verei - laugh,
Chickens fly,
The gates are creaking,
Sor lit a cigarette under the threshold,
The doors shook, the backing crumbled,
The top of the hut began to shake...
And the hen says to them:
Grandfather don't cry, grandma don't cry,
Chickens don't fly
Don't squeak the gate, litter is under the threshold
Don't smoke
Tyn don't fall apart
The top of the hut don’t stagger -
I'll lay another egg for you:
Motley, bright, boney, tricky,
The egg is not simple - it is golden.

(Kut - a stall in which chickens were kept in winter. Verey - pillars on which gates were hung. Pobutusilis - stuck out, arched. Tyn - fence, palisade.)

That's it! It turns out that everything is exactly the opposite. AT FIRST there was a simple egg, but PROMISED a golden one!
Well, this already sheds light on a lot.
And yet, in order to understand the true meaning of this ancient fairy tale that has come down from the beginning of time, you need to carefully read its contents, line by line.

The image of the Bird that lays the World Egg is present in many mythologies and religions. But we are interested in the Slavic version, so let’s turn to those close to it in spirit and origin:

1. The Finno-Ugrians, whose mythology closely echoes the Slavic-Aryan, report (in the epic “Kalevala”) that a duck, “the daughter of air space,” conceived from the eastern wind and laid several eggs on the knee of the water mother Ilmatar. These eggs broke and from their parts the world was born.

Initially, the entire surface of our planet was covered with land - the original continent. In the process of expansion of the planet, this first continent - the egg split, and its parts became the current continents, diverging further and further from each other (as the planetary expansion of the Earth continues).

We will call this first continent in accordance with what is customary now - Gondwana. Only it did not stand in the middle of the ocean at all, but rather covered the entire surface of the planet (as proven by computer modeling)! The world ocean arose from the bowels of the Earth in the process of expansion - dehydration, that is, the release of hydrogen from the original material of the core - iron hydride and its combination with oxygen. That is why the egg, or the original continent-land, was carried “to the waters” - the “waters” originated inside the planet!

2. In Hinduism, a divine bird lays a Cosmic egg on the primordial waters, from which Brahma, the supreme god of this world, emerged. In another Vedic version, the yolk of the egg, the golden embryo - Hiranyagarbha is the original form of Prajapati, the creator of the Universe.

3. The Slavic-Aryan, Vedic, and as a result, the Hindu version quite logically echoes the ancient Egyptian:

In ancient Egyptian cosmogony white goose"Great Gogotun", the incarnation of the earth god Seb, lays an egg from which the sun god Ra is born.

Seba, or Sva. Vedic mythology speaks of Mother Sva, or Mother Glory, who gave birth to this world “And now Mother Glory beats her wings on both sides, as if on fire, all shining with light” (“Veles’ Book”).

Ryaba, a speckled hen, or a speckled hen, symbolized the starry sky, which in turn symbolized Mother Swa or Mother Glory. “Like on fire, shining with light,” the night sky looks like in the Arctic, where there was ancient Hyperborea, the ancestral home of the Slavic-Aryans, during the aurora.

So with the pockmarked chicken everything is quite clear.

Grandfather and grandmother - yes, this is a separate issue. Judging by a number of sources, grandfather is Svarog, the creator and creator of the world (hence the verb, perceived by us as jargon, but in fact extremely ancient word- to bungle, that is, to create; just as the word “Makar” in Shakta Yoga means method, method, hence the Russian “in this way” - Sanskrit and Russian are related languages, since the Indo-Aryans and Slavic-Aryans once in the past constituted one people).

Baba is the wife of Svarog, or Brahma, Saraswati (again, as expected, the root of Swa) is the goddess of wisdom in Hinduism.

IN Greek mythology, which is essentially a later retelling of the Slavic-Aryan Vedas, Athena, the goddess of wisdom, will be born from the head of Zeus, thus being his daughter. Strictly speaking. Sva's mother is also not only a wife, but also... the daughter of Svarog. This is divine incest, but let’s not go deeper.

Moreover, Sva is not only a woman who is “with her grandfather”, but also a “hen of the pockmarked chicken”. Another thing is important - the egg, planet Earth, the original continent split, continents and the world ocean arose, modern world. But origination also means ending, as we will see a little later.

As for the kinship and even partly identity of Hinduism and Slavic-Aryan Vedism, this does not require additional explanation, at least for readers of my blog. The rest can be referred to sources, of which there are plenty.

