Cat Epiphan. Charushin E

Good and free on the Volga River!
Look how wide it is! The other shore is barely visible! This living, flowing water sparkles. And the whole sky looks like this water: clouds, and blue azure, and little sandpipers that, whistling, fly in a bunch from sand to sand, and flocks of geese and ducks, and an airplane on which a man flies somewhere on his business, and white ships with black smoke, and barges, and shores, and a rainbow in the sky.
You look at this flowing sea, you look at the walking clouds, and it seems to you that the shores are also going somewhere - they also walk and move, like everything around.
There, on the Volga, in a dugout, on the very Volga bank - in a steep cliff, lives a watchman-buoy. If you look from the river, you will only see a window and a door. You look from the shore - one iron pipe sticks out of the grass. His whole house is in the ground, like an animal hole.
Steamboats sail along the Volga day and night. Tugboats puff, smoke, pull barges behind them on ropes, carry various cargoes or drag long rafts.
They slowly rise against the current, their wheels splashing through the water. Here comes a steamer, carrying apples, and the whole Volga will smell of sweet apples. Or it smells like fish, which means they are bringing roach from Astrakhan.
Mail and passenger ships, one-story and two-story, are running. These float on their own. But the fastest ships are double-decker fast steamers with a blue ribbon on the funnel. They stop only at large piers, and after them high waves spread across the water and roll across the sand.
An old buoy keeper places red and white buoys along the river near the shoals and rifts. These are floating wicker baskets with a lantern on top. Buoys show the right path. At night the old man rides a boat, lights the lanterns on the buoys, and puts them out in the morning. And at other times the old beacon keeper fishes. He is an avid fisherman.
One day the old man was fishing all day. I caught some fish in my ear: bream, white bream, and ruff. And he came back. He opened the door to the dugout and looked: that’s the thing! It turns out that a guest has come to see him! An all-white, fluffy cat sits on the table next to a pot of potatoes.
The guest saw the owner, arched his back and began to rub his side against the pot. His entire white side was stained with soot.
- Where did you come from, from what areas?
And the cat purrs and squints his eyes and stains his side even more, rubbing it with soot. And his eyes are different. One eye is completely blue, and the other is completely yellow.
“Well, help yourself,” said the beacon keeper and gave the cat a ruff.
The cat grabbed the fish in his claws, purred a little and ate it. He ate it and licked it, apparently he still wants it.
And the cat ate four more fish. And then he jumped onto the old man’s hay and dozed off. Lounging on the hay field, purring, stretching out one paw, then the other, putting out claws on one paw, then on the other. And he apparently liked it so much that he ended up living with the old man.
And the old beacon keeper is happy. It's much more fun together. And so they began to live.
The baker had no one to talk to before, but now he began to talk to the cat, calling him Epifan. Before there was no one to fish with, but now the cat began to go boating with him. He sits in the stern of the boat and seems to be in charge.
In the evening the old man says:
- Well, Epifanushka, isn’t it time for us to light the buoys, because, perhaps, it will be dark soon? If we don't light the buoys, our ships will run aground.
And the cat seems to know what it is to light beacons. Without saying a word, he goes to the river, climbs into the boat and waits for the old man when he comes with oars and kerosene for lanterns.
They will go, light the lanterns on the buoys - and back.
And they fish together. An old man is fishing, and Epifan is sitting next to him.
The cat caught a small fish. I caught a big one - in the old man's ear.
That's how it happened.
They serve together and fish together.
One day, the beacon keeper was sitting with his cat Epifan on the shore and fishing. And then some fish bit hard. The old man pulled it out of the water and looked: it was a greedy brush that swallowed a worm. It's as tall as a little finger, but it twitches like a big pike. The old man took it off the hook and handed it to the cat.
“Here,” he says, “Epifasha, chew a little.”
But Epifasha doesn’t exist.
What is it, where did it go?
Then the old man sees that his cat has gone far, far along the shore, whitening on the rafts.
“Why did he go there,” the old man thought, “and what is he doing there? I’ll go take a look.”
He looks and his cat Epifan catches fish himself. He lies flat on a log, puts his paw in the water, doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. And when the fish swam out in a school from under the log, he - one! - and picked up one fish with his claws.
The old beacon keeper was very surprised.
“What a trickster you are,” he says, “what a fisherman! Well, catch me,” he says, “a sterlet on my ear, and a fatter one.”
But the cat doesn’t even look at him.
He ate the fish, moved to another place, and again lay down from the log to fish.
Since then, this is how they fish: separately - and each in their own way.
The fisherman uses tackle and a fishing rod with a hook, and the cat Epiphanes uses his paw and claws.
And the beacons are lit together.

