Stood warm summer days. In the evening it rained, and the next morning my dad and I went mushroom-picking. In the forest there were many different birds. They all sang in different voices. We gathered mushrooms and went home. Passing by the little Christmas tree, I touched her leg. Suddenly it flew a little bird. I decided to see what was under the Christmas tree. Stooping down, he saw a little nest, in which lay five blue eggs. At this time the bird sat in the nearby tree and plaintively satirical. I called my dad. He came and told me: "don't touch the nest, and the bird will not hatch Chicks" . We noticed where the nest was and went home. Then we began to come to the nest and look for eggs. We were wondering when and what will be the pips. And here they are hatched, little, tiny, with tightened eyes film. A week later, we came to see what have become "our" birds, but they were no longer there. Dad said that the bird took his Children to another place. She was afraid that we would get her chickens.