Sunday, April third.
THE wild geese went out on a wooded island to feed. There they happened to run across a few gray geese who were surprised to see them – since they knew very well that their kinsmen, the wild geese, usually travel over the interior of the country.
They were curious and inquisitive, and wouldn't be satisfied with less than than the wild geese telling them all about the hounding which they had to take from Smirre Fox. When they had finished, a gray goose, wh appeared to be as old and as wise as Akka herself, said: "It was a great misfortune for you that Smirre Fox was declared an outlaw in his own land. He'll be sure to keep his word, and follow you all the way up to Lapland. If I were in your place, I shouldn't travel north over Småland. I should take the outside route over Öland instead, to throw him off the track entirely. To really mislead him, you must remain for a couple of days on Öland's southern point. There you'll find lots of food and lots of company. I don't think you'll regret it, if you go over there."
This was certainly sensible advice, and the wild geese concluded to take it. As soon as they had eaten all they could hold, they started on the trip to Öland. None of them had ever been there before, but the gray goose had given them excellent directions. They only had to travel straight south until they came to a large bird-track, which extended all along the Blekinge coast. All the birds who had winter homes by the West Coast and were now on their way to Finland and Russia, flew forward there – and, in passing, they were always in the habit of stopping at Öland to rest. The wild geese would have no trouble in finding guides.
That day it was perfectly still and warm, like a summer's day – the best weather in the world for a sea trip. The only drawback was that it was not quite clear, for the skies were gray and veiled. Here and there were enormous clouds which hung far down to the sea's outer edge, obstructing the view.
When the travellers had passed beyond the rock-islands, the sea spread out so smooth and mirror-like that, as the boy looked down, he thought the water had disappeared. There was no longer any earth under him. He had only mist and sky around him. He grew very dizzy, and held himself tight on the goose-back – more frightened than when he sat there for the first time. It seemed as if he couldn't possibily hold on; but must fall in some direction.
It was even worse when they reached the big bird-track, of which the gray goose had spoken. Flock after flock came flying in exactly the same direction. They seemed to follow a fixed route. There were ducks and gray geese, surf-scoters and guillemots, loons and pin-tail ducks and mergansers and grebes and oyster-catchers and sea-grouse. But now, when the boy leaned forward and looked in the direction where the sea ought to lie, he saw the entire bird procession reflected in the water. But he was so dizzy that he didn't understand how this had come about; he thought that all the birds flew with their bellies upside down. Still he didn't wonder so much at this, for he did not himself know which was up and which was down.
The birds were tired out and impatient to get on. Not one of them shrieked or said a funny thing, and this made everything seem peculiarly unreal.
"Think, if we have travelled away from the earth!" he said to himself. "Think, if we are on our way up to heaven!"
He saw nothing but mists and birds around him, and began to look upon it as reasonable that they were travelling heavenward. He was glad, and wondered what he should see up there. The dizziness passed all at once. He was so exceedingly happy in the thought that he was on his way to heaven and was leaving this earth.
Just about then he heard a couple of loud shots, and saw two white smoke-columns rise.
There was a sudden awakening and an unrest among the birds. "Hunters! Hunters!" they cried. "Fly high! Fly away!"
Then the boy finally saw that they were travelling all the while over the seacoast and that they were certainly not in heaven. In a long row lay small boats filled with hunters, who fired shot upon shot. The nearest bird-flocks hadn't noticed them in time. They had flown too low. Several dark bodies sank down toward the sea; and for every one that fell there arose cries of anguish from the living.
It was strange for one who had but lately believed himself in heaven to wake up suddenly to such fear and lamentation. Akka shot toward the heights and the flock followed with the greatest possible speed. The wild geese got safely out of the way, but the boy couldn't get over his amazement. "To think that any one could wish to shoot at such as Akka and Yksi and Kaksi and the goosey-gander and the others! Human beings had no conception of what they did."
So it bore on again, in the still air, and all was as quiet as before, but for some of the tired birds calling out every now and then: "Are we not there soon? Are you sure we're on the right track?" Whereupon, the leaders answered: "We are flying straight to Öland; straight to Öland."
The gray geese were tired out, and the loons circled around them. "Don't be in such a rush!" cried the ducks. "You'll eat up all the food before we get there." "Oh! There'll be enough for all of us," answered the loons.
Before they had gone far enough to sight Öland, a light wind blew against them. It brought with it something that looked like immense clouds of white smoke – as if there was a big fire somewhere.
When the birds saw the first white spiral haze, they became uneasy and increased their speed. But that which resembled smoke blew thicker and thicker, and at last it enveloped them altogether. There was no odor of smoke; and this smoke was not dark and dry, but white and damp. Suddenly the boy realized that it was only a mist.
When the mist became so thick that they couldn't see a goose-length ahead, the birds began to carry on like real lunatics. All who before had travelled forward in such perfect order now began to play in the mist. They flew hither and thither to entice one another astray. "Be careful!" they cried. "You're only travelling round and round. Turn back, for pity's sake! You'll never get to Öland that way."
They all knew perfectly well where the island was, but they tried their best to lead each other astray. "Look at those wagtails!" rang out in the mist. "They are going back toward the North Sea!" "Have a care, wild geese!" shrieked some one from another direction. "If you continue like this, you'll get clear up to Rugen."
There was of course no danger that the birds who were accustomed to travel here would permit themselves to be lured in a wrong direction. But the ones who had a hard time of it were the wild geese! The jesters observed that they were uncertain as to the way, and did all they could to confuse them.
"Where are you bound for, good people?" called a swan. He came right up to Akka, looking sympathetic and serious.
"We are travelling to Öland; but we have never been there before," said Akka. She thought that here was a bird to be trusted.
"It's too bad," said the swan, "they have lured you in the wrong direction. You're on the road to Blekinge. Now come with me, and I'll put you right!"
So he flew off with them, and when he had taken them so far away from the track that they could hear no calls, he disappeared in the mist.
They flew around a while at random. They had barely succeeded in tracking the birds when a duck approached them. "You'd better lie down on the water until the mist clears," said the duck. "It is evident that you are not accustomed to looking out for yourself on journeys."
Those rogues succeeded in making Akka's head swim. As near as the boy could make out, the wild geese circled round and round for a long time.
"Be careful! Can't you see that you are flying up and down?" shouted a loon as he rushed by.
The boy positively clutched the goosey-gander around the neck. This was something which he had feared for a long time.
If they had not heard a rolling and muffled sound in the distance, no one could have told when they would have arrived.
Then Akka craned her neck, snapped hard with her wings, and rushed on at full speed. Now she had something to go by. The gray goose had told her not to light on Öland's southern point, because there was a cannon there, which the people used to shoot at the mist. Now she knew the way, and now no one in the world could lead her astray.
This chapter has been put on-line as part of the
BUILD-A-BOOK Initiative at the
Celebration of Women Writers.
Initial text entry and proof-reading of this chapter were the work of volunteers
Shirley M. Boyle .