Good and free on the Volga River! Look how wide it is! The other shore is barely visible! This living, flowing water sparkles. And the whole sky looks like this water: clouds, and blue azure, and little sandpipers that, whistling, fly in a bunch from sand to sand, and flocks of geese and ducks, and an airplane on which a man flies somewhere on his business, and white steamships with black smoke, and barges, and shores, and a rainbow in the sky.

You look at this flowing sea, you look at the walking clouds, and it seems to you that the shores are also going somewhere - they also walk and move, like everyone else around.

There, on the Volga, in a dugout, on the very Volga bank - in a steep cliff, lives a watchman-buoy. If you look from the river, you will only see a window and a door. You look from the shore - one iron pipe sticks out of the grass. His whole house is in the ground, like an animal hole.

Steamboats sail along the Volga day and night. Tugboats puff, smoke, pull barges behind them on ropes, carry various cargoes or drag long rafts. They slowly rise against the current, splashing through the water with their wheels. Here comes a steamer carrying apples - and the whole Volga will smell of sweet apples. Or it smells like fish, which means they are bringing roach from Astrakhan. Mail and passenger ships, one-story and two-story, are running. These float on their own. But the fastest ships are double-decker fast steamers with a blue ribbon on the funnel. They stop only at large piers, and after them high waves spread across the water and roll across the sand.

An old buoy keeper places red and white buoys along the river near the shoals and riffles. These are floating wicker baskets with a lantern on top. Buoys show the right path. At night the old man rides a boat, lights the lanterns on the buoys, and puts them out in the morning. And at other times the old beacon keeper fishes. He is an avid fisherman.

One day the old man was fishing all day. I caught some fish in my ear: bream, white bream, and ruff. And he came back. He opened the door to the dugout and looked: that’s the thing! It turns out that a guest has come to see him! An all-white, fluffy cat sits on the table next to a pot of potatoes. The guest saw the owner, arched his back and began to rub his side against the pot. His entire white side was stained with soot.

- Where did you come from, from what areas?

And the cat purrs and squints his eyes and stains his side even more, rubbing it with soot. And his eyes are different. One eye is completely blue, and the other is completely yellow.

“Well, help yourself,” said the beacon keeper and gave the cat a ruff.

The cat grabbed the fish in his claws, purred a little and ate it. He ate it and licked it, apparently he still wants it.

And the cat ate four more fish. And then he jumped onto the old man’s hay and dozed off. Lounging on the hay field, purring, stretching out one paw, then the other, putting out claws on one paw, then on the other. And he apparently liked it so much that he ended up living with the old man. And the old beacon keeper is happy. It's much more fun together. And so they began to live.

The baker had no one to talk to before, but now he began to talk to the cat, calling him Epifan. Before there was no one to fish with, but now the cat began to go boating with him. He sits in the stern of the boat and seems to be in charge. In the evening the old man says:

Well, Epifanushka, isn’t it time for us to light the buoys, since, perhaps, it will soon be dark? If we don't light the buoys, our ships will run aground.