Let's move on to the second part of the “fairy tale”.

The egg is broken by a mouse.

The mouse is originally a chthonic image, that is, related to the underground, infernal kingdom. This ancient performance preserved in particular in languages, for example, geli- (Indo-European proto-language “mouse”) - qela (Lydian “earth”). In ancient Egyptian mythology, the mouse is a creature of the earth.

So, chthonic, infernal, or hellish forces crush the egg, or life. The apocalypse is coming. Its description in the fairy tale about the ripple is similar to the “Apocalypse” of John Chrysostom: human crying, a column of smoke, a hurricane, an earthquake.

There are other versions of the tale (about 60 in total), which differ little from the original, but with the introduction of some additional details. For example, an oak tree sheds its leaves, a magpie breaks its leg, a priest’s daughter breaks the buckets with which she walked into the water, the priest throws pies out the window, the priest tears up holy books and breaks his head on the door frame.

Pop is a later concept, the perception of a priest as such. The Slavic-Aryans have priests - sorcerers, sorcerers, or keepers of the Vedas - sacred tests. The sorcerer tore up these sacred texts, because knowledge has no meaning at the End of the World. And he broke his head - the material container of the mind. But the soul has not died, just as knowledge cannot die. And after the end of the world comes the beginning of a new world!

This is where the detail becomes extremely interesting: “the believers laugh.” Why are the pillars actually laughing? There is death, destruction, horror all around, but they find it funny?

We know that the ancient Slavs burned their dead and laughed at the same time. Ibn Rusta Abu Ali Ahmed ibn Omar writes in the book “Dear Values” (9th century AD):

“The country of the Slavs is flat and wooded, and they live in it.
When someone dies among them, their corpse is burned.
When the deceased is burned, they indulge in noisy fun, expressing joy.”

Why or why did they laugh?

Strabo also reported about the Egyptians who buried their dead amid loud laughter.

I don't really like V.Ya. Propp, but in detail he is sometimes useful. So Propp believed that among the ancients, laughter at death and during murder meant an upcoming new birth.

“When killing, laughter turns death into a new birth, destroys murder. Thus, this laughter is an act of piety that turns death into a new birth” (Kaisarov A. S., Glinka G. A., Rybakov B. A. Myths of the ancient Slavs. Velesova book. Saratov, 1993).

That is, laughter is a way of starting or conceiving a new life through death.

Thus, laughter is a symbol of the re-creation of life through death.

Now it is clear that the laughter of faith is a harbinger of a new life through death and destruction of this world.

That's why the pillars laugh.

We will not delve into the topic of pillars; it is known how symbolic the image of a pillar is in all mythologies, and primarily in Slavic-Aryan and Indo-Aryan, there is a connecting link between heaven and earth and the path of ascension, and even a phallic symbol. Shiva, world energy, creation and destruction of worlds. The pillar is the axis of the earth, which is located at the North Pole (“bears rub their backs against the earth’s axis”) and on which sits the Cat-Bayun, aka the World Tree (in Pushkin, the scientist cat walks along the tree, along a chain, only he has it to the right). to the left, and in Slavic-Aryan mythology up and down).

All this is a separate big topic. Now the main thing is laughter at the death of the world, and therefore the harbinger of a new world and a new life.

At the same time, the gates are creaking, the top of the hut is shaking, the tyne is crumbling - everything clearly indicates a hurricane gust of wind. And this wind fills the hut, an important detail - “the doors shook,” that is, they opened, bent outward, the house was filled with wind.

The wind fertilizes the hen, as it is the fertilizing principle in the main mythologies (hence the “wind blew” about an incomprehensible pregnancy). This is pregnancy with a new world.

Feeling this, the Ryaba hen reassures everyone: it will be new world, better than before, not trashy, but golden.

According to Hinduism, four eras or Yugas - Satya Yuga, Treta Yuga, Dvapara Yuga and Kali Yuga make up the Manvantar cycle (Mahayuga or Chaturvy Yuga).
We are living in the Kali Yuga era, which began in 3012 BC. and will last for a long time.

Kali Yuga corresponds to the Iron Age, this is an era of global degradation, when virtue comes into complete decline, the righteous are in poverty, and criminals prosper.

Here are descriptions of Kali Yuga in Hinduism:

“Norms of legality and justice in relations
between people will be established by who is stronger.

Greedy and ruthless rulers will not behave
better than ordinary thieves."

