Mighty Mikko: A Book of Finnish Fairy Tales and Folk Tales

“Really, Mikko?”

“Yes, really! You just ought to see him!”

“I’d like to see him,” the Wolf said.

“Well, you might slip down now and take a peep in the kitchen. He’s at home. But, my dear Pekka, I warn you not to let him see you! If he catches sight of you, I won’t be responsible for the consequences!”

The Wolf was deeply impressed with all this. He crept carefully down to the Fox’s kitchen and sniffed cautiously at the crack under the door. The Cat inside, seeing the tip of the Wolf’s nose and thinking it was a Mouse, pounced on it with all his claws. This gave the Wolf a mighty fright and he bolted madly off into the forest.

He was still panting when he met the Bear.

“Osmo,” he said, “have you heard about that awful creature that Mikko has for a servant?”

The Bear had heard nothing, so the Wolf related to him his own terrifying experience.

The Bear’s curiosity was aroused.

“I must have a glimpse of this wonderful servant,” he said, ambling off in the direction of the Fox’s kitchen.

“I’ll wait for you here,” the Wolf called after him, “and I warn you, Osmo, be careful!”

The Bear when he got to the Fox’s kitchen quietly stuck his nose under the crack of the door and squinted inside. He hardly had time for one squint when a terrible creature with a straight tail that looked like a spear came flying through the air, landed on his nose, and drove it full of pins and needles.

“Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” the Bear whimpered as he hurried back to the Wolf.

“Did you see him?” the Wolf asked.

“I got just one glimpse of him,” the Bear said. “He had a long spear sticking up over his shoulder and he came swooping down through the air just as if he had wings!”

“My! I wish we could really see him!” the Wolf said. “Suppose we ask Mikko to arrange some way we can have a good look at him.”

So they went to the Fox and Mikko, the rascal, said:

“Well, now, if you make a feast and invite my servant I think he will come.”

“All right,” the Wolf said, “that’s what we’ll do. I’ve still got some of that ox. It will make a fine feast.”

So they roasted the remains of the ox and set it out.

“Now I’ll go get my servant,” the Fox said. “When you hear us coming, you two hide some place where you can see us but we can’t see you. If my servant once sees you I won’t be responsible for the consequences!”

So the Wolf hid in some bushes nearby and the Bear drew himself up into the branches of a tree.

Well, the Fox and the Cat arrived and sat them down to the feast. Now it happened that the Wolf was not able to see, so he tried to twist himself around into a better position. The Cat caught a glimpse of his tail moving in the bushes and instantly pounced on it. With one terrified yelp, the Wolf jumped out of the bushes and fled into the forest as fast as he could.

In fright the Cat scampered up the tree and the Bear, of course, supposed that the awful creature now was after him. In his frantic efforts to escape he tumbled down out of the tree and broke two ribs. But for all that he made off, too terrified to look back.

So the Fox and the Cat were left to finish the ox in peace.

ADVENTURE VII

THE WOLF SINGS

Having sacrificed his ox in order to feast the Fox’s servant, the Wolf had nothing left for himself and was soon very hungry. He could find nothing to eat in the forest, so he went prowling around a farm in hopes of getting a pig or a chicken. The only living creature he came upon was a thin old Dog asleep in the sun.

“This is better than nothing,” he thought to himself and, taking hold of the Dog, he began dragging it off.

“Cousin! Cousin!” cried the Dog. “Is this any way to treat a relation? Let me go!”

“I’m sorry,” the Wolf said, “but I can’t let you go. I’m too hungry.”

“Let me go,” the Dog begged, “and I tell you what I’ll do: I’ll give you a bottle of vodka.”

“Promises come easy,” the Wolf said. “Where will you get the vodka?”

“Under the bench in the kitchen. That’s where the master keeps his bottle. I’ve seen him hide it there. Come to-night after the family’s asleep and I’ll let you in and give you the vodka.”

Now Pekka, the Wolf, was very fond of vodka, so he said to the Dog:

“Very well, I’ll let you go. But see that you keep your promise!”

Late that night when the family were asleep, the Wolf came scratching at the farmhouse door and the Dog let him in.

“Well, old fellow, you know why I’ve come,” the Wolf said.

At once the Dog crawled under the bench and got the master’s bottle of vodka.

“Here, Pekka, here it is!” he said, offering the Wolf the bottle.

“You drink first,” Pekka insisted. “You’re the host.”

The Dog raised the bottle and took a little sip. Then the Wolf took a deep swallow.