And the cat seems to know what it is to light beacons. Without saying a word, he goes to the river, climbs into the boat and waits for the old man when he comes with oars and kerosene for lanterns. They will go, light the lanterns on the buoys - and back. And they fish together. An old man is fishing, and Epifan is sitting next to him. The cat caught a small fish. I caught a big one - in the old man's ear. That's how it happened. They serve together and fish together.

One day, the beacon keeper was sitting with his cat Epifan on the shore and fishing. And then some fish bit hard. The old man pulled it out of the water and looked: it was a greedy brush that swallowed a worm. It's as tall as a little finger, but it jerks like a big pike. The old man took it off the hook and handed it to the cat.

“Here,” he says, “Epifasha, chew a little.”

But Epifasha doesn’t exist. What is it, where did it go?

Then the old man sees that his cat has gone far, far along the shore, whitening on the rafts.

“Why did he go there,” thought the old man, “and what is he doing there? I’ll go and take a look.”

He looks and his cat Epifan catches fish himself. He lies flat on a log, puts his paw in the water, doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. And when the fish swam out in a school from under the log, he - one! - and picked up one fish with his claws. The old beacon keeper was very surprised.

“You’re such a trickster,” he says, “Oh, Epifan, what a fisherman!” Well, catch me,” he says, “a sterlet on my ear, and a fatter one.”

But the cat doesn’t even look at him. He ate the fish, moved to another place, and again lay down from the log to fish.


Since then, this is how they fish: separately - and each in their own way. The fisherman uses tackle and a fishing rod with a hook, and the cat Epiphanes uses his paw and claws. And the beacons are lit together.

Good and free on the Volga River! Look how wide it is! The other shore is barely visible! This living, flowing water sparkles. And the whole sky looks like this water: clouds, and blue azure, and little sandpipers that, whistling, fly in a bunch from sand to sand, and flocks of geese and ducks, and an airplane on which a man flies somewhere on his business, and white steamships with black smoke, and barges, and shores, and a rainbow in the sky.

You look at this flowing sea, you look at the walking clouds, and it seems to you that the shores are also going somewhere - they also walk and move, like everyone else around.

There, on the Volga, in a dugout, on the very Volga bank - in a steep cliff, lives a watchman-buoy. If you look from the river, you will only see a window and a door. You look from the shore - one iron pipe sticks out of the grass. His whole house is in the ground, like an animal hole.

Steamboats sail along the Volga day and night. Tugboats puff, smoke, pull barges behind them on ropes, carry various cargoes or drag long rafts. They slowly rise against the current, splashing through the water with their wheels. Here comes a steamer carrying apples - and the whole Volga will smell of sweet apples. Or it smells like fish, which means they are bringing roach from Astrakhan. Mail and passenger ships, one-story and two-story, are running. These float on their own. But the fastest ships are double-decker fast steamers with a blue ribbon on the funnel. They stop only at large piers, and after them high waves spread across the water and roll across the sand.

An old buoy keeper places red and white buoys along the river near the shoals and riffles. These are floating wicker baskets with a lantern on top. Buoys show the right path. At night the old man rides a boat, lights the lanterns on the buoys, and puts them out in the morning. And at other times the old beacon keeper fishes. He is an avid fisherman.

One day the old man was fishing all day. I caught some fish in my ear: bream, white bream, and ruff. And he came back. He opened the door to the dugout and looked: that’s the thing! It turns out that a guest has come to see him! An all-white, fluffy cat sits on the table next to a pot of potatoes. The guest saw the owner, arched his back and began to rub his side against the pot. His entire white side was stained with soot.

Where did you come from, from what areas?

And the cat purrs and squints his eyes and stains his side even more, rubbing it with soot. And his eyes are different. One eye is completely blue, and the other is completely yellow.

Well, help yourself,” said the beacon keeper and gave the cat a ruff.

The cat grabbed the fish in his claws, purred a little and ate it. He ate it and licked it, apparently he still wants it.