(Srimad Bhagavatam)

“When the age of Kali comes, deception reigns on Earth,
lies, laziness, drowsiness, violence, depression, grief,
confusion, fear and poverty.

Men in Kali Yuga will be absolutely miserable creatures,
under the authority of women.

Uncultured people will collect in the name of God
begging for alms and earning a living by simply dressing up
robes of monks and playing at ostentatious renunciation.

(Bhoomi-Gita)

“In Kali Yuga, lawlessness prevails by three quarters.”

(Mahabharata)

“The downward movement of manifestation”, Kali Yuga - the end of the Manvantar cycle (Chaturvyu-yuga), when the “spark of being” is exhausted, eroded and a special situation of the end of times, the apocalypse, arises.

The apocalypse is followed by a new cycle, the world moves into a new Golden Era, called Satya Yuga in Hinduism. The golden egg promised by the pockmarked hen is this era, the “golden age,” when people will again live in harmony with the Trinity of Gods (Father-Son-Holy Spirit in Christianity, Brahma-Vishnu-Shiva in Hinduism, Tritheism in the Slavic Aryan Vedas) and in harmony with nature.

So, the meaning of the fairy tale “about the little hen” becomes clear:

The hen Ryaba laid an egg, that is, the world in the fourth, current Iron Age. Chthonic, infernal beginning The mouse breaks or cracks (“breaks”) this egg, thus completing Kali Yuga (parallel meaning - creating a world inhabited by humanity, the first continent and the world ocean split into pieces). As a result, the end of the world comes, the world perishes. However, chaos is the beginning of a new Golden Age, Satya Yuga, a new world and a new cycle of Manvantara.

Like this. The tale of the pockmarked hen is both a story about the beginning of the world (the split of the first continent) and a prophecy about the end of the Iron Age (the end of Kali Yuga) and the onset of a new “golden age”.

That is, in fact, the tale of the pockmarked hen is both a prophecy about the end of this world and the end of Kali Yuga, and a message about the creation of the world, the split of the first continent, the formation of continents and the World Ocean in the process of expansion of the planet (dehydration of the planetary core). In the first case, the golden egg is new era, Golden Age. In the second - life itself, which came to a lifeless, but “whole” planet.

Deep meaning, age-old wisdom coming from the beginning of time - that’s what this fairy tale is. Why was it so distorted, why and when, cut down to two sentences, and even turned inside out, turning it into absurdity?

It’s stupid, yes, it’s strange that we know so little about the religion, history and philosophy of our ancestors, while the history of Rus' did not begin with Baptism, but at least several thousand years before this event. And what depths of knowledge are not hidden in this story. Or maybe they then hide so that we can look for them?

Well, even if the fairy tale about the pockmarked hen was at least somewhat logical, even primitive, would anyone begin to look for its meaning?

“It’s a quiet Ukrainian night, but the lard needs to be hidden,”

