It happened a very, very long time ago... back in the days when Tatar raids brought unrest not only to our land, but to all of Ukraine. Across the endless steppes, Tatar hordes made their way into villages, towns, and settlements. Their spoils were not only goods and merchandise — they drove people into captivity, entire families and generations.
It was a тяжелая судьба. Wind, rain, and scorching sun — it seemed that even nature showed no mercy to the captives. It was painful to watch — exhausted people trudged forward gloomily, no smiles appeared on their worn faces, and burning blisters covered their tired feet. Many could not endure such suffering and died along the way. The most difficult stretch of the journey lay across the Kherson steppes. Even the Tatar guards themselves seemed exhausted.
And somehow it happened that a small group of captives became separated. At first they trudged forward silently, seeing only the beaten path ahead, but then they looked around and a desperate thought arose: "The guards are far away! Better death than such a life! Let’s run!"
Where did they find the strength — they began to run. If only there had been a forest, a ravine, or at least bushes. But where can one hide in the open steppe? The guards noticed the escapees. Their eyes filled with rage, whips whistled through the air, and they rushed in pursuit. They were about to catch them.
Among the escapees there was a girl — seemingly ordinary, yet she possessed extraordinary strength. She turned and saw they were being overtaken. She сняла голубую ленту с головы and threw it to the ground. In an instant, a steppe river twisted into being at that very place. It slowed the Tatar horses, but only for a moment — the chase was close again.
The girl threw her comb. A small forest appeared there, delaying the pursuit for a short time. The escapees looked back again — the Tatars were almost upon them.
Then the girl threw her belt. In that place, a long and wide ravine formed, overgrown with thorny bushes. The Tatars grew furious. They tried to cut through the thorns with sabers, to lash them with whips — but nothing helped.
The escapees breathed with relief. Gentle river waves washed their tired feet, they bathed, and even the merciless sun became soft and kind...
That was a very long time ago. Yet even today, in our land, the Inhulets River still ripples with waves, the Nedohir forest whispers with its leaves, and ravines overgrown with thorns stretch for hundreds of meters.
One autumn morning, I happened to witness such a scene. Above the river, bluish mist curled in soft waves. The reeds drowsed quietly by the water. A fish flicked its tail — and silence returned.
Birds rose from the river floodplains into the sky, circled once or twice, then climbed higher. Forming a triangle, they flew farther and farther, toward the horizon...
And I remembered a legend from long, long ago. In those days, merciless dry winds ruled these lands — burying everything under hot sands, sweeping away even the thinnest layers of fertile soil, drying out the last drops of life-giving moisture.
Migratory birds never stopped in these lands. Exhausted, barely alive, they flew on, and many perished from fatigue. There was no rest beneath the scorching sun or in the harsh winds.
But one spring, a miracle happened. Each migrating bird carried in its beak a seed, a twig, a sprout. They left them along the slopes of the Inhulets. Soon, a young forest rose near the river, stopping the drifting sands.
From fallen leaves, a thin layer of soil was formed. The first tender shoots of green grass appeared...
Only a few centuries have passed, and these places are no longer recognizable. The forest now rings with children’s voices. Here stands the children’s recreation camp "Romashka". An oak grows there — one that has long celebrated its 200-year anniversary.
From the past remains only the name of the forest — "Flying Sands". And on the green hills near the Inhulets River, migratory birds always find a place to rest.