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The
Ugly Wolverine
(Den
Stygge Jerven)
There are many strange animals in the world, and the strangest
are the tame ones, the civilized animals.
Once upon a time the tame animals
were to go to war against the wolverine, which is a wild animal.
The wolverine was ugly and greedy.
He prowled around both night and day, bent on killing. He snatched
the chicks from the hen and killed them, and often took the mother
away from the chicks. He killed the lamb by the side of its dam,
and even buried his fangs in the neck of the cow and sucked the
blood out of her. He scared the horse out of the pasture, and
once lugged away the biggest and fattest hen-turkey on the farm.
All these tame animals had lived
in peace and joy until the very moment the wolverine came. Now
there was great woe and wailing among all the animals, for all
of them lost someone that was dear to them, and no one felt at
ease any longer. At last the condition became intolerable: the
animals began to ponder over the matter, and that is a good omen.
They even went still farther: the ducks hardly chattered about
anything else, and the hens cackled about it whenever they laid
an egg. The sheep bleated about the wolverine and the cow lowed
about him. The watchdog was beside himself with sorrow, for
it might be said that he was especially appointed to protect
the others. I must tell you now that the dog had strong, long
teeth, and his whole desire was to get hold of the wolverine,
but he was so troubled by fleas that he needed almost all his
time for catching them. It seemed to be a sort of foregone conclusion
that whenever he scented the wolverine and started off in a
vicious way, which won everybody's admiration, he was always
sure to be bitten by a flea before reaching his goal. And the
wolverine found it easy to keep out of danger.
But the ducks, wabbling about
and telling all sorts of stuff, started the story that the watchdog
was not what he ought to be, feasting on the remains of the
animals which the wolverine had killed. For that reason, the
watchdog could never fancy the ducks.
But by and by it came to pass
that the tame animals held a meeting in the barn to consider
what ought to be done with the wolverine.
The meeting was well attended,
for all the animals that laid claim to a modicum of decency
and tameness had to agree that the manner in which the wolverine
made a living was wicked and destructive to all of them.
The ox, which had the biggest
head, occupied the chair at the meeting. He opened the deliberations
with a short address, setting forth that the wolverine could
be scared away by means of a vigorous bellowing. As an illustration
he uttered a few rounds of tremendous roaring, after which the
audience listened with great attention and devotion to find
out whether the wolverine was going to make any answer. As no
sound was heard, it was agreed that a resolution should be presented
to the meeting, recommending the expediency of bellowing as
against wild beasts in general and wolverines in particular.
The sheep referred to the watchdog,
whose calling was to keep wild beasts and people away. The sheep
was of the opinion that the dog ought to be instructed to watch
more carefully.
The watchdog defended himself
by stating that he had been commissioned only to keep order
within the yard, and that the wolverine did not come under his
jurisdiction. He was willing to superintend the cat, and he
would most cheerfully bury his teeth in the legs of poor people
and peddlers; but he had received no orders to chase wolverines.
He thought, however, that the wolverine ought to be compelled
to leave on the premises of the yard whatever was left of his
prey after he had gorged himself, in order that someone might
be benefitted. The mere presence of a watchdog keeps him pretty
busy, and he has his fleas to attend to.
The rabbit thought that every
one of them ought to have a hole to put his head into when the
wolverine came within sight. He discoursed very feelingly on
the comfort which this afforded, and explained how even a poorly
equipped animal, by hiding its head so well that it cannot see
the fierce beast, may enjoy a hope of being safe which borders
on absolute certainty.
The committee on resolutions was
instructed to draw up a series of resolutions expressing the
sentiment of the meeting to the effect that it would afford
a substantial sense of personal security from wild beasts, if
one could hide his head in a hole in the hour of danger.
The cock asked for the floor,
and as his courage was well known they all listened very attentively
to him. He ridiculed the rabbit's idea of a hiding-place. No,
the hour of danger is the particular occasion for rising above
the danger and keeping one's ground. From his own personal experience
he could relate that once upon a time when the wolverine visited
the hen-coop and tore one-half of all his wives into shreds,
he was sitting on the highest perch in the hen-coop, screaming
out: "I am here! I am here!" One must face the danger bravely.
It makes one's courage and moral backbone stronger to have the
good fortune to be able to scream out from a full throat: "I
am here!" even if one is not crowned with victory.
This address was received with
some applause. Some thought that the rooster's advice and methods
coincided with those of the ox and might be embodied within
one resolution. Neither the ox nor the cock would agree to this.
The intention of the bellowing of one of them was to scare the
wolverine, while the screaming of the other rather aimed at
individual encouragement and the assertion of one's personal
right to scream in the hour of danger. The attention of the
committee on resolutions was called to the difference between
the two kinds of noises.
The turkey-cock disagreed with
the rooster with regard to the screaming. He thought it would
be more awe-inspiring to puff one's self up hugely and walk
up against the wolverine with dignity and a magnificent posterior
display. Since it was proved that the turkey-cock by means of
such demonstration had scared both man and beast, this matter
was also referred to the committee on resolutions.
The geese wanted to know whether
the wolverine was red. For conscience' sake they could not well
go to war against anything but what might be considered to be
red. Then followed a great, long and very complicated discussion
about the color of the wolverine. The geese finally agreed that
the deeds of the wolverine were such that he might be supposed
to be red, and, according to that supposition, an enemy. No
special resolution was needed, for they were sworn enemies of
everything that was red. And as far as the wolverine came under
the category of red, he was their born enemy which they had
to combat with their whole beak and all their might.
The horse thought that the ugliness
and viciousness of the wolverine had been greatly exaggerated.
He would not admit that he himself had been chased by the wolverine.
He asked for night-rest, and the meeting adjourned.
The housecat was lying in the
hayloft above, listening to the discussion, but taking no part
in it. She had just brought four kittens into the world, and
was deeply interested in their safety. In her round, hard, half-wild
head the idea had started, that if the wolverine should come
she would kill him, no matter what party he was pursuing.
The newspapers contained a remarkable bit of news the other
day. A big she-cat had killed a wolverine in the hen-coop in
a barnyard. The struggle had evidently been a fierce one, and
never before had a cat been known to have done anything like
that in a settlement. But she had just given birth to kittens.
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