Working with archives, I find a lot of interesting things and try to introduce them to my readers. So this time, I want to offer a short sketch on the history of peoples and their mentality. I have not communicated with the reader for a long time, due to extreme workload and interesting research in which I am immersed from morning to morning. I hope that it will turn out to be an interesting miniature, because what I found in the archives simply blows my mind. But more on that in a moment, but for now the tale of the Ryabey chicken and the desire to remind the reader of yourself. And I will begin the reminder by quoting a letter from the commandant of the military garrison of Orsk, Major Tsurupa, who served the Russian Tsar in the 19th century:
“...one day it was decided to make dumplings, Shevchenko’s favorite dish, because he argued, assuring the ladies that he would eat a whole hundred of them. The ladies, having agreed among themselves, made dumplings, if possible, larger and, in order to make it difficult for the eater to win the bet, several of them were stuffed with one mustard or one pepper. Having failed, as one would expect, with all the hundred, Shevchenko, nevertheless, bit through each of them.”
This is where the famous joke came from: “It’s not all about him, but about the skin” - author’s note.
You know, reader, sometimes reading the scientific thoughts of Western scientists, I am at a loss about their origin. No, we are not talking about Darwinian evolution or the cosmic essence of the origin of life in the European House. I am surprised by the unpredictable impudence of these orphans and beggars from natural science. It seems that from time to time they plunge into the Russian hinterland in order to search for new ideas. Moreover, they do not even hesitate to look into our cesspools, rightly believing that the profession of a goldsmith is associated with goods acquired by back-breaking labor. For any of the readers who don’t know, I inform you that the goldsmith in Rus' had two interpretations. The first is a gold jeweler or generally a person associated with gold, including a banker. And the second interpretation speaks of a gold cart, spreading indescribable odors from pumped out sewage.
Quite recently, in one of the high-scientific magazines in Germany, I read with surprise about the invention of temporary latrines in this advanced country, similar to our country toilets. As a serious university laboratory from Munich, which produced this unique creation of the creative thought of German scientists, proves, a cesspool does not harm the ecology of the planet, while dry toilets pose a threat to the planet, due to the chemicals necessary for the technological cycle of this complex process. By the way, our village katukh has received a patent on full grounds and from now on its construction without a license is punishable by EU laws.
Involuntarily, the author, familiar with the life of Ukrainian villagers, came up with a mischievous idea regarding the further European development of this state, in the light of the removal of waste substances from internal organs. Something tells me that Ukrainians will soon have to pay for these natural needs. Of course, I mean rural residents - the city has long been paying for the right to push on a white friend. In my opinion, the city toilet is the most drug-addicted needle of modern city dwellers, which is so difficult to get off.
In general, Europe is still the light of learning!
What I read literally today plunged me into complete prostration. I could never have imagined that the majority of villagers who are ready to share European values illegally own a unique Dutch refrigerator from the famous Groundfridge brand.
Dutch designers have presented an underground refrigerator called Groundfridge, which operates without electricity. As the Correspondent writes, the technological version of the underground storage facility made of fiberglass allows you to maintain the temperature within +10...+12 degrees throughout the year. Such conditions are not enough for storing meat, but they are quite suitable for vegetables.
In addition, you can keep any other supplies in the “refrigerator”, for which a cool, dry room will be enough. The creators of Groundfridge suggest that it will be convenient to use in remote public institutions and as part of an autonomous home. To install a cellar, it is most convenient to dig a hole using an excavator, but if necessary, you can do it manually.
However, from May 2016, this operation of manufacturing a refrigerator will already have an official character and will be strictly taken into account by the country’s authorities. The design agency intends to extend its copyright on this product to the entire jurisdiction of the EU and the USA within three months.
Please note, gentlemen, that the Groundfridge refrigerator, created by the labor and intelligence of an advanced technological group of Dutch buggers, is declared as a significant breakthrough in nanotechnology and security environment. However, the author of this miniature dares to claim that he has been familiar with such a refrigerator since childhood and can even remind the reader of an episode from the musical “Wedding in a Robin,” where Popandopulo from Odessa crawls out of the Groundfridge as soon as the Reds retreated from Malinovka. A wonderful episode in a wonderful film
Oh, mommies! Europe invented the cellar!
Gentlemen, they still don’t know about the pile, the cellar, the underground, the glacier, the locker and other Russian bells and whistles. In another glacier you can sit out until the best hours without a freezing program.
I have a friend who is a core soldier in the Moscow region, a retired general. So he set up an office for himself in the glacier. The army grandfather does not tolerate the heat well, so in the summer he climbs into the cellar in felt boots and a quilted jacket, and in a fur coat. There he writes, sitting in the natural air conditioning. It makes for good memoirs. I read. Cheerful!
What does he need? If you're full of turnips, and there are plenty of them there, clean them and enjoy life!
The commander has passed 80 years! I'm afraid of one thing. The adjutants of this grandfather will forget there and end up at his desk with a pen in one hand and a turnip in the other hand. How about without a license? Not allowed without a license!
And now again to Ukraine. The local authorities came to a new conclusion, they say, the village needs to give up gas. It will be expensive to heat at the new prices. Even their minister said on TV that the refusal of gas by the villagers is a step towards progress. I suspect that the next step in the same direction will be a kerosene lamp! Moreover, this is an invention. purely Lviv, and belongs to Lviv pharmacists. So, what's there? It's time to take advantage of the discovery, just don't forget to buy a license. Among the Europeans.