“Ah!” he said, smacking his lips, “that’s something like!”

His stomach was empty and the vodka went through his veins like fire. He felt happy and laughed and went capering around the room.

“I feel like singing!” he cried.

“My dear Pekka,” the Dog said, “I beg you don’t sing! You will wake the folks! Sit down quietly and we’ll talk.”

So they sat awhile and talked and then the Wolf took another deep swallow of the vodka. Again he wanted to sing and the Dog had trouble in restraining him.

“Do you want to wake the family, Pekka? Be quiet now or you can’t have any more vodka!”

The Wolf took another deep drink and after that there was no holding him back. He went staggering around the room howling at the top of his voice.

The Farmer and all his family came hurrying into the kitchen with clubs and pokers and whatever they could pick up.

“It’s a Wolf!” the Farmer cried. “The impudent scoundrel, coming right into the house! Give him a good beating!”

If the door hadn’t been open they would have clubbed poor Pekka to death. As it was he barely escaped with his life.

ADVENTURE VIII

THE CLEVER GOAT

The truth is Pekka, the Wolf, was a pretty stupid fellow always getting into some scrape or other. With sore ribs and a back aching from the beating which the farm folk had given him he slunk quietly along the forest ways hoping to come upon some easy prey. Suddenly he saw ahead of him a Goat and a Ram.

“What are they doing hereabouts?” he thought to himself. “This is no place for them and if anything happens to them it will be their own fault.”

Vuhi, the Goat, and Dinas, the Ram, both knew that the forest was no place for them. But where else could they go? They had recently been turned loose to fend for themselves by their poor old master who was no longer able to feed them.

“This forest rather frightens me,” the Ram had said to the Goat. “Do you suppose we’ll be able to keep off the Wolves?”

Vuhi, the Goat, flirted his whiskers and said:

“I’ve got a plan.”

Thereupon he took a sack and half filled it with dry chips. Then when he shook the sack the chips made a hollow rattle. He threw the sack over his shoulder and said to the Ram:

“Don’t you be frightened, Dinas. We’ll be able to hold our own with the forest creatures.”

It was just at this moment that Pekka, the Wolf, appeared.

“Ha! Ha!” said Pekka suspiciously. “What’s that you’ve got in that sack? No nonsense now! Answer me at once or I’ll have to kill you both!”

Vuhi, the Goat, gave the sack a little rattle.

“In this sack?” he said. “Oh, only the skulls and bones of the Wolves we have eaten. We haven’t had any Wolf meat now for some time, have we, Dinas? It’s good you’ve come along for we’re hungry… Attention, Dinas! Kill the Wolf!”

The Ram lowered his horns ready for attack and Pekka, the Wolf, too surprised to resist and too stiff to run away, cried out wildly:

“Brothers! Brothers! Don’t kill me! I’m your friend! Spare me and I’ll do something for you!”

“Attention, Dinas!” the Goat commanded. “Don’t kill the Wolf just yet!”

Then he asked Pekka:

“What will you do for us if we spare you?”

“I’ll send you twelve Wolves,” Pekka promised. “That will give you more meat than you’d have if you killed just me!”

“Twelve,” the Goat replied. “You are right: twelve Wolves will give us more meat than one. Very well, we’ll let you go on condition that you send us twelve. But see you keep your word!”

So the Wolf went off as fast as his stiff legs could carry him and assembled twelve of his brothers.

“I’ve called you together,” he said, “to warn you of two terrible creatures, a Goat and a Ram, who are here in the forest eating up Wolves! Already they have a sack full of our unfortunate relations’ skulls and bones! I saw the sack myself! Don’t you think we ought all of us to flee?”

“What!” said the other Wolves, “thirteen Wolves turn tail on one Goat and one Ram? Never! We’ll go together and give them battle!”

“Don’t count me in!” Pekka said. “I don’t want to see those two again!”

So the twelve Wolves marched off without Pekka.

The Goat as he saw them coming ran up a tree. The Ram followed him but couldn’t get very high.

The twelve Wolves came under the tree and standing in close formation called out:

“Now then, you two, come on! We’re ready for you!”

“Attention, Dinas!” the Goat commanded. “They’re all here, so lose no more time! Jump down among them and kill them!”

The Goat himself began climbing down the tree, at the same time making an awful noise with his sack. He gave the Ram a push and the Ram slipped and fell right on the backs of the Wolves.

“That’s right, Dinas! Kill them all!” the Goat shouted, rattling his sack more furiously than ever. “Don’t let one of them escape!”