And the cat ate four more fish. And then he jumped onto the old man’s hay and dozed off. Lounging on the hay field, purring, stretching out one paw, then the other, putting out claws on one paw, then on the other. And he apparently liked it so much that he ended up living with the old man. And the old beacon keeper is happy. It's much more fun together. And so they began to live.

The baker had no one to talk to before, but now he began to talk to the cat, calling him Epifan. Before there was no one to fish with, but now the cat began to go boating with him. He sits in the stern of the boat and seems to be in charge. In the evening the old man says:

Well, Epifanushka, isn’t it time for us to light the buoys, since, perhaps, it will soon be dark? If we don't light the buoys, our ships will run aground.

And the cat seems to know what it is to light beacons. Without saying a word, he goes to the river, climbs into the boat and waits for the old man when he comes with oars and kerosene for lanterns. They will go, light the lanterns on the buoys - and back. And they fish together. An old man is fishing, and Epifan is sitting next to him. The cat caught a small fish. I caught a big one - in the old man's ear. That's how it happened. They serve together and fish together.

One day, the beacon keeper was sitting with his cat Epifan on the shore and fishing. And then some fish bit hard. The old man pulled it out of the water and looked: it was a greedy brush that swallowed a worm. It's as tall as your little finger, but it moves like a big pike. The old man took it off the hook and handed it to the cat.

“Here,” he says, “Epifasha, chew a little.”

But Epifasha doesn’t exist. What is it, where did it go?

Then the old man sees that his cat has gone far, far along the shore, whitening on the rafts.

“Why did he go there,” the old man thought, “and what is he doing there? I’ll go and take a look.”

He looks and his cat Epifan catches fish himself. He lies flat on a log, puts his paw in the water, doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. And when the fish swam out in a school from under the log, he - one! - and picked up one fish with his claws. The old beacon keeper was very surprised.

“You’re such a trickster,” he says, “Oh, Epifan, what a fisherman!” Well, catch me,” he says, “a sterlet on my ear, and a fatter one.”

But the cat doesn’t even look at him. He ate the fish, moved to another place, and again lay down from the log to fish.

Since then, this is how they fish: separately - and each in their own way. The fisherman uses tackle and a fishing rod with a hook, and the cat Epiphanes uses his paw and claws. And the beacons are lit together.

You can either write your own.

How can I live without a bike? - cries. “I spent all winter thinking about how I would ride through the forests on it.”

“Well, well, don’t cry,” said his dad. - Mom will go and bring you a bicycle.

No, he won’t bring it,” Vasya cries. - She doesn't love him. It creaks...

Well, boy, stop, don’t cry,” the boy with the watch on his hand suddenly said. - I’ll arrange this for you now. I myself love to ride a bike. Only it is real, two-wheeled. Do you have a telephone at home? - he asks Vasya’s dad.

Yes,” Dad answers. - Number five fifty-five zero six.

Well, it’s all right,” says the boy. - We will urgently send a postman with a letter. He pulled out a tiny paper ribbon from a thin piece of tissue from his pocket and wrote on it: “Call 5-55-06, tell him: “Mom needs to take Vasya’s bicycle to the dacha.” Then he put this letter in some shiny little tube, I opened my basket and there, in the basket, sat a dove—long-nosed, gray.

The boy pulled out a pigeon and tied a tube with a letter to its leg.

“Here’s my postman,” he says. - Ready to fly. Look.

And as soon as the train stopped at the station, the boy looked at his watch, noted the time in his notebook and released the dove out the window. The dove flies straight up - that’s all they saw!

“I’m teaching carrier pigeons today,” says the boy. - At each station I release one and record the time. The dove will fly straight to the city, to its dovecote. And there they are waiting for him. And on this last one, they will see the tube, read the letter and call you at your apartment. If only the hawk didn't catch him along the way. And it’s true: Vasya arrived at the dacha, waited and waited for his mother - and in the evening his mother arrived with a bicycle. We received a letter. This means that the hawk did not catch the dove.