Do you think the author of the feuilleton is exaggerating? Here is the official comment from the Deputy Prime Minister of this strange country, named Rosenko.
“For residents of rural areas, giving up gas is promising in terms of energy saving. Yes, this is a radical step... but it is necessary to think about giving up gas consumption.”
Needless to say, the prospect is promising, in the spirit of Khrushchev’s version of corn. I remember back then, there was almost a famine in the country.
It seems that with the next change of the next arch-Jew in the Ukrainian government, the lobbied companies changed: the previous one imposed plastic windows and gas boilers on Ukrainians, but the new one decided differently - “peremoga” for boilers using straw and dung. Because, as far as I know, most Ukraine is a steppe territory and there are no forests there. And almost all of the Carpathians were cut down during the period of independence, and what remained was privatized long ago. So, the conversation is not about firewood! Namely about straw and dung. However, there are also solar panels, but somehow I can’t imagine them on the Little Russian huts or on the wooden huts of the Carpathian highlanders. They haven't paid off the loans for the windows yet.
Today, you can often hear that the government of Ukraine is led by the United States and the Rothschilds. This may be true, but these people can’t interfere in almost everything? The general guidance is clear, but, as a rule, the zealous owner understands the details. Judging by the economy of Ukraine, its owners are far from crayfish. Something tells me that all the successes of the current leadership are, after all, their doing. own hands. Of course, Clinton, in pursuit of the dream of taking revenge on Bill in the Oval Office of the White House, could well have suggested such steps to the Ukrainian elite, but my observation of this Bush hen leads me to believe that she is not capable of such pearls. Here you need to know the mentality of Ukrainians, who respectfully call each other dudes, not understanding that this word is translated from Yiddish as ram, and not a simple steep-horned stag in a felted fleece, but a castrated dude, indifferent to the continuation of his family. Today in Ukraine, there are more and more dudes and chicks. Agree that the argotic coloring for a word meaning a girl is more than strange.
Among the pro-Western youth of various Slavic communities, the word dude has the following meaning: “a person who respects high American culture" Let me not decipher the dude, reader. There it is! The chick is still better!
And against this background, Russian BABA, almost sounds like an insult! And this despite the numerous stone sculptures of ancestors in the steppes of the Black Sea region, and sources from chronicles where Mary the Mother of God is called a woman?! Amazing self-deprecation Slavic peoples. I now understand why Putin didn’t kill bandits in toilets. He did not have a European license for this. Well, I would soak it in cellars, in sheds, for example. You never know how many unlicensed buildings we have in Rus'. You'll be tired of counting one taiga at a time.
Yeees! The grandfather and woman with their chicken, Pockmarked, look somehow unsightly, against the backdrop of the triumph of dudes and dudes.
I had a chance to read a review of this Russian fairy tale by a Dutch professor. He turned out to be an amazingly meticulous person. Looked into explanatory dictionaries and was taken aback:
The meaning of the word Ryaboy according to Ushakov’s dictionary:
PITCHED
pockmarked; pockmarked; pockmarked, pockmarked, pockmarked. 1. Having rowan on a smooth surface (see rowan 2 in 1 meaning). Pockmarked with pollen. Pockmarked girl. 2. Having spots of a different color against a background of one color, not monochromatic, motley (colloquially). Speckled cow. Face pockmarked with freckles. Speckled hen.
The man was completely exhausted, imagining the hen Ryaba laying golden eggs. The thing is that genetics rejects such a metamorphosis, due to the fact that the speckled hen lays the most ordinary eggs. And little does the professor know that the problem here is not the pockmarked coloring of the chicken. This is stupidity imposed on us by an artist in the 20th century, who drew illustrations for the fairy tale about the Ryabey hen. Are you a reader, and why do you imagine her like that too? Meanwhile, if you know the Russian language, speak it, understand its words, and take an interest in its turns of phrase, then everything will fall into place. Chicken Ryaba, not really a chicken. It's a hazel grouse! A commercial game bird that was well known to Russian travelers. Fairy tales were told about her, in which she laid golden eggs. Much like the peacock – the firebird.
Ruffed grouse are small birds. Their body length is 20-40 cm, and their weight is up to half a kilogram. Sandgrouse live in Europe, Asia and North Africa. For living, sandgrouse chooses mainly arid places, deserts. Externally, the hazel grouse has a dense build, a small head and a short neck. The color of the plumage is not bright, with a predominance of sand, grayish, beige and ocher tones. Sandgrouse are game birds and are hunted. Basically, hazel grouses shoot at watering places. Number of birds in lately decreases.
Sandgrouse are social birds and live in flocks. But during the breeding season, the flock is divided into small families, within which the birds choose their partners. Sandgrouse are monogamous. The nest is made directly on the ground, in a small dug hole. The bedding for the nest is either not used at all, laying eggs in sandy soil, or it is very thin and scarce. A clutch of hazel grouse usually contains 3 eggs (less often 2-4 eggs). The eggs are GRAYish-YELLOW speckled, sometimes GOLDEN - this color allows them to be invisible against the background of sandy soil. Both parents hatch the offspring.
So the hen hazel grouse is called Ryaba. And its eggs have a hard shell.
And then a thought struck me: shouldn’t I compare the Ukrainian and Russian versions of the fairy tale about the chicken Ryaba. I turned to the documents and found the two oldest versions of this tale. They are so entertaining that I invite the reader to read them for themselves and compare them with what Soviet propaganda gave us in childhood. And at the same time open the mentality of the Russian and Ukrainian people. I warn you that both fairy tales are from the 17th century and I have adjusted them to a modern style, without changing the essence of the story.
So, the Soviet fairy tale we know:

The Tale of the Chicken Ryaba

Once upon a time there lived a grandfather and a woman. And they had Ryaba chicken.
The hen laid an egg, but not an ordinary one - a golden one.
Grandfather beat and beat, but did not break.
The woman beat and beat, but did not break.
And the mouse ran, waved its tail, the egg fell and broke.
The grandfather is crying, the woman is crying, and the chicken is clucking:
- Don’t cry, grandfather, don’t cry, woman: I will lay you an egg, not a golden one - a simple one!

This is a simple children's fairy tale about the chicken Ryaba from Soviet times. The smallest child knows the fairy tale Ryaba the Chicken. A fairy tale that is easy to read. All politically incorrect phrases have been removed from it. But there are other options. For example, the Russian version of this tale from the Kaluga province.

Egg (Hen Ryaba)
Russian folk tale

Once upon a time there lived a grandfather and a woman, they had a chicken, Ryaba; laid an egg under the floor - motley, bright, boney, tricky! The grandfather beat him but didn’t break him, the woman beat him but didn’t break him, but the mouse came running and crushed him with his tail. The grandfather is crying, the woman is crying, the chicken is croaking, the gates are creaking, wood chips are flying from the yard, the top of the hut is shaking!
The priest's daughters went to fetch water, asked the grandfather, asked the woman:
-What are you crying about?
- How can we not cry! - Grandfather and woman answer. - We have chicken Ryaba; laid an egg under the floor - motley, bright, boney, tricky! The grandfather beat him but didn’t break him, the woman beat him but didn’t break him, but the mouse came running and crushed him with his tail.
When the priest’s daughters heard this, out of great grief they threw the buckets to the ground, broke the rocker arms and returned home empty-handed.
- Oh, mother! - they say to the priest. “You don’t know anything, you don’t know anything, but there’s a lot going on in the world: a grandfather and a woman live, they have a chicken Ryaba; laid an egg under the floor - motley, bright, boney, tricky! The grandfather beat him but didn’t break him, the woman beat him but didn’t break him, but the mouse came running and crushed him with his tail. That’s why the grandfather cries, the woman cries, the chicken cackles, the gates creak, wood chips fly from the yard, the top of the hut is wobbly. And while we were going to fetch water, we threw the buckets and broke the rocker arms!
At that time, the priest was crying, and the hen was cackling, and immediately, out of great grief, she knocked over the kneading bowl and scattered all the dough on the floor.
The priest came with a book.
- Oh, father! - the priest tells him. “You don’t know anything, you don’t know anything, but there’s a lot going on in the world: a grandfather and a woman live, they have a chicken Ryaba; laid an egg under the floor - motley, bright, boney, tricky! The grandfather beat him but didn’t break him, the woman beat him but didn’t break him, but the mouse came running and crushed him with his tail. That’s why the grandfather cries, the woman cries, the chicken cackles, the gates creak, wood chips fly from the yard, the top of the hut is wobbly! Our daughters, while going to fetch water, threw the buckets, broke the rocker arms, and I kneaded the dough and, out of great grief, scattered everything on the floor!
The priest sunbathed and tore his book to shreds.

As you can see, there is no question of any golden egg in the Russian fairy tale. But a priestly book appears - the Bible, previously unknown in Rus'. And you can see the attitude of the people towards her and the priests.
And here is the Ukrainian (Little Russian version) from Western and Central Ukraine. The same option, but with the participation of the Zaporozhye Cossacks, also exists in the Southern region. Pay attention, reader, to the change in the meaning of the text and the title itself.