In the confusion that followed the Wolves stampeded, running helter-skelter in all directions. Every Wolf there felt that his own escape was a piece of rare good fortune.

“Those terrible two!” he thought.

Thereafter Vuhi, the Goat, and Dinas, the Ram, lived on in the forest untroubled by the Wolves.

ADVENTURE IX

THE HARVEST

Well, the time came when the field of barley which the Fox and the Wolf had planted together was ready to harvest. So the two friends cut the grain and carried the sheaves to the threshing barn where they spread them out to dry. When it was time to thresh the grain, they asked Osmo, the Bear, to come and help them.

“Certainly,” Osmo said.

At the time agreed the three animals met at the threshing barn.

“Now the first thing to decide,” Pekka said, “is how to divide the work.”

The Fox climbed nimbly up to the rafters.

“I’ll stay up here,” he called down, “and support the beams and the rafters. In that way there won’t be any danger of their falling and injuring either of you. You two work down there without any concern. Trust me! I’ll take care of you!”

So Osmo, the Bear, used the flail, and Pekka, the Wolf, winnowed the chaff from the grain. Mikko, the rascal, occasionally dropped down upon them a hunk of wood.

“Take care!” they’d call out. “Do you want to kill us?”

“Indeed, brothers, you have no idea how hard it is for me to hold up all these rafters!” Mikko would say. “You’re very lucky it’s only a little piece that drops on you now and then! If it weren’t for me you’d certainly be killed, both of you!”

Well, the Bear and the Wolf worked steadily. When they were finished Mikko, the rascal, leaped down from the rafters and stretched himself as though he had been working the hardest of them all.

“I’m glad that job of mine is finished!” he said. “I couldn’t have held things up much longer!”

“Well now,” Pekka asked, “how shall we divide this our harvest?”

“I’ll tell you how,” Mikko said. “Here are three of us and, see, here on the floor is our harvest already divided into three heaps. The biggest heap will naturally go to the biggest of us. That’s Osmo, the Bear. The middle sized heap will go to you, Pekka. I’m the smallest, so the smallest heap comes to me.”

The Bear and the Wolf, stupid old things, agreed to this. So Osmo took the great heap of straw, Pekka the pile of chaff, and Mikko, the rascal, got for his share the little mound of clean grain.

Together they all went to the mill to grind their meal.

As the millstone turned on Mikko’s grain, it made a rough rasping sound.

“Strange,” Osmo said to Pekka, “Mikko’s grain sounds different from ours.”

“Mix some sand with yours,” Mikko said, “then yours will make the same sound.”

So the Bear and the Wolf poured some sand in their straw and their chaff and sure enough, when they turned their millstones again, they, too, got a rough rasping sound.

This satisfied them and they went home feeling they had just as good a winter’s supply of food as Mikko.

ADVENTURE X

THE PORRIDGE

Well, it was only natural that they should all want to see at once what kind of porridge their meal would make.

Osmo’s came out black and disgusting. Greatly disturbed he ambled over to Mikko’s house for advice. The Fox was stirring his own porridge which was white and smooth.

“What’s the matter with my porridge?” the Bear asked. “Yours is white and smooth but mine is black and horrid.”

“Did you wash your meal before you put it into the pot?” the Fox asked.

“Wash it? No! How do you wash meal?”

“You take it to the river and drop it in the water. Then when it’s clean you take it out.”

The Bear at once went home and got his ground up straw and took it to the river. He dropped it in the water and of course it spread out far and wide and the current carried it off.

So that was the end of Osmo’s share of the harvest.

Pekka, the Wolf, had as little luck with his porridge. Soon he, too, came to Mikko for advice.

“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” he said. “I don’t seem to be able to make good porridge. Look at yours all white and smooth! I must watch you how you make it. Won’t you let me hang my pot on your crane? Then I’ll do just as you do.”

“Certainly,” the Fox said. “Hang your pot on this chain and the two pots can then cook side by side.”

“Yours is so white to begin with,” Pekka said, “and mine looks no better than dirt.”

“Before you came I climbed up the chain and hung over the pot,” the Fox said. “The heat of the fire melted the fat in my tail and it dripped down into the pot. It’s that fat that makes my porridge look so white.”

Poor gullible Pekka immediately suspended himself on the chain above his porridge. But he didn’t stay there long. The flames scorched him and he fell down hurting his side. If you notice, to this day any Wolf that you meet has stiff sides that make it hard for him to turn and twist, and to this day all Wolves smell of burnt hair.

Well, Pekka, after he had got his breath, tasted his porridge again to see if it was any better. But it wasn’t. It was as bad as ever.

“I don’t see any difference in it,” he said. “Let me taste yours, Mikko.”

The Fox artfully scooped up a spoonful of the Wolf’s porridge and dropped it into his own pot.

“Help yourself,” he said. “Take some out of that spot there. That’s good.”

The place he pointed to was, of course, the place where he had dropped some of the Wolf’s own porridge.

So poor old stupid Pekka only sampled his own porridge again when he thought he was tasting Mikko’s.

“Strange,” he said, “your porridge doesn’t taste good to me either. I don’t believe anything tastes good to me to-day. The truth is I don’t believe I like porridge.”

He went home sad and discouraged while Mikko, the rascal, chuckled to himself and said:

“I wonder why Pekka doesn’t like porridge. It tastes awful good to me!”

ADVENTURE XI

NURSE MIKKO

The Wolf’s wife gave birth to three little cubs and then died.

“You poor children!” Pekka said, “your mother is dead and there is no one to take her place. I must get you a nurse.”

So he went through the forest hunting some one to take care of his motherless cubs. The white Grouse offered her services but, when she sang a lullaby to show what a good nurse she could be, Pekka shook his head.

“I don’t like your voice,” he said. “I can’t take you.”

Then Jussi, the Hare, applied for the position.

“You know I’m lame,” he said, “so quiet work like nursing would suit me.”

“Can you sing lullabies?” Pekka asked.

“Oh, yes! Listen!” and Jussi began squealing.

“Stop!” Pekka cried. “I don’t like your voice either.”

Just then Mikko, the Fox, came running up.

“Good day, Pekka,” he said. “I hear you’re out looking for a nurse for your sweet babies.”

“Yes, Mikko, I am. Can you recommend one?”

“I’d like the job myself,” the Fox said.

“You, Mikko?”

“Yes.”

“But you can’t sing lullabies, can you?”

“Oh, yes! I sing them very beautifully. Listen:

‘Hushabye, sweet little cubs,Hushabye to sleep!Who best loves you, do you think?Who will give you food and drink?Who on faithful guard will keep?Mikko! Mikko!‘Hushabye, sweet little cubs,Mikko loves you well,Loves each little pointed nose,Loves your little scratchy toes,Loves you more than he can tell —Mikko! Mikko!’”

Pekka, the Wolf, was charmed with Mikko’s lullaby.

“Beautiful! Beautiful!” he said. “I never heard a sweeter lullaby! You’re the very nurse I want! Come home with me at once.”

So Mikko went home with Pekka and took over the care of the three little Wolf cubs.

“I’ll go off now and get them something to eat,” Pekka said.

He came back after a while with the hind leg of a horse.

“This will be enough for them to start on,” he said.

The Fox shook his head.

“I’m afraid it won’t last them very long. They’re beautiful healthy children with fine appetites.”

“Poor little dears!” Pekka said. “Let me see them.”

“Not just now!” Mikko insisted. “They’re asleep and mustn’t be disturbed. Go out hunting again and the next time you come home you shall see them.”

Pekka felt that the Fox must be a very good nurse indeed to be so strict. So he went off hunting again without seeing his children.

As soon as he was gone Mikko, the rascal, ate up all the horse meat without giving the cubs one bite and then, as he was still hungry, he ate one of the cubs. The next day he ate another cub, and the day following he ate the last of them. He was just finishing that last cub when the Wolf came home and called in at the door:

“Now, nurse, here I am come home to see my dear children! They’re well, aren’t they?”

“Very well!” the Fox declared. “But they’ve grown so big under my good care that the house isn’t large enough now to hold them and you and me at the same time. If you’re coming in, I must get out first.”

So the Wolf stood aside as the Fox came out and scampered away.

Then the Wolf went in and of course all he could find of his dear children were their bones.

“You faithless, faithless nurse!” he cried.

In awful rage he ran after Mikko and was about to overtake him when Mikko slipped into a crevice in the rocks. Only one paw stuck out. The Wolf pounced on this paw and began gnawing it.

“Say, Pekka, have you gone crazy?” the Fox asked. “What do you think you’re doing biting that old root? I hope you don’t think it’s one of my paws. I’m sitting on all four paws.”

The Wolf looked up to see whether this was true and, quick as a flash, Mikko, the rascal, drew in his paw.

So the poor old Wolf, fooled again, went sadly home.