Cat Epifan

Good and free on the Volga River! Look how wide it is! The other shore is barely visible! This living, flowing water sparkles. And the whole sky looks like this water: clouds, and blue azure, and little sandpipers that, whistling, fly in a bunch from sand to sand, and flocks of geese and ducks, and an airplane on which a man flies somewhere on his business, and white steamships with black smoke, and barges, and shores, and a rainbow in the sky. You look at this flowing sea, you look at the walking clouds, and it seems to you that the shores are also going somewhere - they also walk and move, like everything around. There, on the Volga, in a dugout, on the very Volga bank - in a steep cliff, lives a watchman-buoy. If you look from the river, you will only see a window and a door. You look from the shore - one iron pipe sticks out of the grass. His whole house is in the ground, like an animal hole. Steamboats sail along the Volga day and night. Tugboats puff, smoke, pull barges behind them on ropes, carry various cargoes or drag long rafts. They slowly rise against the current, splashing through the water with their wheels. Here comes a steamer, carrying apples, and the whole Volga will smell of sweet apples. Or it smells like fish, which means they are bringing roach from Astrakhan. Mail and passenger ships, one-story and two-story, are running. These float on their own. But the fastest ships are double-decker fast steamers with a blue ribbon on the funnel. They stop only at large piers, and after them high waves spread across the water and roll across the sand. An old buoy keeper places red and white buoys along the river near the shoals and riffles. These are floating wicker baskets with a lantern on top. Buoys show the right path. At night the old man rides a boat, lights the lanterns on the buoys, and puts them out in the morning. And at other times the old beacon keeper fishes. He is an avid fisherman. One day the old man was fishing all day. I caught some fish in my ear: bream, white bream, and ruff. And he came back. He opened the door to the dugout and looked: that’s the thing! It turns out that a guest has come to see him! An all-white, fluffy cat sits on the table next to a pot of potatoes. The guest saw the owner, arched his back and began to rub his side against the pot. His entire white side was stained with soot.

Where did you come from, from what areas? And the cat purrs and squints his eyes and stains his side even more, rubbing it with soot. And his eyes are different. One eye is completely blue, and the other is completely yellow.

Well, help yourself,” said the beacon keeper and gave the cat a ruff. The cat grabbed the fish in his claws, purred a little and ate it. He ate it and licked it, apparently he still wants it. And the cat ate four more fish. And then he jumped onto the old man’s hay and dozed off. Lounging on the hay field, purring, stretching out one paw, then the other, putting out claws on one paw, then on the other. And he apparently liked it so much that he ended up living with the old man. And the old beacon keeper is happy. It's much more fun together. And so they began to live. The baker had no one to talk to before, but now he began to talk to the cat, calling him Epifan. Before there was no one to fish with, but now the cat began to go boating with him. He sits in the stern of the boat and seems to be in charge. In the evening the old man says:

Well, Epifanushka, isn’t it time for us to light the buoys, because, perhaps, it will soon be dark? If we don't light the buoys, our ships will run aground. And the cat seems to know what it is to light beacons. Without saying a word, he goes to the river, climbs into the boat and waits for the old man when he comes with oars and kerosene for lanterns. They will go, light the lanterns on the buoys - and back. And they fish together. An old man is fishing, and Epifan is sitting next to him. The cat caught a small fish. I caught a big one - in the old man's ear. That's how it happened. They serve together and fish together. One day, the beacon keeper was sitting with his cat Epifan on the shore and fishing. And then some fish bit hard. The old man pulled it out of the water and looked: it was a greedy brush that swallowed a worm. It's as tall as a little finger, but it jerks like a big pike. The old man took it off the hook and handed it to the cat.