About the chicken
who laid golden eggs
Ukrainian folk tale

Once upon a time there lived a grandfather and a woman, and they had a Ryaba chicken. They fed the chicken for three years and expected eggs from it any day now.
Exactly three years later the hen laid an egg for them, and that egg was not an ordinary one, but a golden one. The grandfather and woman are happy, they don’t know what to do with this egg, they can’t believe their eyes that the hen laid a golden egg.
We tried to break it, but it was so strong that it didn’t break. The grandfather beat and beat, but did not break, the woman beat and beat, but did not break. They put the egg on the shelf; A mouse was running, its tail touched it, an egg fell on the table and broke. The grandfather is crying, the woman is crying, and the chicken is clucking:
- Don’t cry, grandfather, don’t cry, woman, I’ll bring you something else, not a simple one, but a golden one, just wait three years.
The grandfather and woman picked up the golden shells and sold them to the Jews. We received little money. They wanted to build a new hut, but there wasn’t enough money, they had to wait another three years to get enough for the hut. They waited a week, waited a second, waited a third, it seemed to them a painfully long time, they were tired of waiting.
So the grandfather says to the woman:
- You know what, old woman? Why should we wait three whole years? Let us immediately slaughter the chicken and get the golden egg out of it. Yes, there is apparently more than one there, maybe there are three, or even four of them. Then we’ll live, we’ll have a new house, we’ll buy some land and we won’t bow to anyone.
- Oh, really, grandpa, let's kill him! They slaughtered a chicken, but not a single one was in the middle of the testicle. Grandfather and grandmother began to cry again.
The mouse stuck its head out of the hole and said:
- Don’t cry, grandfather, don’t cry, woman, bury your chicken in the kindergarten, at the crossroads, wait three years, and then dig up a treasure in that place. Let it be written on your nose so that you remember until your death that everything you wish for does not happen right away.
The woman buried the chicken near the garden at the crossroads, right next to the overgrowth, and stuck a stick in as a sign. They wait for a year, wait for a second - they don’t have enough patience, they wanted to quickly dig up the treasure. The third year has already arrived, and they are still waiting. So the woman says to the grandfather:
- Let’s take a look, grandpa.
“Don’t rush, old woman, we’ll wait a little, there’s not much left.” We waited longer, now we have less to wait.
- No, old man, we won’t touch anything, we’ll just see if our treasure is pecked there.
- Take care, old woman, so as not to spoil the whole thing.
- Don’t be afraid, grandpa, nothing bad will happen.
They went into the garden with a spade. They dug and dug and dug up a whole bunch of gold beetles. The beetles buzzed and scattered in all directions.
So the grandfather and woman were left to live in the old hut; they did not have a chance to build a new one.
And the mouse stuck its head out of the hole and said:
- You are already old, but stupid. Why didn't you wait until you were three years old? If only you had a big pile of gold, but now they have all scattered.

Well, reader, he gets it right. Do you still not understand what is happening in Ukraine and Russia? It seems to me that old tale can explain a lot, you just need to carefully read what was bequeathed to us by our ancestors. Read, study and take care, otherwise you will have to buy a lot of things in the West under license. And something tells me that a Ukrainian grandfather and his grandmother cannot live in a new house. The hen that laid the golden eggs was killed, the golden shells were sold to the Jews, and there was no harvest of golden chervonets.
Not in the eyebrow, but in the eye.

We all probably read it more than once in childhood. a fairy tale about the Ryaba Hen. And it is so familiar, familiar and studied that most likely we know it by heart. And it seems there is no need to even read the fairy tale itself again - we already remember everything perfectly. Although, oddly enough, there are several options for reading the fairy tale about the hen Ryaba, and even the number of characters can be different: the priest with the priest and the priest’s daughter, and the magpie, and the cat Kotofeich, and even an oak tree. You can make a whole story out of a short fairy tale!

And I also think I won’t be mistaken if I assume that how many of us have thought: what kind of strange fairy tale is this about the chicken Ryaba? What is the meaning of this short Russian folk tale? And does it even exist, this meaning? And if not, then why does the fairy tale about the chicken Ryaba live on for many centuries, and why will even our great-great-great-grandchildren still read it to their children? Surely each of us has our own original ideas on this matter. Today, let us first read the classic version of the fairy tale about the Ryaba Hen to our children at bedtime, and then, when we put them to bed, we will discuss the meaning of this most famous fairy tale, familiar to everyone from childhood. So, Russian folk tale: