: In childhood, the storyteller killed the coronet, and still can not forgive the death of a defenseless bird.

The narrator recalls how in the early autumn of forty years, returning from fishing, he saw a bird. She tried to run away, but clumsily collapsed onto her side. The narrator had a boyish passion, he caught up with the bird and overwhelmed it with a raw fishing rod. Taking the dead bird in his hands, the narrator realized that it was a coronet. He could not leave with his flock to the south - the bird did not have a paw. The narrator felt sorry for the foolishness of ruined living creatures, and he buried the coronet at the curb.

Since then, the narrator has been waiting for spring corostels with "already inveterate" fault.

I languish and wait for the corncrake, inspire myself that this long-time dergach survived by some miracle and gives me a voice, forgiving the unintelligent, gambling kid.

He knows how difficult it is for a small bird to get to Russia. Korosteli leave Africa in April and walk almost all the way, flying only the Mediterranean Sea. Birds try to go around cities and cross only a small town in the south of France. Korostel has become a symbol of this city, and its inhabitants celebrate the feast of the korostel every year and bake figures of birds from the dough. Corostel there is considered sacred.

For many years, the storyteller lives in the world, went through a war, shot people, but still cannot forgive the murders of that coronet.