Here,” he says, “Epifasha, chew a little.” But Epifasha doesn’t exist. What is it, where did it go? Then the old man sees that his cat has gone far, far along the shore, whitening on the rafts. “Why did he go there,” thought the old man, “and what is he doing there? I’ll go and take a look.” He looks and his cat Epifan catches fish himself. He lies flat on a log, puts his paw in the water, doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. And when the fish swam out in a school from under the log, he - one! - and picked up one fish with his claws. The old beacon keeper was very surprised.

“You’re such a trickster,” he says, “Oh, Epifan, what a fisherman!” Well, catch me,” he says, “a sterlet on my ear, and a fatter one.” But the cat doesn’t even look at him. He ate the fish, moved to another place, and again lay down from the log to fish. Since then, this is how they fish: separately - and each in their own way. The fisherman uses tackle and a fishing rod with a hook, and the cat Epiphanes uses his paw and claws. And the beacons are lit together.

Friends

One day a forester was clearing a clearing in the forest and spotted a fox hole. He dug up a hole and found one little fox there. Apparently, the mother fox managed to drag the others to another place. And this forester already had a puppy at home. Hound breed. Also still very small. The puppy was one month old. So the little fox and the puppy began to grow up together. And they sleep side by side and play together. They played very interestingly! The little fox climbed and jumped like a real cat. He will jump onto the bench, and from the bench onto the table, with his tail raised like a pipe and looking down. And the puppy climbs onto the bench - bang! - and will fall. He barks and runs around the table for an hour. And then the little fox will jump down, and both will go to bed. They will sleep and sleep, rest and start chasing each other again. The puppy's name was Ogarok, because he was all red, like fire. And the forester called the little fox Vaska, like a cat: he barked in a thin voice - as if he was meowing. The puppy and the fox lived together all summer, and by autumn they both grew up. The puppy became a real potter, and the little fox dressed in a thick fur coat. The forester put the little fox on a chain so that he would not run away into the forest. “I’ll keep it,” he thinks, “on a chain until mid-winter, and then I’ll sell it to the city for skinning.” He felt sorry for shooting the fox himself, she was very affectionate. And with the hound Ogark the forester went hunting and shot hares. One day the forester came out in the morning to feed the fox. He looks, and the fox's box has only a chain and a torn collar. The fox ran away. “Well,” thought the forester, “now I don’t feel sorry for shooting you. Apparently, you won’t be a tame animal. You’re a savage, a savage. I’ll find you in the forest and shoot you like a wild one.” He called his Ogarok and took the gun off the shelf. “Look,” he says, “for Ogarko.” Look for your friend. - And showed footprints in the snow. Ogarok barked and ran along the trail. He chases, barks, follows the trail. And he went far, far into the forest, you could barely hear him. So he completely fell silent. But here he comes again: the barking is getting closer and closer. The forester hid behind a fir tree at the edge of the forest and cocked his gun. And then he sees: two people ran out of the forest at once. Fox and dog. The dog barks and squeals. And they run side by side through the white snow. Like real friends - shoulder to shoulder. Together they jump over the bumps, look at each other and seem to smile. Well, how to shoot here. You'll kill the dog!

Home / Library / Charushin E. I.

Charushin E.I. Works of art about the animal world.

Cat Epifan

Good and free on the Volga River! Look how wide it is! The other shore is barely visible! This living, flowing water sparkles. And the whole sky looks like this water: clouds, and blue azure, and little sandpipers that, whistling, fly in a bunch from sand to sand, and flocks of geese and ducks, and an airplane on which a man flies somewhere on his business, and white steamships with black smoke, and barges, and shores, and a rainbow in the sky.

You look at this flowing sea, you look at the walking clouds, and it seems to you that the shores are also going somewhere - they also walk and move, like everything around.

There, on the Volga, in a dugout, on the very Volga bank - in a steep cliff, lives a watchman-buoy. If you look from the river, you will only see a window and a door. You look from the shore - one iron pipe sticks out of the grass. His whole house is in the ground, like an animal hole.

Steamboats sail along the Volga day and night. Tugboats puff, smoke, pull barges behind them on ropes, carry various cargoes or drag long rafts. They slowly rise against the current, splashing through the water with their wheels. Here comes a steamer, carrying apples, and the whole Volga will smell of sweet apples. Or it smells like fish, which means they are bringing roach from Astrakhan. Mail and passenger ships, one-story and two-story, are running. These float on their own. But the fastest ships are double-decker fast steamers with a blue ribbon on the funnel. They stop only at large piers, and after them high waves spread across the water and roll across the sand.

An old buoy keeper places red and white buoys along the river near the shoals and riffles. These are floating wicker baskets with a lantern on top. Buoys show the right path. At night the old man rides a boat, lights the lanterns on the buoys, and puts them out in the morning. And at other times the old beacon keeper fishes. He is an avid fisherman.

One day the old man was fishing all day. I caught some fish in my ear: bream, white bream, and ruff. And he came back. He opened the door to the dugout and looked: that’s the thing! It turns out that a guest has come to see him! An all-white, fluffy cat sits on the table next to a pot of potatoes. The guest saw the owner, arched his back and began to rub his side against the pot. His entire white side was stained with soot.
- Where did you come from, from what areas?

And the cat purrs and squints his eyes and stains his side even more, rubbing it with soot. And his eyes are different. One eye is completely blue, and the other is completely yellow.
“Well, help yourself,” said the beacon keeper and gave the cat a ruff. The cat grabbed the fish in his claws, purred a little and ate it. He ate it and licked it, apparently he still wants it.

And the cat ate four more fish. And then he jumped onto the old man’s hay and dozed off. Lounging on the hay field, purring, stretching out one paw, then the other, putting out claws on one paw, then on the other. And he apparently liked it so much that he ended up living with the old man. And the old beacon keeper is happy. It's much more fun together. And so they began to live.

The baker had no one to talk to before, but now he began to talk to the cat, calling him Epifan. Before there was no one to fish with, but now the cat began to go boating with him. He sits in the stern of the boat and seems to be in charge. In the evening the old man says:
- Well, Epifanushka, isn’t it time for us to light the buoys, because, perhaps, it will be dark soon? If we don't light the buoys, our ships will run aground.

And the cat seems to know what it is to light beacons. Without saying a word, he goes to the river, climbs into the boat and waits for the old man when he comes with oars and kerosene for lanterns. They will go, light the lanterns on the buoys - and back. And they fish together. An old man is fishing, and Epifan is sitting next to him. The cat caught a small fish. I caught a big one - in the old man's ear. That's how it happened. They serve together and fish together.

One day, the beacon keeper was sitting with his cat Epifan on the shore and fishing. And then some fish bit hard. The old man pulled it out of the water and looked: it was a greedy brush that swallowed a worm. It's as tall as a little finger, but it jerks like a big pike. The old man took it off the hook and handed it to the cat.
“Here,” he says, “Epifasha, chew a little.” But Epifasha doesn’t exist. What is it, where did it go?

Then the old man sees that his cat has gone far, far along the shore, whitening on the rafts. “Why did he go there,” thought the old man, “and what is he doing there? I’ll go and take a look.” He looks and his cat Epifan catches fish himself. He lies flat on a log, puts his paw in the water, doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. And when the fish swam out in a school from under the log, he - one! - and picked up one fish with his claws. The old beacon keeper was very surprised.
“You’re such a trickster,” he says, “what an Epiphan, what a fisherman!” Well, catch me,” he says, “a sterlet on my ear, and a fatter one.”

But the cat doesn’t even look at him. He ate the fish, moved to another place, and again lay down from the log to fish. Since then, this is how they fish: separately - and each in their own way. The fisherman uses tackle and a fishing rod with a hook, and the cat Epiphanes uses his paw and claws. And the beacons are lit together.