ADVENTURE XII

THE BEAR SAYS NORTH

One day while Osmo, the Bear, was prowling about the woods he caught a Grouse.

“Pretty good!” he thought to himself. “Wouldn’t the other animals be surprised if they knew old Osmo had caught a Grouse!”

He was so proud of his feat that he wanted all the world to know of it. So, holding the Grouse carefully in his teeth without injuring it, he began parading up and down the forest ways.

“They’ll all certainly envy me this nice plump Grouse,” he thought. “And they won’t be so ready to call me awkward and lumbering after this, either!”

Presently Mikko, the Fox, sauntered by. He saw at once that Osmo was showing off and he determined that the Bear would not get the satisfaction of any admiration from him. So he pretended not to see the Grouse at all. Instead he pointed his nose upwards and sniffed.

“Um! Um!” grunted Osmo, trying to attract attention to himself.

“Ah,” Mikko remarked, casually, “is that you, Osmo? What way is the wind blowing to-day? Can you tell me?”

Osmo, of course, could not answer without opening his mouth, so he grunted again hoping that Mikko would have to notice why he couldn’t answer. But the Fox didn’t glance at him at all. With his nose still pointed upwards he kept sniffing the air.

“It seems to me it’s from the South,” he said. “Isn’t it from the South, Osmo?”

“Um! Um! Um!” the Bear grunted.

“You say it is from the South, Osmo? Are you sure?”

“Um! Um!” Osmo repeated, growing every moment more impatient.

“Oh, not from the South, you say. Then from what direction is it blowing?”

By this time the Bear was so exasperated by Mikko’s interest in the wind when he should have been admiring the Grouse that he forgot himself, opened his mouth, and roared out:

“North!”

Of course the instant he opened his mouth, the Grouse flew away.

“Now see what you’ve done!” he stormed angrily. “You’ve made me lose my fine plump Grouse!”

“I?” Mikko asked. “What had I to do with it?”

“You kept asking me about the wind until I opened my mouth – that’s what you did!”

The Fox shrugged his shoulders.

“Why did you open your mouth?”

“Well, you can’t say, ‘North!’ without opening your mouth, can you?” the Bear demanded.

The Fox laughed heartily.

“See here, Osmo, don’t blame me. Blame yourself. If I had had that Grouse in my mouth and you had asked me about the wind, I should never have said, ‘North!’”

“What would you have said?” the Bear asked.

Mikko, the rascal, laughed harder than ever. Then he clenched his teeth and said:

“East!”

ADVENTURE XIII

OSMO’S SHARE

One day Osmo, the Bear, came to a clearing where a Man was plowing.

“Good day,” the Bear said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m plowing,” the Man answered. “After I finish plowing I’m going to harrow and then plant the field, half in wheat and half in turnips.”

“Yum! Yum!” Osmo thought to himself. “Good food that – wheat and turnips!”

Aloud he said:

“I know how to plow and harrow. What do you say to my helping you?”

“If you help me,” the Man said, “I’ll share the harvest with you.”

So Osmo set to work and between them they soon had the field plowed, harrowed, and planted.

When Autumn came they went to get their crops.

At the turnip field the Man said:

“Now what do you want as your share – the part that grows above the ground or the part that grows below?”

Osmo, the Bear, seeing how green and luxuriant the turnip tops were, said:

“Give me the part that grows above ground.”

After they had harvested the turnips, they went on to the wheat field where the Man put the same question.

The wheat stocks were all dry and shriveled. Osmo looked at them wisely and said:

“This time you better give me the part that grows under the ground.”

The Man laughed in his sleeve and agreed.

One day the following winter the two met and the Man invited the Bear to dinner. Osmo who was very hungry accepted the invitation gladly.

First they had baked turnips.

“Oh, but these are good!” Osmo said. “I’ve never tasted anything better! What are they?”

“Why,” the Man said, “they’re the turnips from that field that you and I planted together.”

The Bear was greatly surprised.

Then they had some freshly baked bread.

“How good! How good!” Osmo exclaimed. “What is it?”

“Just plain bread,” the Man said, “baked from the wheat you and I planted together.”

Osmo was more surprised than ever.

“Why, do you know,” he said, “my turnips and my bread don’t taste a bit like this!”

The Man burst out laughing and Osmo wondered why.

ADVENTURE XIV

THE REWARD OF KINDNESS

Osmo, the Bear, used to go day after day to a field of growing rye and eat as much as he wanted. The Farmer noticed from the Bear’s tracks that he always came by the same route.